A piece of balled up paper bounced off the wall. It missed the bottle of water on the ground. Emilio and Saleem had taken a number of objects from around the room like peach cups, a toilet paper roll, and empty pill packets, and scattered them around the floor.

"Damn!" Saleem clicked his fingers. "Bet you can't hit the beans."

Emilio began scrunching up a piece of paper.

"What are you idiots doing?" Donovan asked blearily, as he began to sit up from his nap.

Emilio held up his small paper ball. "This is a little game called Betchacant." He let out a disappointed sigh as he missed the tin of beans.

"Betchachant?" Donovan narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah, as in," he turned to Saleem, "Betchacant hit the bog roll." He had a slight smile. "Basic training was 80 days, then after that there was a lot of sitting in the desert waiting for action. Diggers have to get creative with limited stuff. There's always rocks, and there's always stuff to throw rocks at."

"Dude, you really suck at marketing the army," Donovan remarked.

"Well I don't think they're gonna be hiring any time soon," Emilio shot back dryly.

Saleem let out a small cheer, raising his hands as his small ball of paper bounced off the toilet paper. "You'd think after the amount of times you lot have gone walkabout, you might have picked up a pack of cards or something."

Donovan looked up towards the door. "It's not like we thought we'd be here for this long."

Matthew had begun to stir, so Donovan had prepared the next lot of pills with some water. Matthews wounds hadn't been getting any better. They continued to smell and blacken. Donovan had been giving him paracetamol for his fevers, and the oxycodone for the pain.

He wasn't sure how long they could keep it up though, as Matthew had begun complaining about pain in his back and side. Saleem explained that pain like that could mean his body was having a difficult time processing all the medication he had been taking. They didn't have any reliable way to tell how long had passed since his last dose.

Donovan just wanted Matthew to be happy.

"Are they back yet?" Matthew asked, through painful breaths. He took the medication and gulped it down with the water.

"No." Donovan braced Matthew's back as he sat up temporarily to avoid choking on the water.

A tear ran down Matthew's face. "What if they don't come back?"

"They'll be back, mate. Don't worry. Just wait for the fun stuff to kick in." Saleem knew that feeling well. Suicide Sundays. Aptly named from all of the various party substances wearing off from the weekend, making one's brain crave all the happy chemicals. It left one feeling hopeless and sad. He didn't miss it. He missed the bliss though.

By the time the warmth had radiated through Matthew's body and his brain was feeling fine again, he let out a cheer as the doors opened.

Victor entered alone. He was somewhat out of breath. His expression looked shaken.

He sprinted down the aisle, looking hastily through their supplies. He rifled through some spare blankets and ran back to the doors, tying the material as a sort of barricade.

After he nodded, he came back down to the group. Silently, he simply sat down and stared at the space in front of him.

"What's wrong?" Emilio asked.

Victor whispered, "The demons have won."

Emilio had seen this expression before, in the guys that had seen some shit on the frontlines. "What do you mean?"

"I read the books. There wasn't much. I read through them. Only a third of people can pass. If the prophecy was fulfilled, then everyone else would be spared. Only three days should have passed. Our group started with 7 and 3 are dead, plus the returned soul. Saleem is the only one left from his group. The threshold is torn." Victor shook his head. "I believe we are trapped here now."

Donovan whipped around. "No. There has to be a way. It'll have to pass. We can't just ... Be stuck here." He looked around hastily. "What if we pray? What if I pray more?" He yelled to the ceiling, "GOD, PLEASE HELP US!"

Victor shook his head once more. "I fear that he may have stopped listening."

Emilio squinted at Victor's hands. "What's that?" He closed his eyes and breathed out. "Please tell me you didn't-" He jerked his head towards Matthew.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Victor closed his eyes. "I don't know what happened. I can't describe-" He frowned. "Gowan was not the same anymore."

"You killed Gowan?" Emilio felt like the floor was sinking beneath him.

"I was reading and I heard a noise. I took some nearby scissors and went to check it out." He wiped his hand on his pants. "Gowan's eyes looked ..." he searched for the words, "bloodied? They were red. Not glowing, just ..." he shrugged, "red. He saw me and lunged, so I, you know," he made a single stabbing motion, "I stabbed and ran straight back here. We can't let him back in. I don't know what he is now, but he's just not Gowan anymore."

"Shit," Emilio said under his breath. "So now we just wait?"

Victor just shook his head sadly, "I just don't know anymore. I fear my God has left me."

Emilio surveyed the sad scene around them. Their numbers were dwindling. The supplies would run out eventually. Every one of them was a drain on every other person.

"I suppose that we can try to survive for who knows how long, or we can go out fast." Victor looked at Matthew, for once it looked like pity rather than the usual look of disgust.

"But we still don't know how the smoke works," Saleem noted, "What if it's got to do with the cause of death."

