Dwight Fairfield quickly walked down the steps of the foundry. In his hands he clutched a flashlight that he'd found in a desk in the office above. There was always something up there; no matter how many times he looted it. He stepped lightly. The catwalk groaned sometimes.
He heard nothing but his own deep breaths. Beyond the Foundry was only the rustle of the woods. As soon as he made to the ground level, he made sure to keep his eyes on the floor. This was the territory of the Trapper, the one Killer who laid bear traps all around his turf. The omnipresent danger of one of those traps ripping into his shins made this Killer one of Dwight's most feared. He remembered all too clearly stepping into one of the traps; the loud snap, the sharp pain as the teeth bit hard into his flesh, his own screams, and then finally that mask. That horrible grinning mask as that huge beast of a man came barreling towards him. Almost every encounter ended with Dwight on a hook and with him later vowing to be more vigilant in the future, only to fall victim to the same traps in the midst of a panicked flight.
No traps were revealed by the glow of the flashlight. The tool would last for a bit. He had brought some extra batteries into the Fog.
As always, one of the generators was down on the factory floor, in the midst of the massive machinery. Holding the flashlight between his teeth, Dwight opened the panel and began working on the wiring. A long time ago, before the moonshine, he had been one of the lesser mechanically inclined men. Anything beyond duct tape and glue had beyond his skills. Now he felt that, if he ever managed to get out of the never ending woods, he could fix damn near anything. It was a skill that he'd been forced to learn. The damn generators were the only way back to the Campfire. And one had to be very careful with them. One wrong move and the damn things sparked and hissed loud enough to bring one of the Killers over.
Dwight worked diligently, and soon enough, the generator began to come alive, its pistons slowly begin to pump. Their ruckus was not welcome. Not only did it attract the Killer, but it also made it hard to hear them coming. The ex-manager found himself looking over his shoulder constantly, dreading what he'd see each time. But there was nothing but the empty Foundry each time.
He knew that the others were making progress. One of the generators in the distance had gone live not too long ago. No screams had accompanied its activation, a good sign. Jake typically knew how to handle himself, as did Meg. The gambler was out there too. Ace. He was different than most of the others. A confidence existed in him that Dwight wished he had. His own had begun to fade ages ago, and continued with each and every trial in the woods. Jake hadn't thought much of the man, at first, but he'd proven himself to be quite competent. His unusual demeanor in the dreary fog also gave a much needed morale boost to the others.
SNAP!
A scream. A woman's.
Meg.
Dwight turned from the generator and hurried to the large hole in the wall that had once been a window. He looked out into the Fog, but saw little at first. Then, he saw him. A large figure covered in shadow as he made his way towards the screams, the red glare from his eyes light his path ahead of him.
The manager started to vault through the window when he forced himself to a stop. He shone the flashlight on the ground. The trap sparkled.
I almost jumped right into it, Dwight thought with a shudder. He carefully jumped over the trap and followed the monster, making sure not to walk over any patches of grass.
…
The pain, though familiar, was still all too much to bear.
Tears streamed from Meg's eyes and blood soaked her fingers. She desperately tried to grab at the trap, doing her best to not look at what had become of her leg. Her bloody fingers slipped and couldn't grasp the metal. She panted and began to weep.
Please...please...PLEASEPLEASE!
That's when she heard it. Poe described it as a low, dull, quick sound, like a watch enveloped in cotton. It was a sound she knew well; the mad heartbeat of a Killer with prey in sight. A Killer about to fulfill his duty to the Entity.
She looked up and screamed as the mask came down on her.
…
"We've got to get her!" Jake protested in a hiss.
"Buddy, you go out there and all that will happen is you'll hang too," Ace said, holding the young man in place. For an older guy, his grip was strong.
"And you're just gonna let that happen!?"
"Yes," The gambler replied. "Look, you gotta understand; We're in his house right now. And where I come from, there's one cardinal rule: the house always wins. You can't beat the house if you throw all your chips in like a maniac."
"Well, then what the fuck are we gonna do!?" The Trapper was closing in. Jake could almost hear his heavy breaths through his mask. "Just let her die!?"
"We see how the game plays out." Ace said, watching the scene too. "We got dealt a bad hand here, buddy. But we're only at the flop. Don't lose hope till we reach the river."
…
Meg almost forgot the pain as the Trapper closed in. She was promptly reminded when his rough hands ripped the jaws of the trap out of her leg.
The woman tried to crawl away from the hulking man, frantically using her elbows to do so. Memories of the last trial were still fresh in her mind. It had been Claudette's turn for the hook. And Meg Thomas did not want to join her up there with the Entity. No matter how many times it happened, the torment was just as horrid as the first time. As an athlete, Meg's body was used to pain. But her body never seemed to grow accustomed to the Entity's torture.
