Entrapment
Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Dylan stormed off, heading toward a descending stairway.
“Dylan!” Claire called after him. “Wait!”
“You’re not going to stop me,” he replied dryly, his disdain still lingering from the fight with Amber. “Just turn back. Go away.”
Claire caught up to him and grabbed his arm. “I’m not trying to drag you back to the group. I just don’t want you wandering alone in this place.” She gestured around them, highlighting the mall’s decrepit state.
Her voice was gentle—soft, sincere. She knew Dylan was at his breaking point, and she acted carefully to avoid making things worse.
He noticed that. His expression softened as he glanced back at her.
“And besides,” she added jokingly, “you have a bigger knife than Noah does. I’m probably safer with you anyway.”
Dylan shook his head and let out a small chuckle. Then he pointed his flashlight down the dark stairwell. “We’re going down there.”
Claire stared into the void where his light pointed. Her stomach twisted. Before she could say anything, Dylan began descending the stairs.
She hesitated, but eventually followed.
The two walked until they reached the lower floor. Once it came fully into view, Claire swept her light around the area.
The place was trashed—far worse than the ground floor. Boxes lay crushed underfoot. Debris covered the tiles. Discarded mattresses, broken tents, and piles of trash filled the corners.
People had been living here recently. Squatters, maybe. The thought made Claire’s chest tighten with unease.
“Dylan,” she breathed, glancing around, “there are signs of people down here.”
But Dylan was already fixated on something else.
“Claire, look,” he said, waving her over. “It goes deeper.”
As she approached, she found him standing at the base of yet another descending stairwell. She leaned over the railing and saw the stairs zig-zag downward, disappearing into darkness.
“I wonder how far it goes,” Dylan murmured.
“Absolutely not,” Claire blurted. She already knew what he intended.
Dylan turned, surprised by her immediate refusal.
“The structure down there can’t be stable,” she said.
His face soured with disappointment and frustration. “Okay. But remember—you came here with me. You may turn back whenever you want.” Then he began descending the next flight of stairs.
Claire stared after him in disbelief. “Do you not care about your own safety at all?”
Dylan froze on the fifth step, turned, and said, “I do. I just care about adventure more.”
And with that,
he continued downward.
“You’re insane!” Claire shouted from the top.
He didn’t respond—just kept marching down slowly, as if savoring the descent.
Claire crossed her arms. “Wait. I know what you’re doing.”
Dylan stopped.
“You’re walking slowly on purpose. You think you can guilt me into following you.”
He sighed and turned around. “No, I have no idea wh—”
But as soon as he fully faced her, he fell silent. His eyes widened.
Claire raised an eyebrow. “What? What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared past her and motioned urgently for her to come down the stairs.
Claire hesitated. Something in his expression unsettled her.
Dylan whispered, voice trembling, “It’s staring at us. Behind you.”
“What?” Claire asked, confused.
“It’s so tall…” he breathed.
Claire’s blood ran cold. A chill crept up her spine, as though something were breathing softly against the back of her neck.
At the same moment, Dylan drew a gun and pointed it toward her.
She screamed. “You brought a gun!?”
His finger shot to his lips. Panic exploded across his face. “Shhh—please. Please be quiet…”
Claire froze. She had never seen Dylan beg—not for anything, not from anyone. Especially not her.
She began moving slowly down the stairs, careful not to startle him into shooting her.
Her thoughts spiraled: Is he going to take me hostage? Is he losing it?
But once she was close enough, Dylan grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him, putting himself between her and whatever he’d seen.
From behind him, she caught a glimpse—two enormous white eyes shifting in the darkness of the hallway leading to the mall’s restrooms.
“What was that?” Claire whispered.
“Move,” Dylan said.
“What?”
“Move,” he repeated, firmer this time, pushing her gently but urgently. “Go. Go.”
They hurried down the remaining stairs. Near the bottom, Dylan stepped in front of her again and swept the area with his flashlight, scanning for their next route.
This level was much smaller than the others—narrow halls, low ceilings, rows of doors. No open spaces and no visibility.
“What was that?” Claire asked again.
Dylan didn’t answer. He kept searching.
“Dylan!” she snapped. “What was that!?”
He looked at her for a moment, unreadable, then turned and started walking down the next set of stairs.
Claire stared after him. As much as she didn’t want to follow him, she wanted even less to go back toward whatever was watching them from above.
So reluctantly, she followed.
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