Three days passed, and John kept practicing his leeching, although he made zero progress. Things have been quiet these last two days. After the previous big scare, last night was uneventful; not even the lights flickered. It was relaxing for John; however, Martin kept him on edge.
"Don't let your guard down. The fact that we had a lot of noise one day and silence the next one doesn't mean anything. If you get confident, you will die." Martin warned him every day.
"I'm already dead." Answered John mockingly.
"So, you are a comedian now? Keep practicing; it is not like you have much to do anyway." Martin pressured.
"Oh, by the way, the other day, when I took refuge in the pantry, I heard the workers talk about some stuff." John then explained what he found out about Mr. Santana and the situation of the land the nursing home was built on.
"Hum, that's interesting. I did know that Santana had various business and land leases, but I had no idea about this." Martin went deep into his thoughts.
Slowly, the day came to an end, and the night started. At ten o'clock, the lights started flickering faintly, and everyone saw it as a good sign. Even the more paranoid ones, like Martin or Willy, relaxed a bit. Around midnight, the flickering of the lights stopped. This was bound to be another uneventful night... or not. Suddenly the lights went off, and a lot of screams could be heard all around the building. John came out of the room he was practicing in, and Martin was already leeching energy from the old lady.
"Good luck," said Martin, looking at John, who had a stupefied face.
In the hallway, three creatures moved along; they were a wobbling mass of body parts, screaming in agony while they ate one another; their faces were distorted in a clear sign of pain; they grew new arms and even a thorax; they tried to lift themselves up, like attempting to scape the monstrous creature, only to be eaten by other faces and pushed down again; then the one that had eaten the most would grow parts and try to scape to be ganged on by the others. However, the worst part was the crying. It sounded like the high-pitched screams of a baby that was hurt. As soon as the Munchers got themselves another ghost as a target, they stopped trying to scape and eat each other and focused on their victims.
"Don't stand there like an idiot; move; get to somewhere safe." Yelled Martin.
John started thinking fast. The Munchers were slow; they moved like slugs by wobbling and contorting. Escaping didn't seem so difficult; however, things were never easy here, so he had his doubts. His suspicions were confirmed when the wobbling mass of parts that had moved further along the hallway grew a few legs, lifted itself up, and charged at the nearest ghost. Fortunately, it was crying Willy. The Muncher tried to attack him three times before it grew tired of passing through him. The rest of the monsters were already on the attack.
John looked around; he wasn't the only one in trouble; four more ghosts were in the hallway, and they didn't have time to take refuge in Elizabeth's room. The only hope was making it to the pantry; the munchers had already learned that attacking Willy, Ramon, Shana, and a few others was useless. Now John understood why their hosts were the ones closer to the wall the munchers used as a doorway. It was to buy time for the others. It would take the Munchers a few tries before they changed targets.
"Why do I always end up checking the fuse?" A male nurse assistant complied.
He opened the door of the pantry and stood there with the door open while complaining to his coworkers.
"Because you are the man, and we don't want to do it," the girls answered.
"What about equality?" He asked jokingly.
"No equality for fuse stuff; now go." While the girls were laughing, all around them a massacre ensued.
The three Munchers got into the pantry room, their long tongues wrapped around their victims, their many arms holding them in place, and many faces took bite after bite from some of the unfortunate ghosts that happened to be there. The pantry room became a death trap. The ghost screamed in agony while they were eaten, and they begged for help. Meanwhile, the other ghosts that were in the room but were still free stood close to the walls and looked in horror. These ghosts were people they knew for months or even years. They saw them extend their hands, asking them for help, but all they could do was stay away from their grasp and look for a way out of the slaughter.
A few seconds later, the lights came back, and the munchers stopped attacking and started screaming in pain again. As soon as the nurses and assistants got up and opened the door, the Munchers dashed out and ran to the wall at the end of the hallway. In their way, they tried to take a bite out of any ghost in reach, and one of them succeeded once.
"Let's check on the patients." One nurse said.
