"Do you have to narrate everything?" the camera girl asked. "Can't we just do a voiceover when we get back?"
"I'm in the spirit of all those explorers who've come before," he replied. "Don't be a buzzkill."
The tension between the two was rife with unspoken anger. She turned the camera away and filmed the cute blond instead.
"Tell us who you are," camera girl coaxed.
The blond quickly posed for the shot before turning away and laughing. Off camera, spiky-hair could be heard breaking through the overgrown brush at the driveway's entrance.
"I'm Sharon," the blond said shyly while dipping into a curtsy. "I'm nineteen and I live in Lancaster with my mom and my dog. Hi, Murphy," she said, waving.
"I'm her wonderful boy-toy, Jarrod," bad beard guy said. "I also live in Lancaster as evidenced by my earlier pleas for cards and meat trays to be sent to my parents in the event of my untimely possession by angry spirits."
The camera shifted to hipster-Potter as he hid behind several thick branches. "You can't see me through the camouflage, but I'm Jack, twenty-one, from the bustling metropolis of York, Pennsylvania. My friends call me Outty," he said while pulling up his shirt to expose his abdomen, "because, as you can see here, I have an outty." He poked at his belly button and smiled.
Camera girl sighed before turning the lens on herself. "I'm Amy, I'm from North Hopewell Township, and that's about it."
"She's a great lay," Outty shouted.
"Shut up perv, no one wants to hear your mouth," Amy grumbled.
"Let's keep it clean, ladies and gents, huh?" Jarrod said.
"Yeah, Amy, let's keep it clean," Outty mocked.
"Fucking infant," she whispered.
The video briefly went dark and resumed some time later. The three friends in front of the camera walked carefully on a deeply rutted road. Thick forest surrounded them on either side, creating a long wooded tunnel stretching ahead of them as far as the eye could see.
"Jarrod, tell everyone what we're doing here," Amy directed.
"Well, we're here to explore and investigate an abandoned house we saw on Pinterest," he said. "Not much is known about the history of the place, but we've found some really cool pictures and heard some crazy stories about what goes on out here."
"Can we put some of them in during editing?" Amy asked. "No one will want to watch us wandering around out here. We need a little something more, you know? To make it interesting."
"You can always take off your top," Outty laughed.
"Do you always have to be a jerk?" she asked.
"I'm just saying. Not like the internet hasn't already seen your tits more than once."
"You're disgusting," Amy shouted. The camera tilted and pointed at the ground. "I should never have come out here with you guys. I knew you'd never take this seriously."
"Stop being such a baby," Outty shouted.
"Both of you stop," Jarrod said. "We're not here to listen to you two fight."
"Well then tell him to shut his nasty mouth, or I'm going back to the car and you can do this without me."
"Oh my God," Outty shouted, "you're such a bitch. Why does everything have to be..."
The screen went dark again, and the video skipped a few minutes ahead. The argument had been quelled, but no one said anything. Amy filmed her surroundings, keeping Outty off screen as much as possible. The further they walked, the thicker the forest became. After a minute of complete silence, the road opened into an overgrown field cluttered with fallen branches and tangled patches of brush.
Thunder rumbled in the distance.
"There it is," Sharon squealed. "Do you see it?"
The camera jerked to the right and quickly went out of focus as Amy tried to film the house through the trees. "We have to get closer," she said. "I can't get a good shot from here."
The others walked ahead as Amy tried getting a look at the house through her viewfinder, but the forest was too thick. Instead, she focused on a squirrel bounding through the layer of dead leaves as her friends' voices slowly faded into the background.
"Amy, are you coming?" Sharon shouted.
"Yeah, I'm right behind you," Amy answered.
The image faded, replaced by the smiling face of Dexter Maitland. He absently picked at the cuticle of his right index finger, pausing for dramatic effect.
"A bright summer day, four friends off the beaten path, a date with the unknown. We'll see more of this amazing footage when we return to Dexter Maitland's Forgotten Places."
***
"Amazing footage," Geoff scoffed. "A bunch of kids arguing on a nature walk."
