The Eden Trials

Sophie's eyes snapped open to the familiar, cracked ceiling of the hotel room. No beeps, no sting of needles – just the heavy silence of another trial beginning. She flexed her arms, feeling unrestrained yet utterly trapped. They had found another. With a sigh, she rolled to acknowledge the man who should have been beside her, only to find the bed empty.

A rare pang of panic stirred within her. Things were changing. She rose, her limbs sluggish, and surveyed her reflection in the mirror. The familiar tight pants, heavy boots, and zipped coat; but the holster with a knife strapped to her thigh was new. They never armed her from the start.

A peculiar glint near her leg drew her attention to the holster strapped to her thigh. It contained a knife, a prime choice of weapon for this hell. Her lips pursed in thought before pinching thin with angst. Again, something new that had her standing still for a moment before quickly looking around her. They never armed her. Least not in the beginning. It put her on edge in thinking that the dead would swallow the room at any second.

Her gaze fell upon a folded piece of paper on the dresser, sealed with ancient wax. "Your time is short. You are the prey. Slit your wrist and start the trail. Carry nothing but your crimson breadcrumbs and this letter. Beware, for he is not the only hunter. Find your end in the basement."

"Fuck," she muttered, terror and grim determination warring within her. Without hesitation, she retrieved the knife and slit her wrist, the blood coating the blade and dripping to the floor. As soon as its weight dropped, the hungry groans of the dead echoed from the hall. She was bait.

Racing for the door, she threw it open, barely glancing at the horde of 'evolved dead' barreling down the corridor. She had to reach the basement.