Vox Mentis

oh man, a free airplane ride? forget anything bad you've felt about these guys. What's a little eye horror compared to the price of a ticket? Make sure you thank these guys for their generosity once you're able to talk properly

For a moment, you consider your options. Tall Guy really did a good job selling the plane thing. Maybe they're not so bad after all?

Then you remember they stuck a rail spike through your eye and there's no guarantee they won't do other Frankenstein shit to you later and you'd rather avoid that thank you very much.

Ok, now there's only one to deal with. Probably won't get a better chance, unfortunately. Smack him with the metal sign and leg it, the opposite way the short dude headed out.

In one swift movement you wrench the NEW RELEASES sign from its mounting bracket and introduce it to the tall man's face. Whatever drugs they put into you haven't completely gone away, though, and the two of you stumble into a cardboard display and go down in a tangle of beige coat and scattered books. Run, you think, and that does seem to be a solid idea. You find your feet and run out and to the right, towards any possible exit. In the glass you see a wild-eyed man and realize it's you. You hear yelps and alarmed voices, possibly the tall man getting up with his shotgun, but you don't turn around to check.

You stumble out into an ocean of bright frightened faces and open mouths. It's still hard to remember what you're doing. Your legs threaten to betray you, but the motion is good, helping to further clear your head. You see escalators and forge towards them. Your back sings with potential shotgun impacts, but the airport people are being really great about moving out of your way, practically throwing themselves aside, and you're grateful. You reach the elevators but your roller skate feet keep going and you fall flat on your back. The ceiling moves slowly by. The tiles up there are filthy. Like seriously disgusting.

You sit up, remembering Melinda. Also the shotgun. You grab the handrail to pull yourself up but your legs go in opposite directions and you tumble down the rest of the way. Body parts phone in complaints from faroff places. You rise. Sweat runs into your eyes. Because the head fog isn't confusing enough, you need blurred vision. But you can see light, which means exit, which means Melinda, so you run on. Someone shouts. The light grows. Frigid air bursts around you as if you've plunged into a mountain lake and you suck it into your lungs. Snow. It's snowing. Flakes like tiny stars.

You're outside... what do you do?