"They're building tension," Stacy said. "It's like watching a movie."
"It's like watching a safety video at work. There's more tension in an infomercial for adult diapers."
"Why don't you go to bed then? I'd rather that than have you sit here and moan for the next half-hour."
Geoff reached for his stash box and prepared to roll another joint as Stacy stood and went into the bedroom. "You're not going to join me?" he called.
"I'm getting dressed," she said. "I'm not in the mood to get baked tonight, thank you very much."
Geoff rolled his eyes and grabbed his plastic bag full of bud. It was clear he'd already pissed her off. He knew he had to find work soon, or she wouldn't let him hear the end of it. Stacy's job at the Verizon kiosk in the mall was enough to pay the bills, but it wasn't fair to her for him to sit at home and binge Netflix every day while she busted her ass to pay the rent.
Maybe on Monday, he thought. Worrying on the weekend causes hemorrhoids.
When he finished rolling his joint, he snagged another beer from the refrigerator and plopped down in the kitchen chair. Stacy exited the bedroom wearing a thin, blue nightgown that showed off the curves of her hips and breasts. She saw Geoff watching her and shook her head.
"You can look, but you can't touch," she said, half-joking. "You'll be passed out at the table at this rate, so don't get any ideas." Geoff huffed but took no offense. She was likely right on the money. She'd been with him long enough to know what happened at the end of a three joint night. In their party days, Stacy teasingly called him 'Three-and-Eight.' Three joints and eight beers and Geoff would start babbling incoherently before passing out wherever he fell. He was quickly approaching that threshold.
"Tell me more about this Great Rift you mentioned," Stacy said.
"What's to tell? It's just more random folklore; stories told around the campfire to scare little kids."
"I'd still like to hear about it. You know that stuff fascinates me."
Geoff nodded and sipped his beer. "Like I said, it's something made up by a local DJ years ago: Centralia, Elmview, the road to Pine Lakes, parts of Ashton, the old mill in Barrett's Grove, some abandoned hospital near the New York border. The Rift cuts an imaginary line through the state and is said to be a remnant of some supernatural battle that happened centuries ago. Some say it's a thin place between worlds, others say it's a gateway to Hell itself."
"That's terrifying," Stacy said.
"It's just a story. Things like that don't exist. You get that, right?"
"Well, how do we know there isn't some truth to it? There's a whole bunch of stuff out there we don't understand."
"I don't understand algebra, but that doesn't make it evil. Well, maybe it does. Bad example."
Stacy was so intrigued by their discussion, she'd forgotten all about the show. "Oh shit, it's back on," she said. "I want to talk more about this later, okay?"
"If we must," Geoff replied.
Stacy turned to the television, hands in her lap, bare feet tapping on the floor. Geoff loved her, but her weird fascination with the supernatural was sometimes annoying. In all his years, Geoff hadn't seen anything he couldn't explain or write off as a trick of the eye. The dead stay dead, they don't hang around and play parlor tricks on teenagers.
And if they did, the afterlife must be a real drag.
***
By the time Geoff started paying attention, the group of explorers had already entered the house. They talked nervously back and forth, walking carefully over floors that had bowed and buckled from years of neglect. Their voices echoed eerily down the ruined halls, and more than once they jumped at shadows only they could see. It was as much as Geoff had expected; a group of kids scared of their own footsteps. He was about to get up to use the bathroom when the images on the screen caught his eye. The mood of the film had changed.
"Look at this," Jarrod said, breathing heavily. The camera focused on his wristwatch as he held his shaking arm out in front of him. "We've only been here for a half-hour, but outside, it's already dark. It's only 2:30 in the afternoon and the sky is pitch black."
Sharon removed her cell phone from the pocket of her jeans and stared at the screen. Her worried face glowed in the dim light. "I have the same thing," she said, "and no service whatsoever."
"Duhn duhn duhn," Outty sang.
"It's not funny," Amy said. "How the hell is it dark outside already?"
"Clouds," Outty said. "You heard the thunder before; there's probably a storm coming."
"That's more than clouds," Sharon whispered.
