"What exactly did you find?" Asks Deacon.

"Like I said... I found what lies in the camp, in place of a prison."

The decide to follow Stan to the spot.

They are led into the shed, when Stan says, "Leave me here. I've seen enough."

"You're not coming with us?" Asks Jane, with growing suspicion. The suspicion is then settled by the look on Stanley's face. "He saw something horrible." She figures to herself, looking at his worn-out-from-sorrow face.

"Alright. Let's go Jane." Deacon says.

Jane stands beside Deacon.

"There should be a whitewashed room. It'll smell like air freshener... Really strong freshener. You won't miss it." Stan instructs. "As always, you two. Be careful in there. You have just seven minutes before lights out and the night shift moves in."

They acknowledge his points and walk off into the shed.

Stan puts his hands behind his back, and slowly lowers himself to sit on the ground, against the wall, covering his face with his hands.

A quiet sob slips through his lips, followed by another one.

Trying his best to control the sobbing, he sits there, holding back multiple tears at once. He lets the tears rip through, gasping for air as he cries at what he saw.

His hands on his knees, squeezing as hard as he can. He only feels two things right now. Confusion and sadness. With an ache in his throat from the quiet crying, his sobbing stops as a third emotion slithers in.

Rage – The need for revenge.

He goes over to Deacon's tent and grabs the keys to his bike. Before he rides out, he kicks off the muffler on the exhaust.

Deacon and Jane find themselves in the room Stan had described. Walls were washed white. A white chair and a white bookshelf filled with white books are the only things in the 5 by 5-foot room. However, there is one book in there. A black book.

Deacon grabs it and pulls it off the shelf. Suddenly, something clicks under the book. It looks like a plate.

An electric motor begins whirring, as the whole bookshelf sluggishly slides to the side. Behind it, a busted-up opening leading to a shaft.

It looks man-made. It has been drilled by serious machinery. It is completely dark inside, the only way they can see is if they walk in, and they do so.

It reeks of spoilt meat in there. The smell is so strong, the backs of their throats begin to burn with every breath, and everytime they open their mouths they taste the smell.

Bearing the smell, they walk deeper in. That is when their eyes adjust to the darkness, barely enough to let them see the walls of the cave, and that they stand just a foot away from a narrow spiralling staircase. They walk down, clenching their collars over their noses. A faint sound of zooming flies creeps into their ears.

At the bottom of the staircase is a giant empty area. It looks like a room, but not able to see more than a meter ahead, Deacon and Jane feel around the cold walls and slowly walk into the darkness, following a wall on each side of the doorway.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

A few meters later, Deacon and Jane both feel something oddly smooth on the wall. It has sharp edges, and is shaped like... a switch?

They both flick it on at the same time. And suddenly, blindingly bright lights turn on to reveal the area they stand in. An emptied-out chunk of the earth, of the size of a mall, with removed walls and upper floors. They stand in a huge cuboid, lit up by blindingly bright white rope lights from the corners and the edges on top.

But there is one detail about this place. Deacon and Jane both feel sick to the stomach seeing that. It's what Stan saw. It's what he called 'Decoration'.

Black rusted steel bars with sharp edges mimic a chandelier. Only, there are bodies of the supposed 'prisoners' there. No wonder the cages were empty. Everyone is on these chandeliers.

Three chandeliers in the centre of the room arranged in a triangle-like shape. On them, are bodies of people, all bare and stabbed right through the heart. Women, men, elder bodies, and children's bodies are stabbed through the heart, placed on the octopus-like chandeliers, even toddlers. Their skins scratched and clawed at by each other, as they had hung there in pain, while they tried to claw away from the rod that goes right through their chests.

Their skins badly broken where it meets the rod. Their ribs peek through from in between their skin and the bar. Edges of the broken skin have turned black and green, rotting away, with maggots slipping in and out of their skins, some fallen down into the clotted sludge that used to be a pool of blood. Flies buzz their ugly songs, as the people's faces are frozen in death, holding the look of pain and suffering, with their mouths wide open from the moment they were screaming.

There is an etch on each of their bodies on each of the chandeliers. An etch of the thickness of a flat, wide paintbrush. An etch made of their own blood.

Deacon stands at a different angle to find that from an angle, the etches meet up end to end.

The first chandelier's etches meet up end-to-end to read, "SI." The second, "NN." And the third, "ERS.

"'Sinners'. That means..." Deacon stutters, half expecting this to be true, but not believing it to be.

"Father did this." Jane says, confirming his thought.

They decide to leave the shaft before anyone comes along.

As soon as they leave the hangar, the guards at the gate shout and warn the camp, saying, "HORDE!"

Behind them is Stan, making a horde chase him into the camp on Deacon's bike, fulfilling what his rage asked him to fulfil. To lead the horde to The Father.

He pulls out a radio from his pocket, and presses it.

Suddenly, a pulse is felt through the air, as an explosion occurs at the gate, blowing the gate right off the hinges.

Now, Deacon stands there with Jane, looking into the lifeless living eyes of the dead moving towards them with an unwavering focus for Deacon's kicked-out, noisy muffler. They all run merciless towards the bike.

As soon as the horde approaches the gate, some collide with the posts where the guards are posted. Suddenly, they begin looking up at the guards and moving towards their guns’ noises, as they spray their magazines empty into them, attempting to kill the killed.

While the horde moves in towards the camp, the sides of the gate get blocked by the piling bodies of the dead drooling as they look up at the posts and see fresh meat, and begin seeking new blood from the posts. Instead of climbing up the post, they all run into each other.

At that point, they begin climbing over each other. As the two guards desperately try to defend themselves, they shove around two or three off, but they keep coming. At the same time, both posts are overrun. The dead begin to chew on the fresh meat, as it screams in agony.

Being ripped apart, limb from limb, they give up hope. Just before their final breaths, they stop screaming, and raise their hand up into the sky, expecting something divine to take them. Instead, the dead grab the hand and gnaw off their fingers.

Eventually, still choking and hissing for air through their blood-flooded tracheas, they lay there in pain, looking at their own bone now. And even that turns to dust in the mouth of one of those revanchists.

Now, they turn their eyes to the figure walking up in front of them. Deacon watches from a distance. From the corner of his eye, he notices that Jane has disappeared. Suddenly, she pings his radio, “Deacon. Listen to me,” she says, “I want you to get everyone into the basement. It is big enough to keep everyone safe. I will lead the horde away.”

In disagreement, Deacon desperately replies, “Jane-NO! Come with me. We will hide and wait for them to leave us.”

That is when he figures out that figure at the gate. It is Jane. Hoping she’d listen and come back to wait out the horde, Deacon stands there, waiting for a response. Soon, he gets one.

“I’m sorry, Deacon. Good luck.” The words shiver out of her voice.

Radio silence follows.