To this he had suddenly turned wide-eyed as he realized our predicament. Having both been city-born and raised, we knew about as much about the wilderness as we did about being neurologists.
“I used to watch a lot of wildlife shows on television.” He swallowed hard while holding his lantern higher. There was a tension in the cold night air, a sense of dark foreboding as he looked to me, and quietly said, “Did you bring it with you?”
Reaching into my jacket pocket, I produced the revolver, my friend’s features brightening with a sudden sense of relief.
“I’ll keep it handy just in case--,” I promised as we made our way up the path, “Let’s just hope that Red Cloud and Scott don’t run into anything out there….”
At a brisk pace and upon the rugged and steep grades, it was roughly a thirty minute walk from one side of camp to the other. But in the pitch dark of that primordial forest, it might as well have been miles.
“I can’t stop thinking about that camp cook.” Rich glanced over at me as we walked up the path, “Killing his wife and her lover with an axe, and then blowing his brains out.”
“I still have all those missing girls on my mind.” Swatting at a mosquito, I looked to my friend, “And that poor little Campbell girl.”
“Pregnant and fifteen years old--,” Rich frowned, “It was obviously intentional, and we both know that Frank was guilty as hell. But that was a long time ago….”
“Time means nothing to the powers that be.” I swallowed hard remembering the warehouse experience, “And like they say; evil always comes home to roost….”
“Let’s just hope that we don’t get caught in the cross-fire.” Rich shuddered, nodding toward the cook-house, “We almost didn’t make it out the last time….”
“And we weren’t alone on that one either.” I swallowed hard, speaking more to myself than anyone else. Reaching for the Celtic cross that hung about my neck, I fumbled with the silver object as we walked past the washrooms and toward the cookhouse.
“Have you sensed him--,” Rich nervously asked, his eyes lowered as though with some sudden or hidden shame, “Felt the mystic’s presence, or the shape that follows in his shadow?”
I had simply shaken my head in response. We had agreed to never mention their names, concerned with the power of sound and the significance of certain words within invocation. But I now wondered whether I was being completely honest with my friend? Or had I just been too afraid to admit to myself that I had indeed become aware, or thought to have felt the sorcerer on several occasions? Surely, there had even been times when alone and at my desk, I had felt those ice blue eyes upon me late in the night… and knew that his demon, though remaining silent, had still watched from the shadows….
Presently, I forced the thoughts and memory from my mind and motioned toward the cookhouse, “Let’s try to stay focused on what we are doing here. Let’s leave that subject for a different time, place and during the day-light….”
He had appeared disturbed, not so much by my comment, but the fact that he had certainly noticed, or sensed my sudden anxiety. In some respects, I think that we shared many emotions and felt similar fears. And in this particular case, we both knew that the fear was well-founded.
“Aside from that discussion--,” He pondered, “Are we ever really safe—free of the things that we have encountered, and thought to have beaten in the past?”
“Honestly, my friend--,” Halting at the foot of the cookhouse steps, I looked back at him in the dim glow of our lanterns, “We haven’t escaped—or beaten anything, it just seems that way. Only a fool would assume that nothing exists forever. As we both know as a proven science fact, energy is never lost, only transferred. We may have evaded certain negative forces through positive time in space, but never truly won or escaped….”
“If that’s true—then what is the point of what we’re doing?”
“Because--,” Pausing on the first step and upon the stairs, I looked back to my friend, “We do make a difference to whoever and whatever shares this reality with us.”
“Whoever and whatever shares this reality with us?”
“Well certainly--,” I shrugged, “I’m sure that of all people, you are aware that we occupy spaces with multi-dimensional entities. Beings, spirits, or creatures which are lost, possibly even trapped between rifts in time and space, for one reason or another.”
His eyes were wide, as removing his glasses and wiping the lenses upon his sweater without blinking, he stared, “Please remind me not to get into these debates with you again, in places like this and at night….”
And with that we ascended the steps, as creaking beneath our combined weight, they echoed in the stillness. It was a sharp and alarming sound of which, seeming to clatter among the surrounding cabins, would have awakened the dead.
Fumbling with the keys, Rich unlocked and slowly shoved the door open. It creaked loudly upon rusted hinges. Raising his lantern, he looked to me, “So much for doing anything quietly around here.”
“Not that it would make any difference.” I shrugged, “As you know, what we are looking for is always aware, and will discover us regardless of physical senses.”
“If it’s that simple—remind me why we have to search to find them….”
“I don’t have all the answers--,” We slowly moved into the building, and as the door slammed closed behind us in a sudden gust, I looked back, “But in theory, when dealing with restless spirits or entities. We must cross into that space, where they occupy a dimension or plane in our physical time.”
“Alright then, that makes perfect sense. It’s the same as walking into the home of an upset stranger—and pissing them off to get their attention.” Rich swallowed hard, and shaking his head, slowly made his way into the building.
“It’s more like trespassing on sacred ground or disturbing a grave. But, I would say that’s a fairly good analogy.”
