"You will live to see man-made horrors beyond your comprehension." - Nikola Tesla
Max blinked the morning blurs from her eyes. In the dark space of the bedroom, there existed the comforting, monochromatic hues of the early morning, where the sun had yet to perch itself over the mountaintop to the east, and thus basked the entirety of Arkadia in a faded shade of morning blue. From her spot on the cold wooden floor, she could see this bluish light coming from the window, bringing shapes and colors to the shadows surrounding her. Turning her head, she let her eyes adjust to the faint brightness reflecting on the sleeping bag next to her, to the mop of messy blonde hair lying near the front of the bed.
And Max watched, as a silent observer to these comforting seconds. She did not want to move; she did not want to waste this tranquil moment. She harks so vividly back to those past memories of Seattle where she'd be awake in the first stretch of the morning. The sky would transcend into a palette of colors, faded and beautiful, stretching as far as the eye could see. It reminded her of steaming cups of hot chocolate, of having the comfort of two warm jackets draped over shoulders and the nipping touch of wintertime on her nose.
But with this good, also came the bad, as she thought then of waiting for the bus at the bus stop in temperatures below forty. Where the wind would seep between the hem of her jeans and shoes to exposed shins and leave her shivering in agony. She thinks of such vibrant morning hues being drowned in sickening, bright fluorescent lights. The middle school classrooms would be so loud and obnoxious that it gave her headaches.
Alright, that's enough moping. Get up.
With a sigh, Max wormed her way out of her comfy and warm sleeping bag into the chill of the bedroom. She tip-toed on the cold wooden floor to the nearby chair and fished for her socks. Now with the ability to walk freely, Caulfield looked to the mattress, observing the tangle of blankets and pillows that made up her best friend, who was giving off a light snore.
Max smiled, for indeed some things never change, no matter how long time takes its toll.
Movement from the other sleeping bag caught her attention, and Kate rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes, taking a moment to yawn and look up to the brunette with a tired smile.
"Good morning, Max," she whispered.
"Morning," the brunette smiled back.
Stretching, Marsh rolled out of her cocoon and stood up with the most comical bedhead Max had ever seen in her life. As if that already large, fluffy bun could've been any fluffier, Kate had let her hair flow freely down to her waist, and in the faint light coming from the window the tuffs of those locks formed a fuzzy, messy halo around Kate's head and shoulders. Max quietly chuckled as her friend brushed a hand through the tangle, getting stuck on knots.
"Oh, dang-it," Kate groaned, "please tell me it isn't that bad."
"There's a bathroom next door, you should see it for yourself."
They quietly snuck out the bedroom, navigating the minimal light in the hallway to the bathroom door, placed between Chloe's room and the master bedroom.
"I'm gonna head downstairs, 'getting hungry."
"Alright, I'll be down soon," then Kate closed the bathroom door. Max turned and made her way down the stairs, slowing her steps as she heard the idle clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Then it greeted her, the wondrous smell of morning eggs and bacon and sweet, succulent pancakes—not too stifling on the nostrils, just enough to spark a renewed sense of hunger because she was suddenly starving.
The brunette swerved into the kitchen to witness Chef Joyce in her element, having fixed a mighty platter of food still steaming on some plates. The overhead kitchen light bathed everything in its white glow.
"Max, good morning, dear," Joyce greeted with a glance over the shoulder, busy with washing the last of the dishes, "go ahead and take a seat at the table, I've made your favorite."
Damn right she did.
"Thank you, Joyce," Max muttered quickly, already salivating at the mere sight of such honey-hued pancakes, as she eagerly made her way over to the table. Mr. Madsen, already in his uniform, was sat at the head with a newspaper in hand and a coffee cup in another. Noticing her, he gruffed an acknowledgment before turning his attention back to the paper, occupied in whatever article had caught his eye.
Max sat down in the chair next to him, trying to be brave, and more focused on stuffing herself full of pancakes. Hunger ruled her conscious, and she cared not for tact.
Some fleeting chatter came from the kitchen, as Joyce rounded the counterspace carrying the plate of pancakes, strutting over to where Max was seated and serving them with a warm smile. The matriarch moved gracefully for the other end of the table, reaching for her purse and keys perched upon the wooden surface.
"David, I'm off to work now, you make sure these girls get to school on time, alright?"
"Of course, hon'," and with a parting kiss, Joyce made her way to the front door. Max paid no mind to Joyce's departure, far too interested was she in trying to fold one pancake on itself with a fork and taking a savory bite into that delicious euphoria. Kate, having trekked downstairs, now came 'round the kitchen counterspace with a bowl of cereal in hand and a tidier fluff of hair. She hesitated the slightest at seeing Madsen at the table and chose to sit on Max's left, farthest from the man.
The ambience of silverware on porcelain echoed in the quiet room, yet this peacefulness lasted for only so long as the rustle of newspaper startled the girls. David had set aside his paper, and the slight frown on his face made them a bit wary as he took a sip from his mug.
"Good morning," he spoke to the both of them with a low, yet firm voice, "I hope you two got some rest."
