While it was taking unusually long for the fog to roll in, the four survivors lapped up every second of freedom by the campfire, doing their best to ignore the exponential knot of dread within them. It was in these sparse moments of peace where they struggled to remember what it meant to be a normal human again, each constantly watching out for danger as they timidly spoke to one another around the fire.
Jake taught them how to unhook themselves and also delved into the art of sabotaging hooks, while warning of the strange resetting of them once disarmed for too long. They each stared at him in awe and wonder, thinking he was nuts but in all the best ways because he wasn't afraid to test the extremely dangerous waters for them. Who knew there would be pioneers and trendsetters in this nightmare, teaching them new concepts that in turn boosted their efficiency greatly.
Then Claudette discussed her theory surrounding the purple cloth, standing and giving a somewhat formal presentation on her hypothesis before tossing the thing into the fire, declaring that if they all started together in the upcoming trial then her point shall be proven true.
Something about the various discussions happening around the campfire made Meg feel warm inside, slipping a smile onto her lips. It was a very miniscule spark of happiness but the shadowy cloud of despair was far too cumbersome to let her fan the flame of those subtle, amiable moments with the others. She knew that as soon as the fog came it would be back to hearing the people around her screaming and crying as they desperately fought for their lives. The never ending bloodshed, the ravaged flesh all wrapped around glaring blades and the paralyzing fear… every degrading image of the previous trials flashed through her, making Meg's smile falter suddenly.
As if being the secret cause of the horrible thoughts taunting her, Meg could see slightest amount of fog impeding on her peripherals.
The lightheartedness was wiped away in an instance. They all stood stiff like boards, hands clenched in nervous fists with everyone's quickened breathing creating a rhythm of anxiety that aroused the fog closer… closer…
As it crawled up Meg's body, she wondered if this would ever get easier, truly debating whether there was an end to all of this. They were approaching the third trial… How many more would there be after this? Was this pain an eternal one or was there a way to escape the torture?
The fog began to fade, exposing her skin to the sweet feeling of sunlight that instantly warmed its bloody surface. Her heart hitched, genuinely believing for a split second that this could be their release back into the real world.
But it ended as soon as the reeking miasma of death circled through her senses, nearly halting the breath from breezing through her nose. The stench was so thick and potent that Meg dry heaved on the spot, kneeling over with a hand cradling her stomach, the other hovering over her mouth in anticipation of projectile vomiting.
"Well the cloth worked." Came Dwight's tired voice from behind Meg, who could only focus on not hurling her guts up rather than the success of Claudette's theory. "And that smell is fucking terrible."
A hand gently caressed Meg's shoulder, causing her to momentarily look up and find Claudette standing worriedly beside her. "You'll be okay," She assured the redhead quietly. "It's coming from… that."
Meg looked in the opposite direction, spotting a harrowing sight which she immediately jolted away from. It was a towering, winding tree with far reaching branches that hoisted up the decaying carcasses of slaughtered livestock. Lifeless cows dangled by fraying ropes tied around their hooves, swinging due to the whistling wind that carried the decomposed smell with it. The branches creaked and groaned, alongside a strange moaning that seemed to whisper straight out from the base of the tree.
It seemed almost… alive.
"Fuck," Meg spat out through a gag. "Get me… the fuck away from that."
She allowed Claudette to lead her away from the massacre tree, barely being alleviated from the God awful odor but it was enough distance to allow the girl to inhale some semi-clean air.
"What kind of fucked up backwoods- hillbilly shit are we in right now?" Cried Meg as she got the chance to finally observe their new hellscape. They were in the middle of a corn field.
"I don't know but let's go find the generators and get the Hell out." Dwight urged them, moving past the girls and into the thick of the towering corn stalks. They all followed closely behind, trying to walk in between the rows so they didn't disturb the crops too much. It might give away their position to whatever monster was bound to be searching for them.
They trudged along before halting as Dwight turned to them. "I feel like we should split up and go in pairs of two. That way when someone gets chased, the other person can get them off the hook while we have two on generators at all times. Sticking all together is just going to end up in us getting separated anyways."
Claudette looked back at Jake, who shrugged and nodded, which caused her to also gesture in support of the plan. "Sure. I'll go with Jake. Do you want me to take the med-kit or…?"
The botanist held out the red, battered box to which Dwight waved her off. "Go ahead and keep it, you seem like the best one to have it."
With that, they split apart from one another, Claudette and Jake wandering to the left and Meg trailing after Dwight into the opposite direction.