“Well, in this particular case, I don’t think that our real problem is any single spirit or misplaced soul.” His entire demeanor seemed to change, becoming far more solemn, “And I don’t think that we’ll have to stir things up too much to get its attention….”
It was now his turn. As causing my skin to crawl and hair to stand on end, I felt distinctly uncomfortable with his statement. In the past, he had always defined things fairly accurately when making mention to certain aspects of an entity. And in this case, I could only pray that it was of human origin and not some unspeakable nightmare that silently awaited us in the darkness….
I followed him into the enormous room, passing the rows of tables and benches, as I stopped to snap several photographs. Although I had previously taken day-light images, things always appeared different in the night. So, I made it a point to do both. Besides, Carrie would appreciate the darker and more dramatic perspectives when using the photos in our magazine. Not to mention, the bright and sudden flashes seemed to chase off the shadows. And though only through brief intervals and likely just my imagination, I had thought to have seen something there… A darkness which deeper than the rest, seemed to follow us through the place….
The boards creaked beneath us. Remembering the incident on the dock, I motioned for my friend to be cautious. Though they seemed solid enough, I did not trust anything in this place, and the last thing that we needed now were injuries.
Slowly moving through the swinging doors and into the kitchen area, I took several more pictures. The place had just seemed old and vacant by day, but not now. There was a feeling, a strange sensation of having disturbed someone or something... The hairs had stood erect upon my neck and forearms. Looking to Rich, I knew by his pale expression that he had experienced something similar.
“First impressions--,” He paused, and peering suspiciously at the old stoves and counters, looked back at me, “It’s almost like we walked in on someone who doesn’t want company….”
“Alright--,” I motioned for him to follow, as we slowly backed out of the kitchen, “Do
you feel that it’s something malicious? You made mention of an “it” before….”
Slowly shaking his head, he adjusted his glasses, and quietly said, “I’m getting an overwhelming sensation of utter and complete desperation, sadness. I know that Frank told us that the cook ended his life in the cabin. But, for some reason it feels like he’s still here….”
“This place bothers me as well--,” I swallowed hard, my eyes finding the deepest of shadows to the rear of the kitchen, “I don’t feel physically threatened, but I do have the distinct impression that we have disturbed someone.”
“Someone who is either in the process of doing something terrible--,” Rich nervously peered about the room and then back at me, “Or has already done it—and it now watching us….”
“We have definitely entered into someone’s space--,” Peering about the room my attention was drawn back into that very same dark doorway that had caught Frank’s eye earlier, “Let’s make a note of this and leave it for later.”
“We can do a service and short ceremony here before we leave the camp--,” He agreed, “And maybe set this soul free. But like I said before—I don’t feel that this has anything to do with the real trouble in this place.”
“What do you mean by real trouble?”
“I’m not exactly sure--,” He squinted while lowering his lantern, and looking back at me, said “It almost feels like something familiar. Something old, evil, that we have encountered before. But it’s not truly here in this room with us. It’s out there somewhere in the night, waiting for the right time and opportunity to take the advantage.”
“We should finish up in here and get moving.” I felt a sudden and suffocating anxiety, “We still have a lot of area to cover.”
“I think that old Red was right--,” he appeared suddenly as white as a sheet, “That there’s something out there in the lake, waiting….”
With a nod I motioned for my friend to follow, as turning out the lights, we made our way out of the dark kitchen. Something metallic fell, crashing and clanging heavily to the kitchen floor, and sent us both backwards through the swinging doors! We had fallen to the floor, but were on our feet within the blink of an eye! Throwing the doors open before us, we stared back into the dark kitchen! Casting the glow of our lanterns toward the source of the sound!
For reasons beyond explanation, a heavy metal cauldron that had been resting upon a counter near the rear entrance had suddenly fallen and blocked the doorway. We had looked to one another, and slowly backing out of the kitchen, began making our way out.
“As you know--,” I followed him back through the aisle and between the tables, “Some events, the most violent or traumatic, often leave residual energy that takes time to fade. Like a video playing over and over until it eventually burns out. We might just be feeling the lingering effects of a series of events that occurred in this place.”
“Videos don’t toss twenty pound metal objects.” His eyes were wide as he scoffed at the thought, “And don’t try to feed me that academic bullshit. Because we both know that there is no way that heavy old pot just slid across the counter and fell on its own.”
“No—you’re absolutely right.” I followed quicker, “It’s more than possible that our presence here has somehow disturbed or even revitalized the residual energy.”
“Why don’t you just say what you’re really thinking--,” Rich parted the doors, turning to lock them, and looked back at me, “Because I know that you can feel it to. It’s like we walked into camp and re-awakened something in this place. And whatever it is—it’s not just some random haunting—it’s far worse….”
“Alright, I’ll admit it. Yes, I have felt that way since we first arrived. But we have to be careful not to allow anything to use our emotions against us. We both knew some of the background on this place, so had some pre-conceived ideas. I really didn’t want to feed into it all, and create some kind of uncontrollable, mass hysteria.
