by Terence West
"Jackson?" Bishop asked.
Jackson shrugged. "I don't really know, man. We don't have a lot of choices here."
Bishop nodded, then looked at Dawn. "What do you think?"
Dawn bit her lip. "I say explore. Like Jackson said, we don't have many other choices."
"I concur," Bishop said quickly. He pressed two fingers to the monitor in his ear. "Let's see how our fearless leader votes," he said, referring to Chloe.
****
Chloe stared at the second monitor. Stephen's face was plastered across the center of the screen. He was yelling something excitedly, but she had the sound muted in her headset. Apparently, he loved this. Looking over at the third monitor, she could see the frightened faces of her crew. She began nervously twisting her hair between her thumb and forefinger. This was her decision alone and time was running out. She knew how cliché that sounded, but it really was. In the panic, the network had gone to a ninety-second commercial break that consisted of two of their promos, and a thirty second national spot, commonly known as "filler" in the industry. She didn't know what to do. She wanted to pull her crew out of there, but there was still almost fifteen minutes left in the show. She knew she could fill that with pre-recorded segments and one or two live breaks with Rivers saying "hi" and "goodbye", but she didn't want to do that, and apparently, from looking at the second monitor again, Stephen didn't want her to either. Chloe also knew the audience wouldn't accept that either, not after what they had just seen.
"Chloe?" Bishop's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Go ahead, Bishop," she responded in a whisper.
"We need a decision."
His statement was cold and hard, like being blindsided by a runaway bus. Chloe knew she held all their fates in her hand, and like those three sirens from Greek mythology, she threatened to sever the strings with her golden scissors.
She turned and cast a worried glance at Montoya, who was standing behind her. Montoya nodded once as if to say it was her call, but it was also a warning. Montoya's face was quietly threatening Chloe. She would not let another die on her watch. Not again.
"Okay," she said with an exasperated breath, "let's do it."
Snip.
"Let's explore the cave." She glanced down at her watch. "We have a little less than twenty seconds left in this commercial break," she thought out loud. "Here's what we're going to do. We're going to drop the rest of the pre-recorded segments for the remainder of the show and stay exclusively with you while you explore the cave."
"What if we find nothing?" Rivers asked. "We don't want another ‘Al Capone's Vault’ on our hands here."
"Well, then at least we gave it our best shot," Chloe answered seriously, but after what she had seen on that third monitor, she was sure they would find something. There was no doubt of that in her mind. "We're back in ten seconds, Rivers."
****
Rivers stood up and quickly dusted himself off the best he could. He then straightened the lapels of his jacket and straightened his tie. This is going to be a long fifteen minutes, he told himself. Looking up at the camera, he waited for the red light to wink on.
"You're watching a special live Halloween edition of Ghost Chasers, Incorporated. I'm Rivers Gallows," he said in his "announcer" voice. "If you're just joining us, you've missed a hell of a ride so far and it promises to get wilder from here. We're standing inside a cave that was cut into the second floor of a house in Stone Brook, Florida the second floor," he added seriously. "With the remaining time in this broadcast, we are going to explore this strange structure and see what happens. We expect some pretty spectacular finds along the way." He looked over at Dawn and Bishop and smiled, "Leading the way will be our resident experts from the Office of Paranormal Investigation, Dawn Lassiter and Nick Bishop."
Trent quickly panned to Dawn and Bishop. They were both completely surprised by the introduction.
Bishop cleared his throat and tried to think of what to say. He didn't have the built-in broadcaster tools Rivers had and he could feel every set of the millions of eyes watching him from home. He swallowed hard, then remembered his equipment. Lifting his EMF Meter, he held it up to the camera. "Because this structure is supernatural in appearance, it will be nearly impossible for us to get reliable readings in here." He pointed to the buried needle on the device. "The same goes for Dawn's Air Ion Counter. These have become almost virtually useless in here. The only thing we have to rely on now is our wits, and our trusty flashlights."