Max paused in chewing a mouthful of pancakes, Kate set down her spoon.
"I don't mean to rush this, but I'd like to get this out of the way first: do either of you want to go back to Blackwell? I'll be leaving in a few minutes for my shift."
The two looked at each other, nodded, and Kate replied, "We'd rather not, Mr. Madsen. We're more…uhm, worried about Nathan."
"Alright," another sip from the coffee, "I understand. Do you still have that ledger?"
"Yes, it's—uhm, Max, is it—?"
Max finished wolfing down her pancake, "It's still in Chloe's room. I'll go get it."
The brunette excused herself, dashing quietly out of sight and up the stairs, leaving a now nervous Kate all alone in the presence of the big, scary bear man—
Ok, maybe that's a bit exaggerating.
If Kate was being truthful about how she felt, it was that the patriarch sitting at the helm seemed to be rather high-strung, and very protective. His constant fighting with his overly rebellious stepdaughter seemed only inevitable then, like an unstoppable force and an immovable object destined to clash with each other. And while Kate may not entirely like David, she respected him for trying to be a good parent, however much a stern man he was. She only hoped he'd let her enjoy her bowl of Honeycomb cereal in peace and not initiate an awkward conversation—
"Kate, right?" and she tensed from suddenly being in the figurative spotlight.
Oh Lord, please don't—
"...are you alright? You're shaking," he noted, and she willed her hand to stop spilling the cereal back into the bowl.
"Y-yes, I'm fine."
She shoved the spoonful of cereal into her mouth to get the point across that she was fine and not at all scared of Madsen, even as she avoided the concerned look he gave her over the rim of his mug. With another sip, he set the mug down and sighed.
"Kate," he inquired again, more adamantly this time.
She swallowed her fear along with the bite of cereal, "Yes, sir?"
He hesitated, then, "I understand that I've not made a good first impression," he started, "so, I'm sorry if you feel intimidated by me."
She didn't say anything, and David took that as a sign to continue, "I know I had been…very critical of you and Max yesterday, but I hope you can understand, I just want my stepdaughter to be safe. I know I haven't done the best job, trying to reason with her. The truth is, I don't know if she's actually doing alright, or if she is putting herself in danger whenever she's out of the house. Which is why I appreciate you and Max being her friends."
Oh man, was this awkward. Yet, she was touched by his sincerity, and her nervousness faded to a dull tug of the heartstrings. She imagined her own father in David, if only slightly.
"Chloe…she didn't have the luxury of a normal family. I'm trying to make it up for her as best I can, but it doesn't feel like it's enough. So, I thank you, Kate," he gave her a small smile, "thank you for being there for her when I can't."
Easing his eyebrows from their frowning, it seemed to Marsh then, that he was an entirely different person. Perhaps, this was what Joyce saw in the man, a side that was like a gentle giant.
She gave a smile of her own, "You're welcome, Mr. Madsen."
"Please, call me David."
"Sure thing, David."
He nursed his coffee cup again as Max's footsteps sounded from the stairs, she walked into the living room with the worn leather book in her hand. Caulfield scooted into her seat, and passed the book to Madsen, who handled it with a revitalized sense of interest.
"Is this it?"
"Yeah, that's it."
David spent the next couple minutes looking over the pages, a forlorn frown adorned his features as he took note of how many times the name Bulldog showed up in the logs. Then something else caught his attention, and with cautious bewilderment he looked to Max and Kate and pointed to the bottom part of the slip of paper.
"Why is—?"
Max knowingly snickered, and Kate indignantly groaned, rolling her eyes, "Don't worry David, we've already figured out that it's not Kate."
"Why would I even feel the need to do drugs?" Kate huffed, crossing her arms in a show.
David gave a lighthearted chuckle, then shifted the pages once more, "So, Prescott is Rottweiler."
"Yeah, he's been buying all kinds of stuff from the dealers," and Madsen suddenly stood up, and with a muttering that he'd return, he made his way towards the door leading to the garage. Kate and Max watched the open door with interest, minding the distant clatter as David reappeared, holding a manila folder and a computer in his hands. With a swift pace, he set them both upon the table, taking a seat.
"I had been conducting my own investigation into Prescott, ever since—I imagine Chloe's told you two what happened to Rachel?" he opened the laptop, turning it on.
Both girls nod.
"Right, ever since she disappeared. I figured something was unusual when she'd been last seen at a party Prescott was hosting, so I dug into it," the manila folder in his hands revealed pages of coordinates, sheets upon sheets of Nathan's personal school record, posters for parties run by the Internationale, reports by security members about Nathan's erratic behavior, Madsen even had a phone card purchased by the Prescott heir, along with printed text conversations with a dealer.
Most definitely Frank.
"I've been keeping a close eye on him, and I've gathered these coordinates based off a tracker I placed on his truck," David pointed to one of the coordinate sheets, with the highlighted numbers indicating what looked to be a license plate, that which had various coordinate numbers, expressed in latitude and longitude and with corresponding dates.