They walked down the hall toward the front door, close together, breathing in quick gasps. The only light was from the camera; a pale white glow that made the shadows stand out in sharp contrast. Jarrod pushed the door open and crept onto the front porch, looking side to side cautiously. The unnatural darkness clung to him like a sheet.
"My God, this is weird," he said.
"Let's just get out of here," Amy proposed. "This is giving me the creeps."
"I'm with her," Sharon agreed.
They climbed down the front stairs and quickened their pace, crunching through the brush toward the driveway. The surrounding forest was dead quiet.
"Where the hell is it?" Jarrod asked. "It should be right here."
"We must have gotten turned around," Outty explained. "It's here somewhere."
"Of course it is. Roads don't just disappear into thin air."
The image grew shakier as Amy paced frantically back and forth, looking for the opening in the trees. Her breath quickened and grew harsher with each passing minute. She was on the verge of panic.
Sharon screamed shrilly and ran up beside Jarrod. "Something brushed against my leg. I felt it."
"Would you relax?" Outty said. "You're going crazy over nothing."
"It wasn't nothing," Sharon exclaimed. "Something touched my leg. Something warm."
"Ssshhhhh," Jarrod hissed. "Listen. Do you hear that?"
The camera's mic picked it up clearly. Something crunched through the brush just a few feet away. Crunched and grunted.
"What the fuck is that?" Amy whispered.
"Just a deer," Outty said. His words were followed by a series of short grunts and punctuated by a loud squeal. "Okay, maybe not a deer."
"It sounds like... a pig," Sharon whined. "Why is there a pig in the woods? Where the hell are we?"
"We're near the center," Outty said in a dry monotone. "The doors are opening in the Great Wall where the lost have waited for time immemorial."
"What are you talking about?" Jarrod asked shakily.
Amy focused on Outty's blank eyes and uttered a brief squeal. "His face."
Outty stood motionless. His skin had grown pale and his eyes had rolled up in his head, showing only the whites. A string of saliva dribbled from the corner of his crooked grin.
"What's wrong with him?" Sharon asked.
"The Shadowking has slumbered far too long," Outty continued. "The time has come for its return. The barrier trembles at its touch."
"Okay, knock it off you fucking lunatic," Amy shouted. "This isn't funny."
Outty laughed piercingly; a raspy cackle that made Amy step back and whimper.
"When the doors open, the flood will be unleashed, and the world will crumble."
"Okay man, that's enough," Jarrod warned. "You're scaring the girls." The quavering tone of his voice proved it wasn't only the girls who were scared.
They jumped as a branch snapped behind them. Sharon wrapped her arms around Jarrod's waist and began crying harshly. "I want to go, I want to go, Iwannagonow!"
"GO!" Outty shrieked. "Nowhere is safe. It's coming."
Outty toppled backward and fell to the ground. He quickly recovered, getting on his hands and feet in the most unnatural back bridge ever seen. He scuttled from side to side like an angry crab, moaning deep in his throat. His head turned around a full one hundred eighty degrees as his vertebrae snapped and popped. His neck bulged repulsively and turned purple as blood pooled beneath the surface of his bunched skin.
"It's coming home!" Outty screamed. "All worlds grow silent!"
Outty scrambled backward and cut a path through the tall grass, disappearing behind the wall of darkness at the edge of the camera's light. The forest came to life with the sounds of slaughtered livestock, the wailing bleat of tortured sheep, the panicked squeal of pigs being driven to the killing floor. The trees shivered as unseen creatures scratched and clawed at the dry bark. In the distance, Outty wailed painfully as hundreds of eyes opened at once and peered at them from the deep brush surrounding the house. All movement ceased.
A guttural voice - like the rumble of a freight train - echoed through the darkness. They felt it vibrating in their bones like an electric shock.
"COME!"