In relatively short order, the sun lost all sense of solace it'd briefly provided, despite Meg's loathing of the perpetual darkness. It was basking them in unbearable humidity that had her sweating by the time they happened upon the first gen, which was flickering in the middle of the field. She really did not feel safe working on this one, considering the stalks around them were so dense that they probably wouldn't be able to see danger coming until it was too late. But as Dwight got right to work, Meg didn't feel like convincing him to move onto a different generator. It was the main objective, the top priority, so she too felt that itch to get it done.
Twisting and curving through the corn to get to the side of the gen nearest to Dwight, the girl kneeled down and lethargically stuck her hands in the main chamber to get the blockages removed. It was somewhat of a tedious task but with the amount of practice they had gotten from the last two trials it was practically muscle memory by now.
The steady movement of a single piston marked the generator's first quarter of completion, prompting Dwight to look to Meg.
"Keep an eye out for chests. We are running low on supplies." He advised her in a low tone that was nearly lost to the generator's rhythm. Meg nodded before returning her focus on the repairs. He was right, they were in desperate need of a new med-kit, plus one of those syringes would be great to have again in case someone ever got extremely injured. Poor Claudette deserved it more last trial than Meg did when she was slashed by the Trapper.
Two pistons were now pumping. Halfway there.
Meg kept at her work, focusing on the generator when she heard the corn rustling behind her. Her neck could've broken with how fast she turned to make sure there wasn't anything behind her.
Nothing. She cautiously turned back.
"Don't worry, I'm keeping an eye out." Dwight reassured the girl, making her feel a little better as she continued to work.
Three pistons. Quarter left.
There were more sounds coming from behind Meg, sending goosebumps all across the surface of her skin. There was something lurking around, she felt it.
"Dwight… Can we please leave." Meg whispered, nearly tearing up from the awful dread forming in her gut as she freed her hands from the generator, crouching close to him. Everything within her was begging her to run but she wasn't going to just leave him there.
"We are almost done, just stand behind me if it makes you feel better." He offered, wanting to just get the thing powered and over with so they could keep pushing their way out. The progress slowed now that Meg was no longer helping, leaving Dwight to take on the last bit of the repair process on his own.
She was going insane while huddled behind him, hearing the corn swaying from the wind, sometimes sounding like footsteps all around her or something weaving through the crops. But Meg knew for a fact that it wasn't only the wind toying with her. It was almost as if she'd developed a sixth sense that detected the evil presence of the monsters sent to sacrifice them.
Standing out from the sounds of the breeze and dry stalks scraping against one another was an almost inaudible metal clanking. Meg's heart skipped a beat, really listening out for where it was coming from.
She turned to her left, bearing her ear.
Clink… clink…
What was that?
Clink… clink, clink, clink-
Her breath hitched in her throat. It was getting closer, fast.
"Shit! Please, Dwight, I hear something!" Meg warned him, feeling hot waves of anxiety flood her body. She started yanking on the collar of his shirt to force him off of the damned generator, sneakers digging into the dirt to haul all of his weight backward.
"Meg stop!-"
She heard it roar to life, the mere and single note of its devastating song shredding her inside and out with a holy terror.
A chainsaw. A motherfucking chainsaw.
The sheer sound of it was nearly death inducing on its own, making her knees weak with debilitating fear. Meg could see it raised up in the air by a figure who was obscured behind the corn. The serrated chain reflected the sunlight in the most menacing way possible. It rotated at an impossible speed, the effortless lacerations already flashing in her mind as she breathed out, seeing it come closer and closer to her in slow motion.
Meg barely had a moment to register what happened as the blade suddenly charged forward and arched into such a vicious plunge that it was just a blur, coming right down onto her thigh which was well exposed from how her body was angled from pulling Dwight backward.
Much like all the other injuries she'd sustained, Meg was first rattled with a mighty scream that was nearly swallowed whole by the bellowing chainsaw. The adrenaline hit her like a bullet. She shot off, running through the corn while struggling to not get caught up in the density of the field. Huge, dried husks slapped her face, leaving her unable to see between them and the tears.
She heard the chainsaw again. But it was fainter, its shrillness echoing from back at the generator.. Her brain screamed Dwight's name. Whoever the chainsaw wielding monster was must've set its sights on her companion. She begged that he could take care of himself because she needed a moment to inspect the severity of her wound. Her body trembled as she achingly tipped her head forward, slowly opening her lids and welcoming her eyes to the grisly sight of her leg.
