Those Who Dwell In The Dark: Volume 1

by SimpleCinema

Volume 1 of my original series: Those Who Dwell in the Dark (Posted here primarily for the 'Lost In Adaptation: the Dom Reviews You' contest for ease of access)

Those Who Dwell in the Dark

Baron's Hollow

Volume 1

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"May your hands always be busy

May your feet always be swift

May you have a strong foundation

When the winds of changes shift

May your heart always be joyful

And may your song always be sung

May you stay forever young

Forever young, forever young

May you stay forever young,"

Bob Dylan, "Forever Young"

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Chapter 1: Joey

May 26th

It's funny that a story like this starts with me staring at a flickering light, praying it would finally go out. I remember thinking whoever it was that came up with fluorescent lights should probably be killed. Violently. Gruesomely, even. I mean some medieval shit, with torture devices you learn about in Social Studies that probably even gave the people operating them cholera or the plague. They were garish, made a low electric droning noise, and instantly made me sleepy whenever I saw them. And since I went to high school, I spent nearly all damn day with them beating down on me. And where you ask was it the worst? Why, I'll tell you, it was worst in the room you went to for detention.

It had that old government building look about it. One half 1950s horror movie set and one half abandoned hospital. Off-white paint that made the walls unbearably ugly and covered with lord knows how many scuffs and stains for over decades of not being repainted. There were no windows, save for a small rectangular opening all of the school doors had. Overall it contained desks of all shapes, sizes, and ages, a blackboard, a larger desk, and a bunch of school policies taped onto the wall for what I can only assume were decorative reasons.

Up until that faithful May afternoon, I had never seen this room. I knew kids who spent nearly half the school week here just because they didn't much care about… well, anything to be frank. And I understood that mentality, I just never subscribed to it myself. However, if the school wanted to use this room as a deterrence for juvenile delinquents to actually buckle down and get shit done, mission accomplished. How anyone would chose to pick being in that room for four hours over half a day of school was beyond me. Thank God school was almost out.

So how did I end up there? Well I had gotten caught skipping school.

It was never something that in theory, I saw myself doing. I always imagined it was something that the potheads and future dropouts were more keen on. However, the last few months of my life had been an exhausting cavalcade of bullshit, the likes of which I could never mentally prepare for. I won't go into exhaustive details, but more of an overview. I was recently diagnosed with a few things that made my health insurance spike and involved antidepressants and mood stabilizers. Two members of my already small family had passed away in the past six months. And in genuine high school guy tradition, I was an anti-social dork who was chronically horrid in the world of women and dating. The fact that I was a walking stereotype of myself only further served to drive me so far into my own shell I couldn't see anything anymore. Not to mention, writing, perhaps the one consistent escape I had, just wasn't doing much for me, I was in the middle of a creative dry spell, my free time was eaten up by listening to music in my room and trying not to cry so often. School itself just became another problem, the work became overwhelming as I found that the more shit life threw at me, the less I could keep up my visage as a competently intelligent honors student. I couldn't even act like I wanted around my friends, as the gloom of depression infected every piece of me. I couldn't get sleep, I was rarely enthusiastic about anything anymore, and the doctors were still trying to adjust my dosage to what exactly suited me best. So I ended up staying home a few days by skipping my bus and simply not telling my mom. After four days, the school administration began to wonder where exactly I was. The answer to that was of course in my bed because it was the only place I knew I felt comfortable and safe anymore.

I don't mean to belabor you with sadness and misery. I'm not that kind of person. At least, I know I don't want to be. I'm just trying to paint an accurate picture of how I felt at the time. I'm not trying to make excuses or anything, I'm just saying, I wouldn't wish my problems on anyone. Having family die sucks. Having mental problems sucks. Feeling alone sucks. Not being good with the opposite sex sucks. When you heap all of that onto a kid all at the same time in an already tumultuous period in their lives, it's a tad overwhelming. I had lost too many people in my life for someone who wasn't even out of high school.

Detention did not help with any of this.

My mom was mad at first, but it only blossomed into concern that lead her giving me one of those parent talks that always ends up with you crying and thanking God that your parent actually gives a damn about you. So now the worst part was simply enduring the passage of time in that room. Luckily, I wasn't totally out of luck that day, as the teacher overseeing us was known for being pretty lax, and my best friend decided to join me in detention purely because he was a swell dude. I was lucky to have anyone care about me half as much as Reese, which in and of itself, made me forget how much of burden I was.

Reese decided to tell a teacher he hated in particular to go fuck himself, getting him sent here with the express intent of keeping me company. You always have that one friend who's your friend purely because of how much you have in common, to the point where you're almost the same person, and Reese was that and then some. Granted, I didn't have the balls to tell off a teacher like him, but that was because he was a bit more hardened than me. If I had issues, then Reese had them just the same, but worse. We both had the same luck with women, our own brand of taxing mental issues, self esteem problems, you name it, it was present in at least one of us. He was a decent student, but in the past year or so he began to care less and less. He dealt with failure far better than I did. I was easily discouraged and quit things before they even started, but Reese would fail, dwell on it a bit, and then move on. I truly envied that quality in him, he was resilient as all hell, but most people didn't know that. He was both the most emotionally fragile and emotionally stalwart person I knew. We were pretty much the only people we truly confided in. I casually told him stuff I would hesitate to tell anyone else.

Everyone in the room, all seven people, were slouched over, heads on the desks. That included the teacher, who was snoring so loud other faculty members would likely mistake it for a chainsaw or some kind of power tool. The five other kids present were people I had seen around but didn't really know, so Reese and I had just been listening to music while the others were sitting silently, sleeping, texting, or reading. But unlike most scenarios in which a bunch of high schoolers got put into one location, there was hardly any talking. And believe me, with the teacher snoring that loud, we could've put on a stage musical and gotten away with it.

Everyone else was suspiciously normal-looking. I had classes with some of them but didn't even know them by name. Unsurprisingly I wasn't a social butterfly. Most of my pals had been that way for a really long time. I hadn't met a lot of people actually in high school that ended up being legit friends. More just friendly casual acquaintances. I preferred just having a few really good friends though. It felt more genuine than trying to spread myself thin. Everyone else currently occupying the room though, they looked out of place. No one in there resembled a delinquent, and briefly I considered my idea of 'bad kids' was a stereotype that my brain had invented from seeing way too many movies. It's not like I expected every kid in detention to resemble Judd Hirsch in The Breakfast Club, it was just that usually in High School, what you see is what you get. Then I remembered I didn't talk to a whole lot of people and considered that my idea of 'people' as a whole was a bit off-base and out of touch. If anyone there looked like my idea of a troublemaker, it was Reese, clad in his typical black jacket and messy hair. Guess I had simply grown used to it. However Reese did wear glasses that detracted from any intimidation factor he had.

Three girls. Three guys, myself included. Too young to be seniors but not young enough to be freshman. The people I didn't have class with I didn't recognize, and made me call into question how closely I even paid attention to any given person I didn't regularly speak to. Was it that way with everyone? Was I just aloof? I didn't mean to be. Most people probably thought I was a prick. The honest to God truth was that I was a nervous wreck who spoke primarily in movie quotes. Better to be the silent weirdo than the guy who opens his mouth and sees everyone groan.

My phone was low on battery, so presently, I shared one earbud from Reese's headphones, playing 'Tom Sawyer' by Rush. As soon as the the middle of the song kicked into gear, Coach Preston, our layabout teacher for the day, let out an enormous snore that sounded like his insides were currently in the middle of an industrial-era civil war. There was a solid fifteen seconds where it didn't sound like music was even playing.

"Interrupting Geddy Lee's synthesizers should be a crime punishable by death," Reese said.

"Was that Lee?" I asked.

He gave me stare that usually preceded him chastising me. I loved music, but no one loved it more than he did. And no one knew more about it either.

"Yes it's Lee, who the hell else would it be?"

I gave a small shrug.

"I don't know. Didn't Rush go through like, a billion different people?"

"Well yeah, but Lee's always been in the band. He joined it when they first started in like, '68," he said, tone harsh as Reese was capable of.

"I thought that was Neil Peart,"

"No, Peart didn't join till '74,"

"Damn. I can't remember all that. Shit's like Fleetwood Mac. Love everything they've made but if you asked me to tell you who was in the band beyond Stevie Nicks I couldn't tell you,"

He responded with a condescending smile.

"You're fucking with me right? Lindsey Buckingham?"

"I mean you say the name and I recognize it but I totally forget he was in the band,"

He closed his eyes, presumably attempting to swallow the physical manifestation of disappointment I conjured up in him. Sometimes I would do it simply to provoke him because of how deliriously entertaining he was when annoyed.

"Okay, meet me in the middle here and at least tell me you know Mick Fleetwood,"

I genuinely thought he was fucking with me.

"Mick Fleetwood? Are you making that up?"

He was overcome with a look of shock that was rarely seen in most human beings.

"Am I- Am I making that up? Mick. Fleetwood. The guy the band is named after? Jesus tapdancing Christ Joey,"

I laughed a bit.

"Okay it just sounded made up. Like you wanted to trick me. It's like if you told me Pink Floyd was formed by a guy named Floyd,"

He rolled his eyes.

"Sometimes I wonder why I have you around," he said now peering back at his phone, changing the song.

I chuckled.

"Sometimes I wonder that too," I said.

Right as I heard the opening chords to 'Mother' by Pink Floyd play in the single earbud I had, the guy sitting directly next to us peered over. Previously he had simply buried his head in his arm, and now from what I could tell, was staring right at both of us. He wasn't anyone I had seen before, so I simply avoided making eye contact.

"You know the main character in the Wall is named Pink, right?" Reese asked.

I turned to him.

"Say what?"

"Yeah. Not quite as dumb as being named Floyd but the guy in the Wall movie, he's named Pink,"

"You sure about that?" I genuinely asked.

"Very sure. You need to see that. You'd like it," he said assuredly.

"Yeah I know. Just never got around to it. Cute name though," I said.

The 80s were one hell of a decade. Movie characters could be named 'Pink' and it was par for course as far as media was concerned. Everything from that particular moment in time was my jam. Music, movies, even the garish and often ugly aesthetic was something I enjoyed. I kind of felt guilty about it too, every insufferable, artistically inclined douche my age talked about how they were 'born in the wrong decade' and it made me roll my eyes.

I felt a tug on my sleeve and turned to see the guy who stared at me earlier attempting to grab my attention. He still wasn't anyone I recognized, tall and lanky, light brown hair, and even though we were in detention and didn't know me, had a strange, almost infectious amount of enthusiasm in his expression and voice.

"Hey, you guys like music?" he asked.

Reese answered for me.

"If I had actually ever had sex, I'd say I'd like it more than sex. Hyperbolically. At least I hope,"

The guy chuckled and smiled. He looked like an eight year old had possessed a teenager.

"Really? You guys like metal?" he asked.

I nodded. Reese nodded with a measure of interest. The guy grabbed a hold of his shirt, showing it to us. Metallica.

"Metallica's sick," I said.

Reese interjected before anyone had the chance to even think about saying anything else.

"Wait, wait, depends on what Metallica you're talking about. Black album Metallica, St. Anger Metallica, Ride the Lightning Metallica, or Master of Puppets Metallica,"

The new guy's enthusiasm began to match even Reese's.

"Dude Master of Puppets is like, my favorite album ever. Ride the Lightning is great too. Black album is fine. St. Anger blows,"

I was a decent metalhead, and liked a fair bit of Metallica, but it was more Reese's area of expertise. I was more of a prog rock guy.

"There is not an answer you could've given that would make me like you more," Reese said, and then extended out his hand, "Reese Darrow,"

His hand was met and shook almost violently.

"Chris Oliver. You have good taste,"

Chris had to have been the cheeriest sounding metalhead I ever met. I almost anticipated him being sarcastic or mocking because I was far too used to people being well, kind of assholes. If it was too good to be true, it most often it was.

"How have I not ever met you?" Reese asked.

"Not sure. I'm a Junior," Chris responded.

"That explains it, I'm still a sophomore,"

Reese then mimicked a gun with a hand gesture and pointed it at his head. Him being younger than me by a year was always an unfortunate subject, poor bastard felt like he had to endure an extra year of high school simply because I'd be in college when he was a senior. I didn't blame him. It would be rough without him on my end as well.

"Oh, okay. Well, still, good to meet you," Chris said.

Reese leaned in a bit.

"Alright then, what're you in for?" he asked.

Chris chuckled.

"Well, I may or may not have helped some of my senior friends spray-paint Mr. O'Leary's desk last night,"

"Well shit," Reese said, half laughing, "So how'd they catch you?"

Chris, rather than answering, held up his left hand, the one he didn't shake Reese's hand with, and it was unmistakably covered in blue spray-paint.

"Caught blue-handed," he said.

I laughed, and could practically hear Reese's eyes roll.

"Wow, that pun was almost as bad as this guy's. You two will get along fine," he said.

Chris turned toward me.

"Oh yeah, didn't catch your name," he said.

"Joey O'Boyle," I said, "And I'm more of a Ride the Lightning guy by the way,"

"Nice, nice," Chris said, nodding.

"Heathen," Reese said under his breath.

Reese looked like he was about to start conversation with us, but we were interrupted when the opening of the door seemed to break the hushed tones we spoke in underneath the rampant snoring. The one who opened it was a Junior with a hall pass, slightly shorter guy with short dirty blonde hair. He was skinnier than a rail, and wore a button up shirt that was bought at Goodwill, and from the looks, was a shirt that served to be some sort of ironic hipster statement because it was bright sherbert orange. His choice of shorts and long socks made even me, a fashionably tone deaf guy take a second glance. He looked mildly confused upon seeing everyone in the room, save for coach, making immediate eye contact with him.

"Uh, I got sent here… is this the detention room?" he asked hesitantly.

"Welcome to the land of the dead," the girl who sat in the corner of the room said, slyly smiling and nodding.

The Junior was Leo Marshal. I had English with him. He was an odd duck for sure, caught between being a nerd and a (I use this term with an intended mocking tone) 'popular kid'. He just seemed to hang out with all the right people despite not ever looking like he belonged anywhere. But in all honesty he was a nice guy, funny too, but I could never get a clear read on him. He always sorta seemed above my station so I only occasionally talked to him. However, I was wondering what exactly he was doing here.

He sat a few seats behind us, next to the corner girl. As I turned back around to face Chris, Reese leaned in a little bit.

"Okay question. Who are the three girls in here? Because I don't think I've ever seen them before and I sincerely wish that wasn't the case,"

I briefly scanned the room. The three girls were the girl in the corner, and the two sitting in the row in front of Chris. Corner girl I didn't recognize. She was dark-complected, had the darkest brown hair I'd ever seen with a purple stripe down the left side, had full lips, and eyes that were so big and brown she resembled a Disney princess more than a human being. She wore a jean jacket and a skirt, and I certainly understood Reese's comment regarding her. She was gorgeous.

The other two had their heads down, but I could still get a solid read on what they looked like. One girl had pixie-cut short raven hair, and wore jeans and a plain blue t-shirt. I admired the simplicity, as I was a guy who put less thought into his wardrobe than he did virtually anything else. The other girl was small, tiny even, and had her blonde hair tied in a bun. Her I instantly recognized, Mary Sayer, a girl I went to elementary school with. She was quiet in her younger days, but now she was a social butterfly who I saw with practically everyone. Everyone seemed to enjoy her, she was always a permanent ray of sunshine. The pixie cut girl I didn't recognize. But again, Reese was right, they were all very pretty. This newfound knowledge of course put me a bit on edge, I felt the nervousness rise from my stomach and I attempted to gulp it back down. If any of them spoke to me I probably would've just gargled out an assembly of nonsense syllables.

"Well damn, wouldn't have figured you for such a ladies man," Chris said.

Reese scoffed.

"That's because I'm not. I'm just keenly aware of attractive girls. It's like a radar. I maintain my ability to detect them was gained through the sacrifice of my ability to converse with them," he said.

A dilemma I understood all too well.

"Oh you'd probably do fine. Why don't you talk to one of them?" Chris asked, trying to whisper a bit more but still be heard.

"I'll pass on that. I've been having a mostly decent day and I'd rather not fuck it up halfway through," he answered.

"Well you'll never get better at talking to them or flirting if you don't try it man. Gotta open yourself up to possibilities," Chris suggested.

He clearly didn't ascribe to our brand of adolescent pessimism.

"I appreciate your optimism but I'll still take a pass. I'm good at appreciating beauty from afar. Why don't YOU try it Mr. Positive?" he asked.

Chris laughed.

"I have a girlfriend, and quite frankly I'm not sure how I was lucky enough to end up with her, so I wanna avoid any potential fuck ups. But how do you think it started? Gotta risk it," he answered.

"Lucky bastard," Reese said under his breath.

"We're just not very savvy in that department. If you knew us any better you'd get it," I said.

Chris nodded.

"Alright, alright, just a suggestion. But you're right, they're cute. Weird. So what exactly do you think they're doing here?" he asked.

Before either of us could answer, a voice perked up from the back corner.

"Oh yes. As you know it's totally impossible for cute girls to get detention. If we were ugly then it wouldn't really be any cause for suspicion,"

It was the corner girl, who looked to be slightly engaged in conversation with Leo, but was still clearly eavesdropping. We all turned to her and blankly stared. She was of course, correct. We were caught in a brief moment of stupidity.

"Are you eavesdropping?" Reese asked.

She laughed.

"No. You're just shit at whispering. And have some strange ideas about how 'cuteness' works. It's not exactly mutually exclusive when paired with potential for mischief," she said, followed by a low chuckle.

I admired her spunk. I think Chris meant to say that they didn't exactly look like any of them belonged in detention. Piggybacking off of my idea that no one in that room really looked the part of 'delinquent'.

"Noted," Chris said, "So us being idiots aside, what are you doing here?"

"History teacher doesn't like me and I may have said some choice words about his rampant and casual idiocy. What about you? Or, wait, are you too cute to be here?"

She followed that up with a wink. I was a fan of her coy attitude.

"Why yes in fact I believe I am too cute to be here, thank you for noticing," Chris said, attempting to deflect her earlier comment.

She smiled.

"Obviously. The name's Nadia by the way," she turned towards the silent bodies furthest from her, "How about you two? Izzy what did you do to get in here? And you too tiny one. You in here twenty-five to life?"

The two girls simultaneously turned around, both looking a bit on the sleepy side. Mary was the first to respond.

"I punched her boyfriend in the face," she said casually, pointing her thumb at the girl next to her, who Nadia labeled 'Izzy'.

Izzy did a half scoff/laugh.

"Ex-boyfriend. And I also punched him in the face,"

Chris stifled back howling laughter. Nadia looked shocked.

"Holy shit that's amazing, so did you two just team up on him and curb-stomp him?" Chris asked trying to form a coherent sentence amidst his own laughter.

"No, but we should have," she began, "He still escaped with his balls intact. Cheating prick just got away with two black eyes and we're stuck here in detention,"

I couldn't for the life of me imagine Mary punching anyone, but her bruised knuckles told me otherwise. That was kinda badass. The 'Izzy' girl however looked like she could frequently beat the shit out of people.

As I sit here and recount this, to this best of my memory, I can't remember how or why I thought this, but in the moment I felt like us meeting wasn't a coincidence. Or, if it were a coincidence, it was a fortuitous one. I must sound off, but suddenly the room that had felt like a fluorescent prison a few minutes prior had become an unexpected retreat from the mundanity of typical schoolwork. At the time I didn't even know if I was going to see any of them ever again, let alone even speak to them. Figured I at least had made a new friend out of Chris perhaps.

Everyone around me had continued brief snippets of conversation. Now that everyone was talking, the room felt more lively. For some reason my mind drifted away briefly. Time began to lose it's meaning as I saw everyone gradually start to form connections with one another. Leo and Nadia talked casually, like they had known each other for a while, (as far as I was concerned they could have) Chris and Reese had gotten into a heated discussion that I'm sure involved music in one way or another. It seemed the other girl and Mary were comparing bruises on their knuckles like war wounds. It all blended together into this tapestry of simple chit-chat I usually wasn't privy too. It was certainly different than the quiet and usually banal conversations Reese and I had to pass the time. Maybe it had just been a while. Maybe it was just the overall strangeness of the situation, but it was weirdly comforting to be in a place where we all felt a vague sense of camaraderie. But me being the spacey loon that I am was out of tune and barely paid attention to what was being said, more absorbing the experience from a but of a distance. They probably thought I was weird or quiet, but I didn't mind. It was just nice to see people talk to each other like actual human beings, I guess. I may be overselling it, especially considering I wasn't genuinely listening or taking part. However I did hear the one single sentence that would pave the way for all of us to have one of the most interesting summer breaks that I'd bet anyone has ever had.

"You know I can totally score us some drinks. You guys wanna get out of here?"

Chapter 2: Nadia

May 26th

I was already gonna be in deep shit with my dad for getting detention, so I figured breaking a few rules before I got yelled at wouldn't be the worst thing ever. Better to ask forgiveness than permission, though I wasn't all too keen on either. I just needed to cut loose.

Sneaking out of school was easier than one might think. Coach was asleep at the wheel and wouldn't have woken up for an earthquake. All you need to do is walk through the hallways like anyone else. If you were trying to sneak around then teachers would have totally snuffed you out. But if you act like you don't NEED to be hiding, then no one asks questions. We all walked in a straight line, trying to maintain a sense of cohesion with movement, and when we got to the doors that lead to the back parking lot, we all bolted out the door like the floor was made of lava. We got to the parking lot and all let out a simultaneous breath of relief and all started to laugh.

I wasn't sure anyone would even go for it, in fact it was sort of a joke, but to my surprise everyone looked pretty game. As soon as I saw they were down I figured I'd drive home, nab some Corona's from the fridge in the garage, and we'd go somewhere where no one would find us, which in Baron's Hollow, was not a difficult task. We lived in a town that bordered on the edge of nowhere. Our biggest claim to fame was the fact that we had decent orchards and farmland and shipped produce all over the state. That and there was a guy who supposedly saw an alien thirty years ago, which somehow made headlines in the paper. So whenever someone came to town, they were there for blackberries or conspiracy theories. I guess it was only natural that everyone wanted to get out and do something, there was just nothing to do once you got older.