Bishop moved past Trent further into the cave. He stopped briefly to look back, but then pressed on. Trent was right behind him, followed by Jackson, Carrie, Rivers and Dawn bringing up the rear. The pungent smell of must was quickly filling their nostrils, almost to the point of nausea. About four meters into the cave, it started down at a gentle slope, then turned left. The ground was stable, and to their luck, there were no small pebbles or debris lying on the floor that could trip them. Bishop moved his flashlight across the structures in front of him. They roof appeared to almost be ribbed, and he suddenly found himself feeling like Jonas swallowed by the whale. He could almost make out the shapes of ribs running down the walls from a central spine. He wondered if this is what it felt like to be eaten.
Moving his light along the floor, he stopped when he saw something reflect the light. Kneeling down, he ran his light over the floor until he spotted it again. Reaching down, he lifted it up to the camera. It was a gold necklace with a heart-shaped charm on the end.
"It looks like a locket." Setting his flashlight down, he pried open the two halves and stared at the pictures inside. They were of Kelley and Joanne. This was Joanne's locket. "This belonged to a girl who was murdered yesterday here in Stone Brook."
"What is it doing here?" Rivers asked.
"I don't really know… "Bishop suddenly remembered. "It must be part of the ‘Ritual of Sevens'," he surmised. "They need seven hearts and a personal effect from each of the victims. This must be what it's for."
"Then why is it here in the middle of this place?" Dawn wondered aloud.
"I'm assuming they dropped it," Bishop sighed, "and they will come looking for it. They absolutely need it to complete the ritual." He looked down at the ground and muttered a silent curse. It wasn't as if we were in enough trouble… Bishop stood up and slipped the locket into his pocket. "This may buy us some time," he said after a moment. Looking up into the cave, he shined his light straight down the center. There was nothing but darkness for as far as the eye could see. "We should keep going."
****
Cane and Kelley walked slowly behind the hovering Veranda-Morgan. It was ludicrous to even think that, Cane laughed to himself. She was hovering. If that wasn't enough to sober anyone, he didn't know what would. They had been moving in the cave, guided by Veranda-Morgan and her self-emanating light, for what felt like an eternity. The cave, no more than five feet tall in places, was a winding mess. He felt like they had been walking in circles because every part of the cave looked the same. He guessed it was a dull brown, but he couldn't really tell in the glare of Veranda-Morgan's bluish light. He glanced back at Kelley. She was walking slowly on bare feet with her hospital gown wrapped tightly around her. She was a mess. He could see a small trickle of blood on her left hand from where the IV needle had been ripped out and her face was still red and bruised. He needed to get her out of here, but he still wasn't sure about Veranda-Morgan. Was she a friend or foe? It was true she had released them, but that may have been just to lead them back to the phantoms and the ritual.
They turned another corner and stopped. Veranda-Morgan bobbed up and down slightly as if a current of wind was destabilizing her float. Cane could see the faint traces of a yellowish light bleeding into the cave. Peeking around Veranda-Morgan, he saw a wide-open area inside it. The ceiling must've been at least twenty feet high, and the diameter of the circular room stretched to almost thirty feet across. A white pentagram was carved into the middle of the room with a tall, white candle burn
ing at each point of the star. Several bizarre symbols, none of which Cane recognized, were painted inside the star with what looked like blood. He counted at least a hundred tapered, white candles sitting on outcroppings of the rock around the room and the faint smell of incense tickled his nose. This was definitely a place of evil.
"Is this where the ritual is going to be held?" Cane asked.
Veranda-Morgan looked down at Cane and nodded. Her eyes had changed from eerie, pure black to an almost milky white. "This is where the ritual is already being held." She raised her hand and pointed to two dark forms hovering near the pentagram. "They have sacrificed six hearts so far."
Cane watched as the two black forms undulated and transformed into human form. They walked toward the circle, each with an item in their hands. Cane strained to see what they had, but couldn't quite make it out. He saw them stop just outside the circle and drop to their knees, then each one placed their object in the center of the circle. Cane's eyes widened. It was a human heart along with a personal item from the victim. He could tell it was a small black wallet. The shadow flipped it open revealing a badge and a photo ID. Detective Enbaugh, Cane mourned silently.