"Do either of you have a smartphone?"
Max realized that her switch phone wasn't really capable of anything beyond texting and calling, and shook her head, yet Kate pulled out what looked to be a recent model of an iPhone. As Max thought about it, she'd never seen Kate use her phone in the time she'd been investigating, let alone at all since they first met; she was completely blindsided that her friend was years ahead of her in technological capability.
Max inwardly huffed, not wanting to be rude.
"I haven't had the time to check these coordinates, but if you were to place these into a search engine—" at David's request, Kate began inputting the numbers on the phone, while David himself was typing on his computer. He paused a sec, then the frown eased a bit as he was rewarded in his efforts, "this is it."
He shifted his computer their way, and the two girls leaned in to see various markers on a satellite image of Arkadia, including the mountain range to the east and the waters of the bay to the west, the coastal highway ran from north to south and into their humble town. Such markers were placed in random locations, like the beach, or the Arkadia Park, the Blackwell parking lot, but others seemed suspicious, like the lighthouse, the entrance to the harbor, the junkyard.
But on Kate's phone, that which she placed on the table for them to see, one marker stuck out, like a ragged thorn on a lush rose. It caught Max's eye for how far it was when compared to the markers shown on the computer, so distant from the other markers, so alone.
There, to the southeast of the town, some distance from where the highway continues down to what would be Tillamook, there was a single marker.
"What's with that?" Kate asked, voicing Max's suspicions.
"I'm not sure," David said, curving his mouth into a disappointed line, "I didn't have the time to check it out recently, and even if I did, the marker is on private property, probably owned by the Prescotts."
"So you mean…?" Max woefully asked.
"It's impossible to go to wherever that is without having a good reason, otherwise it'll attract a lot of unwanted attention."
"Damn."
Max snorted at Kate suddenly swearing, David simply raised his eyebrows, as Kate frantically looked at the both of them, muttering a meek sorry and ducking her head.
"Well, that settles it," with a glance to the clock, David finished the last of his coffee and made for the kitchen to wash the mug, "We'll figure out where to go from here sometime later today, I'm due to head out. I'd like you all to stay here until I get back and keep an eye on Chloe."
"You got it, sir," Max affirmed. Kate took her phone back, carefully placing the files back into the folder whilst Max took her own empty plate, standing and following Madsen to the kitchen to partake in another feasting of pancakes. The brunette passively watched him take his security cap and keys and saunter over to the front door, as he nabbed his jacket off the coat hanger he hollered to them, "I'll be back, you two stay safe!"
"Bye, David!"
"Bye, Mr. Madsen!"
The door closed, and Max walked back over to the table where Kate was still rummaging through papers. The blonde stopped when she came across a piece David had forgot to mention. It was a drawing of sorts, much like the kind a child would make out of the whims of their imagination. But it was too perfect, its chaotic strokes were too deliberate to be that of an innocent being. Kate looked closer, and she discerned that it wasn't a mess of lines, but words, that which made up the crude, abstract illustration. She tried to decipher the scribbles—
Rachel..
Rachel..in..in the...
Rachel in the..dar—
"Hey, wanna bite?" and Max offered an exceptionally fluffy piece of pancake to Kate.
A bit surprised, Kate decided to forget the drawing, and chose to partake in the offer. She took the piece of pancake and stuffed it in her mouth, and a hum of approval followed.
"It's now ten fifty-six on this bright Thursday morning, live on K-Bay Seven News, I'm your host, Steven Smith. We'll now be bringing your attention over to the weather for today and the next coming week with our weather forecaster, Terry Jones. Terry, how's it lookin' right about now?"
A pause, "It's looking pretty swell right about now, Steve, but not so much for the next few days afterwards as this low front starts swooping down from British Columbia. As of right now temperatures are sitting at a moderate sixty degrees with lows staying well into the upper forties, but come the start of next Monday the fourteenth, things will be looking a little worse for wear as we'll be expecting some dips in the high temperatures this coming week—looking at somewhere between the upper fifties to lower forties, along with some heavy rainfall that'll be on-and-off up until Friday the eighteenth, so folks, make sure that you stay safe while driving and always come prepared for—"
The television kept muttering away at the latest weather report, yet it served no purpose other than ambience to the two girls on the sofa, having tuned out the anchor's words long before.
"I've just never had the chance to hold one, y'know?" Max said, holding the sacred object in her hands, delicately, like it would fracture to a thousand pieces if held incorrectly, "It's so…cool."
Kate giggled, "It's not that special, Max. I've seen many others with phones like mine."
"I mean, yeah, but do you think I could just ask them out of the blue, 'Hey stranger, can I hold your phone?' Like, they'd think I'm a scammer or something."
A humming, as if in thought, "I guess that's true."
"It's just a little...surreal, that these didn't exist less than five years ago."
"As a concept?"
"Yeah. It's like how in history class, they'd tell us all these innovations made by those from the past, but they never tell us much about whether those people from that time even knew—no, understood what they were living."