The only person I knew would go for it was Leo. He and I, we had a bit of a history. He always felt out of place, and back when we dated, he was the reason I developed an inclination for rebellion at all. Freshman year we would spend weekends sneaking out at night and going to the drive in theater or just to walk around and have time to ourselves. It had been a while since we spoke in person, and I figured another go for old time's sake would've been nice. It was the last week of school anyway, and kickstarting off the summer with a bang was a nice little interlude.

When we all gathered ourselves, I lead everyone over to my van. Most kids got a nifty little old sedan with mediocre gas mileage. I got a piece of shit soccer mom car because since my mom died, no one actually used the damn thing. I should've been happy I got something at all, but it was a pain in the ass to drive and it cost a fortune to fill up. It was a good thing the Hollow was small and I learned shortcuts to walk to the few places I ventured to. But finally I was able to utilize one of the few perks that came with the van, the fact that it had exactly seven seats. Lucky, huh?

Leo sat in the passenger seat, and I admit it was a bit difficult to make eye contact with him at first. When you spend as much time away from each other as we had, it felt awkward merely to be in the same space. I was a little more grateful everyone else was actually there. They diluted the tension a bit. Joey and Reese sat in the two seats behind us, and Chris sat in the back with Mary and Izzy.

"Okay so where to first?" Chris asked.

I put the keys in the ignition.

"My house. Gonna swing by and grab some beer. And I know a place next to Elkhorn Creek that would be perfect to settle at, sound good?"

I saw a bit of a glint in Leo's eye. He knew the spot I was talking about.

"Not to be picky but what kind of beer?" Izzy asked.

I pulled out of the parking space and began down the road that lead to my neighborhood.

"Corona. Better than the shit they brew here in town but that's all I can tell ya. I'm no expert,"

Izzy nodded.

"Eh, beer is beer. It all kinda tastes like shit," Chris said.

Leo finally spoke up.

"Amen to that. I like it when it's mixed with something like apple but by itself you might as well be drinking cold urine," he said.

"Wow, someone's a little bitch," Reese snarkily responded.

A heard a couple stifled giggles, and Leo shrugged.

"Man you like your coffee black, it's not his fault his taste buds actually work," Joey shot back.

"I have no witty retort at the moment, give me a little bit and I'll think of something," Reese said mildly sheepishly.

My house wasn't that far from school. Then again nothing was really far away from anything there. On the way I just drove, trying to overhear what everyone was talking about. Leo did something similar, as he didn't really talk at all. I could occasionally catch him stealing a look at me, but I paid it no mind. I didn't want to lead him on or anything so I compensated by being closed off. Perhaps unnecessarily cruel, but it was the easiest way I could operate. When he walked into the detention room, I was kind of surprised he took the initiative to speak to me so quickly.

Everyone else seemed to be engaging in two separate conversations. The boys were talking about movies, as best I could tell, and the girls were talking about something a bit more personal, trying to be a little more quiet and secretive. I figured they both had what was a pretty rough day, and probably weren't keen on sharing more intimate details with a bunch of strangers. I had talked with Izzy a whole lot in my lunch block, but other than that everyone else there was a new face. Why was I willing to sneak out with and steal beer for people I hardly knew? Couldn't tell you. Just felt right in the moment.

Izzy and I were peas in a pod, we just didn't have any classes together. We both went to the same elementary school and bonded in our earlier days over our more tomboyish tendencies. Then freshman year we hardly saw each other, and only reconnected this year. She was a bit more soft-spoken than I was. More the creative type. She could draw, she could write, and she was a literal genius, an honors student through and through. Just not one of those preppy girls you typically think of. She loved music too, and could play a couple instruments, and sang like an angel. She was just way too self conscious, so she never showed anyone anything. Luckily when we were younger I was one of the few to get a glimpse of the more hidden side she had, and got to see some of her artwork and music. Truth be told, at the tail end of middle school, I had bit of a crush on her, I just never acted on it. I didn't know if she felt similarly and I was terrified of ruining a good friendship. Not to mention I wasn't sure if she was into girls. Not to mention it was eighth grade, I wasn't even fully sure if I was into girls. Or boys. Or both. I never really came to a conclusion either, it was really a person by person basis when it came to attraction. Leo came along freshman year and sort of fulfilled a void I had when Izzy and I hardly saw each other, and I think that was what lead to us splitting up. I was with him to fill a void, and when I realized that I felt like a horrible person. But there he was, still smiling that goofy smile at me after all that happened. I broke that boy's heart, he should've hated me, but he didn't, and I couldn't figure out why. I tried to find a silver lining though. It meant Leo wasn't bitter and I managed to still be friends with Izzy. It wasn't ideal on either end, but it was better than having a bunch of people who you loved now hate you. But having Leo be more ambiguous as to his feelings made me feel uneasy.

To distract myself from wandering thoughts, I tried to zero in on the people I didn't know very well.

Chris I was vaguely familiar with. I knew he was in a band with a couple of his friends, and I knew he was a big metal head. I was too, so I was never entirely sure why I didn't talk to him. He was always super friendly and I don't think I ever saw him upset. His girlfriend was pretty nice too. I briefly considered the possibility that he seemed TOO nice and could've had something seriously wrong with him, because in my experience people usually followed that formula. The less fucked up they seemed, the more fucked up they were. But still, he was nice. Reese on the other hand I didn't know much about at all. But that was because I don't think anyone did, save for Joey. Reese had always been quiet, and he was a year younger than me, so I never really saw him. Whenever he was in the halls he was listening to music, and usually had a look of distant sadness superimposed on his face. Whenever he was with Joey though, he lit up a bit more and actually talked. Joey wasn't that much different, though he definitely interacted with people more. But in a way, he was a little distant too. He never seemed like he formed a connection with people when talking to them. He always looked normal, but as oppose to Reese, his eyes were the only part of him that looked sad. He just had a way of inciting pity in you without really knowing why.

Mary was one I hadn't seen a lot of. She was always sunny and happy, not a tinge of cynicism in her, and she usually hung out with people who I didn't know, but she was a pretty popular girl, in every sense. She was a small girl, but really pretty, so she was popular with guys. Though I imagined now that she had punched some poor loser, that reputation may have been put to rest. I didn't know she had it in her, so I had a bit more respect for her than before. What did confuse however was that Izzy apparently had a boyfriend.

We may have been long time pals, but we just weren't as close as we used to be. I was just surprised she didn't mention it to me. I had no clue she was involved with anyone. In fact, I knew for a fact that relationships scared her due to her cripplingly low self esteem. I wasn't hurt or anything, I was just a bit taken aback she never mentioned it. Didn't matter though, cause now that boy, whoever he was, had two black eyes and the whole school knowing that a girl who probably weighed less than 100 pounds gave him one of them. I'm glad they already gave him what was coming to him, cause if I found out first I would've kicked his ass for them.

I pulled into my driveway, my house was just like every other one in the neighborhood, a single level, medium sized house with three bedrooms and two bathrooms, right in front of a heavily wooded area where a creek ran through not too far back. It was an okay home, certainly better than other places in town, but it was a place that felt more alien and strange to me every day. My dad hardly did anything to make it feel more homely. The house was rarely ever clean, anything regarding housekeeping wouldn't get done unless I did it, and the reason I was able to steal beer was that we had so much there was no way he would notice. He wasn't a bad guy, he was just a shell of who he used to be. And for that I couldn't really blame him. He could've been one of those alcoholics that beat their kid and didn't get a job. He was functioning and still had a job, but he barely felt like a person anymore. The only times when he showed any real emotion were when he got angry with me, but it never lasted long and he'd act like it never happened right afterwards. I secretly felt relieved when he yelled at me, because it was a sign he was still there, somehow. Even that happened less and less. If he found out about detention, then I would've been worried somewhat, but even if he yelled, there wouldn't be a lasting consequence.

That morning he had decided to stay home, he didn't even get out of bed, so I didn't bug him. Could've been a hangover, could've been a cold, either way, he wasn't going to hear the garage door open.

I put the car in park, and turned to everyone.

"I'll be back in a sec,"

Leo eagerly looked at me.

"Need any help?" he asked,

I smiled, trying to show I appreciated the attempt to help rather than slightly annoyed. It sounds bad but I just wasn't sure I wanted to be alone with him out of fear for what he might say.

"No I'm good, thank you,"

I took the keys out of the ignition, and closed the door. I walked up to the garage door, hit the combination on the pinpad, and slipped under the door quickly as it opened. I stood in the middle of the garage and took a breath.

Today had been really weird, I thought.

Nothing beyond that. Nothing complicated. It just felt weird. I wasn't even entirely sure I wasn't dreaming one of those vivid dreams that always ends up with you jolting awake. I walked over to the second fridge we had in the garage, and when I opened the door, all I could think about was Leo's goofy smile.

He was a good guy. A funny guy. A guy who made up for what he lacked in brains with legitimate heart. He was goofy and outspoken, but it was a colorful persona that hid probably the most genuinely nice human being that ever walked the earth. It made things so much worse when we broke up. Rather, when I broke up with him. It wasn't his fault.

I suddenly realized that I was too busy thinking about the guy in my passenger seat, and was simply standing there, staring at the inside of my fridge. I thought I had moved on, but all it took was one glance for my complicated feelings to resurface.

'Go drink. Go talk. Just get over yourself.'

I had to genuinely motivate myself for a second, but I reached in and grabbed the six-pack of Corona. There were other people. They would make it less awkward. Clearly I hadn't gotten the whole scoop on Izzy, so I had some catching up to do. I had to focus on silver linings. My own guilt was strangling me.

At a brisk pace, I walked out of the garage and closed it, hurriedly rushing to the van and avoiding any and all eye contact. I hopped into the van and started the car again.

"Alright ladies and gents, we'll be arriving at our destination in about five minutes, until then, hands off the beer, I don't want anyone spilling anything on the floor. Capiche?"

'Capiche'. Christ I watched too much television. No one said that.

Everyone nodded, and went about carrying on the conversation they were engaged in before. Leo finally looked like he was actually speaking to someone else, so I eased up a bit.

"Okay okay, I got it, best way to judge character, in my opinion anyway, is to ask them what their favorite things are. And I don't know jack shit about any of you," Reese began "So, it's an opportune way of seeing if I'll like you, or if I'll tolerate you,"

A quick, mildly ugly laugh snuck out of my mouth.

"Wow, you don't sound like an ass at all. Tolerate us?" I asked.

Reese shrugged.

"Well it's true! I'm just trying to get to know people before I drink with them. For example, Joey here, his favorite movie is The Usual Suspects. And his favorite band is Smash Mouth, so I tolerate him,"

Joey playfully hit Reese's shoulder.

"My favorite band is most definitely NOT Smash Mouth, but thank you for making a fantastic first impression on everyone," Joey responded quickly.

That got everyone laughing.

"Really, it's not? Well I could've sworn that... somebody once told me-"

"Don't you fucking start!" Joey interrupted him, laughter only growing.

"Okay okay, then Joey, if you will, tell us who your favorite band is," Reese said.

"Well uh, my name is Joey and my-"

"Dude," Reese interrupted, "This isn't alcoholics anonymous, sound excited! This is your favorite band! The people who you most admire for making good art that you love! Enthusiasm!"

"Radiohead, my favorite band is Radiohead," Joey quickly blurted out.

Reese then clapped for him and began to speak in a voice that I could only assume was meant to imitate a stereotypical Jewish mother.

"Alright now that we know that about you, how about you Chris dear?"

Chris cleared his throat.

"Well uh, yeah I'm Chris, and my favorite movie is Star Wars, and my favorite band is Metallica," he said.

Izzy was about to say something but Reese spoke up rather quickly.

"Whoa whoa whoa my friend, Star Wars? Important question. WHICH Star Wars?" he said, sounding deadly serious.

"Ah man, I just like Star Wars, picking is so tough,"

"Come on man if your house caught fire and you could only save one Star Wars movie, which one?" Reese hastily inquired.

Chris thought on it for a few seconds.

"Return of the Jedi, probably,"

Reese nodded with understanding.

"Huh. Bold choice. I knew I liked you. Usually people go Empire, you get brownie points for being different,"

Chris nodded and smirked, he then turned back towards Izzy.

"Your turn, since I very rudely interrupted you. My bad," he said, a vague hint at attempted chivalry could be heard in his voice.

"Well I'm Izzy and I think my favorite band is The Clash. Favorite movie is… Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,"

Don't ask me how but I think I somehow heard Reese's eyes widen.

"Wow. Punk music and a fantastic indie movie?"

Reese turned over to Joey.

"I think she's my favorite. You've got some catching up to do," he said.

"Well, I guess I knew it would happen someday. Woe is me," Joey said, sarcastically raising his arm to his forehead.

"What about you, bruised knuckles?" Reese asked.

This was the first time I legitimately heard Mary speak.

"Well I'm Mary and my favorite band is Queen. Favorite movie is Edward Scissorhands,"

Reese nodded and began a bit of a slow-clap.

"Well hot damn I think we're four for four so far," he turned around, "Alright Leo your turn,"

Nightmare Before Christmas and Ghost.

"Well, for movie it's gotta be Nightmare Before Christmas. Band? I'm more of a rap guy in general but in terms of bands I'll say Ghost," Leo answered.

"Holy shit, another Ghost fan? You win. Game over. Everyone else, you put up a good fight but he simply outdid you," Reese proclaimed.

"Well you've gotta give me a chance first!" I butted in.

Suddenly I realized I said that without actually thinking what I would say. I knew my favorite movies but I listened to so much music it was hard to pick one off the top of my head.

"Well for movies it's a tie. Pulp Fiction and Labyrinth. Band… eh… shit. Probably Black Sabbath. And don't count me out of being a huge dork for Ghost, I love them too," I said.

As the words left my mouth I suddenly felt a pang of fear out of being judged.

"Labyrinth? I love that movie!" Mary said, surprising everyone simply by speaking.

"Yeah you're up there with Leo then. Anyone who likes Bowie in any capacity is a friend of mine," Reese said.

That small bit of approval made me feel kinda nice, though I'd never admit it.

"Oh hell yeah, I remember Bowie in that. Pretty sure that movie and he were responsible for my sexual awakening," Izzy said.

"I hear you. I would've danced any magic dance if he was involved," I responded.

"And it had Jennifer Connelly in it, something for everyone to enjoy," Reese said with an almost dreamy tone of voice.

Understandable. She was also hot. Not Bowie hot, but hot.

"Well, all things considered, I think I've gotten all the data I need, you are all fantastic people and I love you all. Be prepared to be on the receiving end of my hatred whenever we disagree on something," Reese said.

"It's a really good thing I know you're being self aware and not being a VICIOUS asshole," Joey responded.

Before any banter continued, we came up into the wooded clearing I was headed towards. It was early afternoon, and as soon as the water came into view, seeing the creek was a legitimate sight for sore eyes. It wasn't cold and dry like the school, and it wasn't the same old drab scenery in my house. The water was pretty clear and the sun reflected onto it in a way that made it look beyond ideal. This was a place Leo and I often went just to get away, and it was nice to see it didn't lose its luster.

"Well everyone we have officially arrived. There are no major roads, no huge landmarks, and we can just sit at the edge of the forest and enjoy the fact that we aren't at school," I said trying my best airline stewardess impression.

I pulled up to a clearing that was almost perfectly van-sized and put us in park. We were about twenty feet from the creek, but the trees gave us some nice shade away from the sun. It was hot as hell, but there were so many trees around the Hollow there was almost always shade. Luckily the humidity wasn't awful so being outside was still somewhat bearable.

After parking the van, everyone enthusiastically hopped out of the car, and stood a few feet away from the back of it. I grabbed the beer, and hit the button that popped the back of the car open. I set the drinks down, and then pulled down the seats so one or two of us could sit in the back. I took out my own bottle, and set the rest in front of me.

"Enjoy kiddos," I said, popping off the cap.

Reese was about to take one, but then stopped.

"Well shit, there are seven of us and this is a six pack," he said.

The hot wash of shame rushed down my spine. I had one job. I completely forgot to even take that into account. I was about to forgo my beer cause I felt bad, when Joey stepped in.

"Nah we're all good. I was probably gonna pass anyway," he said.

"Oh, well thank you," I responded.

It made sense. Joey wasn't a goody-two-shoes by any stretch, but I couldn't imagine him drinking recreationally. I mean I barely knew him at the time, but he just gave off that kinda vibe.

Everyone else took one, and everyone sat in the grass in front of the van, I stayed in the back. There was a moment where I think Leo contemplated sitting next to me with the room that I had, but he sat down instead. Probably a wise decision. Instead it was Izzy that sat next to me.

The beer itself was okay. Not as bitter as your Budweisers or Millers, but it still had some kick to it. Definitely tasted different than anything american, but I wouldn't exactly call it 'tasty'. You got used to it. I regretted not bringing a lime or something so it could be a bit more authentic. Over the last year I got more acquainted with alcohol of all types, the town had their own beer and bourbon so it was practically everywhere, and my dad bought a lot of it in bulk when he could. Beer was purely something to drink to get a buzz. Beyond the fact that it was cheap, it's appeal was limited. A good drink for boredom, I found.

However, under the circumstances, there was some kind of charm to it. The sun, the creek, the heat, it created a nice atmosphere. It had been a while since I had gone and done something like that, and I really missed it.

It was about ten minutes to three o'clock. We still had time to kill.

"So what the hell do all of you wanna do when you get out of school?" Izzy said, poking a hole in the momentary blanket of silence.

Another silence briefly followed. No one had an immediate answer.

"I wanna be a writer," Joey said.

Hardly surprising. Weird guy with a tint of loneliness in a town no one knew the name of. Kid was practically born to be a creative type. He'd probably get along with Izzy pretty well.

"What do you write?" she asked him, as if she had read my mind.

"Fiction. Crime. Science fiction. The works. Just kinda hope I actually finish something and people will like it you know? I mean sure I wanna maintain artistic credibility, but I gotta eat. Don't wanna be one of those authors who die right before people discover their work," he answered.

There were a lot of authors out there. Trying to enter that market must've been a nightmare. I always liked the idea of writing, but I wouldn't have been able to commit myself fully.

"Does that actually happen that often?" Chris asked.

"Yeah, often enough. Happened with Lovecraft,"

Chris raised an eyebrow.

"Lovecraft?" he asked.

"The Cthulhu guy," Izzy butted in.

"Oh, gotcha, see I want to be a musician, I just don't really know how. I mean there's my band, but that's the easy part. How do you make a living before you get ultra-famous? I've heard horror stories about bands that toured in the hopes that they'd get a solid gig one day that would get them discovered. Siphoning gas. Stealing tip jars. Doesn't sound like a good time,"

At least he was being realistic. I bet that would've been a rude awakening for a lot of other people.

I thought about speaking up about what I wanted to do, but was suddenly confronted with the idea that I had never really thought about it. My thoughts were so focused on getting out of this place I never gave it much thought. I had a shitload of money saved up from summer jobs and birthdays, but all jobs I worked were a means to an end. I just wanted to move to someplace that didn't make you feel sad just by being there, where old memories seemed to snuff out any enjoyment I could find.

"I've got no fuckin' clue. Always wanted to make music but I don't have much of an outlet. Figured I'd take whatever job suited my needs," Reese said.

Well thank God I wasn't the only one.

"Well hey, what do you play?" Chris asked him.

"Bass. Guitar. Why?"

"Well I'm in a band. Come over and play for us one day and maybe we could fit you in. We're not even sure what we want our sound to be like yet, so if you're halfway decent, we could use you," Chris said, sounding genuinely enthusiastic about the prospect.

Reese raised his finger at Chris, and took a monolithic swig of beer, and stared at him for a couple seconds.

"Dude. I have never been more down for anything in my life. I just uh, well, I don't know a lot of people to begin with, and there's not exactly a couple people lying around I could ask to form a band with. Hell yes I'll play for you,"

Reese usually spoke with a thin layer of sarcasm coating his voice, but that was the first time he sounded incredibly genuine. Guess we made his day, inadvertently.

Chris raised his bottle to Reese, and they did a little toast. Chris then wolfed down the rest of the beer like it was nothing.

"Whoa, we've got an experienced drinker on our hands," I said.

Chris tossed the bottle aside and gave a goofy smile.

"I live to impress," he turned over to Joey, "What about you? You play anything?"

Joey laughed.

"I'm less musically inclined than most deaf people. Strictly a listener. Don't have the talent for making it. But I've heard Reese do some good work over the years in his garage when he wanted to show off," he said.

I thought about saying something about Beethoven being deaf but didn't want to sound like an ass. Reese awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well I wanted to show off and you're reliable. I don't exactly have a good outlet for it," he said, maintaining his authenticity.

"Well hopefully not anymore," Chris interjected.

Izzy looked over at Mary, who was sitting next to her feet, listening intently. She lightly tapped her shoulder with her foot, and made her squeak a bit. She was wound a bit tighter than everyone else there.

"What about you?" Izzy asked her.

Mary sipped the beer, it was clearly something she didn't partake in often, her face turning sour as soon as it hit her tongue. She tried to make it fade quickly to put on a tough face, but everyone gave a bit of a knowing, wry smile.

"Me?" Mary asked, "Well, I always wanted to be a doctor, but med school is way too expensive. Figured I'd go into nursing instead,"

"Huh. I think it suits you," Izzy commented.

"Yeah," Mary scoffed, "Considering my list of accomplishments today include underage drinking and coloring my right hand a deep shade of purple I feel like a real benefit to the medical community,"

Chris raised his left hand.

"Well you aren't the only one with discolored hands," he said with a goofy smile.

"Holy shit, you did the senior prank everyone's been talking about?" Izzy asked amidst the stifled laughter of those who only just now noticed.

"I helped a little bit. It was kinda difficult to cover up. I wasn't the mastermind. Merely a soldier dedicated to the cause," he said, giving us all a mock salute.

"Wow, you fight the good then," Leo said, raising his drink to him.

Chris goofily smiled and raised his drink back. I could see where some of the blue paint had rubbed off on his bottle.

