by Indi Martin
“Sweet baby Jesus, I get to drive,” he heard Chaz chortle. He burst out laughing at the randomness of it, and even Gina started giggling.
“What’s his story?” whispered Morgan.
Gina looked thoughtful as her giggles subsided. “You know, I have no idea. We’ll have to find out sometime.”
“Okay, we’re checked in. We have two suites attached to each other, let’s go pack in,” announced Charlie loudly as she strolled back toward the Rover, holding up several keycards in her free hand.
“Sounds good,” said Morgan, taking one of the cards offered. “Oh, Chaz is driving us out tonight. You should probably help navigate, since you and the GPS are the only ones with a clue where we’re going.”
Charlie swiveled her head around to find Chaz planted firmly in the driver’s seat, grinning at her, and sighed, frowning. “I guess. Any scratches and your driving rights are revoked forever!” she warned.
“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded sharply, placing his hands at ten and two on the wheel.
“You’d think he’d never driven before,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “You are twenty-two years old, Chaz, you should not be so excited about this.”
“Don’t care!” he chirped. “Still am!”
Gina’s face was soft and her smile held a tinge of something else. “We should all be so lucky to be excited about simple things,” she said quietly.
“Right,” nodded Morgan. “Let’s go find us a missing band.”
28
Chris and Nathan sat in silence, both staring at the hole in the ignition where the keys should have been. Each was shivering, the steel of the van giving them respite from the biting wind, but not from the bone-chilling temperature.
“Hmm,” murmured Chris, unable to take his eyes off of what he had considered a fairly good hope.
“It didn’t work earlier anyway,” replied Nathan in a tired, finished tone. The cloud of despair in the van was thick and cold.
Chris didn’t have a good answer to this, although he’d really felt that if they could just escape to the van, the van would start, and they could leave this nightmare. He felt it so deeply that he still had a hard time believing the keys were missing; his gut had sworn to him that they could make it work.
“Pretty sure Luke grabbed them,” said Nathan, drawing his knees up to his chest to preserve warmth. “So, now what?”
“Of course he did,” Chris spat bitterly, hitting the wheel with the palm of his hand and crying out with pent up frustration. “Of COURSE he did!” he screamed. “JUST MY LUCK! That’s just HOW it GOES, ain’t it NICK?” He had never in his life wanted to punch something, anything, anyone as much as he did in this moment.
Nathan looked back at him over his knees, the outburst having slightly cleared the glaze in his tired eyes. “You should have asked him for the car keys before you let him climb up to his death,” he said.
Blinking, Chris turned to look at Nathan in amazement. “Are you blaming ME for what happened to him?”
Nathan shrugged.
Rage blinded Chris and he took a deep breath, trying to ignore the throbbing in his temples. “Seriously! You blame ME for that asshole raping and murdering a girl? He got what was coming to him, I had nothing to do with it!” Snorting fire, he added, “And don’t fucking forget, I saved your goddamn life ten minutes ago!”
“Yes, you did,” replied Nathan, still even-voiced and quiet. “Thank you.”
“Goddamn right ‘thank you,’” murmured Chris, feeling ineffectual. His fear of the house and whatever awful things had happened to them was fading, replaced with a deep hatred. He longed to just run, his legs propelling him through the darkness and back to the life that seemed so far away. “I didn’t even want to make this video,” he mumbled.
“Danny had a set too,” commented Nathan, flinching. “Not that that really helps either.”
Chris blinked. “It might.”
Nathan sighed heavily and buried his head in his knees. “Nope,” came his muffled voice. “Whatever you’re thinking, nope.”
“No, man, hear me out,” he reached over and shook Nathan’s knee, forcing the blonde head up. “We know Danny’s just inside, JUST inside, right by the couch. We can pry off the boards and get inside and back out super fast, no problems at all.” Chris looked off into the distance and narrowed his eyes, formulating a run of the plan in his head.