The whole top layer of her thigh was hanging off in a long, bloody strip which was barely supported by her torn pants. Her breathing became ragged at daring to stare any longer at the disgusting gore, hands shakily reaching down to smooth the skin back over where it belonged, like unrolling a rug and laying it out on the ground.
Her teeth clenched together, the contact greeting Meg with agonizing sensations that had her mind hazed by the floods of pain. She needed to do something about this. So much skin hanging off would become a major distraction, not to mention it hurt like a bitch when she ran or did anything, really.
Of course she didn't have the med-kit, not that it would be much help. Dwight's tie was the most useful thing in there aside from Claudette's plants. Although Meg didn't have much faith in those dainty purple flowers making this injury feel the slightest bit better
Knowing she didn't have any other options, Meg decided to start rolling up her pant leg all the way up to her thigh to where the loose skin was. She continued to roll it up higher, feeling the fabric become taut against the wound, somewhat holding it all together as the muscles and flesh squished in union. It would have to do until she found Claudette or another med-kit.
Right now Meg needed to defy all survival instincts that told her otherwise, and go to Dwight's aid in order to unhook him if that thing caught him.
With hesitant steps, she carefully walked back to the generator and found that it was a sparking mess and only two of the pistons were running rather than almost all four. What happened to it? Did it somehow get damaged?
Having more pressing issues to tend to, she continued pushing forward, listening out for the chainsaw but heard nothing aside from the husks around her swaying in the wind…
"I'm sorry I yelled at you earlier."
Jake turned, seeing a visibly upset Claudette who was looking at him with big, sad eyes.
"Water under the bridge," He told her while trying to keep a lookout for any generators or crazed monsters thirsty to slaughter them. Hadn't they already resolved this?
"It's not usually like me," She continued with a sheepish groan. "It's just… so stressful. I don't want people getting hurt because of me."
The words prompted Jake to turn around and fully face her.
"Me either. So please do not heroically throw yourself in front of me again." He pleaded. Apparently they hadn't resolved this.
Claudette sighed, moving past him to keep searching for a gen. "I did that because you started it by taking his attention off of me."
"Claudette, now is not the time or place for this conversation." Jake scolded the girl while catching up to her speed as they stumbled through the corn, eventually ending up in a clearing. In the center of it was a creepy looking tree, branches reminding him of the black claws that had nearly ended him on the hook in the junkyard.
He received no response from the botanist as she meandered up to the tree, just standing in front of it for a prolonged time while he watched.
"What are you doing?" He finally called out, coming up behind her when he noticed something carved into the bark. E+M.
"I've seen this before…" She claimed while reaching into her back pocket, yanking out a silver necklace. Holding it up to view, Jake got closer and soon realized that E+M was also inscribed on the dainty heart locket, making them both stand there trying to connect the dots. "It must belong here… maybe?"
"Where did you find this?"
Claudette peered up at him. "In the last place. The junkyard. It was in a chest with the purple cloth."
"I don't understand… is it a clue or… a key? What does it mean?" Jake thought aloud, not really sure what to make of the occurrence. The girl beside him hummed curiously, sharing the same puzzled thought.
"I'll just keep it. Maybe it'll make sense later." She concluded, trudging off to keep on their search.
Her head perked up at the dreadful sound of the chainsaw, which was now close to her position.
Meg grimaced, willing herself to keep sneaking through the corn to stay on Dwight's trail. She was met with an escape from the gargantuan field, crouching out into an expansive clearing full of daunting farm equipment. She could see a looming harvester in the distance, long metal wagons rusting away with wooden crates and sacks of grain cluttering around them.
Standing out against the dead, yellow grass were splotches of blood, creating a trail leading up to a-
The redhead craned her neck up, discovering a desolate looking house sitting in the center of everything. The windows were boarded up, wood paneling on the outside all decaying and dilapidated with an overall disturbing energy being its defining trait. And she could see the blood left behind from Dwight leading all the way up to the porch steps, disappearing within the derelict mess of a home. A shudder erupted from within Meg as she realized there was no avoiding the glaringly eerie destination. Dwight needed her help.
She took cautious steps beside the sopping pools of crimson, hissing at the pain coursing up and down her leg, which was competing with the blood puddles Dwight had fountained all over the ground. With every step, streams of red trailed down her leg and clotted in the dusty dirt. She absently wondered how much of blood her body had been unwillingly purged so far. It was a grim debate that was short lived once Meg was veiled by the shadow of the house. Her feet stepped up onto the porch, feeling the wood dip and croak under her light weight. Every single sound had her heart beating faster and faster.