I had been so lost in my own head it took me that long to realize how damn hot it really was. The sun beamed in the sky, beating down on the creek that made it look like it was full of glowing light. The sound of cicadas permeated the air, and suddenly the beer I had tasted a little bit better. There were times when this place didn't seem like the awful mess that I constantly wanted to escape. It had it's moments. And sitting there, drinking with a bunch of people from detention, talking about random things, that was one of those moments. A moment that was briefly interrupted by Chris.

"Well it seems this went through me quickly, I gotta take a piss, be right back," he said, setting his already empty bottle on the ground.

He got up and left so quickly, doing a funny little 'I have to pee' jog all the way over to some shrubbery that was just out of sight. I didn't even have time to sarcastically say he was 'classy'. He must've really had to pee I guess.

The moment of silence continued. Everyone had a nice, content expression on their face. The same gloomy faces that were either buried in their arms or stared aimlessly back at school. I remember thinking at that exact moment: 'I think I made a decent decision today'.

This was of course, immediately undercut by Chris.

In the corner of my eye I saw a figure exactly where Chris had scampered off to quickly fly backwards almost if thrown. Everyone else had a better view, so all our heads turned and sure enough, it was Chris.

"Holy… holy shit… Oh… Holy SHIT," he exclaimed, staring into the space he leaped from.

We all immediately got up and ran over to him, everyone dropping their bottles. There was a sense of urgency in his tone of voice that I don't think any of us had been subject to. His face, even when we ran over to him, didn't change at all. He stared, unblinking.

We all stood there next to him, and at first, saw absolutely nothing. Just a bush and some trees next to a clearing in a heavily wooded area.

"Chris, are you okay? What's the matter?" Mary said, asking him with the care and intonation of a nun or a lovely grandmother.

He did nothing but point into the bushes. His hand shaking violently.

We all looked at each other. Everyone looked confused. So I decided to cut the confusion short.

I took a few careful and deliberate steps forward. I didn't know if he had seen a wild animal of some sort, but I had to be cautious. But if it was an animal, he probably wouldn't have let us come over or been so quiet. But that begged the question, what exactly could elicit such a response.

My heart was pounding out of my chest, it felt like an old sedan and max volume blasting a song with a lot of base. I could feel the adrenaline you get from those sudden 'fight or flight' moments when your brain can't decide if it's ready to run or fight for your life.

I approached it, and briefly turned around, no one had moved, or made a single noise. Chris hadn't even stopped pointing yet. They were all transfixed on me. I never thought it was something that real people did, but I gulped, it was like trying to swallow your own fear.

Amidst the brush I could make out something. Something darker than the area around it, but it was hidden by shade so it was a bit obscured. It appeared to be made of cloth, it was artificial, not natural, I could tell by how that fabric contrasted with everything. It was cylindrical, but at the end there was a curve that was even darker than the rest of it.

I walked closer. I swallowed again.

It was a leg.

It was a leg attached to a body. It was an old man wearing a strange, dark outfit. The man was stocky, older, and had a gruff but still trimmed beard. He wore a hat, some gloves, and was holding something old and made of wood in his left hand. He was also, most definitely not breathing, his eyes were still open, but from the color of his skin, he had been dead for a while.

It was a dead body. But what was most concerning was right below his head. A crimson liquid coated his neck, starting out as a clean straight horizontal line. Below it the blood had ran and dried, but it still soaked the upper half of the man's shirt and some of the odd looking coat he had on.

I looked back at Chris. He knew I saw, and lowered his hand.

"I… I think I just pissed on a dead body,"

Chapter 3: Reese

May 26th

It would've been kinda funny if it wasn't 'shit-your-pants scary'. We all stood there, frozen. No one went to look at first, Nadia's confirmation was all we needed. The first thing I remember was the quiet sound of a suddenly come-to Chris zipping up his pants.

It says a lot about me that the first thing I wanted to do was ask how the hell Chris managed to NOT see the body he had supposedly peed on. But before the question left my mouth, I kept it to myself because it didn't matter. The body was there. He peed on it. Case closed. The real question was, of course: what the hell were we gonna do?

I don't even remember us all collectively moving up to see what it was we were dealing with, I just remember standing in a hovering circle with everyone, looking at a dead guy. Some Bram Stoker looking motherfucker that looked like he worked at a Renaissance Fair. Beard? Check? Long face? Check. Boots that only shady-ass guys who mumble all their words wear? Yep.

I turned my head to the left and right, everyone was intently studying the body, even Chris had gotten up and peeped in. The formation we were in was a little to… let's say evocative.

"This is a seriously fucked episode of Scooby-Doo," I blurted out, not remembering to turn on my filter for dumb thoughts that permeate my brain.

"Not funny," Nadia said, partially dazed.

"It's a little funny," Leo said quietly.

Chris looked up at us.

"I'm glad this is such a source of comedic gold for you, but can we come back to the part where we're looking at a DEAD BODY THAT NOW HAS MY DNA ON IT?" he said, his voice cracking at the end.

Chris was such a chill guy before, it was weird seeing his gears so forcibly switched like this. I mean, if I were in his position I probably would've drowned myself in the nearby creek, but I was confused as to my reaction. To everyone's reaction. We were staring at a corpse. A corpse of someone who had been murdered, from the looks of it. And we all just kind of stared at it. It clearly instilled fear in all of us, but what was considered normal here? All of us running around screaming? Immediately calling the police? Sobbing? Running away? No. Instead it was quiet. It was partially because we were slowly realizing how screwed we were considering our circumstances. I'm sure the rest of our brains that weren't devoted to mental panic were slowly being filled with thoughts of our own mortality. Or maybe I'm projecting a bit. I do that.

"We can't call the police," Joey said, "We're all skipping school. We've been drinking. And well-"

He vaguely gestured at Chris, then at the body.

"Okay, you're right, but what do we do? We can't just leave him here? What if no one finds him for a while and the police lose any good evidence? Then we just helped someone get away with murder. Telling the police we skipped school and drank and found a dead body sounds better to me than potentially getting caught later and explaining why we didn't report a dead body," Nadia said.

Both had valid points, but Chris was concerned with the primary issue here.

"We CAN'T call the cops, I'm with Joey," he said, "Is there a way to like, get it off of him? Without leaving a trace of all of us?"

Izzy turned to Mary.

"You wanna be a doctor right? Any way to do that?" she asked her.

Mary gave a little half laugh.

"A nurse, actually, and it's not exactly something you get taught in forensic science… but-"

"But?" Chris interrupted.

"But I know that running water erases a decent amount of DNA evidence," she said, "Well, at least, I remember seeing something about that when my mom was watching Forensic Files,"

Chris lowered his head.

"Oh God help me I'm going to jail," he said defeatedly.

Mary turned her head to the creek.

"So what part of him did you uh, well, where's the incriminating evidence?" she asked.

"Uh," he began, "His right pant leg, I think that's it, I noticed it pretty quickly,"

Mary nodded.

"We could put half of him in the water, it would wash it away. Probably. Keep the top half of him dry so any evidence can be unaltered. And save the blood from washing away," she said.

"I'm not sure I wanna risk further involvement with this guy over a 'probably'," Chris responded.

"Is the blood even important?" Nadia asked.

Mary's expression changed, the muscles in her face contorting as if her thought process was trying to escape her face and manifest visually.

"I-I dunno? I think so?" she said meekly.

We couldn't just touch the body with our bare hands. That would defeat the purpose of our intended goal. Unfortunately I don't think carrying gloves at the tail end of May is particularly common amongst anyone outside maybe those who live in the North Pole.

"Wait, any Magnolia trees nearby?" Mary asked with an added measure of urgency.

"Magnolia trees? Is there something different about them than other trees?" Izzy asked.

Mary nodded.

"They're the trees that have the big and plasticky leaves. We can all use those so our fingerprints or DNA don't get on the clothes," she said.

I remembered having a Magnolia tree in my backyard as a kid that we later had to cut down due to a dispute with the property line, so luckily I knew what we were looking for.

I turned around and scanned the forest line for that specific kind of tree. I remember looking specifically for the unusual shine the leaves had because of the way they reflected light. Luckily it was an unusually sunny day. A bit of a glint shone in my eye. Bingo.

I broke off one of the branches with copious amounts of foliage and brought it back, everyone was still standing basically where I left them. Good thing I was taking initiative.

"Okay so, use these to cover your palms and clamp them onto his clothes. We're gonna lift him," I said.

Leo looked at me blankly.

"Are you serious? We're actually doing this?" he asked.

Chris turned to him.

"You got a better idea? We can put him in the river, call in an anonymous tip so the cops find him asap, and none of us ever talk about this again, got it?"

Chris spoke with so much authority it was kind of unsettling. Though I couldn't blame him. I couldn't be completely rattled because, well, the situation was so darkly comedic I wanted to at least give out a nervous laugh, but the fact that I just decided to do something that was probably very illegal kept me from smirking.

Everyone looked like they wanted to say something, or object, but instead they all just gave an almost uncanny simultaneous sigh.

Everyone broke off some magnolia leaves and put them in their hands, covering their palms and fingers. We all circled around the man, this time close enough to really get a look at him.

He looked like he was from an entirely different era, like not even the getup, I just mean his face. Looked like a guy you'd see when your grandmother was watching westerns on TCM. Although his outfit didn't do him favors. That I legit hadn't seen before. It was a dark grey jacket, but it wasn't incredibly long, it ended above his kneecaps. It compensated for being really thick. This guy must've been stone cold insane wearing that in heat like this. He wore some odd-looking vest thing and an undershirt. He seemed the type that would be gruff and rough around the edges, and combined with the fact that he was a corpse, I sort of anticipated there being a rank smell coming from him, instead, I smelled the faintest bit of lavender laundry detergent. No really. To top it all off, he had a strange leather strap running diagonally across his chest, and near his belt I could see he had vials of multicolored liquid. The weirdest thing though, was in his hand.

At first glance I thought it was some sort of instrument, but I leaned in a little bit and saw it from a more easily observable angle, it was a small crossbow. Like, an old crossbow, made of wood. It had some odd etchings in it and it wasn't loaded, looked like a collector's item of some sort. So as far as I could tell, this guy brought a tiny little weapon and fought some ravenous badger that was able to slice his throat.

Even while thinking about that I realized something was off. I was no forensic scientist, but I, like most sad lonely white boys, had consumed several lifetimes worth of entertainment. One of my favorite sources of entertainment being tv and movies under the genre of crime. I watched shit like Law and Order and reruns of NYPD: Blue when my grandparents lived with us when I was younger. Rather than scary or even boring, I always watched in rapt attention. Again, I'm no doctor, but I remember thinking how odd it was that his slashed throat was the only thing that seemed to be wrong with him. His clothes weren't tattered, no marks on his face, just a clean, almost surgical cut. It felt very deliberate. It also felt just really fucking weird.

We all grabbed one section of his clothing, clamping the leaves to cover our hands.

"One, two, three," I said, and we all lifted him upwards.

He was a heavy bastard. His clothes looked like they were considerably heavy, so we all struggled a bit at first. The looks on everyone's faces were a combination of physical strain, anxiety, and a trace of 'Oh my God this is what my day turned into,' and I'm not entirely sure how to qualify that last feeling.

I was waiting for someone to speak to break the tension, but everyone just kept staring at the body. I mean sure, it's a natural reaction, but it just felt so weird. The sudden mood whiplash made me feel uneasy. Maybe even more than the actual dead guy.

It wasn't very far, so we didn't have to suffer for too long. We set him down on the edge of the creek, his boots now wading in the most shallow part of it. Everyone let out a sigh of relief. Chris, rather than joining the harmony of expelled air, inched him closer into the water. I assumed it was because, after all, he was the only guy who knew where he peed. Luckily, he was able to keep him dry for the most part.

No one really had anything to say. I guess there wasn't much to comment on. However, I felt like I was missing something.

The tiny crossbow.

I tuned around and headed back to the original location. The small device had fallen out of his hand when we picked him up. I bent down to pick it up, and upon holding it, it felt weird. It was heavy, but definitely made of some kind of wood. It was dense, and had some ornate design on the grip. It was so small it couldn't have shot something much larger than a dart. Clearly someone was after this guy. It couldn't have been an animal, not with a cut that clean and specific. Was he attempting to fight back with this little wooden thing you could mistake for a children's toy? I figured I at least knew why he bit the bullet if that was the case.

I turned around to rejoin with everyone, all six of them just standing there, not doing a single thing. They were all so still they may as well not have been breathing.

"Did he have anything else on him?" I asked.

Joey was the only one who seemingly heard me. Or the only one chose to respond.

"You wanna check?" he said, vaguely gesturing at the half-submerged corpse.

Yeah it was kind of a stupid question. I was curious. Sue me.

"We uh… we should all get going," Nadia said.

Leo nodded in agreement. The two of them began walking back to the van. I looked at Joey, who looked more tired than anything else. He shrugged and proceeded to follow them. The rest did the same.

At the time, no one had noticed I was holding the crossbow. I briefly contemplated what the correct course of action was here. I touched it, meaning my fingerprints were on it, so if I left it here I'd have to throw it into the river. However, if I did that, then there would be no point in leaving it there at all if the cops couldn't get something from it. I wasn't exactly thrilled at the prospect of looting a dead guy, but my curiosity got the better of me. I stuffed it into my jacket pocket, where it fit fairly snugly. The place was starting to give me the creeps as reality was starting to set in after the post-adrenaline high I was in wore off. I followed the rest of them, and joined them in their silence.

We all got in the car, and no one said a single word. Nadia just put the keys in the ignition, and started to drive. Everyone in the car just sort of awkwardly made eyes at one another. This would normally be an instance where I would try and say something stupid, so that everyone could laugh and/or make fun of me to dilute the tension. However I couldn't really think of any situation appropriate things to say, because corpses tend to invite black humor, and I had a feeling that wouldn't really go over well.

There was this small moment I had where I kinda sobered up and realized I was trying to come up with a joke when a few minutes ago I was holding the dead body of a living thing in my arms. And that we may have just committed a serious crime. And here I was, NOT thinking or worrying about that. I was more upset that everyone was so down. It had been such a chill afternoon and I figured maybe I had made some new pals, which didn't happen often. What was everyone else thinking? Maybe they were also trying to think of something to say? Maybe they were a bit rattled. I wanted to imagine them trying to speak up but it was probably wishful thinking.

Was there something wrong with me?

I was never someone who was keen on emotions. Oh I had them alright, I just wasn't exactly a fan. When something was sad, I got really sad. When I was happy, I was really happy. I just felt like I experienced emotions on a whole different plane than everyone else. I'm not bragging, far from it, I kind of hated it. Some people called it 'enthusiastic', doctors called it 'manic', and I called it a royal pain in the ass. It's why I didn't have many friends to begin with. Letting people in was hard. I truly admired my kinship with Joey because I knew he understood me. I felt bad a lot cause I would give him a hard time, but I hoped he knew that wasn't really me. But, in a situation like this, I figured I'd have a fuckin panic attack. Yet there I sat. Bothered, but largely unperturbed.

Suddenly, a bit of movement came from the corner of my eye. It was Nadia, turning on the radio of the car. She wanted to break the silence. Thank GOD.

At first it was one of those annoying DJ segments that played between songs. I could hear the internal groaning from everyone. Set up a camera in front of the van, capture the stunned apathy of everyone in it, we could've been in a Wes Anderson movie we were so deadpan.

Willie Nelson's 'On the Road Again' began to play. Hard to forget that opening couple seconds as the tempo picked up.

There was no song that could've been appropriate at the time. Maybe 'Sound of Silence' by Simon and Garfunkel, or 'For What It's Worth' by Buffalo Springfield. But even those would be so perfectly fitting I would've laughed. However the atmosphere created by good ol' Willie was just strange. It didn't take long for her to turn the radio down.

"So uh," Mary began, "Where exactly are we going?"

Mary's soft voice sounded like an explosion in that damn vehicle. Though she raised a good point. I didn't remember anyone telling Nadia where they lived and I was doubtful she already knew.

Nadia didn't answer at first. However, the car was on one of those dirt roads where it wasn't exactly likely to stumble across anyone, and she slowed down, and put the car in park. She turned around to face everyone.

"Okay, I think we should go over what exactly we're gonna do,"

"Agreed," I piped up.

To my surprise it was Joey who stepped up to the plate first.

"Well, I think it goes without saying that what just happened does not leave this van. If we get caught at school, which I highly doubt since we only have one more day and I doubt any of the administration will care if we ditched or not, we all left together and hung out at the park by the freshman building. We left, we went there, we hung out, and we left right before school let out. If any of us get picked up by the police, which I also highly doubt just because the Sheriff makes Barney Phife look like Robocop, we immediately all have to come clean. We don't tell him we moved the body. If they ask, then we found him there and we tried to see if he was conscious or still alive or something and touched his clothes. And as for the pee…"

He looked at Chris.

"I don't think they'll be able to know it's you even if they find a trace. But realistically, I think we'll all be okay. For what it's worth," he finished.

Gotta hand it to Joey, since we were reclusive it was easy to forget he had decent leadership skills. When he put it all like that it certainly made me feel a tiny bit better. And I think it did the same for everyone else.

"Sounds like a plan to me? Any objections?" Nadia asked.

No one said anything.

"Good," she said, "Then I guess that means we're all in a pact together. I'll call in the tip later tonight, I can sneak out and get to that payphone next to the strip mall, it's not a far walk,"

"I can drive you there if you need," Leo perked up.

"It's fine, probably better I do it alone," she said.

We all nodded in agreement. Nadia started the car up again.

"Alright, where am I dropping off everyone?" she asked.

I spoke up. No way I was letting Joey out of my sight until we talked about all this craziness.

"Just drop Joey off with me, we live close by," I said.

Joey nodded in approval. Thank God he was on the same wavelength.

Everyone rattled off their addresses. Naturally none of us were really lucky enough to live in the same general neighborhood as someone else. In a place this small, that was a real rarity.

Seeing as we had one more day of school, I was definitely curious what would happen to all of us. I was assuming that Chris still wanted to hear me play, partly because he didn't say anything about it since asking me and partly because I still really wanted to. Wishful thinking? Yeah sure, but I wanted to play in a band more than practically anything, and my excess of free time was about to be way more apparent due to summer. I wondered if it would be weird while hanging out with Chris, both of us having to remember today being the inception of our friendship. I hope it didn't color it much or make it seem strange.

I was doing it again. Worrying about myself when I probably should've been thinking about the dead guy. But that was just it, what was there to think about? We couldn't have helped him, he was clearly dead long before we got there. We didn't bear any responsibility. Crimes beyond petty theft or the random innocuous drug use just didn't happen around here. And from the looks of it, the guy wasn't from around here. There were seven of us, and none of us recognized him, and in a town with a population of under 3000, that was a bit out there. It was a mishap for sure, and yeah seeing a dead guy is a trifle unsettling… okay it's VERY unsettling. Perhaps I'm not doing it justice since I've seen my fair share since that time, so it's a bit difficult for me to connect to back then. I've always had issues with priorities, sue me.

I hated that the day had been so ruined and everyone was so down. After all this blew over, I'd make sure we'd all get together and hang out properly. Less alcohol and dead bodies just to play it safe. Then again there was always the possibility that we were all hanging out purely through circumstance. Harboring the doubt that everyone may have secretly hated me was something I truly struggled with, which may have been why I was so keen on these people. They seemed just far away enough from the social center of high school to relate to me, but without being complete whack job loonies like yours truly.

The car stopped. We were in front of my house.

I lived in a neighborhood that looked like any neighborhood you've ever seen. It wasn't lavish, it wasn't impoverished, it was just a split level house with a driveway that was so angular no sane human would park a car there.

"This is us," I said, unbuckling my seatbelt.

Joey hopped out first since he was closer to the door. I followed, but held onto the door for a moment.

I wanted to be SOMEWHAT personal and say goodbye, but what exactly does someone say in a situation like that? 'Hey I had a great time up until Chris urinated on the corpse of a murdered guy, see ya soon!'

In retrospect that would've been better.

"Had a nice time," I awkwardly belted out.

Everyone just sort of looked at me and nodded. I closed the door, and even through the tinted window I saw Nadia take a deep breath before she put the car in drive. I turned to Joey who looked like he was midway through an excruciating wince. Usually that was my schtick.

"Had a nice time, huh?" he asked.

I thought about being witty but today truly was not my day.

"Yeah I could've done that better," I said, hanging my head.

Joey and I walked up the steps and I took out my key to unlock the door. I could hear my dogs, Molly and Rogue, barking from inside.

And yes my dog is named after an X-Men character. Yes I know how awesome it is.

I opened the door and both of them were just as eager as ever. I never understood cat people. Dogs had boundless enthusiasm and loyalty, and always looked happy to see you. With people you were usually lucky if they smiled at you.

I kneeled down and pet them to calm them down, which never took long. They could go from 0 to 50 instantly and vice versa.

Something did feel a little off. All the lights were turned off. There was still light shining through the blinds so we could see, but usually my dad was watching TV or my mom was sitting in her room reading. The entranceway lead down to the basement and up to the living room on the right, kitchen in the center, and the hallway with the bedrooms on the left. I could faintly hear the team on, but after going up the steps and standing at the tail end of the hallway, I didn't hear anything. Joey looked back at me. I shrugged. He went ahead into my room, I peeked into my parents room.

They were both fast asleep. Not exactly a common thing. My parents and I were all mutual night owls. I didn't remember them saying anything about not feeling well that morning. In fact I was pretty sure they didn't say much at all. At the time I shrugged it off, I had bigger fish to fry, and I slowly shut their door all the way closed.

I entered my room, Joey was already sitting down on the floor, back kept up on the side of the bed. My room wasn't messy, it was how you say… busy. I had movie posters plastered all over the walls. My various gaming systems were all stacked up underneath the small tv I had mounted on my wall. My desk took up one corner, my collection of various comics and blu rays took up another. It was a nice cozy little cave to escape to after school had worn you down.