The Trapper reached down and grabbed the woman by the seat of her pants and hoisted her over his shoulder.
"No!" Meg cried, tears streaming down here cheeks. "Let me go!" She struggled, and wriggled, and flailed her arms wildly. Anything to prevent the hook. One of her hands a crooked pillar of bricks that had once been part of a wall of some long gone building. She grasped it with all of her strength. The Trapper was stopped in his tracks as Meg pulled against him. The big man grunted and then dropped his unholy cleaver onto the ground. Using his free hand, he grabbed Meg's ruined shin and squeezed. The athlete's scream echoed far into the fog and her grip was lost.
The Trapper bent to recollect his weapon, when a twig snapped in front of him. Looking up, he met the eyes of Dwight Fairfield for only a moment before the light consumed his vision.
…
The big man grunted loudly and held his hands before his face to shield himself. He took a steep backwards and stumbled, allowing Meg to slide off his shoulders.
"RUN, MEG!" Dwight hollered, turning and running for his life. His heart was racing. I can't believe I just did that, he thought wildly.
Meg could never get used to the Entity's torture, but her body knew how to deal with pain while running. She got to her feet quickly. Her shin was in bad shape, but her leg didn't seem broken. As fast as she could she ran/limped as fast as she could. She was aware of her grunting with each step, but couldn't seem to make herself stop.
"Meg! Meg!" A voice hissed from the shadows near her. Her head turned towards it and she saw Jake and Ace approaching her from the shrubbery.
"Guys!" She sobbed, limping to them.
"That was one hell of a turn!" Ace said, grinning. "C'mon! Let's get moving!"
The three Survivors quickly hurried off into the fog of the woods.
…
Evan slowly got to his feet, his vision slowly returning to him.
Anger filled him. Hate filled him. He snatched his cleaver. The tracks were clear, but they would fade quickly. He had to be swift. He had a job to do. And he would not stop until it was done. Never stop till it's done was one of Archie MacMillan's numerous pieces of advice.
Evan...
He stopped in mid-step. Wind rustled through the leaves of the trees throughout the Estate.
Time is short. The trials must end swiftly.
He recognized the voice. It was her. The woman made of shadows. Evan did not like her, but he knew better to ignore her. It was not often that he heard her voice, but she often spoke for the Fog when she did. So he listened, the heat of the wounds from her whip still blistering his skin.
Spare them the hooks, Evan, the wind whispered. You may deal with them as you see fit. It grants permission. Just put an end to the trial...quickly.
Though the wind rustled for a moment longer, she said no more.
Evan MacMillan stood where he was for a moment.
Beneath his grotesque mask, a grin spread across his lips.
…
"It's not good," Jake Park said, cringing at the wound on Meg's leg. The poor woman was lying in his lap. She did not reply. Only groaned.
"Do we have anymore bandages?" Dwight asked, looking over his shoulder. He was very nervous. He had been the one to blind the Trapper, and he knew that he'd have some serious hell to pay if that monster of a man got hold of him.
"Won't need them," Ace replied, that crooked grin coming to his lips. He opened the first aid kit he'd brought into the Fog and produced a shiny syringe that contained a strange purple liquid inside that gleamed in the moonlight. "I got something better."
He stuck the needle in Meg's arm and pressed the plunger. Meg cursed loudly. Then, right before his eyes, Dwight saw the wounds from the trap's teeth begin to just...disappear. One moment her leg was gushing blood, the next moment the source was nowhere to be seen. Meg stopped moaning and looked up suddenly. She looked confused.
"Go ahead and stand up, little lady," Ace said, smiling.
"I don't think I..."
"Of course you can. Trust me."
Meg hesitated for a moment. She moved the foot on the previously ruined leg and found that no pain shot up. Surprised, she jumped to her feet without any trouble at all. Jake and Dwight stared.
"Holy shit," Jake said, his eyes wide.
"Yep," Ace replied. "Well, I hope you liked that little trick, kids, cause that's all ol' Ace has up his sleeve." He tossed the med-kit aside.
"What did you just inject me with," Meg asked, sounding just as bewildered as Jake.
"No idea."
"Wha...?"
"I don't know." Visconti replied, standing. "But it works. It's not the first time I've seen it. Someone did it to me after getting me of one of the hooks. Shoulder hurt like hell and I thought I was gonna pass out. Suddenly, the stick me with one of those syringes and the pain just melts away. Strange stuff. But, like I said, it works."
"And that guy just gave something like that to you?" Jake asked.
"Oh no. That wasn't his. I found that near a hook. Guess whoever brought it didn't get a chance to use it. Poor bastard. Lucky for us, though."
"No kidding," Dwight said. "But we gotta move. I was working on one of the generators back at the Foundry. We should head over and fix it."
