12:05 am…
It was a dark and stormy night. The nonstop rain and the remote sound of thunder broke the dull silence of the night, making the murky surroundings seem even more ominous, if that was even possible. A dense patchwork of trees, dry brush and overgrown grass surrounded a broken down "road" that led to the only house in sight for miles. The house was a two story dwelling that had seen better days. The originally lustrous white paint had gradually turned into an ugly shade of dirty yellow over the years, and the few remaining windows were boarded up and lined with cobwebs, giving the abode a surreal and ghostly appearance.
With the exception of a lone car—a '67 Chevy impala to be exact—which had been parked nearby for the last hour or so, the seemingly abandoned house appeared to be the sole sign of life in the near vicinity. A young man sitting inside the already mentioned impala squinted and leaned forward slightly shifting into a different position in his car, as he tried to get a better look at the old and battered house directly in front of him. Apparently around his mid twenties, he was quite handsome with his expressive hazel green eyes and spiked dirty blonde hair. His gaze wandered from the house to the road, his right hand wandering slowly over the steering wheel as he distractedly drummed his fingers to some random tune.
The young man's attention was suddenly diverted back to the house, however, as the front door creaked unexpectedly. A man—probably around his late forties— walked out into the chilly night, taking no notice of the foul weather. He walked stealthily to the left side of the house and removed a pile of branches that lay in a disorganized heap, only to reveal a large piece of canvas underneath. As the man methodically removed the canvas, a small car with a rusted frame was left to view. In a matter of minutes, the unknown stranger had inserted the keys into the ignition and driven off into the bumpy and broken down road.
As soon as the older man's car was out of sight, the young man exited his car swiftly and headed to the trunk of his car. Opening it, he took out a shotgun, loaded it deftly with salt bullets, and grabbed a razor sharp knife that curved lethally at the tip. With a smirk, he carefully shut the trunk and patted it lovingly.
"Be back in a minute, Baby. I'll be done with this bitch of a spirit before you know it." He purred to the car.
The rusty hinges of the door easily gave way as he inched his way into the tattered down house. Raising his gun with both hands to shoulder level, his eyes quickly scanned the room, as his muscles tensed, ready for action. Not finding anything on the first floor, he was preparing to head to the second floor, when his ears caught the sound of a low moan. It was then he spotted a door along the side of the stairway. Opening it, he saw a short succession of steps that led to a dimly lighted cellar. In the blink of an eye he had reached the bottom of the steps and the sight that caught his eyes made him sick to the stomach. Two semi naked women were strapped forcibly to separate beams with their wrists high above their heads. The remnants of their clothes were in tatters, and their bodies were badly bruised and bloodied. As he approached the first woman, he gently lifted her head with his right hand, alertly clutching the gun with his left hand. Her eyes gazed unresponsively into the distance and her pale face seemed drained of all emotion.
"Dead." He sighed to himself. He held on to her face for a few more seconds as he sadly took in her appearance. The long streak of crimson that fell across her cheek from the gash on her brow contrasted sharply with her deathlike pallor, and her raven black hair was matted with blood. He felt his blood boil as he realized she was such a young thing—she barely looked over 20.
"Oh thank God…please, help us-" a voice rasped out from behind him.
The man's attention was immediately turned to the other woman, as he realized that she was still alive. She looked slightly older than the first woman, and he guessed she was in her early thirties. Putting down the gun, he took out his knife as he bent over the second woman, trying to cut the bonds that held her as soon as possible.
"Hey…don't worry, it'll all be over in a minute." He whispered reassuringly.
"Oh my God, hurry…that man is insane…He keeps bringing them in and you have no idea what he does…he just stands there and watches us die little by little…"she rambled on incoherently, obviously in a state of hysterics.
Suddenly she shrieked, and before he could grab hold of the gun, he was roughly grabbed from behind by the collar of his jacket and knocked down by a well directed punch in the jaw. He shook his head and tried to get up, but the other contestant proved to be quicker than him as he dealt him a brutal kick to his groin, succeeded by a second one to his lower stomach.
"SON OF A BITCH!" he yelled to the man who he now recognized as being the one that had left the house earlier, as he helplessly clutched his stomach and tried to block the pain in an effort to reach for the gun that lay only a few feet away from him.
Seeing the blond youth head for the gun, the older man instinctively kicked it out of his reach, making the gun slide to the other side of the room, well beyond their reach. The woman began to sob and shriek uncontrollably as both men lunged at each other like enraged animals. Despite the fact that the younger had the energy and vitality of youth on his side, the older man was heavier set, making it harder for the slim youth to make much of headway. Pinning the youth to the floor and holding him in a vice like grip around his neck, the young man breathed hard as he slowly managed to slip his hands in between the other man's arms, and thus breaking his hold on him. In less time than it takes to tell the story, the younger man had dealt several punches to the man on top of him, finally making him fall to the side panting. Taking this opportunity to grab his gun, the young man had barely had time to cock it and aim when he was interrupted by a deep voice.
"I wouldn't if I were you," the older man said in a deceptively calm voice. The younger man turned, only to see the older man brandish the knife against the woman's throat. He smiled and caressed the woman's cheek in a sickening way that made her shiver as she struggled to choke back her sobs.
"Look, why don't you leave her out of this? Just let her go and—"
"—and what? You don't think I'd be stupid enough to let her go just like that? As far as I'm concerned, she's my ticket outta here."
"Yeah, it figures…"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means it figures you wouldn't have the balls to handle this without help." The youth smirked as he saw the older man flinch in repressed anger. "Well, I guess it's not your fault that you spirits are such bastard cowards."
"Huh? Spirits?? ...what the hell are you talking about?!"
"This." He said as he suddenly took aim and shot at the man, hitting him in the shoulder. Expecting him to vanish, the youth stared in shock as the supposed "spirit" simply dropped the knife and clutched in pain where the bullet had grazed his shoulder.
What the hell? He thought. Since when do salt bullets only wound spirits?!? Isn't he supposed to vanish into thin air or something!?
Still in shock, everything seemed to go in slow motion the wounded man took this opportunity to grab the knife. He watched as the man slit the woman's throat, and saw her head snap forward as blood spurted from her neck. Before the youth could fully register the man's next move, the man grabbed a nearby crate and flung it at his head.
As his fingers somehow lost their grip on his gun, the last thing he remembered was falling to his knees and involuntarily watching his gun fall slowly to the ground before everything went black.