I sat in my chair next to my desk. And looked at Joey. We both stayed silent for a minute. I wasn't sure if we were both completely unable to speak or simply had too much to comment on. The buzz from the beer had officially worn off and I was just simply worn out. Joey must've felt worse.

"Well," he finally said, "That was one hell of a day…"

I took a breath.

"Yeah, sure as hell was,"

The both of us sat there in silence for… well honestly I don't know how long. Felt like forever. Adrift in a limbo of 'what the hell'

I remember thinking one clear, coherent thought amidst all the random tangents my brain was going through.

'There is no way in hell I will have a day weirder than this one as long as I live'

Long story short, I wasn't even kind of right.

Chapter 4: Mary

May 28th

Summer had started off with many firsts for me. It wasn't exactly the beginning, but in that week I had gone on my first date, had my first kiss, my first break-up, the first punch I had ever thrown, my first taste of alcohol, and my first encounter with a dead body. It was very telling of things to come I suppose, but somehow I had survived it all. Getting out of school didn't feel like a relief as much as a minor occurrence. It used to be this earth-shattering event that was a source of joy and wonder, now it just felt like anything else.

It wasn't all bad though. Even though Jared, the boy I had unfortunately fallen victim to, turned out to be an ass, Izzy turned out to be surprisingly cool. She wasn't mean or catty to me, she simply approached me, informed me of what was going on; specifically that she had been seeing Jared for a month and had done a bit more than just kissing over that period of time. After the shock wore off the anger set in, and then she appealed to my shockingly violent first instinct.

'So I'm gonna walk up to him at lunch, in front of everyone, and punch him in the face. You want in?'

I remember finding myself nodding in agreement, but my brain was screaming 'No! Don't do it! What's wrong with you?' so I just sort of went with it. I forgot that I had a pretty perfect school record, that the administration there was fond of me, and that a bunch of friends and acquaintances would undoubtedly be there and see me. Not to mention I was small, I had run track and even joined the dance team freshman year, but it's not like I'd even be able to hit him that hard. I was always tiny and kinda bony. The bruise from my misadventure lasted a long time after the initial pain. But I won't lie, it may have been the most cathartic thing I've ever done.

Even if it was just for a moment, getting to feel that wild rush of adrenaline and satisfaction in the moment was intoxicating. I got to pretend, even if just for a minute, that I was as badass as someone like Izzy. All my honors classes, my extracurriculars, the expectations people had on me, none of that mattered. I just got to release years of pent up aggression. I finally let my guard down for one guy and he ends up cheating on me? Of course. The one time. Figures.

Sorry, I'm prattling on. My bad.

The elephant in the room regarding that whole experience was the body. I was barely even prepared to drink that day, let alone what followed. Truth be told I did it mainly to impress Izzy and not seem like a buzzkill. Guess something else did that for me.

It wasn't peer pressure either. I was just caught up in the high of acting out of character. Everyone there was nice, and even though I knew about three of them it still felt like I was in uncharted waters. You live your life trying the best you can at everything, you do above and beyond what's expected, but everyone just assumed like that was who I was, rather than what I did. I got good grades because my parents wanted me to. I tried to be nice and inviting at all times despite how I actually felt. Not in an insincere way, mind you. At least, I hope it didn't come off that way. That was why I thought I'd give Jared a shot, he put on this facade that he knew I was more than the sum of my parts. Instead he was more than likely trying to get into the notoriously preppy girl's pants. Asshole.

Although from just that one punch, the thing that everyone now knew about, more than likely threw a curveball in my reputation for the rest of my high school career. And at first it felt overwhelming and scary. The principal called my parents and told them what happened, and to my surprise, they were kinda nice about it. I was worrying about the fallout from their only daughter finally doing something wrong would make them furious. But instead they just talked to me. They said they knew it wasn't something that would continue and was just a one-time thing that happened because of some stupid boy. Hell, in private, my dad said he was proud of me, and joked about not having to worry too hard about making sure anyone I dated stayed in line.

But that was the thing, maybe I didn't WANT it to be a one time thing.

Sneaking out, meeting new people, getting away from everyone who thought they had you pegged despite not ever talking to you or knowing you at all, it was incredible. It's not like I suddenly wanted to start beating on guys, but maybe it was time I tried to live a little. It was the beginning of summer after all, so I had a lot of free time, which in turn, was what lead me to Izzy.

In order to let all of the craziness from the last day we saw each other fade a bit, I ended up texting her right after we got out of the last day of school. She said she couldn't hang out that day because her mom had apparently come down with something, but she could the next day. I played it slightly aloof because I didn't want her to know how excited I was to be hanging out with her.

It sounds really weird and attention-starved, but that was just it. I didn't have any real friends despite the fact that I was surrounded by people that I talked to on a regular basis. Joey was always a loner, even before high school, but he always had one or two really close friends you'd see him with. It may have been a 'grass is always greener' situation, but I envied him. Then again, I guess I shouldn't be jealous of someone I hardly knew. He always seemed decent back in middle school.

We decided to meet up at my house. My parents had to go away the day summer started because of work. Dad was a cartographer, Mom was a photojournalist. They met each other in college in Barcelona because they were in the two programs that got to actually go different places around the world. My younger brother and sister, as well as myself, were the reason they stayed for the school year. Every summer they'd go off to someplace and take pictures and draw maps, and come back with tons of stuff for us. The room that was their 'office' was a giant mess of huge canvassed photos and maps in glass frames. When I was really little, Dad would tell me all about the places they went to, and fill me in about the photographs. Now they did the same to my siblings, but not so much me anymore. I think they figured I outgrew their theatricality and stories. I would just sort of stand in the doorway awkwardly, trying to get all the information second-hand.

So, naturally, it was just me and my sister, Kara, and my brother, Danny. I relegated to being the summer-long babysitter. Though it would be different this year, as Danny was fourteen and Kara was ten. We were all fairly independent. Kara could even cook for herself, so luckily I wasn't entirely housebound. Danny was probably more capable than most adults, at time even more than me.

I remember that day pretty well. It was raining, which at first was a good thing, because we were in desperate need of it. But the storm had started the night before, and had only gotten worse since then. Early afternoon there was thunder and lightning that would've made you think it was April. I had the tv on, broadcasting the weather channel so I could be sure if there were any warnings and what have you.

Kara was reading in her room and Danny was on the computer. I was glued to the tv, eating a bagel. My mom always joked that I was an old soul, because I watched local news and weather with the enthusiasm of most senior citizens. It was more a compulsion out of paranoia. I was like a gun-shy dog, weather made me nervous.

Despite the constant rattling of thunder, the knock on the door scared me. I was a bit worried about Izzy coming here in such disastrous conditions, but she didn't even mention it. I got up off the couch and ran to my door to let her in.

I opened it up and was greeted by her looking way more soaked than I would've expected. She wore galoshes, a yellow raincoat, and her usual slightly punk getup. Purple shirt. Black skirt. Striped leggings. She hurried inside.

"Holy shit did you walk here?" I asked, looking outside for a car.

She pointed to my driveway. A bicycle turned over on it's side sadly lay there being coated in rain.

"Wow. Seriously? You probably should've stayed home!" I exclaimed.

She hung her coat on one of the hooks, and took off her boots, and shrugged.

"I was bored and I'm not gonna let a little rain stop me. Nice place,"

She looked around at the house as she walked up the stairs to the top level. It was a decently-sized house. Two levels, four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and since we lived on the edge of some old farmland, we got it for really cheap. Because of my parents exploits and appreciation for old stuff, it was basically a modern house with rustic kitsch scattered about all over the place.

She shook some of the rain off of her and followed me up the steps.

"You want anything to eat or drink? I'm making soup," I offered.

"Yeah," she responded, "I'll take you up on that. I'm good as far as drinks go. Think I've had enough water today,"

She went over and sat down on the couch in the living room. I had almost forgotten I was even making soup, good thing I offered her some. I hurried over to the kitchen, which was luckily connected to the living room, and checked the stovetop. Nothing had gone wrong yet, but I stirred the it all anyway, just to be safe.

"So your parents are gone?" she asked.

"Yeah," I answered, "Won't be back till a week before summer ends. Luckily the little ones can look after themselves, and if I feel too bad about having to leave I can get a neighbor or friend to watch em' for me,"

She nodded.

"Nice. So other than housewatch what exactly do you like to do in your free time?" she asked,

There it was. I didn't think she'd ask so quickly.

"Uh, well, I read a lot. And… yeah that's kinda it," I meekly answered.

She chuckled. I wasn't sure if she thought I was a total bore or genuinely found it amusing.

"Huh. Neat. What do you read?" she inquired.

I had to take a second to think what authors would be a good answer. I didn't know her too well, so I wanted to sound well-read, but nothing risky that would color her opinion on me.

"Lot's of stuff," I said, still stirring the soup, trying to appear like I wasn't rifling through my own head like a filing cabinet, "I love Truman Capote, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, and if I feel like a basic bitch then maybe some Jane Austen,"

Self awareness. The key to faking confidence was backing up your potential or perceived faults with a mixture of honesty and humor.

"Wow, really? I love reading but I don't do it often enough. Ever read any Steinbeck?"

"Of course!" I answered.

I had most definitely not.

"He's probably my favorite. And no worries, I'm basic too, love me some Edgar Allan Poe. Gotta fulfill the teenage girl stereotype quota somehow I guess," she said.

I internally cursed at not first mentioning Edgar Allan Poe. I did actually like him. Never read a page of Hemingway though.

Before I could give it any further thought or scrutiny, I saw Izzy shift a bit in the corner of my eye. She cleared her throat.

"So uh, how are you?" she asked, the tone of her voice ever so slightly altering.

I turned to her.

"Well, it depends," I began, "In terms of what exactly?"

I put down the spoon and then walked into the living room, sitting on the couch perpendicular to her. I felt like she was going to ask about something that probably deserved more than me not making eye contact and focusing on soup that didn't need any further tending to.

"In terms of anything. I mean, it's been a rough week. You managing okay?"

Her tone of voice almost made her sounds like a completely different person now, like she let a wall down or something. Her concern was actually kind of touching. Asking me about it was enough, but the look in her eye was that of someone who genuinely gave a damn.

"I'm… I'm as okay as I can be. Hand still hurts. I'm over the whole Jared thing now. I never really got the chance to formally thank you about that by the way, so yeah, thank you. You had a pretty good reason to be really awful to me but you were just so nice about it" I said.

I wasn't as over the whole situation as much as I let on, but it was more because I felt like my vulnerability was exploited.

She nodded.

"Good. Hey, you're welcome. It's not your fault he was a douchebag. And what about our-"

She looked around to make sure neither of my siblings were within earshot.

"-our… our situation that will remain unspoken," she uneasily finished.

"Is it weird that I'm still not fully able to respond to it? It's been on my mind, you know, thinking about it, but every time I really sit and ponder it I just try to move past it. It's just so… weird. And insane. I definitely didn't sleep that night,"

That was more than likely the most honest thing I had said to her.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good, it's not just me then. I thought I was some kind of psychopath. I mean no one WANTS to think about it, right? You think any of the others have?" she asked.

I hadn't spoken to anyone other than her since that day. I shrugged.

"Maybe Chris. He seemed pretty shaken up. Easy to see why. Heard anything about the police yet?" I asked.

The timer went off. I got up, but still trained my eye on her to key her into the fact that I was still listening.

"Not much. It's not exactly like news travels fast. If at all. But no one's been arrested. I haven't talked to anyone who would know anything beyond that,"

"Right," she said, staring at the floor contemplatively.

I poured the soup into two bowls, and kept the rest on the stovetop. She looked up at me and I gestured towards her with a bowl. She nodded. I got her a spoon, and carefully made my way back to her, keeping my spillage of soup at a bare minimum. I gave her the bowl and rejoined her.

"It's just… it feels weird. Not even in the way you'd think. I just… something feels wrong, you know?"

I definitely had felt off the past couple days, but it was likely it was just from things being so shaken up. I wasn't sure if the world was crazy or I was. Or maybe it was both. Either way I was too compromised to provide a solid and rational opinion.

"I dunno, definitely hasn't been normal though I'll give you that," I said before tasting a bit of the soup.

She tried some as well, the color coming back to her face a bit.

"Oh wow this kicks ass, you do something to it?" she asked.

"Secret family recipe. And I'm a badass cook," I said with a wink.

The whole 'fake it till you make it' philosophy when it came to confidence always sounded stupid but now I was drunk on it. Every time I tried to sound cool I felt like I got better and better at pulling it off. Granted I had no clue if that was true, but Izzy didn't outright laugh at me so I had to be doing something right.

"Well damn I look forward to coming here more often then. We definitely need to get you out of the house though. We should go see a movie soon or go to the Peddler's Mall. You know, the only two things one does here to have fun,"

Holy shit she actually wanted to do stuff with me. I was in. In what exactly? No idea. But I was in.

"Yeah of course. Hopefully when the weather lightens up a bit. If it ever does I mean," I responded.

I turned my head slightly to take a look outside through the kitchen window, but the blinds were closed. The rain was still going, just as hard as before, but something was a little different. I could faintly see the glow of blue and red lights creeping in through some of the spaces. Between the rain and thunder it was hard to tell at first, but I heard a distinct sound. Sirens.

Izzy put her soup down on the coffee table in front of her. We both looked at the window for a bit longer to see if the sound went away or the lights moved past us, but they didn't. They were closeby. And they weren't moving.

"What the hell is going on out there?" she asked.

Rather than answer with a 'No clue' I got up and walked to the window. I peered through the blinds.

The dull grey suburbia had suddenly been filled with an uncharacteristic amount of color, blue and red accenting whatever object the spinning lights shined on. There were two police cars, one pulled into the driveway of the house directly across the street from mine, and one car just then pulling up. An ambulance closely followed the second car. That was probably half the entire police force right there.

The woman who lived there, Ms. Abbott, was an old widower who no one ever saw unless she got the mail. She was also probably the meanest woman alive. A dispute involving a property line combined with her constant harassment even made one of her neighbors move, leaving a vacant house next to her that was permanently for sale. Some little kids in the neighborhood, my siblings included, perpetuated rumors as to what kind of fairy tale monster she was, usually labeling her as a vampire or some kind of beast that stole an old woman's skin. At first I figured she finally croaked due to old age, but that didn't explain the two police cars. Especially considering she lived alone.

"What's going on?" Izzy asked from the couch.

I was still staring outside. The second cop got out of his vehicle along with the EMT. The cop who had gotten there first ran out onto the porch before they got there, and bent over, holding onto one of the support beams on the porch for balance. He looked like he was out of breath, but I couldn't make out exactly what was going on due to the constant lights and rain. The other two approached him, but he held out his hand, preventing them from going inside. He talked to them for a moment, and let his hand down. As he did this, he turned around, away from the other two, and violently vomited. The EMT ran inside, and the cop went behind him.

"Something not good. I think the old lady across the street from me-,"

I didn't finish because I saw the cop and the EMT rush back out of the house. The cop looked absolutely mortified, just standing there for a moment, eyes white and wide with fear. The EMT looked like he was about to join the first cop and start vomiting.

It was then, right as those two exited the house that I caught a glimpse of something. Inside the house, the front door lead directly into the hallway. While the door was open, for a brief second, I saw that hallway. The normally off-white yellowish paint I was certain the house had was gone, because in that split second, there was nothing but red. A huge, long, scattered crimson streak that looked like someone through a gallon of red paint at a wall. But it was a splatter. A large streak. It looked like a pool of blood had settled as well, covering a good amount of the hardwood floor.

It took a moment to sink in. That was blood.

Unlike with the dead body I had previously seen a few days prior, I felt immediately horrified. Yes, the woman who lived there was awful by every account, but if she was dead, it was like a constant in my life was gone. The sky was blue, the grass was green, and Ms. Abbott was a nasty old woman who yelled at people when they walked too close to her grass. I hadn't seen the body either, but I certainly understood the implication. This wasn't a slit throat. With that much blood? At the time I hadn't the slightest idea what could cause that much bleeding.

By that time, another vehicle showed up, it was an unmarked police cruiser. A local news van followed close behind. Izzy was now right next to me, but neither of us said a word, we just let the situation in front of us unfold.

We stood there for nearly an hour that day. The rain never stopped. They had set up crime scene tape. It was like something out of a TV show. What confused me, and Izzy I'm sure, was that as we watched this unfold, as we saw the reporter stand in front of the house despite the weather, as we saw the other neighbors begin to come outside and crowd around the area until they went back inside, as more people showed up to take pictures of the scene and pick up evidence and come outside, one by one with various different bloodied items, was that the EMT didn't go inside again. He didn't take out the stretcher from the back of the ambulance, he didn't get in his vehicle and drive away, he just sat on the edge of the bumper, staring at the pavement. We were clueless as to why exactly he didn't get the body. We had no idea.

There was no body. Or rather, there was no body left from what happened. As we saw on the local news later that night, whatever happened to Ms. Abbott had reduced her to something that couldn't have been identified as human. She had been torn to pieces, and the vast majority of her remains had been unaccounted for or only partially found on throughout her living room. The news encouraged everyone to stay in their homes while the police hunted for a group of criminals or a wild animal, as they determined no one person could've possibly done that much damage to a human body.

Suddenly the body we had found felt way more relevant than we wanted it to be.

Chapter 5: The Evening of May 29th

The night covered Baron's Hollow like a blanket on a sick child. A breezy, yet still slightly warm summer air permeated the place. During that time of year, there wasn't ever a time of day when someone couldn't be outside, save for when it rained. Fortunately for Billy Wilcox, the seemingly unrelenting rain had stopped a few hours prior to him sneaking out into his backyard.

Billy's Mother was pulling a double shift at the local hospital. Some incredible strain of the flu had been going around that week, and people from all over town were swarming to Baron's General to see how on earth they were catching such a disease at the tail end of May. Billy's father had managed to contract it as well, and was currently holed up in their bedroom, leaving just Billy and his older brother to go about the house as they pleased. Billy had wanted to go over to a friend's house earlier that day, but his mother refused.

"No. I know it's not far away hon but there's some wild animal loose and I want you to stay inside. And I mean that. I don't want you getting sick either. Stay here with your brother and if he needs any help you do what he says," his mother had sternly remarked before kissing the seven year old on the forehead.

She coughed a bit before walking out the door.

Billy was not a disobedient child. But he had been looking forward to going over to Sam's house all week, and school had JUST let out. And now he was supposed to stay in his house, cooped up with his sleeping father and exhausted brother? He was determined to get out of the house, merely because it felt like it was trapping him.

He waited until his brother had passed out asleep on the couch. It went without saying that his father wouldn't hear him sneak out. He snored like a freight train. How his mother slept at his side for ten years of marriage was beyond either of the Wilcox boys. He grabbed his plastic toy lightsaber, for protection of course, along with some goldfish in a small ziploc bag, and to finish up his nightly gear, a tin-foil hat his older brother made for him after heating up hash browns that morning. His brother asked if he would play videogames with him, but the older Wilcox boy said he was too busy, and half-heartedly fashioned him a hat from the now used sheet of tin-foil. It still smelled of cooking spray.

If there was no one around, he couldn't get sick. And he wasn't afraid of a wild animal. Especially now that he was adequately armed.

He slipped through the back patio door with ease, sliding it closed, making sure he didn't lock himself out. The night air was so refreshing, as his house had spelled of whatever his mother had put into their humidifier and that vapo-rub you put on your chest when you were sick. Now it was just the western Kentucky air that filled his lungs.

Even if by some horrible accident he came across this supposed wild animal, where he was going, he'd be more than safe. It wasn't as if a bobcat or wolf could get him in his treehouse.

The treehouse sat up in a tall oak tree that was a decent way away from the back porch of their house. Billy's dad didn't want to have to worry about the tree possibly coming down during a storm. The treehouse was solidly built, so it would've put a sizable dent in their modest home.

Billy approached the invisible line between the edge of his backyard and the wooded area that led into the forest. He stopped. He wasn't afraid. He would be fine. So why did he hesitate?

He took a deep breath. He was eight years old now. He had to act like it. His brother's constant chidings telling him to 'grow up' served as a challenge now. He took a step, clutching his lightsaber tightly, not seeing the need to fully draw it yet.

He was now there. No going back. But he had survived. He took a step into the woods and an animal didn't immediately attack him. His parents weren't there to stop him. He had done it. Finally.

He used his newfound courage to bolt over to the tree with a little signpost next to it. The storm had knocked it over, so Billy picked it up and did his best to plant it back where it was originally. Luckily the ground was still wet, so the mud kept it up as he clumsily stuck it into the ground. He could only just barely make out the writing in the darkness, 'Fort Wilcox'

He turned his attention to the tree trunk, and began to ascend it, foot after foot, hand after hand placed carefully on the planks of wood that lead up to the Fort. The tree was tall, so tall in fact that Billy's dad had questioned whether or not the boys really wanted it on that specific tree when they first moved there. The boys of course, insisted. The higher the better.

Billy was still a bit short for his age, so the climb was a bit more difficult than he anticipated, but when he arrived at the top, he smiled with satisfaction. He had done it. He had conquered the night.

He entered the small wooden room and happily sat crossed legged next to the window, laying his lightsaber at his side. He opened his ziploc bag and triumphantly ate the first of his goldfish. Life didn't really get much better than that.

The night breeze picked up a bit, blowing across Billy's face. It was a bit cooler now that he was up a bit higher. Certainly miles better than the stuffy and medicinally-scented air in his house. Every breath almost felt like a specific effort the closer he was to his dad's room. He vastly preferred it to the stench that permeated the air some nights, as Billy's house and neighborhood were close to the town's waste management buildings as well as one of the sewer pipes. Luckily the scent of hand sanitizer and cough medicine wasn't nearly as bad.

Around the inside of the treehouse there was a collage of things both boys had placed inside it over the years. Pictures that both of them had drawn in school depicting them on various adventures. As he looked in the room, from left to right, there began to be less and less pictures from his brother. As he had gotten older, he began hanging out more with his friends rather than Billy. He was now the same age his older brother had been when they moved into that house. He certainly didn't feel like he had changed all that much. If he had a younger brother he would've been far nicer and still would've played with him for sure. He couldn't help but fear getting older, he didn't want to stop being the way he was. After all, he was perfectly content as is.