Nathan looked at him as one might a homeless man talking to himself wildly while walking down the street. “How about we stay here where it’s safe until sunrise, then walk out to the road - again, in daylight - see if we get signal. Or try to hitch on the road. You know, things that don’t involve us encountering the dead bodies of our FRIENDS!” The evenness in Nathan’s voice evaporated.
“How do we know it’s safe here?” countered Chris.
Nathan looked around and gestured. “Because nothing has attacked us yet. How do you know the van will even start if you GET the keys?”
Chris looked down. “I just do.”
Nathan shook his head. “Sorry. That’s not good enough for me to want to go back in there.”
“It’s not really for me either,” admitted Chris, though the certainty he felt only seemed to strengthen, pulling him toward what he felt was the only option for escape. “But I think it needs to happen.”
“Sunrise. Daylight. Warmth. These are good things. These are inevitable things. I say we wait.”
“We won’t survive that long,” asserted Chris through gritted teeth.
“It isn’t THAT cold, we’re not going to die of exposure. There’s a few blankets in the back, it won’t be comfortable, but it won’t kill us,” scoffed Nathan.
Chris looked from side to side and leaned in close to Nathan. “It won’t be the cold that kills us, dude.” He cracked open the door and the wind rushed in, deepening the chill. “It’s now or never.”
“Wait, Chris, close that, it’s freezing,” complained Nathan, alarmed. “Look, you’re not thinking clearly. Like you said we just walked back into the house earlier when you said we needed to leave? Yeah, you’re acting like that.”
“No, I was the clear-headed one. You all were the ones being reckless by acting like there was no danger. Just like you are doing, right now. If there’s a chance, we need to take it.”
Nathan cocked his head. “This isn’t you. Why do you really not want to wait until morning?”
Chris opened his mouth to argue, but found no words.
“Rushing back into known danger, that’s the crazy talk,” crooned Nathan. “We walk in the sunlight to get help. That was the plan in the cellar and it’s still the plan now.”
Chris mumbled something under his breath.
“What?”
“I don’t…” Chris blew his breath out in one long wind, closing his eyes momentarily as he collected his thoughts. “I just want to leave. I want to drive far, far away where I don’t have to think about this anymore. I don’t want to have to look at Danny’s sister, or Melissa’s mom, or Luke’s… anything, and have to decide whether to tell them the truth. And I sure as fuck don’t want to go to the cops.”
Nathan blinked at him. “We have to, Chris. We have to go to the police.”
“And tell them what, exactly?”
“Um…”
“Right.” Chris rolled his eyes. “We’ll just tell them that sure, three people are dead, no we can’t tell you how they died or we’ll be locked in an institution - or prison - for the rest of our lives. Because everything that happened here is just so clear, so obvious, right? And cops will totally believe that a dude in a mirror, and rabbits, and fucking HAIR killed our friends, right?”
“I know, but…”
“And,” continued Chris. “The families, they’ll totally be okay with that! Hey Melissa’s sister, I’m really sorry about your loss, but it was our friend who went cuh-razy because of this creepy house, see?” Chris gesticulated wildly with his hands. “Sure, he raped her and strangled her, but if
it makes you feel better, he got knocked off a ladder by an ocean of crazed rabbits that tore his insides out with their fucking TEETH! Do you hear how crazy I sound? It’s because it IS crazy, and no one will believe it, and our lives will be over!”
Nathan nodded, his eyes downcast. “I get that. I do.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked worried. “And yeah, I guess we can’t tell anybody. But I still think we should wait til sunrise and hitch out, then. Just take our chances on the road in the light of day.”
Chris bit his upper lip in thought, looking at his last surviving friend. “You’ll run with me?”
He shrugged. “Got nowhere else to go.”
Nodding, Chris sighed in relief and snatched two of the tattered moving blankets from the back. “Then we’ll wait together.”
29
“It’s here, somewhere close,” said Charlie, peering at the gps unit. “That means slow down, Chaz.”
“I got this,” he boasted in a playful tone, but the rover slowed considerably. Morgan leaned forward and flicked on the spotlight, angling it to illuminate the left bank of thick forest.
“What if you blind a driver?” asked Chaz, looking at the spotlight controls nervously.