"Agh!" A shout came from inside the house, seeming like it was echoing from upstairs as Meg crossed through the front door. She quickly shot down to a crouch, recognizing it as Dwight's pain filled cry. A pang of distress hit her stomach, hating that he was being hurt. There just wasn't much she could do to help in general but especially not against a chainsaw. The best thing to do was hide and wait.
The floorboards above screeched as clumsy sounding footsteps left the weak house quaking, dust falling down from the ceiling. Meg held her breath, trying to avoid coughing as it fluttered around her face.
She stepped further in, being met with yet another foul smell similar to the one from the cow tree. Her grimace was unwavering as she snuck over to the dining room table, realizing that there was a thick coating of mystery sludge beneath it. It looked like the entrails of animals all mushed together, thus creating a reeking mess of organic paste. Meg was close to passing out from how long she held her breath, not even wanting to breathe the contaminated air in until she was left with no choice but to just pinch her nose.
"Ahhhhhhhh!" Dwight's howls of torture burst through the floorboards from above. A shiver traveled up the girl's spine once she huddled behind the staircase in a short hallway, knowing that whatever the thing was would probably descend at any moment.
Sure enough, thunderous steps shuffled above and thudded down the stairs, revealing to Meg the grotesque sight of their new killer.
She could only see it from behind but it made the observation no less disturbing. The lopsided figure had a burnt and warped looking skin surface, with long striated lines of bumpy flesh riding down its arms, creating many grooves that clung tightly to the contours of its muscle. Some planes of its skin were stapled shut and others were littered with bulbous abbesses, all swollen and aggravated looking. Curving up its back was the thing's crooked spine, twisting in all the wrong places, leaving one shoulder hunched much higher than the other. And it wore a tattered wife-beater with sagging jeans held up by two leather belts, each article slathered in what she could only assume was Dwight's blood.
One deformed hand held a punishing hammer, the other wielding that God awful chainsaw. Both of which were dripping blood all across the hardwood floor as the monster trudged out of the house and into the cornfield.
Meg let out a long breath that she didn't even realize she was holding in, cautiously heading back out into open view to go upstairs and check on Dwight. Each step groaned with her weight, leaving her panting with anxiety by the time she made it to the second floor. She tiptoed through a doorway that led into a bedroom, which of course was decaying with more unknown substances on the ground that emitted the most horrid of odors.
Beyond the bedroom was a balcony. Through the balcony doorway, Meg could see that Dwight dangled from a hook, half of his body visible to her as she jogged through the room. Basked in sunlight once again, Meg finally could get a full view of Dwight as he was right in front of her then. He looked rough based on her first glance.
"Alright-" She huffed out as she wrapped her arms around his waist, hoisting him upward. "Where'd he get you?" She asked him as soon as he was on his feet. They continued to have this problem of not being able to identify injuries considering the amount of gore all over their bodies from previous trials.
Dwight grimaced, hissing as he strode past Meg to sit against the wall. Lifting up his arm, he revealed a very deep wound along the rib cage- those curving white bones peeking out through the ravaged flesh at Meg. The redhead took a deep breath, never really getting used to the body horror she'd witnessed over and over.
"It also hit me in the leg with the hammer…"
"Okay, let me see if I can find something…" She told him quietly before checking the rest of the balcony, happily discovering that there was a generator up there with them. Moving along from the lovely sight, Meg rounded a corner and discovered yet another welcoming gift: The quaint glimmer of a chest, the bright sun reflecting off of its metallic trim and latch. Hell yes.
Upon opening it, Meg realized luck was on her side that trial. With angels singing in her head, she reached into the cluttered chest and brandished a shiny new med-kit.
"It's your lucky day." She told Dwight as she returned, snaking into the spot beside him with the med-kit open on her lap.
He snorted, resulting in a ton of pain that left him wincing with regret. "Doesn't feel like it."
Meg took a look at what supplies they had, a frown drifting across her face when she saw that there wasn't much of anything useful for the severity of Dwight's wound. A needle and thread, a small roll of gauze and a few medium sized patches. That was not going to cut it against a chainsaw hack job. However there was one final piece of medical supplies in there, that being a little purple bottle with a nondescript label on it serving to tell Meg absolutely nothing about the product. She hastily flipped it around in her hand, confirming that there wasn't any information to be seen on the bottle.
As she unscrewed the cap and put her eye into the round opening, Meg found a sea of white powder within the bottle.
"Do you know what this… powder is?" She asked Dwight who seemed like he didn't give two shits about the white powder and just wanted the gaping hole in his side to go away.