They had the custom of checking on the patients after energy cuts, especially Mr. Bernard. He didn't move too much because of his dementia and old age, but every time there was an energy cut, he got out of bed and closed the door. The nursing home personnel were afraid he might trip in the dark, so it was protocol to check on the patients after the occasional electrical failure.
"They should fix that fuse thing," complained the male nurse assistant that went to solve the problem.
"Oh, they have tried so many times. There is some problem with the building's structure, so we will just have to deal with it," another assistant chimed in.
The living were living, and the dead were mourning once more. Of the seven that took refuge in the pantry, three survived. Two of them were fine, but the third one was on the floor screaming as one of the munchers bit him in their escape.
"Poor Sandro," Shana said, looking at the ghost screaming and twisting in pain on the floor.
John knew him a bit from seeing him around—an unassuming thirty-year-old Latino, a natural from Brazil, died one year ago.
All the ghosts were in the hallway or looking at Sandro from the door of the rooms that had a clear view. Willy was watching from his room. His face was even more contorted than before, like his face muscles were fighting one another. Elizabeth got out of her room and walked towards Sandro.
"Stop, don't do it," screamed Martin.
"We could learn some stuff."
"You ain't going to learn anything. You still have this idea that you are a genius physicist and that you are going to find the answer to everything. You won't; you will just cause more damage," retorted Elizabeth.
"We could try making him get in contact with the living to see if his situation improves." Martin still wanted to stop Elizabeth.
"That won't work; it's been tried before; this isn't the first time this has happened. Also, by the moment some workers pass this close to the wall to touch him, he might have already turned. I ain't moving, Mr. Bernard, for no reason. If he starts moving around, the nurses might think his dementia has gotten worse and he is wandering; they might put him on some restriction during the night. Then I won't be able to close the door to my room. I will be fine, but what about them?" Elizabeth signaled to the people behind her, there were a lot of ghosts that took refuge in her room.
Martin was at a loss. He looked at the other ghosts, and now that Elizabeth had made their safety the main concern, no one would support his ideas. No one wanted to risk their wellbeing for some random experiment some old fart had in mind. Elizabeth moved next to Sandro. Everyone moved away. Ramon and Shana made sure the hallway was clear. Those who didn't know what was going to happen moved out of fear after seeing the others move.
Elizabeth gave Sandro a pat on the shoulder and moved away. Sandro's body contorted in pain, then started melting and soon became a puddle of gray mucus on the floor. The mucus started reforming into two different heads, which tried to eat each other while screaming. The heads stopped their fighting and looked at the lamps on the ceiling. The screams increased, and the wobbling mass tried to move, but its movements were erratic. It created arms to try to protect itself from the light, but to no avail. Also, the heads tried to eat the same arms they had created. After a few seconds, like if it had remembered something, the blob of mucus grew legs and dashed straight for the wall, crashed into it, and disappeared. And just like that, Sandro was gone, and the screaming from the walls started.
"We could have tried something," protested Martin.
"Don't waste my time," retorted Elizabeth.
"We are dead; time is all we have."
"Everything ends; nothing is forever, not even ghosts. You fool." Said Elizabet, walking to her room.
Martin hated Elizabeth's cockiness, but there was nothing he could do. She held a lot of power with the majority. It didn't really matter. It was not like they could harm each other; there was no physical enforcement of any rule. But when you are dead, the interaction with others is one of the few things that keeps you sane. No one wanted to be despised by the people they were going to be around pretty much forever.
"Explain to me what happened here," inquired John from Martin.
"If you get bitten, you will turn sooner or later. Supposedly, there is no way to stop it. Remember when Sofia turned and she tried to bite you in her scape?"
"Yeah, I remember."
"Well, the ones bitten have a small window in which they have some tolerance to light and are almost fully transformed into munchers. They become very hungry and attack anything around them. It can be really dangerous. That could have been you."
"Anyway, what is up with the double standard? I touch Sofia; she turns, and I'm hated by everyone. However, Elizabeth does the same, and everyone is cool with it."
"Thats how things work, kiddo. In life and death, it's all about politics." "Wonderful. Death is like life, but shittier."
"Get to practice; we don't know when the next attack will be." Martin was again in deep thought while he looked at the wall at the end of the hallway.