“How long has it been since you’ve seen one?” explained Morgan. “I don’t think this road is often traveled, but we’ll be careful. Yell if you see the glow of headlights up ahead, ok?”
Chaz frowned and nodded, leaning forward over his steering wheel, eyes ahead.
“There!” announced Charlie victoriously, hitting Chaz repeatedly on the arm.
“Ow, jeez,” he complained. “I see it, hold your horses.” Slowing even further, he edged the black SUV into the turn, creeping off of the road and onto the clumps of dirt and stone.
“Easy to miss, that’s for sure,” commented Morgan, rotating the spot. “Gate’s open, so someone’s been here.” He gestured at the ancient metal feedgate, rusted nearly through, that was kicked open to allow them through.
The vehicle remained silent, all of its inhabitants on guard as they crept forward down the path. Loud pops and crackles of earth moving under the tires, dirt clods and dry leaves exploding from the pressure, made their travel less than stealthy. Eventually the path opened up, exposing a ramshackle house run down by time. Its silhouette leaned slightly against the light of the moon. “Doesn’t even look structurally sound,” said Morgan. “I have a hard time believing they decided to stay here for more than a few hours, if they were even here.”
“Agreed,” replied Charlie, rubbing her arm. “Creepy place, though, I’ll give it that. Still, we know from the dolls in the video they were at least here for a little while. Maybe something they left inside will tell us where they went next?”
“Still think it’s our case?” asked Morgan, resting his elbows on both front seats and peering at the house through the windshield.
“Yes,” called Gina from behind him. He turned to look at her; she was pale and trembling slightly. “I definitely think it’s our case. Something is very wrong here.”
He placed a hand on her arm, inspecting her with concern. She smiled slightly but brushed off his hand, nodding to indicate that she was alright.
“Then we proceed with caution,” announced Charlie, nodding at Gina and grinning. “Our canary has just died in the coal mine.”
Gina chuckled.
Morgan grimaced, glaring at Charlie to make it clear he didn’t appreciate the humor.
“Chaz, I want you to stay here until we clear the house,” ordered Charlie in a decidedly no-nonsense tone.
Chaz whined slightly. “Come on, Charlie! I can hold my own.”
“No gun, no entry, not until we know what we’re dealing with,” she answered, patting him briefly on the shoulder before stepping out of the vehicle.
“Then give me a gun,” muttered Chaz under his breath, but Charlie either didn’t hear him, or chose to ignore him, turning her attention to Morgan, who was kneeling in the dirt.
He traced his flashlight across the earth. “They were definitely here, yeah. These tracks are consistent with that vehicle.”
“I’m impressed,” admitted Charlie.
“He always used to hang out with the forensics in Tulsa,” explained Gina. “Sometimes it came in useful, but usually he just wanted to show off.” She walked forward, checking the clip on her gun.
“Better?” asked Charlie.
Gina nodded. “Whatever it is, or was, it’s strong. There’s a lot of hate… here… I don’t know how to explain it. It just feels wrong.”
Morgan stood, brushing his hands together to dislodge the dirt. “Let’s find a way in.”
The three of them left Chaz grumbling by the rover and approached the house. The beaten-down porch looked ready to collapse, but it held their weight, creaking and complaining with each step. “Door’s boarded up,” called Morgan.
“So’s this window,” called Gina, circling around to the right.
“We have a body,” yelled Charlie authoritatively. Morgan and Gina ran to join her on the left side of the house, focusing their flashlights with hers to illuminate a crudely dug hole in the ground. In it lay the twisted body of a man, his midsection a tangle of gore.
“Marked,” replied Morgan. “Fan out, let’s find a way to get inside.”
Both women nodded and began circling the house, their guns at the ready. Morgan holstered his gun for a moment and deftly clicked the camera on his phone, taking a few quick pictures in case the scene was disturbed later. Then, he readied his gun and light, and moved back toward the front of the house.
“Everything’s boarded up, but there’s furniture inside,” called Gina, emerging from the side of the house and walking up to Morgan. “If you shine a light in the windows you can see stuff still there. No audio or video stuff, but the place has definitely been disturbed.”