"You mean, what you remember from history class," Kate jested, and Max crossed her arms and blew her a raspberry in a mockery of frustration, to which the blonde chuckled heartily.
"No, but I'm serious, do you think there were people in like…the Renaissance, for example, do you think they even knew that they were in a better era than before?"
"I would assume so. The black plague occurred before then, so there ought to be at least someone who thought that they were living it better than before."
"Huh, yeah," Max handed the iPhone back to Kate, "I wonder if that'll happen to us."
Kate looked from the phone in her hands to Max, "What do you mean?"
"It's 2013, right?"
"Yeah...?"
"What would the world be like in seven years from now, in 2020? Or maybe 2025? Would it be similar, or would it be totally different?"
A pause in the conversation, as the TV's audio took precedent in the silence, "In other news, a previously peaceful gathering of protests along the east coast has developed into a series of bloody riots, the greatest of which now coalescing New York City in what looks to be a week-long turmoil for native residents. Credible sources have now confirmed that the thirty-five thousand strong NYPD will begin attempts to quell the violent protestors, but they'll have an uphill battle awaiting them there, as footage shows some rioters armed with improvised shields and hand-held weapons—"
"I don't know, Max."
The images displayed to them by the news showed a confrontation between a line of officers and a mob. A futile attempt was made to keep the crowd from pressing onwards, with streaks of colored pepper spray shot from hand-held canisters, police batons being swung at anyone who got too close. But the shield-men of the protesters, adorned with masks and caps, formed into a spearhead, and with their momentum they drove a wedge through the police line, shattering it and sending the cops into a swift retreat. The rest of the mob followed after them, hot on their heels.
"I just hope that we'll eventually see peace."
Another video was shown, and a view of Central Park took center-frame. In the distance from where the camera was, the fight between protestors and police continued unabated, but that wasn't what held the girls' attention. The foreground told of the aftermath, as many people were being attended to by field medics and off-duty medical personnel. The camera focused on a protestor, a poor soul in his twenties who had taken a terrible blow to the head. Gauze was wrapped around his temple, bloody and pulsing. His eyes were wide with a righteous anger, and though he was dissuaded by the medics surrounding him, it became clear he longed for the fight. Him, and many like him, longed for a change that could not be decided by dialogue nor the ballot. It was this that they saw in the faces of the wounded.
"Me too, Kate. Me too."
A rattle of footsteps sounded from the stairs, and they looked over the top of the couch to see a weary Chloe step into view. She almost didn't notice them: her eyes were pressed into thin lines, unused to the brightness of the day. When she did notice them, she mumbled her greeting and clumsily spun, using her momentum to propel herself into the kitchen and away from their watchful gazes.
"I gather she's not a morning person?" Kate asked.
"Oh yeah," Max assured, "For as long as I've known her, Chloe's always struggled with sleeping at the right time. It made hanging out together a bit hard when she'd be asleep all day. Cranky, too."
"Y'all better not be talkin' shit about me," came a tired yell from the kitchen.
"I'm just filling Kate in on why you prefer sunsets over sunrises," Max called back, smirking. They could hear Chloe scoff from the other end.
"Figures," Price muttered, a clang of the pantry muffled whatever grumbling she had after that.
"...do you think we should tell her what we know?" Kate whispered, more curious.
"Yeah, you're right," they stood up, turned the TV off, and then headed for the kitchen. They observed Chloe sifting through the pantry, fishing for the Fruity Pebbles in the back of the shelf, looking to the two once she pulled the sneaky box from the confines.
"What?"
"We managed to get David to help us," Max supplied.
"Oh," the bluenette set the cereal next to an empty bowl on the counter, and swung the fridge door open, in search of some milk, "that's cool," she deadpanned.
Max and Kate glanced to each other, then back to Chloe.
"We found out where Nathan's hideout is, maybe where he took Rachel."
Chloe froze as she was closing the fridge, clutching a half-empty carton of milk.
"Wait, what?" she rasped.
"We found out with David's help, that Nathan goes to this place outside of town. We don't know why," said Max, "but we think it has something to do with Rachel."
They watched the tiredness be blinked from icy blue eyes, and Chloe's entire demeanor snapped to life. In a haste, she shoved the milk back into the fridge, slamming its door shut and bolting to the stairs.
"Chloe?" Max called out, following until the bottom of the steps as Chloe stomped her way up to her room, "Chloe, where're you going?"
"To change!" Price hollered, slamming her bedroom door closed. Max dimly heard the ransacking of drawers coming from above as she looked to Kate still in the kitchen, nervously wringing her hands together, confused.
"Quick, get your coat," as Max then ambled up the wooden boards, reaching the top just as Chloe barged from her room, sliding into the bathroom with a full outfit in her arms and closing the door with a kick of the heel.
"Chloe, we shouldn't go," Max edged closer to the bathroom, "David told us it's risky to go down there without a reason, and I don't want to get ourselves in danger."
"Max, no offense to you, but fuck David," Chloe paused, changing, "If I had known that fucker knew where Rachel was, I would've beat it out of him myself," she paused to fit one of her heavy boots onto her foot, "but seeing as he's not here, I'm going with the next best option."