His tinfoil hat was getting a bit uncomfortable. He removed it in order to cease the sensation of the scratchy metal sheet rubbing against the back of his head. He wasn't exactly paying close attention, so when he tossed it to the side, it went directly through the hole in the treehouse, and dropped to the bottom of the ladder.

He looked down to see it slowly drop and eventually hit the soft ground beneath him. It wasn't as if he needed it, so he left it be.

As he scooped up a few more goldfish, he began to realize his plan to escape wasn't very well thought out. Sure he enjoyed being away, however briefly, but there wasn't really much to do. At least not by yourself. All his associated memories that lead him to so fondly view the treehouse were with his brother. Being completely alone felt different. He had the less eclectic imagination, so he usually relied on his sibling for ideas as to what they'd actually do. As of then, he was simply eating a late night snack in a more opportune place.

He took another handful of goldfish and greedily stuffed them into his mouth. He was out now. Billy briefly thought about going back inside, but it felt like such a waste. He had stayed awake so late for this and it simply wasn't paying off. He let out a yawn. Now he was simply too tired to return. It wasn't the epitome of comfort by any means, but he could've fallen asleep there.

And he figured that was a decent compromise. He could at least sleep in the treehouse since he wasn't doing anything else. His family probably wouldn't even notice his absence come morning.

Billy laid on his side, resting his head on his hands. The wood was still a bit damp from the rain, and smelled a bit funny, but as sleep came for him, he was quickly whisked away into unconsciousness, despite the plethora of outdoor stimuli that would keep one awake in a place like that.

But then he heard something.

He jolted awake. He didn't know how long he had drifted off for. It could've been three minutes or three hours, but either way, something had stirred him. His mind instantly went to one of his parents or even his brother out looking for him, but it was still nighttime, none of them would be there. So naturally he jumped to the next conclusion, was it some kind of animal?

His mother had warned him about it. Which he found odd because she wouldn't let him watch the news when the program covered the case of the wild animal attack. But in thinking about it, what are the odds that such a thing would be exactly where he was? Baron's Hollow was full of wildlife, his father had to regularly scare off possums and raccoons from the back porch with a broom. That was probably it. But he had to make sure.

He peered down the square opening that lead downward. He didn't see anything, which at first was relieving. But he realized he should've seen something. His hat.

It may have been dark outside, but he was certain he was able to clearly see it when he dropped it. The faintest light that came from his house and the streetlamps had just slightly reflected on it so he could just make out a shimmer. Perhaps a raccoon had stolen it.

Even if it was something small, he didn't like the idea of being stuck outside with an animal. He began to miss the comfort and security of his own bed. His nightly plan hadn't been too well thought out anyway. He looked out the window on the side wall, and looked around, there was nothing he could immediately see, but it wasn't exactly easy to see anything at all. The more he waited, the more he grew anxious. He gripped his lightsaber once again for the sake of security. He was at least confident in his ability to hit something like a raccoon so that it would be injured enough as to not pursue him.

In a rush he began to descend the ladder, and did it so quickly he skipped a couple wooden planks. Halfway down he panicked, and simply jumped, landing crouched over, most of the pressure absorbed in his knees.

This prevented him from immediately running back to his porch. He stood up as quickly as he could, and looked all around him. There wasn't much he could see on every side that wasn't towards the neighborhood, but he was seemingly alone. But the sound of the light wind had since disappeared. Instead it was replaced with a steady, low breeze that wasn't quite as strong. It was a bit warmer too. It seemed to come in second by second intervals. Billy turned to his house and took a few steps, but was halted by a sound that seemed impossibly loud.

It was a low, guttural, growl.

It was long too. After it ceased all he could hear was the wind again. But Billy made a key mistake that night. For a brief moment, he turned around.

What he felt was wind wasn't a steady breeze at all. It was the quiet breaths of something that was close. Too close. And it was large too. But Billy couldn't see it. From how loud the growl was, whatever was the source of the noise should've been right up on him. But he saw nothing. It was all black. His hand so tightly grasped his plastic toy sweat was beginning to drip from his palms.

For less than a split second, he heard it move, and was in the process of moving away from whatever it was. But it was closer than he thought. And faster than he could've predicted.

He was so close to pivoting and turning around. But the beast was quicker.

He was caught. Stuck in the middle of his movement. At first he couldn't understand why he wasn't moving. He wanted to. His brain was telling his legs to get out. But nothing happened.

Instead he felt a white hot pain in the center of his chest. A pain that no eight year old boy had ever felt. A pain so large and intense that all sound but his own heartbeat had been drowned out. He couldn't hear the satisfactory growl come from his attacker even if he wanted to.

He felt it. The warm, iron-scented liquid pour from his chest. The pain had ceased. Billy's ears began to ring, all sound had cut out. The beast removed it's arm from the boy, and Billy slumped over like a bag of bricks. He didn't feel his body hit the ground. Everything went white. His consciousness left him. His life was soon to follow. It was better that way. Billy died before he fully grasped the terror of his situation. If he had been conscious any longer, all he would've seen was the vague and almost formless monster, a being that had no discernable beginning or end, no color besides the black void of the night, or any sign that it was even remotely comparable to that which you would see in your deepest of nightmares or darkest of dreams, begin to hungrily consume him.

But Billy was only a child. And a small one at that. There was hardly a piece of him left.

It was still hungry.

Chapter 6: Chris

June 5th

I texted everyone and told them all to meet me at the bowling alley. Nobody was there other than the twenty-something year old guy that handed you moldy shoes, who looked about as enthusiastic as a floor mop. It was loud, free from potential listening ears, and was a pretty inconspicuous place to meet up with people. Getting ahold of everyone was a bit tough, I had to text one person to get the other's number, and repeat that process ultimately to get a group text going. We hadn't all met up since the day before school ended. I figured it would take me rambling off my various reasons and trying extra hard to convince everyone that we all needed to get together and talk. But instead, they all agreed. We were all keenly aware that something needed to be done.

Something was very, VERY wrong with Baron's Hollow.

I had lived there my entire life. I made it through my parents ugly first divorce. I made it through taking care of my little brother and new little step-brother when mom remarried. I had watched two of my best friends since I was little move away before Freshman year ended. The world outside that place hardly existed for me. You'd think I'd be comfortable there, right? But I had always felt like something was wrong. And leave it to a dead body to kickstart confirming all my suspicions.

There was now an issued curfew. 8:00 at night was the latest you were supposed to be out. It's not like it would really be enforced due to our minimal police force, but it was issued. I was going to cancel band practice on Thursday because of what happened, but then the world simply decided to do just that for me. We now had to worry about something killing people.

They had no idea what it was. If remains were found, they were almost entirely unrecognizable. Three confirmed victims. An old lady, a kid, and a guy in his twenties. There were currently three people who were filed missing. People never went missing around there.

That wasn't even the worst part. It was like people had the plague. Nearly every adult in town had caught an awful strain of the flu or a cold that made them all lazy and sickly. It had all your basic common cold symptoms, but came accompanied with making everyone act like zombies. This wasn't typical sickness laziness I'm talking about here, people wouldn't move unless they were starving. They wouldn't talk or answer questions. They'd just sleep and stare blankly at stuff. There was a minor shutdown of the local power plant the day before, some city workers from out of town were basically overseeing things until everyone got better. Municipal workers had to be replaced, even some restaurants closed down because they were severely understaffed. Weird thing was that kids, at least, younger people, didn't seem to catch it. A few odd ones here and there but nothing as drastic.

I knew I sounded paranoid. I was paranoid. How could I have not been? The body was already enough, but when juggling everything mentally, I just didn't get it. It all happened around the same time, it came out of nowhere, and everything just seemed to spiral out of control. I pride myself on being a pretty chill guy, but that's because I don't surround myself with all this insane bullshit. Not willingly anyway. I knew I couldn't handle it. But this? This was insane. I needed to talk about it with someone. To vent and confirm I wasn't insane.

My girlfriend, Layla, under normal circumstances, would've been absolutely all over my case. Not in a needy way, in a genuinely concerned way. Luckily she was preoccupied with taking care of her own parents, who had gotten sick in the first wave. I came and occasionally brought her something if she requested it, but said I should just talk to her via text because she didn't want to spread anything. So basically that was the one thing I benefitted from everything falling apart, and that benefit relied on me not seeing someone who actively made my life more pleasant. I needed a way to calm myself, I was never like this, I always had an outlet, music, Layla, anything, but I slowly felt cut off from everything that could make me feel better. I wanted to know more, to find out more so it didn't seem like such a damn mystery. I had resources at my disposal. And unfortunately it lead to mostly just more questions.

But I had a plan. Y'know… kinda.

See, the guy who we found, I did some looking in to him. I found his obituary in the newspaper after he was found. Some old guy who had been in the town since before I was born. He kept to himself, had no known friends or family close by, just lived out on one of those old dirt roads in a house you could find just about anywhere. After a bit of digging, I found out precisely where he lived.

I had a theory. A fucking absurd theory. But the more and more I thought about it, the more and more I felt it made sense. I'll be the first to admit, I'm not the brightest bulb in the box and you'll never hear me say otherwise, so I could've been making connections where there were none, but that's why I needed outside opinions. It felt weird that the only people I thought I could trust were people I hardly knew.

It was nothing against them, and nothing against my other friends, but it just didn't feel the same. My other pals and band mates went back with me a long time, but none of them found a dead body with me. That's some Vietnam war shit, it's like we were in the trenches together. Did Vietnam have trenches?

Before I was able to worry anymore I saw an out of breath Reese enter the bowling alley. I was in the lane furthest from the door, but he immediately saw me. I was the only one there so it's not like it's hard. He paid a couple bucks and the shoes that were handed to him, but slung them over his shoulder by the shoelaces and came over to me. Something was oddly labored about his movements.

"Hey man," I said, giving a half-hearted wave.

He nodded at me.

"Hey,"

He looked incredibly tired. I was worried he might be sick but upon closer inspection he just look like he had run a marathon. He sat down next to me at the table next to the… bowling ball… dispenser? I've got no fucking clue what they're called.

"You uh, run here?" I asked nervously.

He held up his finger, letting out several slow breaths before speaking.

"Walked," he started, "Actually… I walked here… from the other side of town,"

I felt kinda bad, I wasn't sure if he had a car or not, but I thought he'd at least manage to score a ride. The walk from his house must've been miles.

"Well, thanks for showing up, I-"

I was interrupted when I saw Nadia come through the door, with everyone else behind her. Reese turned around and his mouth fell open. They all paid their fees and got their questionably-smelling shoes and headed over to the lane.

"How in the blue hell did I manage to walk here and get before you all?" Reese asked.

Nadia shrugged.

"Carpool. Had to pick everyone up," she answered.

His eyes darted over to Joey.

"Oh, thanks for inviting me to the carpool then guys. It's fine. I enjoy walking county-wide distances for literally no reason,"

Joey smirked.

"Check your phone jackass,"

Reese took out his phone to find that Joey and the group chat as a whole had been blowing up his phone. He hung his head in shame.

"I… I was walking and listening to music… ugh anyone wanna take one of those bowling balls and kill me? It'd be doing me a favor. Really,"

Izzy chuckled, Joey put his hand on his shoulder playfully. Everyone sat down, and expectantly looked at me. Suddenly I felt a sense of pressure overcome me, each of their eyes feeling like it cast a spotlight on me. I knew I had to organize this little discussion, I just never liked being the leader. I didn't mind putting in the work, but having people rely that much on you scared me. I was hoping after this that maybe Nadia would take the reigns. Even Joey seemed like he could handle it.

"So, I guess I won't really go into formalities. I think we all know why we're here," I started.

Izzy spoke up.

"Actually I think we should. I mean, we all know what's going on… but what's happening? And I'm all for doing something about it, but what exactly can we do?" she asked.

"Well," I began, "I think we can break this all down piece by piece. We had our little… encounter last week to start off. Then people went missing. Then people died. Then everyone got sick. Then more people were gone. Normally I'm not a conspiracy nut but do you all think that this is possibly connected? I wouldn't normally say something that crazy, but the timeline here is really weird. Not to mention how weird everything is on it's own. I know I'm coming off as paranoid, and I am totally aware of that, but uh… yeah. As far as theories that's kind of what I got,"

"Did the police ever find anything out about the guy? Other than his name and address?" Leo asked.

Apparently me getting his address was kind of a waste of time. The cons of working alone.

"The police haven't been doing much of anything," Izzy said, "One of the deputies lives on my street and his car hasn't left the driveway. Apparently half of them are already sick,"

"So, okay, I understand your sentiment here, but exactly what are you implying? I'm not discounting the possibility of connection I'd just like an explanation. Or an attempt at one," Joey said.

I cleared my throat.

"Well, I know we don't know that much about each situation, but here's how I see it. Guy winds up dead. A bunch of horrible animal attacks start happening almost immediately after. People start getting sick pretty much as soon as this guy dies. I'm honestly not sure about the whole sickness thing, but what if this guy and the attacks are connected?" I hypothetically posed.

Just saying it felt weird. I might as well have been telling them I thought the illuminati did it.

"That's… I dunno. Sounds kinda unlikely," Nadia said.

Mary nodded in agreement.

"Well, if I can get my two cents in," Reese began, "Then actually I'd say you were on the money. These weren't normal everyday animal attacks. These people weren't bitten by a rabid raccoon. They were torn apart and nothing was left of them. By all account this should be like, national news, but the police are sick and no one gives a shit about some backwater town no one knows about. This is way too weird to not all be a coincidence,"

"Okay," Mary said, "So let's pretend that they are connected. How? I'm not really seeing the logic,"

Now it was Reese's turn to nervously clear his throat. He looked like he knew something maybe we didn't.

"Well, I'd like to provide a hypothetical. But roll with me here,"

Reese unzipped one of the pockets in his jacket, and took out a small wooden object that resembled a crossbow. It was only slightly smaller than a handgun. He set it in the middle of the table.

"The dead guy was holding this before we moved his body," Reese said, "Now-,"

"What?!" Nadia exclaimed, "You looted the dead guy?"

Reese nervously looked around.

"Okay I know that no one is here other than that Napoleon Dynamite-lookin' sumbitch up there at the counter, and the music is decently loud, but for the sake of my sanity, PLEASE be a little quieter when directly discussing the potential felonies we've committed in the past week,"

Nadia collected herself but still had a stare that probably could've melted Reese's glasses right off his face.

"Okay but that still doesn't take away from the fact that you took that off him? And didn't tell anyone?" she asked in a more hushed tone.

Reese threw up his hands.

"I was checking the spot to make sure we didn't leave anything, I didn't know what it was so I picked it up. My fingerprints were on it already. No point in alarming the rest of you. But let's not dwell on that too long. I have a point that backs up Chris here,"

I wasn't totally sure what he was getting at but he was making me feel a bit better. Nice to know everyone wouldn't think I was batshit insane.

The small device looked rather ornate. It had a glossy wooden finish on it and an ornate handle. There were some small markings etched into it, and it had a small little trigger underneath the main contraption. It was so small though, there was no way it fired any arrows.

"So, anyone have any clue what this is?" Reese asked.

Everyone shook their heads. We all intently stared at it. It was like we expected it to come to life and start explaining to us what it was.

Reese then reached into his other pocket, pulling out one of those metal Zippo lighters.

"Observe," he said.

Before actually using it, he looked over to see if the bowling alley employee was looking our way. Luckily he was faced in the opposite direction reading a book. Even if he was looking at us he had one of those haircuts that made him look like a slightly trimmed down version of cousin It from the Addams family.

He then put his thumb to the lighter and struck up a flame. He put it against the little device. Mary shot a panicked look at Reese, and Nadia just looked plain confused at what he was doing.

The flame flickered and danced against the little wooden apparatus. It pushed and waved around. He grabbed it, and put the flame against nearly every part of it, including the little drawstring. Nothing happened.

"Now I'm no expert, but I think this is weird. There could be some sort of seal or finish that you could coat wood in to make it fireproof or something, but this, this is weird. Cause I swear to you, I tried to light this thing on fire and put a flame to every inch of this damn thing. And nothing happens. After about two hours of trying I figured it was futile,"

"Alright so our old guy was a weird hobbyist with an odd fashion sense and put some fire retardant on this thing, what does that add to?" Nadia asked.

Reese slid the device over to Nadia.

"Now, I may just be a weak piece of shit, but I had a rough go with that. But Nadia, you honestly look like you could kick my ass-"

Reese stopped mid-sentence and looked at everyone around him.

"Okay everyone here could probably kick my ass. But do me a solid. Try and break that,"

Nadia hesitantly picked it up and held it. She inspected it, looking for a good way to get a grip on it. She placed both her hands on the hilt, and began to attempt to snap it in half. It was small and fairly solid, but it easily could've been broken, had it been made of some normal wood.

But it clearly wasn't.

Nadia quickly had her face turn bright red, contorted in her struggle in an attempt to break it. She breathed in and out a couple times, and then attempted once more. No dice. She tossed it back to Reese, who almost looked relieved. If she had broken that the poor guy probably would've got up and left.

He took out a pocket knife from his pants pocket.

"So check this shit out," he said.

He picked up the little bow, and looked like he was about to cut the drawstring. He pressed the knife into the string, pulling it back near the entire length of the device. He even attempted to cut through it by sliding the blade back and forth rapidly. Eventually he dropped it on the table. The string was thin, but it looked entirely in-tact.

"I have no idea what the hell that's made of, but you can't tell me that's normal. This is the second pocket knife I've used by the way. I stretched it back so far earlier at my house it shot forward and shattered into pieces," he said.

I was slowly but surely beginning to feel vindicated. It was an odd feeling, being relieved that things were getting weirder, but it was happening. I wasn't going to be unwelcome to the first positive feeling I had.

"This, whatever the hell it is, is some sort of specialty item. And we haven't seen the ammo for it, which I'd be willing to bet is just as weird. I think we need to consider the possibility that our weird old guy was keeping whatever is killing people at bay," Reese said.

For a bit, no one said anything. I could make out that Nadia and Joey wanted to speak up, but they stopped themselves. Everyone was mulling over the information in their head and trying to calculate precisely how insane this was. I had done my fair share of that so I sat until someone said something. It would've normally sounded something you'd hear a homeless man say, but the attacks made anything feel possible. It was like our town suddenly decided to exist outside reality. I didn't need that. I just wanted to go about my business and live my life. I wanted to make music, hang out with my friends, not participate in the world's most fucked up episode of Scooby Doo.

"Alright. Let's take on that assumption. Chris, you said you had something in mind. What was it?" Mary asked.

It was time to be as persuasive as I was capable of being.

"Well, since we still don't know a whole lot about this guy, and he seems to be the crux of our mystery here, we need more to go on. He was reclusive from what I can tell, so no one really knew much about him. I know he's lived here a long time and that's it. So, I say we need to gather information on him from the best place possible. His house,"

Everyone was still looking at me expectantly. I had to elaborate.

"I'm saying a few of us should sneak into his house and see if we can find something. That's what I'm getting at,"

Nadia sighed.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Leo exclaimed, "That's a pretty big leap. You wanna go for even MORE felonies now?"

Reese shrugged.

"Honestly I was thinking the same thing,"

Joey nodded.

"Well, it's not like we're stealing anything. We're observing. If we don't find anything then we don't find anything. If we do then we know more," he remarked.

"Why are you talking about this like we've already agreed to do it?" Nadia asked.

"Well," Joey began, "I don't think this is a bad idea. I'm curious. No one else around here is gonna do anything, even if we get caught, well, I mean, I'm not even sure how that's possible. The police here already couldn't solve a case unless it involved doughnuts, now they're sick. At least if we find absolutely nothing we'll all be able to take comfort in the fact that we're all paranoid weirdos,"

There was no way it was just paranoia. The more I thought about it all, there was just no way. With hindsight being what it is, I wasn't wrong to think so, but I had definitely been watching too much of the X-Files.

And apparently I wasn't the only one. Izzy wasn't saying much, but it wasn't just anxiety on her face or confusion. She was staring at the table. It wasn't the time or the place to call her out, but she looked like this was seriously weighing on her. Which, I mean, I got it, I was clearly the most anxious person there, but her look was different. A bit more somber. Maybe she was the only one acting correctly in the face of something this bizarre.

"Okay, then what?" Mary asked, "Say you find proof. Then what? Are we just gonna go off and try to hunt some wild animal that could reduce us to a splatter on a wall?"

"If no one else is gonna do anything what choice would we have?" I asked.

Another brief silence. We all knew that it wouldn't be long before the whole town was sick. It had all happened so quickly I don't think anyone really noticed. And even if they did, they were silenced pretty quickly. It was like a form of severe lethargy being contracted. My parents had just started showing symptoms, and I'm sure everyone else's weren't far behind. Everyone would get sick and they'd all be sitting targets. We were just some podunk town in the middle of nowhere. No one cared. So we would have to.

This had all happened so fast it was hard to believe where we were. I was trying to convince that I had accidentally peed on the corpse of a resident monster hunter. Life comes at you fast.

"Alright. I have some reservations about this but at the end of the day, something's gotta be done at the moment we have most of the pieces to put this together," Mary said, "That being said if you wanna break into the house then you go right ahead, but until we get something definitive, I'm gonna stay away from this,"

"Agreed," Nadia, "You can check it out, but until you can convince me I have to back out. But look, if we really find something worthy of our attention, I'm in. Absolutely,"

Izzy finally spoke up.

"I'll go with you," she blurted out.

I nodded.

"Okay, that's me and Izzy. Anyone else wanna help?" I asked.

"Wouldn't more people be a hindrance?" Leo asked.

"Not really. This isn't a stealth thing. In fact, the more the merrier, we've gotta look and be thorough if we're really gonna do this. I'm afraid I'd miss something by myself," I answered.

"I'm about as clumsy as they come so, while you have my support, I think I'll sit this one out," Reese said.

"I'll go too," Joey said, surprisingly. Wouldn't have pegged him for volunteering.

Three people was enough. We could cover a good amount of ground that way.