The two shadows hardened their red eyes into slits and tossed their heads back. Lifting up their bodies while still in the kneeling position, each floated slightly around the circle. A crack appeared in the center of the star, red light seeping from it. As the two creatures floated faster, the crack opened wider and engulfed the heart and item. A beam of red light shot up from the opening and began to engulf the entire cave. It struck the two phantoms first, sending them screaming to the ground.
Cane watched in horror as the phantoms writhed on the ground in what looked to him like agony. They tore at their own mass with their claws, exposing pools of black liquid below them. "What's happening?"
"No power is without its price," Veranda-Morgan replied stoically.
Cane looked back at the phantoms. They had abandoned their human form in favor of a black mass. Each was slowly pulling away from the circle. Cane took a nervous step back. "Should we move?"
"Why?"
He pointed to the red light, still moving outward from the pentagram. "Won't that hurt us?"
Veranda-Morgan laughed softly. "Don't be foolish. The light will fade before it reaches us."
Cane took another step back, and pulled Kelley with him. "I don't think so."
The red light began to wash over the edges of the cave and into the passageway. It wasn't dissipating. Cane spun around and took Kelley by the hand. The two retreated the way they had come, leaving Veranda-Morgan alone. Catching sight of a connecting tunnel, Cane cut left and pulled Kelley along with him.
Veranda-Morgan faced the red light head on. She wasn't frightened of a little light display like the phantoms were. Steeling herself, she let the light wash over her. As it went, an odd sensation passed over her. The light was supernatural in origin, as was a part of her. The two supernatural elements began to merge. Morgan felt Veranda being ripped from her. She screamed in pain as it felt like a limb being torn off. Morgan spun around in midair to see the blue light leaving her with the red. In the blue light, she could see a young woman, not much older than she was with light, curly brown hair and stark green eyes. Her mouth was wide open in a scream, but no sound could be heard. Her long, frail, hand was reaching out for Morgan. In response, Morgan grasped for the almost translucent hand, but felt her own hand swing right through it. She watched as the final blue strands were cleaved from her abdomen and Veranda was washed away with the red light. Morgan felt her body become heavy as it fell to the ground. Her head slammed against a small outcropping of rocks and wrenched into an unnatural position.
The world was growing dark around her. Veranda was gone. At once, she was relieved and worried, but all that didn't matter anymore. She moved her eyes up into the ritual area and saw the phantoms recovering from their ordeal. It wouldn't be long until they had all the hearts.
Chapter 30
"Did you see that?" Bishop asked. "It looked like a red flash of light just ahead of us."
"What do you think it was?" Rivers queried.
"To be honest, I'm not sure." Bishop turned and looked back at Trent. "Did you get that?"
Trent pushed his hand in front of the camera lens and gave the thumbs up.
Bishop stopped and strained his ears. "Did you…?" he let his question trail off as the noise sounded again. This time, it was more distinct, almost like footfalls. Holding his flashlight tightly in his hand, he pointed the beam into the darkness. With his free hand, he signaled for the group to move away. He wasn't sure what was heading their direction, but he wanted the crew well out of harm's way. He glanced back to see the crew quickly following his non-verbal instructions. He knew they weren't exactly raring to meet one of the phantoms in this confined space. His mind was awash in fear. Should he call out, or would that further attract what was coming? Something wicked this way comes, he found himself silently quoting. Taking a nervous step forward, he tried to steady himself. The noise was growing louder. It was definitely heading toward the crew. He turned and focused on Jackson, "Are you picking up that sound?"
Jackson nodded. He had his free hand pressed firmly to his headphones, while the other balanced the boom in front of him. Moving his free hand, he moved it down to the recorder slung over his shoulder and toggled the volume knob with his thumb. "I can't quite make it out," he whispered, "but it sounds like footsteps."
Bishop agreed. "That was my guess as well."