“Well, I don’t know about you--,” He cursed under his breath, “But what I’m feeling now has nothing to do with what we heard or knew, or what we just experienced back there. Its real and I’m getting a very strong impression that whatever it is, it’s slowly building like an old pressure cooker from all around us.”
“So, what do you suggest? Should we pack our gear and get the others out of here now?”
There was a moment of silent contemplation where I had assumed that he might just agree. But then, slowly shaking his head, he looked back at me from the deep shadows upon the path, “No—we can’t just pack and run. But we should inform the others, give them the choice, before anything serious happens.”
“Agreed, we can talk to them just as soon as we finish here.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t want to sound like a coward and shake everything up…”
“You are one of the bravest souls that I have ever known--,” Resting a reassuring hand upon his shoulder, I smiled, “I’m grateful for your honesty—and couldn’t do this without you.”
“We better get going—or we’ll be out here talking and freezing our butts off, all night.”
“That should be our last stop before our rendezvous with the others.” I motioned toward the shack that Frank had earlier pointed out, “The cook’s old cabin….”
“Well, after what happened in the canteen—I sure hope there aren’t any loose, heavy or sharp items in there.” He paused in thought, looking into the blackness ahead, and said, “Do you think that old Frank is playing us all for fools and feeding us to the proverbial shark here?”
“Well, sadly it takes bait to catch one, and presumably we came here to fish.”
“It’s this whole place--,” He went off on an emotional tangent again, turning and pointing out toward the docks, “And that lake… Whenever I have my back turned, I feel like something is coming up from behind me. I’m always turning to look over my shoulder, or just standing and staring out at it. Like old Frank seems to always be doing….”
He was physically shivering by the time that he had completed the sentence, rubbing at his arms and slowly shaking his head, “Michael—I know in my heart, in my soul that there is something evil down there… and that it’s waiting for someone—for us….”
I knew Rich better than most and judging by the fear that now shone in his eyes, could not ignore his warning, “I’m going to say this again, because I really feel that I need to at this point. Rich, honestly, if you feel that we should just pack it all up and go—I’ll call this off right now.”
There was a moment when I thought that he might just nod and it would all end right there. But he didn’t. Instead, he suddenly shook his head, and rubbing at his eyes, said, “My gut is telling me to run as far and fast from this place as possible. But my heart tells me to stay. Because, if we leave now—old Frank will fill this place with unsuspecting campers and God knows what might happen to them….”
“Then we’ll just have to trust our fates to faith and friendship.” There was little comfort in my words, and he fell silent as though battling against instinct and his own common sense.
The radio suddenly went off, startling us both as Scott made the first check, “Reaper this is the Wolf-man, do you copy?”
“Loud and clear--,” Rich had fumbled with the radio, “You guys find anything interesting?”
“No sir--,” Scott had replied through a field of growing static, “It’s just dark, we don’t care much for this forest and we’re starting to freeze our butts off out here.”
“We’re just outside the cookhouse--,” Rich informed him, “Make your way back to the truck to warm up a little. We’ll meet you there shortly.”
“A big ten four to that—we’re heading in your direction now, over and out.”
Rich had shoved the radio back into the breast pocket of his jacket and retrieved the lantern from where he had placed it down upon the road.
“Alright then, let’s have a look into the cook’s old cabin.” Motioning for my friend to f
ollow, we moved up the path as he suddenly halted me.
There was a look of urgency in his eyes, but the frown spoke of certain discomfort rather than fear, “I know that this is a bad time—but, I need the facilities.”
“Well, that’s fine--,” I motioned toward the building with a nod, “Just go ahead, I’ll wait right here.”
“Um--,” He put a hand to his stomach and, with bowed legs, looked between the dark entranceway to where I stood on the path, “I need to sit down—right away. Would you mind just staying near the entrance?”
Without another word I had quickly followed him back down to the building and accompanied him inside. There had been no front door to speak of. It had just been an entranceway which, like a stone maze, provided privacy to those within.
I had noticed the glow of his lantern vanish across the room as he occupied a stall, noisily attempting to find solace in the deep shadows.
The room was enormous. Lined with mirrored counters upon one side, it revealed numerous shower stalls upon the other. The bathrooms and urinals occupied one end of the building, while the other side offered laundering facilities. The floors were tiled. As Frank had previously mentioned, all the bulbs had been removed from each and every light fixture.
I had slowly walked about and inspected our surroundings, disturbed by the lack of a front door. It may very well have served its purpose during the warmer months to the men, but I wondered what might have stayed there during the winter. As finding what appeared to be fecal matter upon the floor near one of the shower stalls, I paused before carefully peering inside.
“I’ll just be a few minutes--,” Rich had called from the stall across the room, “But, I think that someone swiped all the toilet paper? Is there any chance that you can help me out?”
Reaching into a jacket pocket and finding several napkins, I called back, “I still have the napkins from the last diner that we stopped at.”
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