“I noticed that too,” joined Charlie.
“They recorded a video here. That’s a lot of equipment to haul around, plus their instruments. How did they get themselves and all that stuff in without breaking these boards?” wondered Morgan.
“Maybe they pried them off and then renailed them,” offered Gina.
“Why bother?” scoffed Charlie.
Morgan shook his head. “Doesn’t make sense. This wood is old and untreated, look.” He scraped his finger across the top board and sawdust bits flew off. “No way you could pry it off without breaking it.”
“Let’s break it down then,” replied Gina.
Charlie nodded. “Chaz!” she called across the driveway. “Bring us a crowbar!”
The red-headed man leapt into action, digging around in the cargo space to find one and running to join them on the porch to deliver it. Morgan accepted it and stuck it behind the top plank, prying forward until it went with a crash. They all went easily. They were rotten nearly all the way through, and didn’t break as much as they disintegrated. The doorknob was locked, and Morgan drew back, preparing to kick the door down.
“No, wait,” rushed Chaz, putting his hand on Morgan’s arm to stop him.
Morgan paused, tilting his head at Chaz curiously. The young man produced a set of lockpicks from his jeans and winked at him. With deft, agile hands, Chaz quickly popped the lock, turning the doorknob and letting the door creak open. He bounced backwards, one step down on the porch, and gestured for them to go ahead.
“That works,” conceded Morgan, ruffling Chaz’s hair. “Good job, kid.”
Their flashlights wound their way through dust particles to illuminate the interior of the house. Gina tried to squeeze past Morgan, but he stopped her. “Wait,” he recommended. “Look.” His light rested on a body of an ample sized man hunched over at the edge of the couch before flicking over to a black tarp, under which a pale arm was visible. “More bodies.”
Charlie sniffed. “Smells terrible,” she remarked. “There are the dolls.” Her light ran steadily over the collection of rare porcelain dolls lined up above the black-tarped body. She wi
thdrew from the door and gestured for the others. “We have three bodies, and there were five people here. The van is gone. It seems likely at least one left.”
“Or whoever did this stole the van, and there are two bodies still inside somewhere out of view,” countered Morgan, his mind racing.
Charlie nodded. “True, that’s also a possibility. We need to complete a full search of the house while disturbing the scenes as little as possible.” All of them nodded their agreement. “If anything strange happens, call out immediately. I want us in pairs. Chaz, you’re with me. We’ll do a perimeter search out here, while you two check the house. We won’t be out of earshot.”
“Sounds good,” replied Morgan.
Gina assented, nodding her head sharply toward the house. “Ready?” She entered the house, her gun and flashlight ahead of her, and Morgan followed quickly, pointing his equipment in the opposite direction.
“Just like old times,” he chuckled.
“Ah, the good old days,” she replied with a wry grin. “When a guy with a gun was the scariest thing I could imagine in here.” She stepped carefully around the large man on the floor and the unsettling streaks of blood and detritus near him. Gina shuddered with sadness; the man’s face seemed kind, but was frozen in a half-sad, half-terrified rictus of death. There was still panic and fear in the air, but what bothered her most was an inky, silky undercurrent of something else, something darker, that seemed to flow through the place.
“Bathroom’s clear,” she heard him say, edging his head around the door frame and walking across the room carefully.
“Looks like an old bedroom,” she commented, peering in the leftmost door at the back of the house. “Clear.”
“Another one,” said Morgan next to her, nudging the right door open with his foot. “Looks clear.”
They walked together through the master bedroom and Gina’s body began to shake, her flashlight unsteady and uncertain. “What’s wrong?” whispered Morgan.
“We’re being watched,” she managed, gasping in breaths and trying to steady her limbs. She remembered Victor’s lessons and tried to jam the keystones back in place, building her wall in her mind clumsily. It wasn’t perfect but it helped. “It felt like something was… slithering… in my head.” She shook her head and shuddered again, but the constant trembling was gone. “I’m okay. Let’s make this quick, though.”