"Not a bad idea," Ace said, adjusting his sunglasses, which he wore constantly. How he was able to see in this darkness was beyond Jake's grasp, but he'd proven time and time again that he could. It was just another mystery in the Entity's realm. "After you, dear leader."
The group quietly made their way back towards the Foundry. All of them made sure to keep a close eye on the ground. Dwight led them to the same window he had climbed out of.
"Careful," He said softly. "There's a trap right there by the window."
"Just spring it," Meg said.
"No," Dwight hissed. "He'll hear that. Just climb around it."
Meg went first. Then Ace. Dwight followed. After he was through, he turned, expecting to see Jake coming in. He wasn't. He was nowhere in sight. A soft metallic sound came from the other side of the window. Dwight leaned out and saw Jake bent over the trap.
"What are you doing!?" Dwight cried as silently as he could. "Just leave it alone!"
"I'm not gonna spring it," Jake said, without looking up. "I'm gonna break it. One less trap for him is good for all of us. Just..."
Whatever he was going to say, Dwight never got to hear. A large arm suddenly grabbed him by his hair. Jake yelped in surprise. The Trapper stepped into view and for one terrible moment, Dwight made eye contact with him. He heard the large man grunt. Then, he lifted Jake up and then slammed him head first into the ground.
SNAP!
That was all they heard. There was no scream.
Meg had already taken off. Dwight saw her run for the exit of the Foundry at her top speed. Dwight remained frozen, staring at the Trapper who looked down at Jake for a moment. Perhaps watching to see if there was anything left in him.
Where did he come from...Dwight managed to think...I didn't even hear...
A loud pop erupted behind him as the generator came to life. He turned in time to see Ace grab his arm.
"Let's go, Dwight, move!"
Dwight still couldn't get his legs to go for a moment. Then he saw the Trapper swing one of his legs over the window frame. His gaze was on Dwight. That got him moving. Dwight and Ace hurried off to the other end of the building. Even before they made it out, the manager could hear the quick and heavy footfalls behind him.
"Split up!" Ace shouted as they broke out of the Foundry into the moonlight.
He ran to the left. Dwight went right. And he went as fast as his legs could carry him.
It didn't take long to realize the heavy footfalls were still coming behind him.
The manager didn't dare look back. Instead, he headed for some ruins ahead. Perhaps he could shake the Trapper in there. Behind him the footfalls were getting louder and he could almost hear the hollow sound of the heavy breathing through the mask.
That was when the red light crept into the corner of his vision.
Screaming, Dwight turned right hard. He felt the air of the swing brush his back.
He continued on. Now he could see a small opening into the broken walls of old buildings. One of the old pallets leaned against the bricks. Putting on his last bit of speed, he sprinted towards opening, ignoring the sounds behind him, and grabbed the boards and threw them down, closing the gap behind him, stumbling as he went. Looking back from the floor, Dwight finally looked back to see the Trapper recovering his balance. The boards had fallen on him. Rapid, deep grunts of anger were emitting to him and Dwight hurried to his feet.
CRASH!
The Trapper stomped on the boards, splintering them instantly. Without even thinking Dwight raised the only weapon he had: his flashlight. The Trapper advanced, weapon raised, but when the beam hit his eyes, he uttered a bark of pain and swung impulsively. Dwight dodged it and ran around behind the man. He almost lost his footing again, stumbling, the flashlight dropping from his hand. There was no time to stop and try to find it in the darkness.
He just had to run.
One more time he turned and saw the Trapper following him back through the opening. Dwight didn't need the mask to be removed to know that his pursuer was beyond furious. He was coming after him again. And when he caught up to the manager this time...
SNAP!
A trap sprung in the distance. A scream with it.
Dwight saw the Trapper stop, turning in that direction. In that moment, the four eyed former pizza delivery driver booked it for the safety of the Fog. He turned one more time to see the Trapper watching him go. Then, the big man turned and headed off into the night.
Someone was about to be in big trouble. Either Meg or Ace, unless another unfortunate fellow had wandered into the Estate. The scream had been too far to tell the sex of the person. Dwight stopped and leaned on a piece of machinery, panting. He wanted to follow the man. If Ace or Meg needed help, he wanted to help them. But, he also knew that was not always possible. Not here. Not in the Entity's world. Right now the best thing to do was to find more of the generators. That was the only way back to the Campfire.
"Psst!" A voice called. "Dwight!"
The manager turned and saw the gambler peering from behind some crates.
"Ace!" Dwight said, jogging to him. He paused. "So...that must mean..."
"Yeah, I think so," Visconti said, sighing. For once a grim demeanor was on his face. "Poor girl. Too much energy in her. Forgets to take it slow some time. But we can't do anything to her. You saw what he did to Jake, right?"
"Yeah," Dwight nodded. "Just killed him. Didn't even bother with the hooks."
Another scream suddenly pierced the night. This time, it was clearly a woman's. Meg. The scream went on for a moment before being abruptly cut off. The manager and the gambler looked at each other for a moment.