A sudden shriek cut through the silence like a switchblade. Jackson ripped the headphones off his head to try and protect his hearing as Bishop and Trent whipped around. Bishop caught sight of a black form breaking free of the wall just above Carrie, while several long tentacles of darkness were already beginning to wind around her. Trent stumbled back in fear as Rivers and Jackson fell to the ground. The camera hit with a crack of plastic and metal, but continued to send signals to the booth.
Bishop could hear Chloe screaming in his earpiece. Tearing it from his ear, he made a quick decision and charged the phantom. Wrapping his arms around Carrie, he tried to rip her free of the shadow's grasp. Lifting up his flashlight, he aimed the beam directly into the dark mass. The light seemed to be swallowed by the darkness now fully emerged from the wall. Bishop knew he had to hit the eyes, but he didn't see them. He quickly uttered a silent prayer that they had not wised up to his scheme. Another arm of darkness shot out from the mass and wrapped around Carrie's throat. She began to gasp for air as it slowly crushed her windpipe. Lashing out with the metal flashlight, Bishop tried to hit the phantom, but it was like swinging at thin air. He swung again, this time, passing the flashlight through the center of the creature. Still nothing.
"Please," Carrie whispered through forced breaths. Tears were streaming down her face and her arms were thrashing wildly in an effort to free herself. Her eyes were already starting to glass over from lack of oxygen.
The shadow suddenly cackled ominously. "You will not escape," it assured them. Whipping another arm around, it sent Bishop's flashlight skittering to the stone floor. Then, in a move that was much to quick to see, it shot two separate arms out that knocked Bishop to the ground.
Bishop felt his head hit the wall with a sickening crunch. A trickle of blood rolled down his forehead and onto his upper lip. Wiping the blood away with his sleeve, he tried to make it to his feet, but instead, fell hard to the ground.
Dawn braced herself and rushed the phantom. Holding her flashlight tightly in her hands, she swung forcefully down at the black mass. The phantom cackled again as the handle went straight through it. Trying to regain her balance, Dawn swung again, this time, somehow connecting with the creature. The black mass let out a shriek of pain as the cold metal of the flashlight slammed against it. "It can't keep that state permanently," Dawn ventured. "It has to become solid." Dawn took an uncomfortable step back and from the corner of her eye, she could see Jackson moving to her a
id. "Get Carrie," Dawn instructed him.
Jackson nodded. Fixing his eyes on the creature, he dumped the last of his equipment on the ground. He felt the cuts on his back throbbing from his last encounter with the phantoms, a not so subtle warning about the danger of this being. Taking a step back, he pressed his arm to the wall, then exploded in one fluent motion toward the creature. Wrapping his arms around the mass, the two impacted the wall and crumbled to the floor. The phantom's tentacles were torn free of Carrie, sending her spilling to the floor and gasping for air.
"Jackson!" Dawn screamed. "No!"
The phantom clawed brutally at Jackson's flesh trying to break free. It was like a caged animal, its only thought of freedom. "Is that all you've got?" Jackson asked as he reared back, blood spilling from the gashes on his chest. Balling up his fist, he sent it sailing toward the shadow's mass. He felt little resistance as his hand plunged into the darkness… and through. He felt his knuckles crack against the hard stone ground, breaking several of them. Jackson ripped his crushed hand free of the darkness and cradled it in his other hand as a yelp escaped his lips.
Seizing the opportunity, the phantom quickly changed into human form and stood up over Jackson. "I remember you," it hissed. "You will not escape… this time." Its red eyes flashed wickedly at its opponent. At once, a wave of darkness spilled out from the shadow and engulfed Jackson. He writhed inside the blackness, trying to break free. Kicking and punching, he tried to find a way out of the complete darkness. He felt himself screaming out, but there was no sound, only darkness.
While the phantom's attention was on Jackson, Dawn crept quietly around it, her flashlight tightly in her hand. Stopping only a foot away from the creature, she took a deep breath and lashed out with the light. The metal of the flashlight hit the being squarely in the back of the head. It stumbled forward, but before it could retaliate, Dawn was on it. Wrapping her hands around its neck, she squeezed as tightly as she could.