Chapter 3
Dean looked around the room at the faces there. From the preacher in the corner, his eyes closed. His hands wrapped tightly around the crucifix around his neck, silently mumbling to himself. A small group had formed around him. Five people: two old women stylishly dressed in cocktail dresses and jewelry that sparkled brighter than the stars above; a young timid Latino girl in a black waistcoat and bow tie. He had noticed her before at the party, just as he remembered seeing the two old gals. Though, then he had found himself distracted at the sight of her; of her olive skin and shiny long black hair. She was pretty, just as Tracy. But she had an air of innocence around her that seemed long lost from Tracy. But now he only stopped just long enough to acknowledge her presence and the expression of fear in her face; before moving on.
He remembered the next face in the semi-circle. But he wouldn't have guessed the guy to be the religious type. He was around his age, light blonde hair and blue eyes that had never failed to stray off from the beautiful girl in his arm. He looked so confident and smug at the ball, yet now…!
He remembered all of them; all the faces in the room. They had all been there at the mansion. All of them had been with him in the ballroom, apart from the valet who was outside. He hated to call them the only survivors of the night. He hoped there would have been others to whom the night had been more fortunate. But he didn't linger too long in that thought, as flashes of memories flooded his mind.
He closed his eyes and rested his head once more against the wooden walls of the cabin. Trying to will away the images that filled his thoughts. But they refused to leave. So he allowed it to wonder back further.
"Dean!" Tracy's voice echoed in his ears.
However, he ignored it.
He was walking through the room, his eyes falling on the decorations and artifacts that occupied its space.
'What the hell was this place?' he thought just as he felt a hand on his arm.
He turned around only to come face to face with Tracy. She was staring at him. But there was something in her face he couldn't just pick up. Her eyes flickered around the room. Though, barely did they rest on anything there for long. He saw her face twist and her mouth almost fall. The tenseness that was there before lost for just a few seconds.
"Dean, we need to leave now" she said, turning back towards him. She was still holding on to his arm.
She started making back towards the door dragging him behind her. There was not much force in her gentle touch but he never resisted.
They made once more up the stairway.
Dean's focus shifted from the way up, to the door behind him below.
However, he followed her up to the upper door and back into the corridor.
"I got him and I am coming out" he heard her say.
"We need to move fast" she said as she continued to drag him down the corridor. He wasn't sure to whom she meant that.
There was nothing there in the corridor itself to tell him something was wrong. Things look exactly the way he remembered when he was walking down it before. But while the grace was still there, there was also a sense of urgency in Tracy's step.
They had just reached the stairway when the overly bright room went completely dark.
Standing in the darkness with Tracy's hand on his arm, he realized something he had completely missed before, or he must have. There didn't seem to be any windows along the walls. No light falling from the full moon outside. He suddenly remembered the arches outside with the spotlights tucked into them.
Dean looked around him but it was of no use. There was nothing he could see or make out. A thick veil of blackness fell all around them.
And then they both heard it.
A blood curdling scream echoed through the corridor.
Dean reflexively went for his gun and for his torch, underneath his coat.
Tracy went for neither as they already were held ready in her hands.
'Was she holding her gun all this time?' Dean wondered for some reason.
Tracy flashed light in his face and he had to turn away; shielding his face with his hand. But he managed a sideways glance at her and nodded in acknowledgment.
She then started making towards the stairway, her gun and torch held before her ready for whatever lay ahead.
"Are you ok?" he heard a voice next to him and he opened his eyes.
He turned to find a pair of blue eyes staring at him from under a thick head of bright blonde hair. It took him time to realize to whom they belong and that he was back in the present again.
"Well, as ok as you can be given everything" the guy continued turning towards the window next to them.
"Yeah," Dean said.
"Are they still out there?" Dean asked, looking over the valet sitting next to him, towards Trevor, who was kneeling next to the window. He turned with a look of absolute calm in his face, but with his AR-15 clutched tight across his body.
"Never moved" Trevor said "actually, he hasn't moved at all. If I didn't know better I'd say it was just a statue." He continued, turning back towards the window.
He wasn't surprised by what Trevor said. He had no trouble picturing the sight. Not just from a few minutes before when he had seen him staring back after he had tripped. But from a memory that flashed across his memory of another that had stood against the backdrop of similar crooked trees. Yet it was in a different setting and from a different time. He had reacted differently that time. Then again the circumstances were also different and his frame of mind was completely different.
He had moved back against the wall, resting his head against it. The hard paneling felt soothing and cool against his body.
"What are those things?" Brian their valet asked but no one answered. Dean thought he knew but he kept it to himself.
The minute his eyes closed, his mind drifted back towards the dark stairway. To the screams and shouts that filled the air, as they made their way down slowly.
They were traveling, following the small dot of light that fell from their torches. It was slow going, as each step had to be carefully placed. It felt like an eternity had passed, before they were finally at the bottom of the stairway.
He could picture people running everywhere in panic. He could hear, in the distance, their footsteps, erratic and fast; hear the clutter of falling tables and trays. He could hear them climb over each other as they tried hopelessly to find their way out.
He doubted anyone of them knew what was going on or where they were going.
He had no doubt that they were in as much darkness as he was. But he could understand their panic. The darkness, while shielding them from reality, actually worked against them with all the sounds that surrounded them.
He could hear the reasons for their panic, the sounds.
Tracy had stopped when they reached the bottom of the floor. At first it was just to search the floor around them. But then she had turned the beam of light towards the doorway and the heavy oak doors that lay hanging wide open. He didn't want to think what could have done it. Then the light fell down on the floor ahead of them and he was certain he didn't want to know.
"We're going to be alright, right" another voice rose breaking the silence and rousing him from his thoughts.
The latest culprit was a dapperly dressed gentleman with salt and pepper hair. All the class and sophistication that was there before was all gone as his body trembled as hard as his lips.
"I mean there were event security. They must have called in help when things got bad right?" he asked and looked around him but no one responded.
Trevor looked away from the window and towards the rest of them but said nothing.
Dean opened his eyes and looked across the room at Tracy, who was also staring back at him. They didn't say anything just stared at each other. But then Dean didn't need to know what Tracy was thinking. He could guess just what it was. He could also guess her reasons for choosing not to give words to them. The last thing they wanted was to take any sense of hope away.
Dean turned towards Brian who was busily staring down at his own hands. He wondered if it was just a reflex or if he was trying to find the traces of blood that he had cleaned off his face.
Dean knew the valet was fully aware of what was out there. But he showed no signs of revealing anything. He was glad. He remembered how they had found him, crawled into a fetal position muttering to himself. Fortunately it was he and Tracy who had found him. So none of the others heard what he was saying. But now, at least he had recovered enough not to blurt out what he saw.
Dean feared what it would do to everyone there.
Brian moved on from staring at his hands to burying his head between his legs.
Dean turned away from Brian and towards Trevor. Trevor stared back at him and then turned his attention back out towards the window, and to the man dressed in the black tux, earpiece and dark shades.