"Okay then, we're gonna establish a game plan," I said, "The sooner the better, we can't just sit on this because people could end up dead if we take too long. We do this tonight. 11:00, I'll pick up Joey and Izzy. If we don't find anything, then we're back at square one and we'll need to re-evaluate what we're even doing. If we do, then tomorrow, as early as we can, we meet and talk about dealing with… whatever this is,"

"That's a really vague game plan," Nadia remarked.

"It's a vague situation," Leo responded.

"Well at the end of the day there's still something out there killing people," Reese said, "And frankly, this guy is just gonna serve to provide an explanation if he's even relevant. No matter what happens, it's probably going to involve us stealing guns from our parents and going out to kill something without knowing what or where exactly it is. That much is certain,"

The situation suddenly felt even more grim. He was right. I was so focused on answers that I forgot how we were supposed to deal with the question.

"Well then. If you guys find anything then let us all know in the group text. We'll play this all by ear," Mary said.

Leo sighed.

"We're gonna get ourselves arrested or killed somehow. This is absurd," he said.

"Not if we're careful, hopefully. But someone's gotta do it," Joey said.

"So, then, we're all on the same page, right? Anyone need to voice concerns? Questions?" I asked.

Everyone nodded.

"Okay," I said, "Then everyone just go home and stack up on supplies for stuff. Pack a bag. Get easily edible food. First aid kits. Supplies. Lights. Sleeping bags. Everything we might need. Because no matter how tonight goes, come tomorrow, something is still out there. I'd rather aimlessly look for this thing instead of waiting for it to kill me or someone else,"

It was the perfect opportunity for interjection. No one said a word. This was actually happening.

"Alright," Izzy said, "Sooner we start this the better. The three of us can leave now and stake out his place until night falls. Just to be safe. We'll keep everyone updated. You guys all go home and do what needs doing,"

"Okay, but I have a question," Nadia asked.

"Shoot," I told her.

"Our parents. Who's gonna take care of them if we leave for… however long we'll be looking for this thing. It's a small town but that could take days. Not to mention I know Mary, you have younger siblings, and so do you Chris, what about them? They may not be sick but they've gotta be watched,"

A good question. One I wouldn't have thought of, admittedly.

"Well, it's not like we don't have other people. We can get our friends to watch out for them. I know everyone's parents will be sick but I know a bunch of kids who are making people food and making sure they're taken care of, we'll just ask them. Everyone's trying to work together, so we can use that," Izzy answered.

Another thing my paranoia made me totally overlook. Luckily not everyone in this place was utterly incompetent.

"Yeah I have a lot of senior friends who are organizing care packages and checking up on people ever since everyone got sick. I can ask them," Mary said.

Thank God for connections.

"What do we tell them?" Joey asked.

"That we're… uh… I have no clue. I say we keep it vague and don't worry too much about it. They won't say no just because we don't have a super justifiable reason," Reese said.

"Yeah," Nadia sighed, "I guess this is the plan,"

Izzy was the first to stand up.

"Alright then we don't have a lot of time to waste. Let's do this thing. We can grab a bite to eat on the way to the old guy's house," she said.

"Actually we can't. Diner's closed and so is the Dairy Queen. Apparently they're understaffed. And that's pretty much all of our options," Joey commented.

Nadia rolled her eyes.

"Of course. Well then let's go and starve,"

Everyone got up, and began to walk to the exit. Everyone's face was a different kind of unsure. Nadia looking confused, Izzy looking somber, Leo looking around blankly, Joey and Reese looking like they were standing in the middle of a busy intersection about to get hit by a car. I'm not sure how I looked but it was probably one of the above.

We all handed our shoes back to the guy on the counter as we exited one-by-one. He looked at us a little funny, but went right back to reading.

Outside the bowling alley, it looked about as good as we felt. The weather lately had been off-kilter and weird, that day it manifested in the form of being cloudy, grey, and windy. A calm before the storm of sorts. Before it had either been raining or unusually fog-laden, during a time of year that was typically obliterating you with how hot it was.

Joey and Izzy followed me to my car. None of us bothered saying goodbye to anyone, we knew we'd see each other again soon.

We all got in my sedan. Not fancy but it got the job done.

I loaded up the address I found and put it into Google maps. About a half hour away, which was weird. Nothing was half an hour away from anything in Baron's Hollow. He must've lived on the outskirts of town.

Izzy sat in the passenger side, Joey in the back. He laid down on his back and then put on his seatbelt. Looked exhausted, not that I blamed him. I probably did too. I put the car in drive just in time to see Nadia drive away with everyone else.

"Tired?" I asked Joey.

It was odd. Joey was usually really hard to pin down. Granted my experience around him was limited, but when I saw him he always had this look of solemnity. Never sad or even outright negative, but even when he was in a decent mood, the guy always looked like something heavy was weighing on him.

"Hm? Oh, yeah. A bit. Had a bit of a nightmare last night and then didn't really go back to sleep,"

Before I could respond, Izzy turned around rapidly. I had to focus on pulling out of the parking lot anyway.

"A nightmare? What about?" she asked inquisitively.

His eyes widened a bit. He looked a bit caught off guard.

"Well, it was… They're always hard to describe and weird. But I was just in this completely black room. It was covered in some weird fuzzy carpet stuff, like it was a recording booth or something. And then it… started filling up with oil, but like, really slowly,"

Izzy nodded.

"Interesting. Sorry to seem nosy. Dreams just kinda fascinate me,"

Joey looked a bit uncomfortable.

"Yeah, I never was. Mine were always weird and unpleasant so I never wanted to think about them. Like, the one I had last night, the oil filled up so slowly it almost felt like it was in real time. It felt real, and like I was there for hours. Then I just woke up and felt… weird,"

She nodded, and settled back into her seat. I had never seen the two of them really interact before. Not the worst ice-breaker I had ever heard. It was odd having to constantly be reminded that we weren't like, longtime childhood best pals. Sure we were taking this on more out of necessity, but if we genuinely disliked one another we probably wouldn't be doing it.

"I read that people who have dreams like that are supposed to be the most in-tune with their emotions. Or it could've been wishy washy bullshit. Sounded nice though," she said with a bit more detachment in her voice.

Joey looked a little weirded out but went back to staring at the ceiling. Izzy looked better than she did in the bowling alley, but I couldn't help feeling weird about that. I guess that everyone processed something like this differently. There was no 'right' way to feel. Though I did appreciate both of them going with me. I was fully prepared to have everyone say I was wrong and do it myself, but now I felt like part of a team. Even Reese backed me up, so I felt good about a little bit of unity. I just wanted all this to be over. We could've all hung out under different, more normal pretenses than… this.

I took a turn onto a dirt road that was supposedly the last turn I had to make, it was just a really long one.

If I was smart I'd probably say something about that being a pretty suitable metaphor.

Chapter 7: Izzy

June 5th

It didn't take a long time for it to get dark. It always felt like night came early, especially recently. It was like the days were in such a hurry to be over because even they were scared of what was going on. Eventually the lights on the dashboard that lit up Reese's radio were pretty much all we had. At the time remember distinctly feeling this constant mental tug plaguing me. The sensation that I should've been more afraid, or shouldn't have been feeling so intrigued.

But I couldn't help it. I was. And I had always known something like this would happen.

I wasn't vocal about it because I knew what people thought about me. I knew people didn't think I was very approachable from my appearance alone. I was a bit taller than most girls my age, most girls down south weren't super keen on hair dye so my obsidian hair was a red flag to some, and I typically kept to myself. So naturally I was the weird girl. If only they all knew.

I knew Baron's Hollow was messed up since I was little. And, normally, I would be a bit nervous to relay this information to anyone, but I think that my problems are far from the strangest thing you'll hear about from our tale. When I was little I saw things you typically wouldn't. People walking around houses who didn't live there. Patterns in the sky that felt like they were trying to tell me something. Voices coming from nowhere attempting to speak to me. It was a good thing I was really quiet as a kid, if I told an adult about it I probably would've been committed. When I was old enough to actually read and use the internet I assumed I had some form of schizophrenia. It was a scary thought, but to me, not nearly as scary if anyone knew. I kept it all to myself. Thankfully my childhood exploits of talking to my ghostly pals was chalked up to imaginary friends and playtime. Not to mention the slightly detached way I grew up. My parents passed away when I was little so my aunt took care of me. She was a great role model, but the parental bond with her had a flimsy foundation. Once family is gone they can't be replaced, even if the replacements are family.

Then the dreams started.

I started having odd, vivid dreams when I became a teenager. A lot of them were mundane, conversations and random going-ons of people in my life. And slowly but surely, I realized they started happening. Down to the last detail. Suddenly I wasn't crazy anymore. Something was just different about me. It was still alienating but it was something that made life easier.

Then the dreams got weirder. Surreal and strange things that I still can't find words to describe. Sinister voices, ominous structures and passageways, creatures that didn't resemble anything you'd find in a biology book. I figured at first it was probably just normal nightmares, not all my dreams were premonitions, right? But that town… something was there. And it had been calling to me for years. When people wound up dead and sick, it wasn't too much of a shock. In fact, it was kind of inevitable.

I had a goal now. And people to help me. If going down this path helped me find out more about myself and the town then I was in. Granted I did care about just helping everyone in general, but it felt personal for me. Like I was finally going to be able to tackle my biggest fear. The largest source of my anxiety of nightmares wouldn't be shrouded in a veil anymore. It also gave me a reason to be around people again, knowing Nadia as well as I did helped me feel like I belonged a bit more. After it was all over, I looked forward to just hanging out with them. You know, without dead bodies and such. As bad as this sounds, I guess it was a decent thing that I had something to distract me from all the stupid boy drama. As soon as you think someone understands you, you find out they just said all the right things to get in your pants. Thankfully things didn't get that far, but I felt ashamed I opened up to Jared as much as I did. Probably what made the pain in my hand so tolerable, I knew it was in service of giving him a black eye he'd never forget. It made me feel bad that there had been people in my past who were far more deserving of my affection who I had grown apart from. Nadia, namely. We were as close as you could be years ago, but now? I rarely ever saw her apart from lunch. Seeing her recently made me realized how much I really missed her.

We had been in the car listening to music for some time. It was a bit past dark, but the faintest blue glow hung on the horizon before night really came. We had seen nothing. No cars went down the secluded dirt road. No one walked by. Probably because there was no one left. I didn't live far away from the place, so I knew it was frequently used as a shortcut for people who wanted to go from the east side of town to the north. It was all completely silent save for us in the car. It was indescribably eerie. The atmosphere was partially to blame, but after an hour I realized what was giving me bad vibes.

It was the house.

I never payed much attention to it. In fact I thought it was abandoned. But there was always something different about it, I just never focused on it long enough to tell what. Now that I was there it was simply a vague sense of malice. Like there were dozens of people inside the house who all had some kind of murderous intent.

I couldn't say anything about it though. I tried being vague saying that the house gave me a funny feeling, which was true, but I still couldn't tell anyone my deeper motives for letting this all play out. It was something I was too afraid to share. And maybe this could help me understand it all more. It wasn't all that relevant anyway. We were onto something.

I could feel Chris's paranoia. It had eased since us all getting together, but he was distinctly wound up more than he had been, which was disturbing in and of itself. He was always such a happy guy. I guess that means he was one of the only ones behaving rationally. Joey was nervous too, but nothing like Chris. He wasn't nervous for himself in the slightest. He gave off this feeling that he was deeply concerned about something totally exterior. He probably had sick parents who he was worrying about. My aunt had managed to stay healthy enough, she worked from home so whatever was spreading didn't hit her yet, thankfully.

"If I knew we were gonna be here this long I would've brought more CD's or a playlist for us," Chris remarked.

We had been listening to a lot of Metallica. I think two straight sittings of Ride the Lightning. Which, to be fair, I didn't mind.

Joey snickered.

"Ah yes. The good ol' 'breaking and entering to snoop on a dead old guy' playlist. What exactly would that consist of?" he asked.

Chris immediately began rummaging through his own head for an answer.

"Probably a lot of the Ramones. Maybe some Queen. Get all that rebellious teenage angst out,"

"Well. Fair enough," Joey responded.

They were really trying to get the odd feeling out of the way with humor. They were semi-successful.

The faint blue glow had gone from the sky. The clear black sky was dotted with stars that almost made it feel bright again. Not a cloud in the sky.

"Hey uh, question," Joey spoke up.

"Shoot," Chris responded.

"Well, I know we were gonna watch this place and all just to be super sure, we've sat here for God knows how many hours and the most interesting thing that's happened is that I killed a mosquito two hours ago. Did we ever establish a time we would go in?"

He had a good point. Seems planning wasn't our strong suit. Chris chuckled.

"No we did not. Guess we would've kept sitting here until someone said something. We should just get this over with. Izzy, any objections?"

I shook my head.

We had sat for a really long time, only sporadically speaking to one another about mostly innocuous stuff. We may have had less of a dynamic without the others, or none of us really felt like talking about anything. Either way the car felt like a hub of anxiety. We had a mix of people who weren't familiar with one another, so it just felt sparse and dry.

After taking a deep breath, Chris reached over and grabbed a small flashlight from the passenger side glove compartment. We all exited his car, and started following the dirt road diagonally to the house, on the other side of the street.

Around us was nothing but acres of rolling hills on the opposite end, meaning this guy may have owned a large chunk of the property. The forest lined any land beyond that, but it was a number of acres away. The other side was either sparsely grassy or covered with a fence to keep in farmland, which was full of tobacco.

The house itself was pretty derelict. And old brown beaten-up thing that was in serious need of remodel. The shutters on the windows to the upstairs portion were either crooked or partially hanging on lop-sided. The wood was rotting-off in some places, and the overall architecture looked kind of off. It seemed warped and misshapen, leaning slightly to one side. At least we didn't have to worry about getting in, the house was so comically ramshackled we could probably have waited for a strong gust of wind to blow it over.

"Thing looks like it's reinforced with Legos," Chris quietly commented

"I played with Legos a lot as a kid. And I find that insulting. I would've made something far more structurally sound," Joey mused.

The feeling of malice grew way stronger as we approached. Other than a garden variety hunting knife I didn't have anything to defend myself, and I seriously regretted it. If Joey and Chris weren't aware of what I was feeling, I'd have to keep an eye on both of them to make sure nothing bad happened. There was no telling what was even in there. I didn't think whatever or whoever was killing people was there, the feeling would have probably been more intense or terrifying. And it just seemed unlikely it would be here at all. Could've been a ghost. At this point I accepted the possibility of literally anything.

We walked up the steps onto the rickety porch. Felt like the wood was going to collapse beneath us. Thankfully we were all pretty spry. Chris was the biggest of us and he was still a lanky son of a bitch.

The door was, at one point, red, but was dry and cracked and more resembled a darkish brown color, and it was just as run down as the rest of the house. Additionally, there was a screen door in front of it that hung on by one hinge.

"So, should we just try to go in through the front door? One of those 'so obvious they'll never expect it' things?" Joey asked.

"Well, considering we don't know if the door is locked, not sure. If it is, then I'm game for the easy way in," Chris answered.

Chris apprehensively opened the screen door, the hinges whining as he pulled it away. He took a moment to himself before even reaching for the actual doorknob.

It creaked a bit as he turned it, the mechanism that kept the door in place sounded rusted and ancient with how it scraped against it's own internal moving parts. But it didn't stop. The door was actually unlocked. He pulled the door open in one swift motion, and pulled his hand from the doorknob instantly, like it was covered in insects.

There was some sort of processing delay when the door opened. A sort of adrenaline-coated euphoria that set in. There really was no going back now.

Inside, surprisingly, it was exactly what I expected. There was a main hallway directly in front of us, the left side branching off into a kitchen and dining room area, the right side a living room area, and down a bit leading upstairs. Next to the stairs lead to a back door, but the most notable part of what we saw was that the stairs were only two-thirds complete. The old rotten wood that seem to make up everything had given in towards the center, and left a large, dangerous-looking hole that lead into an empty closet-space. There were old, historical buildings around down and in the downtown area, and they had to be older than that house, but they were in remarkably better shape. This place looked like it had aged twice as fast as would be typical of such a residence. Not only that, but it was barren.

It was sparsely laden with the occasional furniture piece, but beyond that it resembled a tomb more than a home. Even from the limited view we had in the doorway, it was enough to know what we were in for. I was the one who stepped in first, the floorboards making us painfully aware of anytime any of us took a step. Upon entering the hallway, I noticed Joey and Chris were both still in the doorway.

"You guys gonna wuss out on me now? We can cover more ground if we all just look in different rooms. Get this done as soon as possible," I said.

"Isn't splitting up like, the worst possible thing to do in cases like this?" Chris asked.

I scoffed.

"This place isn't a mansion, I don't think we could be more than fifteen feet from one another," I said, motioning for them to come inside.

Joey shrugged and apprehensively followed inside. Chris did the same. I walked into the living room area, the other two split up behind me.

"Hey, what if something happens to one of us?" Chris asked.

There was a pause.

"Um… yell?" Joey answered.

Couldn't have said it better myself.

"Yeah yeah real funny but what if like, we run into the thing that's killing people, or like, I don't know, a monster or something, how will we know? Should use like a code word?" he asked skittishly.

He was trying to be quieter so I couldn't hear on that last one. Someone had a bit of fragile ego problem.

Joey laughed.

"Then yell… but with specificity," Joey pointedly answered.

I could hear the awkward pause permeate the air. I felt for Chris, I knew he was easily the most shaken up of everyone, as far as I could tell, but he would've been the least likely if I had to guess. I was far from being in a place where I should judge though.

The living room was about as dusty as a mausoleum. A broken window was covered by a plastic sheet placed behind the wall, duct tape around the frame to keep in place. There were two smaller circular tables next to an old futon that had a startling lack of cushions. A boarded up fireplace sat in the right side, a heavy accumulation of dust and miscellaneous dirt was fanned out in front of it, more so than everything else. There was also an overturned bookcase against the left-side wall. The few books that were scattered around it were so worn and sad-looking it actually made me feel bad. I was a huge bookworm so I had a very generation-uncharacteristic love of novels and the like. My aunt used to read to me at night back when I first went to stay with her, so it was a source of comfort. Seeing someone so casually treat their own environment, the space where they lived and breathed, as well as their books, so poorly just made sad by association. It would've been one thing if I had found anything of note to focus on, but instead I just saw an old guy in sad living conditions.

As I heard the other two rummaging through cabinets and opening doors, I realized that maybe we had failed to consider that. This old guy being the first victim may have been more on the account that he could've been a senile old guy who was picked off first and just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. The other killings had happened all over town, so starting with him wouldn't have been the most implausible thing I could think of. However, that still didn't explain why he was found intact with, as far as we could tell, one wound. There was just no series of events or cause I could nail that explained everything.

But that feeling. The feeling that something was wrong with this house. It was still there.

I started to look around a bit more. If our old guy really had some weird set of tools or weapons that were like Reese's crossbow, he wouldn't just leave them laying about. Though considering his apparent taste in furniture I guess logic wasn't a major factor here. Still, I started look underneath the tables, near and around the couch, I even stepped on floorboards one by one to see if any of them could be peeled up or were weaker than the others. The fireplace was boarded up with nails so there was no use peering in there. Under the couch was, well, honestly what was there was scarier than any Lovecraftian horror you can imagine so I'll spare you the details on that one. I wanted to be thorough so I scoured the tiny wooden room. Of the places where we were likely to find something, the living room was probably lowest on the list, but we couldn't afford to miss something. I even knocked on the walls to see if they were hollow or unusual.

In the other rooms I could hear Chris and Joey rummaging through things and tapping different objects and surfaces. Good thing they were really trying.

For all we knew there could've been a magic portal or a hidden pocket of reality where he hung out in his spare time and we were searching in vain.

"I've got a whole lotta nothing!" I called out.

I waited for a response, and heard a cabinet close.

"Nothing here either!" Chris called out.

Another door closed.

"Unless you count an empty can of mandarin oranges then I've got nothing!" Joey answered.

Shit. We were still in square one. It wasn't like I expected a concrete answer or anything, I just figured we'd find a hint or something.

I heard some footsteps and figured we were regrouping where we started. When I walked through the doorway, I was greeted by both boys, but Joey looked like he had been hibernating inside a tomb. A huge layer of dust covered his unkempt brown hair, and I could see the marks on his face where he had wiped the dust from his eyes.

"Hey you have uh-"

"I know I do Chris," Joey interrupted.

He stepped to the side and began to wildly shake his head and shirt from the remaining dust.

"So other than dead skin cells we've got a whole lot of nothing," Chris said matter-of-factly.

Joey made a disgusted noise.

"Ugh you had to go and really remind me what all this shit is? Eugh,"

He continued shaking himself off.

"So what now?" Chris asked, turning to me.

I let out a disappointed sigh.

"Well, I'm guessing upstairs is pointless because, well-"

I vaguely gestured over to the collapsed pile of potential splinters and potential source of infectious disease.

"So… did you guys check the floors? The floorboards?"

"Yep," they said in unison.

"The walls?"

"Uh-huh,"

"The furniture?"

"What little there was of it," Joey answered.

He attempted to step back with Chris and I but ended up in a bit of a coughing fit. Clearly the dust was being stubborn.

"So what now?" he asked.

I didn't have an answer. I guess we expected to have something magically show up and instantly solve all our questions. Joey had a point to make, he raised his hand, finger pointed, but sneezed away from us first. Poor guy probably had allergies.

"We haven't checked one thing," he said,

He pointed down the hallway towards the very end. It was difficult to tell with none of the lights being on…. Or functional. However what little light came from our flashlight and the night sky leaked in from a small square shaped hole. The door that presumably lead to the backyard.

"Alright, might as well," Chris said, somewhat defeated.

We walked down the hallway in a single file line. Each step we took could probably be heard throughout the entire residence. It was a good thing we weren't trying to rob someone because if that were the case, we'd have been chased out with a shotgun instantly. Not only because we came in through the front door.

That really begged the question, why exactly was it unlocked? It was hard enough believing someone lived in that place, but combined with his apparent disregard for his own safety, it just felt… wrong. Like we were looking at an intricate painting that relied on perspective from the wrong angle or something.