"Yeah, we don't wanna Jonestown ourselves into black smoke territory," Donovan agreed, "If that was the case I'd rather take my chances melting outside."

Emilio had spent many days of his life with the knowledge that it might be the day he died for a cause. Even within his marriage he was ready to lay down his life for Amy. There were now four kids in the room who had more time to enjoy life if there was a miracle and the skies were to clear. He could still make a difference for them.

"Our two best guesses for the smoke is that suicide gives the purple smoke, or that anyone that's killed someone gets black smoke," Emilio reasoned. "It's no secret I've had to kill." He paused, looking around the room and waiting for any judgement.

No judgement came. Everyone was listening intently.

"If I kill myself, and someone watches, the colour of the smoke will get us more sure of the smoke."

The room murmured in shock.

"We can't ask that of you," Saleem put his hand on Emilio's shoulder.

"You guys are young. Without Amy, it doesn't matter if the sun comes back out. It will never shine for me again. Even if the lights come back on. I don't want to die just to escape, if it can help in some way ..." He breathed deeply. "Just let me do this for you."

Saleem shook his head, "I'm coming with you."

"Good plan. No point scarring everyone for life. We can just go somewhere out in the foyer. I'll-" He made a clicking noise while dragging his hand across his throat, "then you can come back and tell 'em."

"No. I mean that I can't let you go alone. If your smoke is dark, mine will be dark. I will have mine for doing some fucked up shit. You got yours from serving your country. I can't let you go into the next life alone. You fought for mateship." Saleem's boyish face was solemn. For once, he looked his age.

Emilio frowned. "You don't want to do that. I've told you before. The people that would cause my smoke to be dark looked a lot like you, mate. You don't want to die for me. My wife wouldn't even come back for me. I've lived a shit life worth jack."

"I can't forgive you on their behalf. I'm not even Afghan, dude. I know what's right though, and right now? What's right is not letting a man die thinking no one gives a shit, after his whole life was spent trying to stand for something. Right or not." He walked to a pile of stationery, grabbing a permanent marker.

Emilio opened his mouth, but Saleem pointed at him decidedly.

"If your smoke is dark, I'll write it on the wall, then I'll follow you. If it's lavender, well," He shrugged, "I'll write it on the wall and really hope you'll come back for me."

"For all of us," Victor added.

Emilio took a moment and thought it over, "I can't talk you out of it, can I?"

"Nope." Saleem cracked a bitter-sweet smile.

Emilio slapped his hand strongly on Saleem's shoulder, "Son, you're a man. This is your decision and it's a god damn respectable one." He turned to Victor. "Give us a little time, then come find us. There's a ramp in one of the doors near the one to the projector room. We'll go in there." His voice lost it's confidence, "It's all concrete. If anything gets messy, it'd be easy to clean. The marker will be easy to see on the pale walls."

"Are you sure?" Victor asked again. "After Gowan, I just ... If there's knocking, we can't let you back in. I don't know what happened but I just don't think we can trust that it won't happen to anyone else."

"What about Elizabeth?" Donovan asked.

Victor's mouth opened silently. He simply shook his head and shrugged.

"Damn," Donovan whispered, hanging his head.

Emilio picked up one of the candles. "Can I take this? It'll just leave you with one, but you can pick it back up when you come to check."

"Sure," said Victor.

By this point, everyone's voices were simply filled with defeat.

"Where are they going?" Matthew asked groggily.

"They're just going to go get you more medication, baby." Donovan slowly stroked the back of Matthew's hand.

"Oh, ok. That's good. Thank you Ememeh-" Matthew tried to say Emilio, but it simply didn't work.

"Yeah, mate." Emilio looked to Matthew with a small smile, trying to look comforting. "No worries, bud."

He walked over to the pile of plastic they'd piled in the corner. He took the plastic bags that bulk toilet paper and paper towels came in. After this, he took a smaller blanket and some masking tape. He knew that suffocation was not a painless way to go, and his body would fight like hell. With luck, he could jolt into a wall as his body fought for air.

He couldn't take the medication from Matthew, and the only knife they had was with Gowan. He'd seen too many bedsheet nooses go wrong. The last thing they needed was another limp body. He was much heavier to move around than Matthew. He also secretly hoped that Saleem could get scared out of following his lead if his death looked painful enough.

Once he'd gathered his materials, he nodded to Victor. "Alright, mate. Remember to tie the door back up behind us."

As the door opened, Saleem took the lid off the marker. He drew a small heart on the large, silver handle of the door. "Thanks for taking me in, guys." As the door closed, he poked his head through the small gap. "See ya never."

The pair walked towards the door to the room with the concrete ramp as the cinema doors rattled from Victor tying them together from the other side.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Emilio asked Saleem one last time.

"My life amounted to nothing. At least in death I know I'm helping those guys in there."

Emilio placed his hand on Saleem's shoulder. "You're a good man, mate. I hope I get to come back for you."