They ran as fast as their legs would carry them, trampling through the grass on the way back to the house. Sharon's screams broke the silence as weeds grabbed at her feet and pulled her to the ground. Tangled vines wrapped around her legs and pinned her arms to her sides. Her screams turned to choking croaks as roots burst from the earth and entered her gaping mouth. Jarrod tore at them frantically, trying to free her from their grasp, but they only squeezed tighter, digging into her flesh and drawing blood. She vomited harshly as they slid down her throat and tore her esophagus to ribbons.
"Jarrod," Amy screamed, "we have to go."
"I won't leave her like this," he cried. "You have to help me!"
"Please," she pleaded. "Don't leave me alone out here!"
Laughter surrounded them and swirled above their heads like a raging tornado.
The camera light flickered.
"Let her go," Amy sobbed. "She's dead, Jarrod."
The camera focused on Sharon's motionless body as Jarrod knelt next to her, feebly yanking at the thick vines. Tears cut through the dust on his cheeks as he sat back and cried openly.
"What's happening?" he asked. "How is any of this possible?"
Sharon's head sizzled and spit, cracking open like a rotten melon. Her skull split in two as a boiling sea of maggots spilled from the gaping, wet wound. Jarrod screamed, jumped to his feet, and ran off into the darkness.
"No, Jarrod, come back!" Amy hollered. "God damn you, Jarrod, don't leave me here."
Jarrod was gone, leaving Amy standing alone in the grassy yard.
The camera tilted up slowly, showing the front of the house just at the edge of the light's glow. Blackened windows watched her silently as Sharon's twisted corpse was pulled beneath the mud.
"Oh my God, what is that?" Amy choked. "What the fuck is that?"
The camera panned to a second-floor window, zooming closer. The image grew grainy and unfocused.
A dark shape stood in the window, blurred around the edges and going in and out of focus. Long, black tendrils grew from the thing's sides and floated around it like smoke. Amy moaned and let out a long, thin wail as two bright spots of light opened in the thing's head and looked down at her.
Large blank eyes, the color of molten silver.
Amy ran, directionless and half-crazed.
The picture faded to black.
***
Geoff had never finished rolling his joint, and suddenly felt more irritated than before.
"What the hell did I just watch?" he asked.
Stacy turned to h
im, wide-eyed.
"I mean seriously. Someone spent a lot of time on production but ignored the plot!"
"What, you're some kind of expert all of a sudden? You saw what happened."
"I don't know what I saw. Someone's obviously having a good joke. These kids are sitting at home right now, watching this and thinking they've made the best indie film ever recorded."
"You don't think any of that's real?"
"No!" he laughed. "It's ridiculous. One second it's daylight, then it's dark out, now we bring in the chorus of barnyard animals. It's paint-by-numbers. I'm not going to say it isn't a cool attempt at a low-budget flick, but that's all it is. If anyone believes this shit, they've been smoking a ton more weed than I have."
"Whatever," Stacy groaned, finishing her beer. "There's got to be more. There's still fifteen minutes left in the show."
"I wait with bated breath," Geoff chuckled. "All hail the return of the Shadowking."
"You're stupid."
Geoff flipped her the bird and went back to work on his joint.
Thank God this shit is almost over.
***
When the show returned, the view was of a dusty, concrete floor covered in mouse turds and puddles of standing water. Amy quietly sobbed beneath the sounds of wind and heavy rain. It appeared she'd found an entrance to the house's basement. Under the circumstances, it seemed like the worst hiding place possible.
Amy grabbed the camera and shined the dimming light into the far corners of the room. Thick cobwebs hung from the ceiling; spiders the size of quarters trundled back and forth and crawled over one another as if vying for their chance at fifteen minutes of fame. Amy's chattering teeth could be heard clearly on the microphone; her breath hitched in and out in between nonsensical babbling.
"I want to go home," she whimpered. "I don't want to be here."
Something fell over behind her and she turned, nearly tripping over her own feet as wild laughter reverberated off the far walls. Amy gasped and backed away from the sound.
"Ssshhh! Quiet, quiet. What is that?"
From above came the sound of heavy footsteps. Dust rained down from cracks in the floorboards as the steps grew heavier and more menacing. Amy held her breath.
The Traveler (The Great Rift Book 2) Page 2