When we approached the door, Chris took the lead once more, and turned the doorknob. The noise that creeped out of it was identical to the one from the front door. It sounded like the door was about to collapse in front of us. The hinges uttered a slow metallic squeak as he swung the door open. It was seriously in need of some WD-40.

The backyard was about what I expected. It was difficult to see, but it was a small back porch surrounded by slightly overgrown grass and weeds. A ramshackle wooden fence covered in plant life surrounded the perimeter. Behind that, the land stretched on, ultimately connecting with the woods behind it some distance away. The only real thing of note was a large, rusted metal shed. It had an odd door that faced the house, as it looked really solid and was slightly curved down the middle, like it was an entrance to a trailer or a fallout shelter. The door had been bolted on somehow, the shed itself was of considerable size, and the door covered a solid third. It seemed to slope downwards towards the back, giving it a slightly triangular shape.

"Oh good. We get to take a look in the creepy old shed in the creepy old backyard of a creepy a house. Swell," Chris mused.

We walked down the old stone steps and approached the shed. Upon closer inspection, the metal the thing was made of looked fairly strange, like it was covered in faded patterns and designs, but the rust and general wear had worn it all away. This wasn't something you could just buy at your local hardware store.

Up next to the door there was a small hook that had an old lantern on it. It was doubtful as to whether or not it still worked. Joey grabbed it and flipped the switch on the bottom, illuminating the area around us a bit more than Chris's flashlight, but the light itself was slightly dim.

The night air was thick, and you could practically feel the sound waves created by the crickets that were chirping. It didn't take long for a moth to find us and flutter around our lights.

The doorknob on the shed looked different. It was definitely a step above of what came before it. It was a polished silver color with a textured black spiral on it. Definitely seemed a bit more ornate than what we were used to.

"Well this is somewhat promising. What do you reckon is in here?" Joey asked.

"If we're lucky? A map to get back to sanity," Chris said, "If we're unlucky, dead bodies. Who knows?"

Chris made an audible gulp and touched the doorknob. For a moment it looked like he had to struggle to get a grip on the thing. He attempted to turn it, but the knob didn't as much as jitter. Chris removed his hand and wiped it on his jeans, and tried again. Nothing happened. Chris gasped from expending energy.

"What the hell? It won't even move!" he exclaimed.

Joey put his hand under the bottom of his shirt and grabbed onto the doorknob, trying to utilize increased friction by my guess. Instead his struggle was short lived, and he gave up on it quickly.

"Fantastic. Guess we need to find something heavy to break it off," Chris said.

Joey pointed over towards the steps. There were a few sizeable chunks of rock that had broken apart from the steps and porch that were strewn about.

Chris handed his flashlight to Joey, walked over to the porch, and grabbed the largest chunk of rock that he could still easily move. He made his way back to the door, and gripped it tightly with both hands.

"You guys might wanna step back," he said.

We did as instructed. Chris raised the rock above his head and then thunderously struck the knob with it at full force. There was a huge CRACK, and suddenly, Chris was grasping his left hand.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" He exclaimed.

Joey and I closed in on him and he shined his light on Chris's hand. He had a sizeable gash in the center of his palm, blood rapidly starting to leak out of it. Joey handed me the flashlight and quickly removed his t-shirt, grabbing both sleeves, and twisting it into a sort of towel, and handed it to Chris to use as a tourniquet. Chris winced as he tied over his hand.

"What the hell just happened?" Chris asked, voice strained with a hefty amount of pain.

I took a look at the ground, the scattered remains of the rock were everywhere. It had broken into dozens of smaller pieces. The little doorknob remained entirely intact. In fact there wasn't even a scratch on it.

"Nothing, apparently. It's still attached and you didn't even dent it, the hell is this thing even made of?" I asked.

"So now what, we go into town and acquire a blowtorch and come back?" Chris asked.

I sincerely didn't know how to answer. In the brief moment where it was silent, it felt like I could hear a faint humming noise, like something with electricity was on and nearby, yet everything within sight was practically ancient. The noise itself seemed to be coming from behind the door. I still couldn't tell what the knob was made of, so I reached for it just to see what the texture felt like. I'm not even sure if I touched it directly, I was at least close, when I felt a slight shock in my fingers.

A jolt of electricity shuddered through my body. The black spiral on the doorknob, for the briefest of seconds, glowed a slight purplish color, and seemed to flow through the spiral and disappear into the door. A bunch of clicks and whirs started to erupt from the door, mechanisms locking and unlocking, and the door began to slide open on it's own.

Joey and Chris watched this all unfold, eyes widened. To this day I swear I could hear Chris's heart beating out of his chest.

"Whoa! What did you do?!" Joey asked.

I shrugged. At the time I had as little of a clue as they did. I wasn't sure if they saw the purple spiral thing happen, but even if they did I couldn't explain it.

"No idea. I just touched it and-"

I was cut off by the door abruptly stopping. The mechanical hum was now far more audible, and coming from inside. Where there had been nothing but space drenched in shadow, now there was a small light coming from within.

I peered into the shed, and there was a faint glow deep inside it, at the very end of a decently long set of steps. Somehow it went underground about ten to fifteen feet from my estimation. It was all made of concrete, and we could only see a little bit of the floor from the top, but there was definitely a good deal more down at the bottom.

I pulled out my pocket knife. It felt appropriate. I pointed the flashlight downwards, and stepped into the doorway, hunching down a bit to fit as the space with the steps was a bit small. I didn't hear any steps behind me, so I turned around and shined my light on a completely stationary Joey and Chris.

"You fellas coming?" I asked.

Chris looked apprehensive.

"Hey, we don't know what's-" he began.

Joey interrupted him by simply tapping the back of his hand against his chest. Chris looked at him expectantly. Joey simply gestured towards me. Chris sighed, and they both began to follow me.

I took my first step downwards. It was strange, as we began to descend downward, I began to smell lavender. A smell that felt out of place until I remembered the body. There was a hint of a similar smell on the man, except now it was a bit stronger. Once we got to the bottom of the steps, we all stood for a moment, in an attempt to process what we saw, which was, both extraordinary and oddly mundane.

At the bottom of the steps there seemed to be a bit of a bunker. It was a large room with a decent amount of open space, but it contained the furnishings you would've expected to find in the house. There was a bed towards the left, well, it was less a bed and more of a stack of two mattresses with some blankets and pillows. Next to it sat a nightstand with some paper and a lamp. Behind that there was a bookcase absolutely stacked to the brim with books. On the right hand side there was a couple white cabinets and a countertop with a sink. A small refrigerator sat adjacent, along with a small stovetop, a toaster, and a blender, as well as a set of knives, as if someone stole half of a kitchen in a catalog and put it in a decent looking prison cell. There was paper and parchment scattered everywhere, some looked to be torn from books, some had scribbles of barely legible handwriting on it. In the back right corner there was even a dresser, and in the other corner, one of those small showers with a sliding door. But that wasn't even the most interesting part, the most interesting part, was the back wall.

In front of the back wall was a desk. A large desk with tons of drawers, papers strewn about, the top, and several odd-looking power tools on the left and right sides. In the center was a large bowl, roughly the size of a sink filled with water. On the wall, there was a brown board in which what looked like dozens upon dozens of weapons were hung up on.

I'm not sure how long we stood there for. Could've been centuries.

"Yes!" Chris said with a modicum of enthusiasm, "I am NOT crazy!"

He did a fist pump, it was so lame it was kind of adorable.

"Well holy shit," Joey said, "I think your theory may be spot on Chris cause uh… well… yeah,"

"Damn straight I am! And… wow there's a lot of stuff here,"

Joey whistled.

"A lot of potentially useful stuff. That serves no real purpose being down here right now," he said with intent.

We didn't need him to spell it out. We all immediately got to work. Investigation and collection time.

The two boys immediately were drawn towards the back, getting a closer look at the back wall and the various things hung on it. From just my previous glance I saw that there were a few more of those crossbows that Reese had found, some miscellaneous clothing items like gloves and boots, intricate-looking knives, a sword, an actual wooden bow, and a bunch of other things I didn't get a closer look at yet. My interest lay with the papers that were everywhere.

Some of them were scribbles of symbols, shapes, or odd-looking creatures. They were crudely drawn, almost scribbled on, and the ones that were covered in writing that wasn't even in a language I recognized. A few of them were peppered with symbols, some of them were entirely blank.

The nightstand seemed to be the only place with organized stacks of paper. All of it was notebook paper. I picked up all of it I could find, you never knew how important these could turn out to be. It was also just an interesting find. Did the old guy make these? If he didn't who did?

I picked up the stack of papers up, and added them to my pile. A small piece of paper at the very bottom fell to the floor. I knelt down to pick it back up, only to discover it wasn't a paper. It was thicker. I turned over and realized what it was: a polaroid photo.

It had been a while since I saw one of those, but sadly it was incredibly old. It felt rough and worn, so I was gentle handling it. The portion of the photo that should've contained… well, the photo, was so old and faded I could barely make out anything. There was a faint outline of three different people, and that was about it. It looked like a drink had been spilt on it at one point and all the color was gone. There were simply the three faint ghostly silhouettes.

Beneath it though was some legible writing that hadn't entirely faded. It read 'Summer: 1956'

"We're probably gonna have to make a few trips if we wanna get like, all of this, and considering this is actually happening, then we should probably get all of it. Be as prepared as possible," I heard Joey say.

He was correct. Things had become slightly more complicated.

"Need some help?" Chris asked me.

I didn't even see him approach I was studying the photograph so intently.

"Oh, no it's cool, I'm just getting these cause well, they might-"

"Have information that could help?" Chris finished.

Joey turned around towards us.

"Oh yeah, let's get all the papers first- oh, hello,"

Joey had interrupted himself as he glanced down at the desk next to him. He was looking at a piece of paper that was next to the large bowl.

"Yeah you guys are gonna want to see this," he said, intently studying it.

I gathered all the papers I had and followed Chris over to the desk. Joey held it up in front of us.

"Look familiar?" he asked.

The paper was a very detailed map. There were a few landmarks and buildings I recognized, as well as a layout that looked all-too familiar, especially in regards to street layout. Sections of the map were categorized by different landmarks and titles that were written neatly alongside them. The illustrations were almost intricate they were so detailed.

It was a map of Barron's Hollow.

Occasionally there was a small 'X' drawn on some various locations, or lines crossing out other titles. Like someone had been ruling out sections or areas, or going through them systematically. The strangest thing though, was that around the outskirts of town, out in the forest, a large area was circled several times and labeled slightly more crudely than other places. I squinted to see it better.

'Nest?', it read.

It had been circled over and over again. Whatever this was, it looked to be decently important. Scattered around it were several landmarks and labels I had never seen before. I hadn't been in that part of town because, well, no one went to that part of town. There was nothing there. But if this map was accurate, we were missing out on some stuff.

"I don't wanna jump to any conclusions here-" Chris began.

"That's kind of all we've been doing, man," Joey interrupted.

Chris sighed.

"Yeah okay, you're right, but I mean come on. Nest? You thinking what I'm thinking?"

We didn't respond. We didn't need to. Our path remained pretty clear from that moment forward. Little pieces of this narrative were scattered about and we had slapdash put it all together. We didn't have everything, but we had enough. I would look through the papers later that evening to see if I could decipher anything else, but even my gut feeling was that this felt like we were headed in the right direction. I had to applaud Chris for being at least somewhat close to being dead right.

We didn't need to know everything. We just needed to know enough.

What we knew was that something was out there. And our dead guy was clearly into some odd hobbies, included but not limited to, tracking down a nest of something that probably wasn't your typical bird or squirrel. There was a lot of how's and why's missing, but it didn't matter.

We knew what we were gonna have to do to move forward. From that moment on, we knew that monsters were, more than likely real. And we had to do something about it.

Chapter 8: June 6th

Leo

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

I had been relatively quiet at the time, half because I was too shocked at what was going on, and half because I didn't know what else to say. I wanted to be skeptical, to be sure everyone was acting rationally and handling this situation as best as we could. We were all scared, but after seeing how strangely eager everyone was to go breaking into houses and go hunting monsters, it just didn't seem like the logical leap. We all knew what was happening was… beyond normal comprehension, to put it lightly, but I had to be sure we were doing the right thing as well as the sane thing.

I went to the police right after we talked with Chris. I know it was kinda wrong to go behind everyone's back like that, but if there were lives at stake, I would be able to live with that. I was curious as to why exactly more people weren't being brought in. Why more cops or detectives weren't around asking people questions. Why people weren't out looking for those who were missing in search parties? Why did nothing seem to change? Baron's Hollow was a small town, and was practically in a different realm of reality in terms of places in close proximity. Southeastern Kentucky was a place where hills, mountains, and hollers could separate anywhere from anyplace. But we were far from the smallest town, and hell, it was the 21st century, the age of the internet and cell phones and all kinds of insane bullshit that helped communication tenfold. It was impossible NOT to be connected to everything. Yet here we were. I was in one of two schools of thought: Option A, there was a way to properly deal with all this if we just get the right people involved or Option B, something completely outside our grasp is happening. Even with the marvels of communication, proximity and isolation were our biggest enemies. If I had known what I was doing at the time would've proved ultimately fruitless I would've been more keen on helping. But I didn't want to speak up. No one had done anything they couldn't go back from yet, and they may have been onto something. But I couldn't watch before exhausting every possibility. They were on the line. We were all on the line.

And Nadia. She was too.

It had been a while since she and I split. Well, we didn't split. She dumped me. I liked pretending that we were on a break or that we had just hit a rough patch, but no. She hadn't changed. And I didn't want to press her. But that's just it, when you connect with someone the way I connected with her, you take a piece of them everywhere you go. And as previously stated, it was a small town. It wasn't hard to run into each other. I loved her. Probably more than anyone. But I also knew she needed space and that I should respect her choice, even if I thought the choice was a bit disproportionate to what actually happened between us. It's a story for another day. But seeing her again, even just for a little bit, it just made me so happy. I tried not to come off like I cared as much as I did, but I still wanted to be helpful. Nadia wasn't just a girlfriend, she was a friend. She talked to me about everything. So now that we were split, I was worried about her. Me walking on eggshells was mostly due to me overthinking things, but it resulted in me being weirdly quiet and withdrawn. And in a group comprised of weirdly quiet people, somehow I managed to stand out. I had never heard Joey talk much at all until the other day. Izzy I was familiar with because of Nadia. I had seen Mary at football games and track team back in freshman year. Chris was chill, at least when he wasn't losing his cool. And there I was, awkwardly standing about watching everyone else make decisions.

But if we were at risk, if we had to do something this stupid and outlandish, I needed assurance. I didn't want anyone getting hurt because of poor planning or misplaced enthusiasm. Call it cowardice all you want, but bravery is the slutty little cousin to brash and stupid behavior. I didn't want them to suffer. And I couldn't bear it if anything happened to Nadia.

After Nadia dropped me off at my place, which she more than likely strategically picked first so we wouldn't be alone and awkward together (Guess I couldn't blame her), I devised a plan. I had to go to the police before we all met again. I needed something more objective. Us being in the inner circle of this little mystery could taint our perception.

I started up my car, after making sure my older brother was okay. I moved in with him when I was 16 because of, what I'll call a 'difficult' home life. He was my legal guardian now, despite being six years older. But sadly he wasn't young enough to avoid whatever was going around. Something that only adults seemed to be catching, and I'm not sure to this day how exactly that cutoff worked.

He could manage without me while sick, but he wasn't himself. He was slow, barely spoke, and slept almost the whole day. If he needed food or medicine, if I wasn't there, he'd get the job done, but it was certainly hard to watch. He was trying to support us, working three jobs and three shifts every other day to keep us afloat. He was always a determined guy, and seeing him like that was awful. That was one thing that I did find myself drawing connections to, though.

See, while I didn't know what was causing it, I knew a few things. Everyone who had this little flu would be rendered almost immobile. Incapable of running away or fighting back. And if you're something that relies on the element of surprise or you just wanna make your job easy, this was a good way to go about it. Barron's Hollow was an unofficial slaughtering ground for whatever was out there. There were still a lot of questions regarding how it got started or was spread, and what exactly kept us immune to it, but semantics were semantics. But to me, it felt like it made sense, but we had been jumping to conclusions an awful lot lately, but if you wanna get shit done, sometimes you just gotta stand up and do it without asking a whole lotta questions. There was certainly more compelling evidence, but I would need a lot more proof than that.

Arriving at the police station was a dreary experience. There was no traffic, hardly in cars, and the sky was a shade of grey that was so ominous that it felt like we were underneath a black hole. The cars I did see were people my age driving about, no doubt trying to offer aid to the sick and help out. I couldn't help but feel like an ass, here I was trying to Sherlock Holmes it up with some pals while everyone else worked their ass off to make sure everyone was okay. It was nice to see that even in the face of something impossible, we were still all capable of being helpful and taking charge when necessary.

I was worried so much I wasn't sure what I would even say. I knew talking about the body was off-limits, I couldn't sell out Chris or the others like that. And he had been found, so that was hopefully water under the bridge. Sadly I was a bit too focused on what I shouldn't say rather than what I should.

Good thing it didn't matter.

Upon getting to the police station, I already knew something was wrong. There was one squad car and two old sedans in the parking lot. I mean, our police station wasn't exactly top-notch by any standards, but this couldn't have been a good sign. The building resembled an old 50s diner more than it did a government building.

I got out of my car and walked through the parking lot. The post-storm air hung heavy, and outside it was uncharacteristically quiet. Normally you could hear the faint atmospheric lulls of traffic driving through rain puddles, or a random conversation happening between two people nearby, or maybe even the sound of someone playing music. Instead it was just the wind.

I opened the glass door and was immediately greeted with the smell of mildew and cheap air freshener. The white walls and blase furniture was a bit of an eyesore. The whole building looked like I was looking at an overexposed photograph. The receptionist desk was dead center, the left-hand side lead over to the holding cells, the right I assumed was the more office-like parts of the building. The receptionist, despite not being otherwise engaged, basically looked right through me. Behind her incredibly large glasses her eyes were cold. Someone had caught the bug going around.

"How can I hel-" she began, a cough punctuating her sentence.

I approached the front desk. The woman had enough used tissues scattered about to stuff a pillow.

"I was wondering if I could speak to someone. I have information regarding an important case," I said.

The woman barely even flinched. I expected a furrowed brow or a weird look. Instead she robotically grabbed the phone and put it to her ear.

"Hey. Got a kid who wants to talk to you about a case. Okay. Alright. I'll send him in,"

She hung up the phone, and continued staring through me. I looked at her expectantly, standing there, but nothing happened. She sat there, motionless, like a broken disneyland animatronic. I was half tempted to wave in front of her face but was a bit too spooked to move. Her eyes were almost glazed over.

"Just go to the back room. He'll talk to you in his… the office. You can go there," she said vacantly.

I wanted to ask her if everything was okay but I think I already had a suitable answer to that question. I nodded and went down the right hallway looking to see which room actually had someone in it. She didn't specify which one, and I didn't feel like asking. Of course the room I was going to was at the very ass end of the hall.

I turned and saw what was, perhaps the most comically stereotypical cop I had ever seen in my life. The man was in his early forties, buzzed clean haircut, slightly pudgy but not quite obese, and to top it all off he had a box of doughnuts on his desk. To his credit, the box hadn't been opened yet.

Along the inner perimeter of his desk there were various types of over the counter medicine. Heartburn relief. Allergy medication. Various different variations of Nyquil. Didn't need the medicine to tell something was up, the man had bags under his eyes so big you could go grocery shopping with them. His eyes weren't far away from being as bad as the receptionist.

He cleared his throat and coughed upon seeing me, and poured hand sanitizer on his hands after doing so. I stood awkwardly in the doorway as he struggled to compose himself.

"Hey there son, have a seat," he said drearily, "She said that you…"

He trailed off a bit with his sentence, but was looking at me expectantly, like he thought he had finished.

"Well, a little bit, I think I have an idea that could be of use to you," I said nervously.

My lack of a real substantial plan regarding information was already beginning to kick me in the ass.

"Son the only thing that's gonna be useful to me in the next couple of days is cough medicine and a whole lotta unsweetened tea. But if you've got something go on then," he grunted out.

Unsweetened tea? The hell was he even on about?

"Well uh, I, I think that maybe the happenings in the town recently. The murders, the attacks, the missing people, the sickness, I think it's all connected,"

The confused look I expected to appear on the receptionist surfaced here.

"Well son the missing persons cases and the murders are being looked into being connected. As for people gettin' sick it's probably just a bug. It'll go away. We've got our best people lookin into it," he said a bit dazed.

"Alright sure, but this thing that's attacking people, it's dangerous. We might need a lot more than a few sick cops with handguns. And people are sending their kids to deliver meals, do you think maybe we need some more help?" I asked.

His expression remained the same.

"I know it's all scary son but we're… we're doing as best we can. It's just a bug. It'll go away. We've got… we've got…"

He trailed off again, except now he was staring at the floor, whatever vague semblance of self he had before was entirely gone. Whatever ghosts looked like, he had to have been paler.

"It's just a bug," he muttered quietly, "It'll go away…"

"Sir?" I asked, leaning in a bit.

"We've got our best people lookin' into it," he continued.

He was shaking, not a whole lot, but enough to be incredibly noticeable. Suddenly he stopped, and almost instantly composed himself, looking back at me.

"It's probably just a bug. It'll go away. We've got our best people lookin into it," he repeated.

We sat there in silence. His look wasn't exactly vacant anymore, it was almost… automated. Like he was trying to mimic what people actually talked like.

I must've looked like a deer caught in headlights. I wasn't sure what to do in the moment. Normally I'd get someone, but that's when it really hit me. This was everyone now. If the adults weren't all sick, then soon they would be. And the people we were relying on were just as useless. I wasn't expecting much from the police, but maybe at least a reason as to why more wasn't being done.

If this was the best we had, then maybe Chris was right. Someone had to step up. The longer I thought about it or hesitated, the more people would get sick. And the more people would die. We had to act. No one else would and our time limits were limited.

