#group one

  The doors are barred but they won’t hold for long.   Cartman’s shoulders are pressed flush against the wood, and his fingers are curled tight around the metal of his rifle. They ran out of bullets almost two days ago, now, but sturdy weapons are few and far between. With each week that passes by, it gets that much more difficult to find anything worth holding on too.   Outside, the creature hisses. Tentacles plaster themselves against the windows of the Rec Center, their quarter sized suction cups grabbing at the glass. Little spider web cracks spread over the pane of glass and the sound makes every hair on Cartman’s body stand on end because it’s the middle of the night and where the fuck are they supposed to go.   “That’s everything,” announces Token, stepping back into the room. He doesn’t look at the window. There are two bags thrown over his shoulders, so piled full of belongings that they barely hook shut. “We need to get out of here.”   “Th-the buh-back door might be open.” Jimmy’s still sitting on the floor where they’ve been set up for the last few days, curled up in a heap of limbs and every blanket that they could manage to scrounge up. The Rec Center has been a good place to hold up, with food and water and plenty of supplies.   The thought of leaving makes Cartman’s stomach twist into knots.   The thoughts of making Karen leave makes him want to vomit.   A massive tentacle slams into the other side of the door. It makes the hinges rattle. Cartman grits his teeth. “I don’t think this door’s gonna hold for long.”   “So we r-r-run fuh-for it.” Jimmy’s fingers flex around the handle of his crutches, digging into the soft rubber grips.  “Th-the b-back door and then – “    Token offers, “my house?”   “T-token’s house,” agrees Jimmy.   Another tentacle slams against the door. The one on the window peels backwards, glass cracking even further. Thick, off-yellow slime is left in the tentacle’s wake.   Growing up, South Park always seemed like such a small town. Right now, though, all Cartman can think about are the different streets blocking the way between the Rec Center and Token’s house, the different districts and distinct splits that have no name but everyone knows.   “We need to stop before then,” says Cartman. “We need to make a dash for the hardware store. That’s two blocks down.”   “We can make it that far.” Token adjusts the straps already digging into his shoulders.   Cartman says, “it’s not like we have a fucking choice.” The tentacle slams into the window and this time glass shards spray into the room. Cartman reels away from the door, moving towards Karen on instinct.   “Eric?” She’s quick to get onto her feet and even quicker to wrap her arms around Cartman’s neck when he picks her up. Karen buries her face against Cartman’s skin.   “It’s okay,” says Cartman, trying to get a better grip on her. “Christ, it doesn’t know the glass is broken yet. We have to get the fuck out of here.”