Chapter 2 – It's Just a Spark
Meg wasn't the only one to wander around in the woods. The others did too, but they were cautious, afraid of meeting a killer down the path. It was possible since the only safe place in the Fog for them was the Campsite, but Meg felt less dead when she risked the little safety that was left for them.
She would think about that sometimes, how the situation they were in had to be the afterlife. Thinking about it, really thinking about it, it was obvious they were dead and stuck in a twisted purgatory. That was why they called the encounters with the killers trials. If they were good, they could go back to safety and rest. If they were bad, they would be condemned and sacrificed, then tortured by the claws of a somber being, so malignant that the memory of dying on the hook made her want to throw up.
She made her way back to the fire after seeing the Trapper's face for the first time. She wasn't in a hurry, knowing well that he would never follow her, just as he never did when facing her in a trial. It didn't mean that he was the only killer around. Once she spotted the Ghostface lurking behind a tree as she collected some herbs for an offering. As soon as she caught sight of him, she sprinted toward the Campsite without even looking back. All the while, she could feel his anxious gaze following her. That was the only time she saw a killer outside their properties, and she was the only one to ever see one among her peers. She made sure they understood that the survivors weren't as safe as she would make them think. Meg was fast and witty. Not everyone's strong suit.
"There you are, kid," Bill said as he worked on a toolbox, getting it ready for the next time he went to a trial. "I was almost getting a search party ready to go looking for you." His voice was relaxed, which made her think that he was only teasing and that he trusted she would be back safely.
"No need, old man. I'm back, and exhausted."
Bill smiled kindly to her. He was hard on the outside and rarely showed emotions, but somehow, he was fond of her, a sentiment that Meg welcomed since having a parental figure to lean on was a relief from all the suffering they had to endure in that place.
As she passed by him and the others, Meg thought of commenting about the encounter with the Trapper but felt too tired to talk, all she wanted to do was to let herself fall into the fake comfort of her sleeping bag. In the Fog, they didn't sleep, instead they fell into an uncomfortable type of trance, where their bodies healed, but their minds became more and more fragmented, as they lost a little bit of themselves every time they closed their eyes to rest. It was another way the Entity had to torture them. If they were thrown into a trial, they felt exhausted after, no matter the result, so they had to rest, and by resting, they lost their memories of before, and who they once were became just a distant dream, little by little.
Meg closed her eyes already knowing how it was going to be, so she fixed the image of her mother in her good days on the wall of her memory. She tried to hold on to it, hoping she wouldn't be the one to vanish from her mind this time. As the darkness clouded her head, Meg focused more and more on her mom's smile, the way her hair fell around her shoulders when she leaned forward to cook Meg's favorite food that she no longer recalled what it was. That time, though, it all seemed a little different, because instead of feeling the loss, like she was missing something, Meg felt a jolt inside her brain, and images that she had never seen before started to pass through her eyes. There was a house, and a lake. Mountains too. A long road lined with trees. A dark room illuminated only by blue orbs that floated as a man tried to catch it, and then a big blinding light followed by a loud bang in her ears. She sat straight at once with her eyes wide open.
"What happened?" She asked anyone that may be around in a reflex. Her voice was hoarse and strained. She could feel her heart pound in her chest.
"Meg?" Claudette called from the fire where she tried to decide which items she should put in her med kit.
Meg got up and walked the few steps between the sleeping bag and the log where she sat. There were other survivors around as well. Bill still worked on his toolbox, guided by Dwight now. Kate and David talked on the other side of the fire, while Jake slept just beside Meg's sleeping bag. The others were either in a trial or in the woods, looking for items and offerings, anything that could help them win.
"What's wrong? You just went to sleep." Claudette asked as she sat by her side.
Meg scrubbed her eyes, trying to make sense of the things she had just seen.
"I don't know, actually." The young woman frowned at Meg, with a pack of bandages in her hands. "Do you ever dream in this place, Claud?"
Claudette looked away trying to remember a time when dreams were real. Then she shook her head, seeming surprised. Meg wondered if she was more surprised by never having dreamed in that place or the fact that they had never discussed that before.
"I really don't. But I think this is natural since we don't really sleep, do we?" Meg denied it with a shake of her head. "Why do you ask?"
"I…," Meg started to say but then questioned if she should, after all, a new memory that was all hers was both a concern and a pleasure, just for the secrecy of it. "I don't know, I've been having a bad time letting go of my memories lately. The process is harder each day."