I worked my way to the doorway of the small room, not breaking eye contact with the officer. The same look of utter lack of all emotion was etched onto his face. His eyelids drooped down, and his head slowly pivoting to look at me as I moved. It felt sinister, almost, and it wasn't him. It was like looking at a man who had some invisible puppeteer controlling him. I quickly stepped into the hallway, breaking eye contact and moving fast as possible. I didn't even look at the receptionist on the way out. A feeling of dread had suddenly overcome me.

"Did you need something?" the woman's voice faded as I exited through the door.

I was astounded at how quickly I had changed my own mind. But the odds were against us. I thought about our town. It was as if the entire place was a slaughtering grounds. The nearest populated area was 60 to 70 miles away, and it wasn't exactly like it was a big city either. We had densely populated small neighborhoods. We had no real connections to the outside world. Suddenly I was praying that Chris did find something, because at least then we'd have answers.

Not to mention, if we went through with this, if I could stay around Nadia, it could ease my anxiety. I realize how frigid and possessive I sound when saying that, but I can't really rationalize love. I wanted to make sure she was safe. It wasn't because she couldn't handle herself, it was just the thought of her out there made me shiver. And if I could help everyone else then I would have to help, I couldn't abandon them if they were in any sort of danger.

Maybe it was my feelings for Nadia that made me so willing to jump to conclusions. Maybe it was just the upheaval, I don't know. Suddenly my entire life had stopped, and this tiny little town that was once a little bastion of southern comfort for me was now this spiraling and chaotic place where we were afraid of being killed by a monster.

In the drive back to my place, I tried running through a list of alternatives. Could I call someone? The CDC maybe? Could they actually do anything with all of our sick people? Could I call someone outside of town and ask them to bring help? But there was also the very real problem that we had no clue what we were even dealing with. People could show up here and get sick themselves. This had spread so quickly and was so potent that if the disease actually got away from such a secluded little town, it could be seriously dangerous. And we still didn't know how or even IF it was connected to anything, though it seemed to line up well enough. We couldn't bring in outsiders, we could end up getting more people killed, and that was assuming people would even believe our stories. We sounded like one of those insane headlines you'd see on shitty newspapers that put 'Vampire in the Subway!' or 'Alligators in the sewers!' as their front page stories.

Even when I arrived home, after driving for what felt like hours, I didn't even get out of my car. I just sat there trying to weigh my options. There was nothing I thought of that didn't have a caveat. Anything I thought of that could genuinely do us good would simply waste too much time. We had to tackle this ASAP, or else more people would die, and we couldn't half ass it either. It was going to be all or nothing.

And then eventually the group chat lit up.

I looked outside before checking my phone, it was dark out, there was no telling how long I was actually in that car. But once I checked my phone I couldn't believe what I saw. Izzy, Chris, and Joey had actually found something. And not just something, but evidence that proved Chris's theory to be 150% accurate. The old guy had some hidden cache of crazy shit. Weapons. Weapons of all kind in fact. The guy had weird runes on old paper, writing in multiple languages, knives, a couple swords, more of those little crossbows, all kind of crazy shit, along some odd devices and traps I had never seen before.

But the most telling thing was the map.

The guy had a map that had apparently pointed to a 'nest'. We weren't sure what it was, but it was way out into the woods. There were odd landmarks that none of us had ever even heard of all grouped over in that direction as well. There were some spots on the map that they had matched the runes to, though none of us knew what exactly they were in service of. The map also showed that the sewer system was connected to a location near the 'nest', and lo and behold, each of the places where someone had gone missing or been killed had a place very nearby that lead into the sewers, explaining how whatever the hell this was got around with such ease. We all up front agreed we wouldn't go looking in the sewers, because it was claustrophobic and dark, and sounded like a nightmare scenario when trying to find this thing, meaning this 'nest' and these weird landmarks were just about all we had to go on.

At one point we discussed that we could be very wrong about this and these landmarks could've been completely unconnected, but the lead was too big to not go on. We also briefly contemplated bringing in other people, which was something that was completely dashed away. Nearly everyone's parents or guardians were sick. Someone said something about the police, and I informed them all that even the ones who were on duty wouldn't end up being helpful (thankfully no one questioned why I had this information, we were otherwise occupied). We thought about getting more people our age, as old as you could be without contracting whatever this thing was, but that invited a whole host of problems. We'd have to convince people we weren't insane, we'd have to tell them how we all had already committed various crimes. People would already be suspicious of us for asking them to watch our parents while we were gone. And the most important thing of all, was that we would obviously be endangering people's lives tenfold. Everyone was already on the line. But if someone who wasn't already involved died because of us? We couldn't ask that. Especially considering how we had little to no clue as to how this thing worked or how we'd kill it. There were seven of us, that was a big enough number to take anything down if we were equipped.

So naturally, we all had to be prepared.

We were all going to meet next to the power plant on the outskirts of town, right on the edge of the forest we'd need to go into. Everyone was to come prepared. Bring first aid kits. Bring medicine of all kinds. Bring food that was light but would keep us as full as possible. Bring anything that could feasibly be considered useful. Bring camping supplies. If our parents had any kind of weapons, bring them, be they knives or firearms. Chris and the others were bringing the old guy's stash of stuff as well, seeing as his weapons were so archaic and specifically designed, we considered the possibility that this thing may have required special weapons to kill it. Regardless, we were supposed to bring everything we could carry without over encumbering ourselves. But even then, the idea was being over encumbered was better than being underprepared. So, we did just that.

I got out an old backpack and stuffed everything I could in there. I got nearly every easily transportable food item in my pantry. Luckily my brother had consumed his usual bottle of whiskey and was passed out, so he didn't hear me empty practically everything we owned. I grabbed Tylenols, a bottle of bourbon (hey you never know), a first aid kit in my bathroom, bandages, and old ratty sleeping bag, and one change of clothes. Grabbed an old pocket knife I had in my drawer. Neither me nor my brother owned firearms of any sort so that was out of the question. My bag was stuffed by the end, but it would be manageable. I was a skinny dude, so pretty much anything would take it's toll on me.

My brother would be concerned. That thought stuck in my head the whole time. I felt bad for just leaving him like this, so I couldn't just disappeared. Granted I had my cell phone, but we lived in the Appalachian mountains, a phone signal was about as reliable as a politician out there. I could text him, but that felt so impersonal. If this risk was real, then there was a distinct possibility that I would never see him again.

I wrote a note. My hand was shaking as the anxiety slowly became worse, so my handwriting was akin to that of a third grader.

'Hey Dan. Had to help out some friends over on the other side of town. Text me if you need anything.

Leo'

I contemplated writing 'Love Leo' at the end, but it didn't really fit. I just felt like some sentimentality would be appropriate. But I left it as is. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

I quietly exited the front door, and just as I was about to get into my car I got another text message. This time it wasn't the group, either.

It was Nadia.

She asked for a ride to the power plant. At first I wanted to ask her if something was wrong. I knew she had a car, and I knew she probably would've been able to ask anyone else. But she picked me. I knew things were awkward before, so this sort of made me feel uneasy, mixed signals and whatnot. Bottom line was that she asked for me, if something was wrong, I could ask her in person. I told her I could stop by her house and immediately and eagerly got in my car.

It was unfortunate the woods themselves were so stupidly dense. Filled with trees and even a swampy area over by the power plant. And the area we lived in was so mountainous and filled with rolling hills, there was no way we could feasibly do anything but walk. The amount of time we'd save with a car was, well, considerable.

I remembered this scenario. Me, in the middle of the night, rushing over to Nadia's. A late night text asking me to drop by and get her out of the house. That place was a ball and chain to her. Her dad a constant reminder of everything that made her feel sad or unwanted. Sometimes she just needed to get out. Sometimes she just needed to vent. Sometimes she needed to talk. Then there was the rare occasion where she would be almost completely speechless. Whenever that happened we just climbed into the back seat and I would hold onto her, and we'd just sit there. Occasionally we'd talk about the future or the past, the kind of sappy shit you'd expect from that stuff. It was sometimes difficult to follow with Nadia. She was a woman of emotion and feeling, and she was very conscious of it. I was more of a logically-dictated guy, so sometimes when she explained how she felt it was hard to understand. I never tried to disagree with her, I always tried to get where she came from. Maybe it was that fundamental difference that lead to us splitting. That was why I liked and respected her. She was in tune with something I could barely comprehend. I could never explain how I felt beyond the simplest of terms. Anything complex just turned into anxiety so I would ignore it. Then she told me one night about wanting to leave.

I understood where she was coming from. But there was a part of me that knew I couldn't escape this place. It wasn't that I had a huge affinity for Barron's Hollow. It was nice and all, I had no huge issues, but when my brother and I took root in a new place, part of me felt safe there. This was the place where I escaped my shitty life. I felt safe there. It didn't matter if it was that little house in Barron's Hollow, or an apartment in Brooklyn, no matter where I escaped to, it was my sanctuary. I needed to prove I could exist somewhere. That I wasn't someone who just ran away from his problems when things were rough. I won't pretend like it's logical, like I said, I'm not good with feelings, but at the end of the day I felt like that. And Nadia, she wanted out as soon as possible. She even thought about dropping out and just leaving. I couldn't do that, at least not that quickly. I didn't want to live there forever, I just needed some time to sort myself out. I barely even knew who I was or what I wanted in life. I couldn't anchor her to me and by proxy that place. I couldn't be just another thing that kept her bound to a place she couldn't stand. But you don't just give up on people like her. You try your damndest because some poor bastards waste or ignore their chance at really loving someone, and you want to make the most of the life you have. But I wouldn't do it at the cost of her happiness. If she told me to fuck off and get lost then I would. I'd hate myself and cry myself to sleep for a while, but I would if she asked. But if there was a possibility, then I had to try.

The porchlight outside her garage was on, which stuck out like a sore thumb, it was the only light on for a pretty long distance. Moths fluttered around it, but dispersed as I pulled into the driveway and got a bit closer. The garage door itself was also open, containing everything it usually had, old tools and remnants from her mother and father's previous occupations, but with one thing different. There was a backpack in the middle of the floor, one that looked absolutely stuffed, not unlike my own. But she wasn't there.

I took out my phone and sent a message, saying I was there. No response for around a minute. We were under pressing circumstances, so her absence was partially unnerving. I left the car running and quietly dashed into the garage, and opened the door inside.

Nadia's house was pretty old school in terms of looks. Her parents were a bit older than most so their decorating sense was a bit archaic. The rugs all had patterns you'd more than likely see in museums. The colors were mostly muted, and her mom's collections of china, plates, silverware, and other knick knacks decorated the shelves and cabinet tops. It always smelled like laundry detergent and cleaning products. Occasionally it was a bit messy cause of her dad's lackadaisical approach to cleanliness, but it looked like she had tidied up a bit. I walked through the dining room and kitchen, and there was no sign of her. I peeked into the living room from the hallway that served as the hub of the house, and upon turning around, I got my answer.

Nadia was sitting on the floor, back against the wall of the hallway, staring down towards her dad's bedroom, the only room in the house with a light on from what I could tell. The tv was on, so I could barely hear some sitcom playing from the end of the room. It was hard to tell, but a shaft of light that shone through the small crack in the doorway lit up part of her face, but Nadia looked like she had been crying. I immediately walked over to her, and crouched down, putting my hand on her shoulder. I opened my mouth to say something but she beat me to the punch.

"I can't leave him Leo… I can't leave him," she said softly.

It was strange. I always knew she cared about her dad, even when a lesser person would be inclined to hate the old bastard. But this was more… expressive than usual.

"Hey, hey, look at me. Nadia," I whispered.

I touched the side of her cheek. She looked at me. I could feel where streams of tears had been. There was no telling how long she had been sitting here.

"As God is my witness, or whatever the hell you believe in, I will not let anything happen to you,"

She made eye contact with me for a moment, but then broke it, looking back to where she had before.

"Leo I-,"

"Hey," I interrupted.

I stared into her deep brown eyes, and almost forgot what I was about to say.

"I will not. Let anything. Happen to you," I said, trying to sound as resolute as possible.

Her eyes welled up with tears. She hugged me, pulling me in, and buried herself in my shoulder. She sobbed, but tried to speak in between gasping.

"I… can't… let… him… lose… anyone… else… I… can't… let… him… lose… me," she said, trying to form a sentence.

I simply just sat there and held her. She knew she'd cry it out, and then she'd compose herself, and we'd go. And she knew I knew that. She just needed to let it out. This was always how it was. But I understood what she meant. Her father was already a broken man after her mother passed, if she was hurt or worse… I couldn't imagine what would happen. It baffled me how much she cared for him. I didn't have it in me to forgive my familial misgivings. I don't think I'll ever have it in me to do that. But even after all that happened, she still worried about him.

Her sobs became quieter and quieter, and eventually, she was silent, pressed against me. It was nice to feel useful again. Like I belonged somewhere, to someone.

She wiped her tears and sat up like she had been before, and stared at the light coming from his room.

"Leo," she said.

She surprised me, usually she was silent for a longer period of time. I could tell that this matter was much more serious. She was even probably worried about people checking on him even though we had all arranged for that to be taken care of. Since Dan was my age I didn't really have that worry, so I figured it must've taken it's toll.

"Y-yeah?" I answered.

She sniffled a bit, and tried to remove any sign of unwanted substances on her face.

"I just… promise me if I don't make it back, and you do, that you'll make sure he's okay,"

I didn't really expect that. She normally spoke about her father in a specific tone, one of melancholy and a hint of suppressed anger. This was just, pure sadness. It was infectious. I felt like I might cry.

"I know it's stupid. We could all be fine. Or maybe we'll all die. I don't know. I just… please. I know it's a lot-,"

"Nadia-," I began.

"No," she cut off, "Don't promise me as someone you love or care about. Promise me as a person. That's it,"

That last one cut a little. I would've done anything she asked. And she knew that. But she wanted it to mean more. I understood. But the fact that me being eager to please her got in the way of how she interpreted what I said kind of hurt. It was just a bit sobering. She was right. But I got it. It just stung, it made you feel that pain in your chest that reminds you that you actually have a heart.

I waited for her to turn to me. And I solemnly nodded.

I wasn't really sure how long she had sat there with me, but time was of the essence, after all.

"Nadia, we should-"

"I know," she cut me off, "Go on out, I'll be there in a second,"

I hesitantly stood up. I wanted to hug her or tell her everything would be okay, but I was worried she'd interpret that poorly. She wanted a moment alone. I would oblige.

I walked into the kitchen, through the dining room, and stood in the garage door. I was too nervous to completely leave the house and wait in the car.

A minute or two went by and I hear her feet slowly coming toward me, tapping against the hardwood floor. I tried making eye contact again, but she confidently walked forward, and exited to the garage. In a swift motion she scooped up her pack and got into the passenger seat of the car, and I followed closely behind.

The car ride to the power plant was completely silent.

Believe me, I wanted to say something. My mind was racing with things I could conceivably use to converse with her, but the whole time, she stared out the window, watching as the world around her passed her by. She was a very blunt person, if she wanted to talk, she would have.

But just as she wanted to say something just in case, I did too. But it just wasn't the right moment. Maybe there would never be a right moment. No matter what happened, I'd love her. And I was terrified, more terrified than dying, that she might not know that. Or maybe think that I was insincere. Either way, it tore me up inside, but I swallowed my words, and kept on driving.

Unsurprisingly, when we pulled into the parking lot right in front of the plant, we discovered we were the last ones to arrive. No one gave me a funny look or anything thankfully, so I guess we weren't super late.

Everyone was standing a few feet away from where I parked in a semi-circle, back half turned towards the path we'd take into the woods. They all were wearing the same casual clothes I had seen them in earlier, just with stuffed pockets and giant backpacks. Poor Mary looked like she could've collapsed, as the bag was probably half her weight. Joey carried a large bag at his side that was incredibly long and had several objects poking through the material. Probably our set of arms for our excursion.

I suddenly cursed myself for my lack of common sense as I took note that they all were carrying flashlights of some sort. I guess there are worse things to forget. Everyone had a look of quiet solemnity on their face. They obviously weren't joking around before we got there. Every time we met up the atmosphere seemed to have been hung heavier.

I parked the car, and pulled out the keys, and we both got out of the car, not really looking at one another. We joined the others and basically made a complete circle.

"Well, now that everyone is here, it's time we establish the official game plan," Izzy stated authoritatively.

We all nodded, and Joey stepped forward, holding the map. Izzy pointed her flashlight at it and he brought up another finger, pointing at the area just before the forest.

"We are right here," he began, a nervous shake in his voice that almost manifested as a stutter, "And our objective is to end up here, over at the nest. There are some unrecognized landmarks that we have no idea as to what they even are, so we're going to stop by each of these places to make certain that we don't miss anything, because we don't know what we're dealing with. Or how many we're dealing with. We can't afford not to be thorough. We will arm ourselves accordingly when we set up camp, so we can be as prepared as possible. We will set up camp three times and sleep in shifts of four hours so we can be well rested but still keep on the move, and hopefully we can cover the area in three days. Maybe more if it's required. We are not leaving anyone behind and we will not split up, staying as a group is important, but,"

He paused here, and cleared his throat. He was trying his best to wear a coat of perceived solidarity.

"But, because of how… because of this situation being all kinds of batshit insane, we prioritize stopping this thing above all else. Above our own survival. And the survival of everyone else. We all know how dangerous this is. We don't even know if we're capable of killing it. But we're gonna try as hard as we can,"

He nodded with a bit of uncertainty. Everyone else followed.

"Any questions?" he asked.

"Um, kinda," Mary said meekly.

She looked like her bag was about to tip her over.

"I know this is just about the stupidest and weirdest thing that's ever happened to any of us, so this is really hard to actually pin down, but since this is super serious…. Do you really think we can actually do this?"

Joey sighed.

"I've asked that question a lot today. And every time I don't have an answer. All I know?"

He paused, and took a breath.

"All I know… is that we won't know unless we try. And we can't just sit by and let people die. What happens when someone we know gets hurt? What happens when one of us goes missing or dies? We can't just stand by and let this thing wreak havoc just because we haven't been provoked into wanting to kill it for revenge. This thing has our town in it's sights. So let's tear the thing a new asshole for even thinking twice to come here, how's that?"

He managed to sound pretty motivated and almost inspirational with that one. He was right. Waiting to care about the situation until someone we loved got hurt was borderline sociopathic. We were people. That should've been enough to get us riled up about this thing.

We were all about to start walking as Joey was about to say something, but Reese raised his hand and walked into the center of all of us.

"Bring it in," he said, extending his arm.

Joey looked confused.

"Is that really appropriate?" Joey asked.

Reese rolled his eyes.

"Man, we are about to go monster hunting with medieval weaponry to save our town. I must've missed the book club session where we read 'Things Appropriate to Do When An Evil Creature Fucks Up Your Whole Life'. If I'm about to put my incredibly nice ass on the line with all of you, I wanna know you all are down for secret handshakes, 'bringing it in', or any other form of nonverbal friend communication. So get your hands together and let's do this shit,"

I had to admire Reese trying to find a glimmer of camaraderie amidst all this. Being sad and afraid the whole time wasn't exactly going to do us any favors.

Just like a sports team right before a game, we extended our hands to one another and met in the middle. We looked at each other, a mix of 'holy shit we're all gonna die' and 'let's kill this son of a bitch' on all of our faces.

"Break!" Reese said enthusiastically.

He was really the only one to do that traditionally, it was a bit half-hearted from the rest of us. Reese shrugged. Joey nodded, and lead the charge into the woods.

"We should have a name," Reese blurted out.

"I'm not sure how appropriate this is considering we're all about to probably die," Chris chimed in.

"Goonies never say die," Reese shot back.

"We're not the Goonies. And that's taken. It's also a stupid name," Joey said.

"All the good ones are taken," Reese said, "Goonies, The Monster Squad, the Loser's Club,"

"Reese, come on-"

Reese stopped, the rest of us stopped to, all pointing our flashlights at him.

"Look, if you wanna do nothing but drown in misery and be a bunch of scared paranoid people who seldom speak and recite a bunch of sad Edgar Allan Poe sonnets lamenting our tragic fate, then that's cool, but if we're gonna die, then I at least wanna go out like this is a cool adventure. Aside from the immediate threat of death, it's pretty much the same thing,"

No one said anything, and we all continued on.

"Man, you all are no fun," Reese said behind us.

I could appreciate trying to lighten the mood. He just tried a bit too quickly. And didn't know what subtlety was.

"The problem with trying to treat this like an adventure is that the kids from Stand By Me were looking for a dead body. We're looking for something we're not even totally sure exists. And we also have a shitload of weaponry… and Edgar Allan Poe didn't write Sonnets," Izzy said.

"He did too! He wrote at least… like… 2... I think," Reese defended.

And that was how we entered the forest. Mostly unsure and awkward, listening to Reese and Izzy argue about poetry. It was very telling of things to come.

There was nothing on earth that could've prepared us for what we'd find. And what would find us. We hadn't known each other for more than two weeks for the most part. We offhandedly joked about dying and mentioned it when talking about all of this, but truth be told, I didn't dwell on death itself. It seemed like life would always continue on. We would struggle, but of course we could overcome this, right? It would be scary but we could do it. That's how it feels to be young, when you plunge headfirst into the fray unknowingly. You're terrified, but you're immortal. You've got years ahead of you. Death is just something that isn't in your horizons, because you haven't even gotten ahold of life yet. I remember feeling agitated at the thought of all of us dying out there. Not scared or angry, but agitated. Agitated that we would risk so much and die with a bunch of people who had only known each other a short while. Isn't that funny?

But with hindsight, despite the horror that we would all encounter, I can certainly say that I wouldn't have picked to risk my life with anyone else but them.

END OF VOLUME ONE

(If you finished/enjoyed this, because this is here for free for the time being, I'd very much appreciate if you checked this out on Amazon, just type in 'Those Who Dwell in the Dark' in the search bar and you'll find it. This is the first volume in full, as I'm writing this, volumes 1-3 are available on Amazon (with 4 on the way), only 99 cents on kindle and I do have paperbacks that are $6.99, it'd mean a lot as an independent struggling up-and-coming writer. Thank you for your time.)