"Which is what, going out there without any help?" by now, Kate had come up the stairs, standing off to the side and watching Max argue with the bathroom door, "Chloe, it's too risky. What happens if Nathan decides to swing by while you're there? What if something happens to you?"
There was no response to that, except the muffled rustle of clothes being rearranged.
The door suddenly opened, startling the both of them as Chloe skidded back into her bedroom. They followed, nervously observing Price snatch something from her nightstand, a jostling of keys and something else, something slightly bulkier. Facing them, she held it up and with a slight click, a shiny silver blade popped into view.
"If Prickskott comes by, let him. It gives me all the reason to take him on, alone."
"Chloe that is a very bad idea!" Max pleaded, even as Chloe clicked the blade safely back into place, "you know he's got a gun—he'll probably shoot you first!"
"Then I won't let him," she started for the door, but Max blocked her, standing as tall as she could against her even taller friend, "Max, get out of my way."
"What kind of reason is that?!"
"Reason for what?" Chloe snapped, exasperated.
"For fighting Nathan! Then I won't let him," Max retorted, highlighting just how stupid it sounded with air quotes, "Chloe, this is—it's reckless! I won't let you go out there just to get shot by that psycho!"
"That's only if he even shows up," Chloe countered, stiff-arming Max out of her way and striding down the steps. But Max, ever determined, followed her every step of the way, beating Chloe to the front door and halting her again.
"You can't take that risk, not without Madsen, not without us—"
"I don't need your fucking help!" Chloe flared, irritated, "I need to see if Rachel's still out there, I need to see if she's still alive!"
"Chloe, please think about this—" a shy voice pleaded from behind her.
"Shut the fuck up, Kate!" she barked, and Marsh recoiled from the force, clutching the strap of her handbag for dear life, "you shouldn't even fucking be here."
"Chloe," Max bristled, "just stop. You can't do this alone, it's not gonna happen!"
"Oh really? Fuckin' watch me."
She grabbed hold of, and roughly shoved Max out of the way, opening the door.
Caulfield tried to reach her best friend from her landing on the floor, "Chloe, wait—!"
THUNK
Silence.
Max held her hand out to that closed door, as if believing she could rewind the seconds that passed, but it was in vain. Her hand curled up, and her arm dropped to her side.
A few soft-treading footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs, and slowly padded on carpet over to where Max laid. A gentle hand placed itself on her shoulder a second after.
"Come on, let's go."
Max looked up, a little miffed at Kate's change of mind, "But we can't. We shouldn't…"
"She's made up her mind, Max. We can only try to keep her safe. It's up to us to make up our minds now."
So, Kate helped her stand. Passing the sling of the photographer's messenger bag and with gentle poise, the blonde opened the door to the outside world. To their surprise, they saw Chloe's rusted truck still in its place, with its owner in the driver's seat. From behind the glass windows, Chloe clutched the steering wheel, looking visibly distressed. The punk took no notice as they walked over to the passenger side, jerking out of her reverie when Kate opened the passenger door.
"Oh, Jesus—" Price swore, curling into her seat as much as possible as Max jumped into the middle seat, Kate following right behind her and slamming the door shut. The girls fumbled their handbags down in front of their seats, reaching for seatbelts; or in Max's case, sit with her hands clasped in her lap, looking directly at the driver with a pointed stare.
"Uhm."
"Yes, Chloe?"
Price reached for her jeans pocket, stopped short, then resorted to running a shaky hand through her hair, "I'm…I'm sorry."
"For what?" Max pressed.
"I'm sorry for—for being an asshole," Chloe sighed, chin touching the hem of her t-shirt, "I didn't mean to snap at you guys, I just—"
Max gently placed a hand on the bluenette's right shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze.
"I just wanna see her so badly," she let out.
"Then we will, Chloe."
At her bewildered gaze, Max's hand intertwined with Kate's left, and did the same with Chloe's right, forming a link between the three of them.
"We'll find Rachel and take down Nathan, all of us."
That determination shone once more, bright against the shadowy doubts, and it brought a tear to Chloe's eye. Wiping it away, she slotted the keys into the ignition, and the engine rolled over and purred to life, prepared for the next adventure.
The dirt road was very uneven. Every bump sent them jostling inside Chloe's truck, as the vehicle did not have any form of shock absorption. Yet still they moved on down the path, determined. They'd gotten used to the jostling, at least: Kate held tightly to the door rest, her left hand in Max's right, keeping them together to avoid bumping into Chloe. The punk looked hardly fazed by the motions, yet Max would see her grip on the steering wheel clench whenever it became rough. Surrounding the girls since they turned off the paved coastal highway, were large, luscious pines and Douglas firs. Their trunks stood proudly from the ground up until the branches took over, vibrant with green needles for leaves.
These pines towered over them like giants, dimming what little rays of sun would venture through the forest canopy. They drove on, further into the forest.
"You see anything?"
"I don't see shit. You sure this was the right road?"