"No," He gritted while trying to find the sweet spot of how to position his arm so that it didn't disturb the wound.
Not seeing much of a choice, Meg figured she'd give the white powder a shot and commanded Dwight to lay down on his side so that she could get to the injury.
After cursing and whimpering his way to the balcony floor, Dwight lifted his arm up. Meg wasted no time in powdering down the large gash. She silently prayed it actually did something useful for him.
The more she dusted it onto the throbbing flesh the more it seemed to somewhat mend the tiniest bit, the blood coagulating on the surface a fair amount. She didn't want to waste all of it so Meg capped the powder and tossed it back into the med-kit before taking out the gauze.
"That helped a lot," She muttered, looking back over the wound and discovering the powder had really taken away the severity. The skin at the edges was a light pink instead of deep red and the blood was no longer pouring out at a high rate.
"It feels better," Dwight breathed, scooting back up so that Meg could wrap the gauze around him.
As she unraveled some of the bandages, the girl looked up at him. "Can you unbutton a little bit of your shirt?"
For second Dwight was met with flushed cheeks, seeming as if he was uncomfortable by the idea but then realized this was a rather brutal survival situation. Any and all insecurities were thrown out of the window considering he'd cried, whined and nearly died in front of this girl several times. Showing his midriff was so far down the list of things to be embarrassed by that it actually made him mentally laugh. Taking his shirt off anywhere used to be something he was insanely afraid of… but now? He'd never put a shirt on for the rest of his life if it meant escaping this nightmare.
He began to shakily unbutton his grimy white shirt, revealing the much improved injury along his side. Meg leaned forward and quickly wrapped the gauze around his torso and over the gash until the whole length of it was covered. They still had a decent amount of bandages left so that was some good news.
"Your leg?" She asked. "Does it need anything?"
He shook his head. "No, I think that it's just really bruised but nothing is broken, just bleeding a bit."
She latched the med-kit closed and extended a hand to Dwight, helping him get on his feet again.
"Well… let's get to work then." She told him as they both wandered up to the generator. The first piston was running in no time, the rhythm supplying a small amount of comfort for them because it was the sweet melody of being one step closer to escaping.
"One down…" Jake remarked as he thrust the generator's lever down one last time, causing it to pop and power on. "Hopefully not many more to go."
They were out of the cornfield by then, having come across the same old wall arrangements that existed in every trial, except these ones were all wooden and dusty, with miscellaneous farm equipment taking the place of some other pallet loops.
In the distance, Jake spotted a house. When he squinted up at the balcony he could see the sparks and flickering of another generator, except he could also see that Meg and Dwight were occupying it.
"Oh- they're at the house," He said while pointing, making Claudette turn and look in its direction.
"Good…" She hummed. "But where's the killer?"
"I don't know. Let's move and hopefully not find out."
And so they followed one another onto the next generator, which they found was in the middle of the cornfield. The strange thing was, it was already running a little bit.
"Maybe they were working on it before?" Claudette mused, stepping toward it when Jake thrust his arms around her and pulled the girl into the thick of the corn stalks. "Wha-!"
His gloved hand covered her mouth, giving her a moment to settle her eyes on the corn moving ahead of them instead of resisting him.
The killer was barely visible through the husks that obscured their vision but they could see its dark and hunched form shuffle up to the generator. It raised its leg and kicked it twice, boots denting the mainframe slightly which made sparks fly from it. The pistons slowed and began overturning the progress that had previously been made. It lingered for a moment, circling the machinery to make sure no one was around it.
Without realizing what he was doing, Jake accidentally had his hands over Claudette's mouth and nose, causing the girl to writhe ever so slightly in his grasp once she couldn't hold her breath any longer. Her fingers tore at his hand which he quickly released, knowing then what he had done by innocent mistake.
Pitifully, Claudette couldn't help the ragged gulp of air that she took to replenish her lungs.
As soon as the wisp of breath was sucked in, the thing's head whipped around and immediately locked onto the pair despite their hiding spot behind a few layers of corn.
Jake's heart fell right to his gut as a flood of guilt overpowered him. He grabbed Claudette's arm, pulled her close for a single second and made sure that she didn't do anything stupid for him, considering it was his fault that they were now discovered. "You better fucking run."
She could see the intensity of his glare and without hesitating for another moment the botanist shredded through the cornfield while Jake held his ground to take the killer away.
Leaving him behind, Claudette heard the shrill chainsaw tear through the sunny day, drawing a single tear from her eye as she hoped Jake would be okay.