That, Claudette had no arguments against, so she simply nodded and murmured an amen as she went back to fixing her med kit.
Meg felt bored, still tired, and immensely confused. Her head turned back to the trail that led to killers' realms as she wondered what else she could find there. There was no time to explore, however. The whispers that announced a new trial sounded in her ears. She let out a deep breath and went to find a flashlight she could use in the trial.
It was a good day for Evan, if he allowed himself the treat of putting on his rose-colored glasses. He had three sacrifices and only one escape. The Entity was satisfied enough to let him rest for now. No twisting the metal bars, no burning his skin, no marring his face. He even had an interesting encounter. The red-headed girl had come so close to his property that he could hear her gasp. It was nice to have something out of the ordinary to break the monotony of that hell. The only thing that bothered him was the sound she made when she saw his face without the mask. She sounded horrified. Evan would never let that feeling come to the surface in full force, but he recognized it as disappointment.
He agreed with her, though. He did look hideous. Once he was a good-looking man, as he vaguely recalled. His face was smooth, and he liked to shave as closely as he could, so he would always have that clean appearance. Evan knew he would catch the eyes of the daughters of the miners who worked under him, and it filled him with pride. It was a shame that his father would beat it out of him whenever he witnessed a scene like that. He would say that Evan was made to be a businessman like him, not a common worker, so he should find a suitable young woman to marry, not a nobody like those girls.
The memory of it, one of the few still fresh in his mind, angered Evan. He could've been happy with one of those girls. Instead, he became a killer, disfigured, turned into a beast whose highlight of his existence was meeting an enemy on the outskirts of his property. Evan threw his cleaver and mask with too much force on the table at the thought of that, of her.
He let himself fall onto his cot, knowing well that resting in that demonic place meant more torment but at least was something to do.
That time things were weird. Weirder. There weren't the reruns of his worst memories passing behind his eyelids, but new images, things he thought he had never seen before. He saw a lake and soft waves washing the shore. More than just seeing, he felt the cold wind on his bare arms and looked up to see that the mountains on the other side of that giant lake had snowy tops. Then he looked back and saw a two-story house facing the lake. It was beautiful and rustic, and on the balcony stood a man. He had smart eyes and a sarcastic grin. It was only a dream but he seemed to look directly at Evan. His fingers tapped on the railing as he was impatiently waiting for something. A loud bang sounded behind Evan, and he turned at once to see someone appear on the shore. The person coughed and shivered, wet from head to toe. He squinted his eyes, trying to discern who that was. It was her.
He woke up and ran his hand on his face. He could feel the scars on his cheeks and chin pull up as he grimaced. What kind of disturbed dream was that? He was sure he had never lived that scene before, so what was the Entity's point in showing it to him? He knew that he would only dream of his past as the Entity slowly stole the memories from him, leaving him an empty shell of a killer.
He sat up, feeling uneasy and still very tired. It was just in time for the whispers to start to fill his ears. A new trial was only minutes away and he had to prepare.
Evan put on his mask to become the killer once more. He knew that the survivors called him the Trapper, so he made sure to own it. He packed his traps in a big bag, big enough to fit one trap more than usual. He even used a special coil to make them more dangerous. The survivors would suffer extra damage this time when trying to disarm the traps. He did it all without any contentment or resentment. He did it because he had to. Simple as that.
When the whispers were so loud he could not hear himself think, the Fog engulfed him and transported him and his traps to an alternate version of the MacMillan State. It was silent and calm when he could see his surroundings again like it always was at the beginning of a trial. He grabbed his cleaver tight in one hand and the bag with the other, scanning around to find the perfect spots to arm the traps. One by one he placed them all, and by the time he heard the click of the last trap being set, the first generator lit up. He sighed and headed that way.
The first to step into a trap was the old man who seemed to have an unbeatable smoking habit. He breathed loudly, so easy for Evan to find him. It was almost comical if he stopped to think about it, which he never did. Evan chased another survivor while the man tried to rid himself of the trap's bite. In the corner of his eye, he saw the red-headed girl trying to help him, and a scream echoed through the place when she finally freed her fellow survivor at the cost of her health.