"It has to be," Max rotated her head this way and that, looking for anything beyond what they could see, "there's no other road that's this close to town that isn't specifically paved. It's gotta be this one."
"I hope you're right," said Chloe, emphasizing such as she drove over another bump in the road.
The trees were numerous and brought with them a sense of being trapped in a maze. Each tree seemed to be placed perfectly, so that they overlapped one another in a constricting view, stretching on endlessly. No matter where one placed themselves, they were always, absolutely, inevitably, surrounded by the tree trunks.
"There."
Kate pointed just beyond a curve in the road, to where they could make out the silhouette of something unlike the vertical forms of trees. They rounded the slight curve and came face to face with a structure. It was worn down and looked like it could topple with the slightest gust of wind.
An old wooden fence, two lines of horizontal wooden slats divided with vertical stakes, stretched around the entire structure's perimeter, and an opening with a rotting sign served as the entrance, the words Private Property were dimmed of their red color. As the truck inched forwards, they noticed the tire tracks, distinguished by the snaking lines of churned mud amongst the overgrown grass. The tracks guided them to the building—a barn—and Chloe shut off the engine.
"This is it."
"Are you sure, Max?"
"It's gotta be it, Kate. Look, you guys see that?" Max pointed to a pole next to the barn, a few cables ran the length between the two structures and disappeared into the ground.
"It's abandoned, yet there's some cables, right there. They're running power to this place."
"Even though it looks like it'll topple any second," Chloe wondered, "this is hella sus'."
Chloe opened her door, and the two others did the same, leaving their bags. Together they exited the truck and cautiously made their way to the dilapidated structure. There came with the biting gusts of cold air a sense of discomfort, something that settled in their stomachs and made them slightly hunch their shoulders. Max suddenly realized—there was no noise. No birds sung from within the trees, no planes were droning overhead, even though it was prime time for flying.
There was nothing but the sound of wind and slight treading of shoes on grass.
Mammoth hinges, rusted but still strong, held the rotting wooden entrance in place. A single tug by Chloe made it clear that they were locked tight, and unless they risked ripping the hinge off, it would be obvious to Prescott that someone had found his hiding spot.
"Check the sides, maybe there's some way in."
Chloe quickly skirted to the right, Max and Kate circled left; the two shorter girls weaved through some haybales sitting idle to the barn's left side. Walking up to the side of the barn, Max placed a hand against the wavy aluminum sheet metal that still held, dented in some places, yet mostly marred by the rays of the sun.
"Max, over here!" came a call further down the side.
Sprinting past a large stack of haybales, Max caught sight of Kate and Chloe. The bluenette had come from all the way around, apparently finding nothing on her side nor the back, and was helping Kate try to pull a loose metal sheet aside. They gripped the edge of this piece of metal, careful to not cut themselves.
"You ready?"
"Yeah, let's do it!"
Together, they moved the aluminum sheet aside, creating an entrance big enough to crouch through. With a beckoning wave, Chloe crawled her way in, then Kate, and Max followed afterwards, her eyes adjusting to the dimness within the dusty interior.
Idly brushing the dirt from their sleeves, the girls looked to the cluttered expanse of the barn's interior, totally unexpected compared to its exterior. There were thick, reinforced wooden supports standing valiantly in equal distance between each other in each corner, supporting the terrace above them in tangent with the dimensions of the barn. Wooden pallets created individual stalls for storage on the ground floor, and in some of those spaces were troves of hay, in others were miscellaneous farm tools. In the center, there was the open space where one would place their car or truck, and the light that filtered through the cracks of the walls fell on that open space.
In one of the barn stalls closest to them on their right, there was a lone wooden chest, sitting forlornly under a small shelf strewn with used oil lamps and wax candles.
Max's curiosity got the better of her, so she crouched and tested to see if the chest was unlocked, pulling at its upper lip. With a bit of strain, she lifted the lid and looked to the contents—a plethora of shadows greeted her.
"Anyone got a light?"
Kate fished out her phone, a light shone from it a second after and was directed into the chest, revealing artifacts. Some were small and some cumbersome in design. There were also documents, letters on aged yellowish paper, and what caught Max's eye was the first one on the top which showed that it was the deed to the property under a familiar name.
"Henry Aaron Prescott…" Max read, "…this must be where Nathan's family settled way back when."
Chloe crouched beside her, reaching in and taking what looked to be a quill, its tip was spotted in dried black ink. Placing it back in, she snatched an olden pocket watch, its small chain a dulled bronze and a weathered, dirty frame encapsulated the watch face.
Its hands were stuck at one minute to twelve o'clock.
"Buncha' weird shit in here, alright," Chloe placed the watch back where she found it and stood, wanting to explore another part of the barn. Max followed after, replacing the papers she'd shuffled through and closing the chest. The brunette and the timid blonde moved past the other storage stalls, finding nothing of note besides a run-down shell of a tractor and a tall, portable toolbox.
"Hey, guys, check this out!"
