This is an old beginning of a story I had lying around that I don't want to use. Here, you can have it :)
The sun rained like bullets upon the tin roof, baking the rotten flesh inside the facility. The bodies stacking in their linoleum beds fell to the heat, their decaying heads retreating into their skulls, gas plummeting from their steaming skin. The single florescent light flickered in and out above the corpses, its flimsy wires faltering underneath the beaming South African sun. Whilst the slow torture of dehydration and death pulled at her, Karen’s eyes shot open.
As she woke, she pulled in a colossal gasp of air, heaving in the gaseous, wretched stink. Struggling against her bounds, she pulled herself free with her last ounce of energy. She rolled along and fell upon the ground, kicking sand up on herself, her golden blonde hair flittered and her knees scraping along the coal-tier sand. She caught herself letting out a dry scream, and crawled along, her red and raw shoulders screaming at her to give up. Looking up at the door handle, she pulled it towards her and crashed through into the hall, a wash of air conditioning flowing over her. She rolled over, waiting for to cool off.
Looking up and down the hall, no-one rushed to her aid. The cool white tile floor adorned the hall, the fluorescent lights failed accordingly, and the one black tinted window at the end was only decorated by a few chips and cracks, along with a smattering of enough blood to drown a small animal.
Before questioning that, Karen dragged herself to the closest water fountain, flicking the switch and feeling the lukewarm water pour over her face and down her throat and chest. She closed her eyes in bliss, sitting there for as long as she could bear, until her stomach boiled over and she spat a torrent of acidic, watery bile, which crawled down her arm and crept down the hall.
Breathing and spitting, she turned again to feel the water wash over her. After at least half an hour of drinking, resting, drinking and resting, she pulled herself upwards with the fountain to help her. Reaching up towards the roof, she grabbed the air conditioning system, flicking the dial up as high as it would go until the hall felt like the water around the Titanic.
She walked up the hall, her legs screaming, burnt in the tin oven as they were. Her heart leaped as she came upon the smattering of blood once more. She tried to call up the hall, but all that came from her raw, red throat was a pang of pain and a sorrowful wheeze. Coming closer to the end of the hall, she saw the trail of blood, smeared along the wall, matted along the floor and cumulating against an unrecognisable corpse.
Karen shrieked, forgetting the pain in her throat and trotted backwards, collapsing into a heap out of the corpse’s line of sight. Curling over again, she felt the familiar warm grip of sick cursing outward.
She peeked around the corner again. The flesh had been ripped from its bones, a skeletal grin peeking from beneath a hood of blood and skin, a white lab coat stained brown, a pained positioning of the legs and the hands. Karen knew this place. Hill Laboratory, a scientific facility within South Africa, primarily focusing on medicinal science. She knew the map of this place like the back of her hand, and more importantly, she knew how to get out; through the door behind the smiling skeleton.