Silly girl, Evan thought, never distracting himself from the survivor in front of him. It was a new one, a boy he had never seen before. He was athletic and led Evan away from the injured, but it was useless because it didn't take too long for Evan to catch up with him and slash his back open, and then down him with a second hit.
With the superhuman strength granted by the Entity, he hooked the young man and didn't waste any more time, hurrying to the place where he knew there was an unarmed trap. When he got there, he saw a true task force to heal the old man and he could only feel satisfaction pouring into his chest. If they were all busy healing him, then no one was working to free them from that hell. They had made it too easy for him this time. The first hit downed the smoker, the second wounded another survivor he didn't know, a girl. His wish was to land the third one on the red-headed girl, but it was too late, she had already disappeared. And he never saw her again for the duration of the trial, but he knew she wasn't hiding, but working in silence, walking around his traps, away from him.
By the time the third survivor had been killed by the Entity, Evan was exhausted. Not physically though, for all the strength and stamina he needed the Entity made sure to give him in abundance. He felt mentally drained. The end of a trial was the worst.
He patrolled the exit gates back and forth looking for her. Then again, and again. The hatch was still open, which could only mean that she hadn't found it yet. So he went to look for it and maybe have a chance to stop her before she reached it first. But did he really want to do it? Wasn't part of their game to challenge the Entity as the girl escaped?
It didn't matter because he soon found the hatch to close it, but not a sign of the survivor. He thought that she would keep their tradition of acknowledging each other at the exit gate, so he went back to patrolling the exits. Still, no sign of her. His impatience grew with every second until he was done waiting.
Evan headed to the corners of the property where he hadn't patrolled yet, looking inside closets or behind walls. It wasn't until he saw a glimmer in the distance that he finally found her.
The red-headed girl stared at the bright light like it was the most wonderful thing she had ever seen. She was paralyzed, entranced. Evan got close to her, but still, she didn't turn to look at him. He knew she could sense his presence somehow, but she didn't move or react. It was so easy for him to just end the trial right there and finally have some rest, but something grounded him there. He looked at her the way she looked at the light.
She wore a blue sleeveless shirt with Thomas written on the back above the number fourteen. Evan had never seen that kind of outfit outside the Entity's realm, so he thought the girl had come from the future, where women could wear other clothes than only dresses and skirts.
"Thomas," he whispered underneath his mask. It was the only thing capable of making her look at him, so he knew it had to be her name.
Her eyes focused on him, searching for his stare under the mask. She didn't look afraid nor especially interested in him and without any emotion, she said, "You speak."
"You're not afraid?" His voice came out low and hoarse.
He waited for a sarcastic comment, teasing him for being a bad killer. He had heard others provoking him at the exit before, so why wouldn't she do the same? But she didn't. The girl looked back at the light and simply shook her head.
Evan for the first time analyzed the source of the light the way she was doing, he even stepped closer, standing a foot away from the girl. It appeared to be a rip on the fabric of reality, like someone had cracked the curtains just a little so all the sunlight came in from that tiny rift. It wasn't particularly appealing to him, but Evan recognized it from his dream. That odd dream, where new memories were made. If he understood it correctly, all it would take for him to be by that lake surrounded by the snowy mountains was to touch it. Simply reach his hand forward and touch the rift. Before he moved, though, the girl's hand raised, her fingers almost brushing the source of light.
"Touch it," he said and watched as she jumped and retrieved her hand, surely not expecting him to be so close. "Touch it and you will be free. I'm sure of it."
The girl turned to look at him, and for the first time she seemed impacted by his presence.
"Free? What do you mean?"
He bent his neck to look at her from above. The height difference was very obvious now, and he wondered if she didn't fear him not even a little.
"I've seen it in a dream. We were both elsewhere, away from here."
"You can't hear it speak? I can't touch it. it tells me that I can't."
"Hear what?"
"The whispers."
Evan tried to listen but was met with absolute silence. His breathing through the mask was the only sound there.
He shook his head and repeated, "Touch it."
The girl turned back to the light and hesitated, so he thought of pushing her toward it. But why he was so concerned about her? He should be thinking of his freedom. So he got around her and without looking back he reached for the light and felt his entire body being pulled starting from his fingertips to his toes. It was fast and painful, as he felt all the metal that emerged from his skin being yanked away, and his arms, chest and face felt on fire. But it was fast. So fast that he thought he had imagined it all. The coldness of the water was the next thing he felt. That was when he knew he was free.