Max and Kate looked up to the walkway above them, to where Chloe smiled with impish glee down from the railing, pointing to the opposite corner they entered from, "There's a ladder over there, it'll take you up. Come on, there's gotta be something good here!"
They obliged, navigating past a heavy support beam to where Kate's light shone on the ladder that was bolted onto one of the palettes, with an opening atop. Max reached for the rungs, but a grip on her arm stopped her, and she turned to Kate, "What? What is it?"
"Look."
Marsh pointed to something next to the ladder, unseen in the darkness but prominent when under her light. It was a single light switch, with a tangle of wires that curled up the palette and went off to a corner of the barn. Edging closer, Max reached out a hesitant hand, and flicked the switch. A lone light bulb turned on above them, bathing the corner in its yellow-orange glow.
"Huh, it works."
Kate turned her phone light off and froze, eyeing something on the floor. She crouched to get a better look at it, catching Max's attention. In the mess of hay bits and dirt, there was a cleared spot on the ground where a knot of rope was tied to a metal loophole. Brushing the dirt away revealed that it was a lock to a metal hatch, one that had something buried underneath it.
"Is that a hatch?"
"It looks like it. I'm not sure."
"Not sure about what?" Chloe asked, as she dropped down from the opening above them, confused to their discovery. Upon seeing the knot blocking their way, Price pulled the switchblade from her pocket and readied the knife.
"Wait, wait! What if he notices? We shouldn't cut it."
"Okay, well, how else are we gonna get down there?"
Max looked around blindly, hoping for something in sight that could help her protest, but nothing stuck out.
Scoffing, Chloe held the rope taut and cut at it with the blade, in a few seconds she tore the knot apart and cleared it. Finding a slight grip on the hatch, Chloe heaved; Max and Kate joined her in pulling the metal up. With a clang, the metal door swung out, then dust kicked up and sent them to a coughing fit.
There was a flight of concrete steps, leading down to a corridor. A line of wire ran along the wall of this corridor, and lights lit the entire passage in a cold, fluorescent blue hue. This corridor extended beyond what they could see, farther down into the unknown.
The girls looked to each other, wondering who was daring enough to venture into such a cold and unforgiving place.
"Fuck it, I'm going in."
So, Chloe led first. With her knife in hand, she made her way down, as Max and Kate brought up the rear. This hallway went on for fifty paces, then turned left. Rounding the corner, the girls confronted a giant blast door. It was shiny like stainless steel and had a gear wheel, like those one would see on the vaults of banks in the center of its frame, and off to the blast door's side was a small number pad.
Chloe swore under her breath, "Shit's locked down, whatever Nathan's up to, it's in there."
"We'll need to guess the code for it," Max noted the three lights on the pad, signifying the three numbers needed. From the haze of the light, she could see a few numbers on the pad were more used than the rest.
"How many times can we chance it before we trip an alarm or something?"
"I'm…not sure."
"You better guess right Max," Chloe urged, "or else shit's gonna go sideways."
Max hovered her index finger over the three weathered number keys, a slew of potential combinations flooded her mind and left her doubtful, indecisive. With a sigh, she settled on one option, inputting the numbers.
2-4-5
A single beep sounded, then nothing.
"…did it work?" Kate nervously asked.
Chloe tried to spin the wheel this way and that, straining herself even though it didn't budge. Annoyed, she kicked the door with her boot.
"Nope, fuckin' nothing."
"Lemme try again."
5-4-2
Beep-beep-CLUNK
Startled, they watched as the wheel slightly rotated by itself, then Chloe latched on and turned it, spinning it further counterclockwise before pulling. Unresisting, the massive steel door opened, revealing a poorly lit entry room.
"Kate, light."
The light flicked on after a second, illuminating a shroud of translucent tarps and some packaged foodstuffs. Canned food, boxes full of them lined the wall and sat atop shelves, dusty from lack of use. Opposite to them, there was a large sink with three faucets that ran the length of the opposite wall, lit by a single fluorescent bulb just above it. The girls inched slowly past the threshold, carefully walking towards the sink past the shelves. There was an opening to the left of the sink, a double-piece tarp shielded the contents from their sight except for the bright light coming from within.
"Here we go, now."
Chloe pushed the two tarps aside, moving quickly into the room.
Max followed, eyeing the printer that was to their immediate right. A computer monitor sat on a stylish desk just ahead of them, and cabinets lined the corner behind it and all the way to where the printer was. These cabinets extended along the opposite wall until reaching a vertical shelf, which held various trinkets. In the middle of the room was a leather couch, in front of which stood a rectangular glass table with a single bottle of liquor. Beyond the table and flanked by studio lights along with various cameras mounted on tripods, there was a pale white background canvas lining a section of the floor and going vertically up the wall to a large roller.
There existed absolutely no noise beside the shuffling of shoes and the muffled hum of the lights above, that which lined the black geometric squares of the ceiling above.
