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[b][code]Thompson Lumber Mill Inc - Interior[/code][/b]
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Mumbling in response to Kimberly's stated agreement, Nate shifted his weight towards the door and felt around for a handle, resorting to using the flashlight app on his own phone to get a better look - there was a hole in the heavyset wooden door for a key, but wrenching back on the handle proved it wasn't locked and the door slowly scraped back against the floorboards, the muffled rhythms of the music on the other side becoming less so. As a guess? They'd probably used this place as a foreman's office or a storeroom or something. It wasn't like they'd left any real furniture lying around to figure it out, not that it mattered, just a curious thought.

Instead, he glanced back towards Kim for a moment, took another look at the fresh cut that marked her cheek, then tugged further back on the door using his weigh as leverage.

"Better get moving before some shitlord jerking off in the corner realises we [i]aren't[/i] hallucinations from the shrooms."

The glow of his phone's light illuminated what would have been an otherwise pitch-black corridor, with various assorted pieces of junk from emptied crates to loose debris scattered around, posing a trip hazard. Age hadn't been kind to this place and neither had the elements, but inside here? It seemed... there wasn't really a word to put it down to, [i]otherworldly?[/i] Nate blinked, and for a moment swore he'd seen the walls covered in a thick, hellish rust that hadn't been there moments before. Or was there? [I]No,[/I] it wasn't. Just his eyes fucking with him.

It proved a point - place like this? On his own, in the dark, no ambient noise in the background - he'd have been legitimately shitted out, a decade's worth of video games and movies having  painted his memory with images from the likes of Resident Evil or Silent Hill.

It might have explained why some of the other party-goers hadn't seemed to have found this particular section yet, if not the assorted crap in their way.

He stepped over the loose portions of debris and junk that were set in their path, making sure to keep the floor illuminated for Kimberly's sake so that [i]she[/i] wouldn't trip either.

Each nook, cranny and crevice they passed or approached, he passed his light over it to make sure they weren't stumbling across a couple screwing in the darkness or dosing (though he had no plan for the chance they did) but the only sign of people they encountered were the growing pulses of music and the jubilant voices accompanying them.

It was only when they hit yet another doorway that he figured they were on the home stretch - a thin shaft of multicoloured light seeped out from a thin gap beneath the door, the once-distant noises now just a few metres ahead. Nate gave Kimberly another stare, deadpan. "If anyone asks, we're roofers."

With that, he took a hold of the handle, twisted and pulled, the door drawing open with a squeak that was drowned out by the collective squeals of the crowd on the other side.

[I]No,[/i] he then thought . Not squealing. [I]Screeching.[/i] A shrill noise which seemed to piece through his skull, inducing an agonising headache that almost had him scrabbling for something to support himself.

When he looked up again, that same rust he'd seen a moment ago on the  walls  now seemed to touch everything, the crowd included, clothes and skin rapidly decaying and sloughing off to reveal a mass of rotting, skeletal figures trampling each other underfoot. 

And his own hands... skeletal, ethereal, coated in more rust.

[I]"What the fuck?!"[/i] Nate began to backpedal, startled, only to back into Kimberly - and then he saw, not a [i]corpse[/I] but a person, flesh and blood, mundane.

It was an act which brought him back to reality, the party in front of them carrying on without a single eyelid batted.