"Yeah," The gambler replied. "Seems stringing us up ain't in his plans right now."
"It's my fault," Dwight said, his voice trembling. The scream echoed in his ears. "I...I...I just wanted to save Meg. I..."
"It's not your fault," Ace shook his head. He then looked off towards where the scream had come. "It's something else. They don't ever skip the hook. They're not supposed to. I've been a thorn in more than one of their sides before and even then they've never skipped the stringing...even when I'm sure they'd love to. You know the rules here as much as they do. Something's telling him to do this."
"What do you mean?" Dwight asked. "Who?"
"I dunno," Ace shrugged. "Don't actually know if that's even the case. Just a hunch."
"What do we do now?" The manager asked. He swallowed hard and his skin was pale. "Only two of the generators are on. Without Jake and Meg, we're..."
"Forget the gens," The gambler shook his head. Then, amazingly, he grinned. "The cards may be stacked against us, Dear Leader. But Jake and I had a plan. An Ace up our sleeves, if you will."
"Ha-ha," Dwight replied, dryly. "I could almost watch you get strung on a hook."
"Night's still young," Visconti smiled. He reached into his pocket and brought out the key. Dwight had seen it before. Only once though. Many deaths ago he had held it in his hands. Before that, he hadn't even believed it existed. It had only been a rumor among his fellow prisoners. But it had been foretold in the journal, and now it was in the gambler's hand. "Ran back and snatched this while he went after you. All we gotta do is find the lock. You seen it?"
"No."
"Well, we'll just have to look for it."
The two of them set off into the Estate, ignoring all the generators that they came across. They kept low and quiet and stayed off the tall grass. Passing by the Foundry, Dwight was just able to see Jake's corpse still right by the window. He'd be back. They'd meet again at the Campfire, like always. Dwight thought he would never get used to that insane concept. He had died and had witnessed his friends dying multiple times, yet they always found each other again. Death meant nothing here. Each hike into the woods brought into another hunting grounds. More generators, more gates, more hooks, more death; all of which led right back to where they all started.
That damn Campfire.
Why did they even bother? Claudette had asked once. What was the point? Out in the woods was nothing but death. At least it was safe by the Campfire. They could stay there. Nothing forced them to go. Like death, hunger and thirst didn't exist here.
"So...what?" Ace had asked. "You just want to sit here? Eternity's a long time to spend sitting and toasting marshmallows."
"And going out there is better?" Claudette had shot back. "There's nothing out there, Ace. It just wants you to think there is so you'll keep going and those monsters can keep killing you over and over and over. No. I'm done. I'm out."
And for awhile, however long that was, Claudette had kept sincere to that stance. But, eventually, she too went out into the Fog once again. Ace was right: eternity was a long time to sit and do nothing.
"Stop," Ace spoke up suddenly, grabbing Dwight's shoulder. "I think I see it."
"Huh? Where?"
The gambler pointed. And just faintly, in the distance, Dwight saw something on the ground sparkle in the moonlight. It was the handle of the hatch.
BANG!
An explosion. It had sounded like one of the Generators. The Trapper, most likely. Working hard to prevent them from leaving.
"He's close." Dwight said, swallowing hard.
"Let's move."
The two of them hurriedly crept over to the hatch, keeping their heads down as they went. Dwight felt something metallic tap his shoulder. He saw Ace handing him the key.
"You do the honors, Dear Leader," Ace said, grinning. Dwight took the key. "I'll keep..."
SNAP!
Ace's expression did a complete 360. His grin turned into a painful scream, his sunglasses falling off his face, exposing his bulging eyes. Dwight, in shock, backed into a crate. For one horrible second, the key almost slipped out of his hand and into the dark grass.
"Open it!" Ace cried.
"Wh-Wh-What...?" Dwight stammered, his mind racing. "...r-r-right!"
He bent down and reached forward, but Ace slapped his hands away.
"Not THAT!" The gambler croaked. "THAT!" His bloody finger pointed at the hatch.
Dwight Fairfield froze for a second, again, not sure what to do. Then, when his senses came back, he dove for the hatch. It took a second for his trembling hands to force the key into the lock, but eventually it did. The lid of the hatch flung itself open and that low windy noise emitted from it: the dark call of its tunnels.
"I got it!" Dwight called. "I got it, Ace!"
He turned just in time to see the giant cleaver take Ace's head clean off. The Trapper barely hesitated as his eyes turned to him.
Then, he lunged for the manager.
With one last scream, Dwight grabbed the lip of the opening and propelled his body forward into the darkness. He felt strong hands brush the soles of his shoes, and knew he was going to die. He continued to to think so as he fell into the tunnels. It wasn't until the loud clash of the lid of the hatch banging itself shut that he realized that he had made it.
He had gotten out.