"Max, check the computer over there," Chloe shuffled to the end of the cabinets, exploring the insides to see if they had anything useful. Max took heed and sat down in the office chair, turning on the desktop. It was unlocked and didn't require a password. Kate meanwhile chose to walk about the silent room, shivering from more than just the cold. Paintings lined the wall to the left of the tapestry, the haunting eyes of their mutilated and gored subjects looked down upon them with a sinister glee. It felt true to say that they were the proverbial mice in the cage, with eyes watching their every move.
A single folder in the center of the desktop piqued Max's interest, clicking on it brought up a bunch of files and another subfolder, titled Subjects. Clicking on the first file revealed it as a receipt by a construction company she'd never heard before, confirming the price of building the bunker they were in. Eyebrows rose as the brunette saw the number of zeros on the page, counting to the millions. What worried her more was the name behind the money.
"Hey guys, listen to this: This is a bunker paid for by Nathan's father, Sean Prescott. They started building it in spring of 2007, finished it by the summer of 2009 due to delays in construction. Close to two million dollars went into it."
"Hot damn, anything else?" A clang sounded as Chloe shut another of the cabinet doors closed.
"No, just a bunch of legal documents, and—"
cli-click
"…what the hell?"
"What, what is it?" forgetting the cabinet just behind them, Chloe leaned beside Max to see what was wrong. In the sub-folder Max had clicked on, there were even more folders, each with a name. Max counted at least twenty of them, all dating back from the fall of 2009, right up to the present day, the most recent being almost a week ago.
Panic set in as the both of them looked at the names of the two most recent folders.
"There—there ain't no fuckin' way," Chloe muttered, scared. Ice blue eyes dilated to pins, and she took the mouse from Max and hovered it over the folder titled, 'Rachel'.
cli-click
Two pairs of blue eyes widened in mute shock.
"Wh-what the fuck—!?"
"What, what is it?" Kate asked worriedly, having moved behind the monitor, though not wanting to see it herself.
"Oh Christ, I'm gonna hurl—!" and Chloe just backed away, moving to lean off the top of the couch and trying her hardest not to lose herself to sickness. Max was sat still, for she couldn't stop looking at the images of Rachel, bound and completely out of it, posed in various intentional positions. It was a photoshoot, with each picture edited with a greyscale. One stood out amongst the rest: a high angle shot of Rachel in the junkyard, lying unconscious in a shallow pit, a shovel lied just out of the frame.
On top of her, also unconscious, was Nathan.
It could not be. It simply could not be. This was beyond even their wildest suspicions up until now, for they had been so assured by the prince's intentions. But how could it be Nathan, when he himself is one of the subjects? Did he do this to himself, for the sake of the photoshoot? Did he really edit these photos—?
How could he have done all this alone, with no help?
There was a buzzing in Max's mind, nervously did she run a hand through her bob of brown hair. Looking at the image title, her heart began to beat even faster.
"Chloe."
"What?" came a reply, strained through clenched teeth.
"These aren't digital pictures…they're scans."
Blue hair flicked over to her again, an intense gaze scrutinized Max carefully, beckoning her to speak anything but the horrifying truth.
"What?"
"These pictures were put through a printer, scanned, and saved onto the computer," Max stood from the chair and slowly stepped back, bumping into the closet behind her. She turned, eyeing the plain black cabinet like she'd discovered the end of their plight. With a huff, Caulfield swung the door open.
Binders. Dull, crimson red binders.
Scores of them, lining the shelf space from top to bottom. Only one shelf at eye-level wasn't at full capacity. There lied naught but two binders, their necks lined with a white paper label just like the rest.
"Max, what are those?" a nervous, timid voice sounded behind her.
Caulfield reached for one of the two binders. Opening the cover, she encountered the same terrible images as those on the computer, the same poses and terrifying expressions, the only difference being the subject. Terror gripped her heart.
"I…I don't know, Kate."
Max turned and set the open binder on the desk. She couldn't handle seeing it anymore.
Hands, small and shaking, rotated the binder on the surface, and a horrible gasp sounded as Max eased herself into the office chair behind the desk.
"I don't remember this," it sounded like the shaking blonde was trying to convince herself more than the two with her, "why—why can't I remember this?"
"It happened right around the time you went to that party. On Friday," Max realized, "Nathan must've drugged you, and took you here."
Goosebumps bloomed on chilled skin.
"He did the same with Rachel six months before that."
Chloe was pacing, growling, clenching and unclenching fists. Anything to contain the pain. She stomped over and took the lone binder on the shelf, flicking through the unbearable tugging of heartstrings to find a sign that it couldn't be true, it couldn't be true—
"He killed her."
Max looked up at the computer screen, seeing the image of Rachel in that shallow pit of earth.
She saw those tired, lifeless eyes, empty.
Dead.
"He buried her in the junkyard."
A gnarled scream tore from Chloe's throat as she flung the binder to the floor, and it bounced off the tile and ended up closed, unmoving. The bluenette doubled over, falling to her knees, and tried to speak through raw, choking sobs. Max slowly stood from her spot and walked over to the wailing husk. Crouching, she pulled her grieving friend into an embrace.
A/N - Dunkelkammer - German, "Darkroom"