The old woman's blind precision as she vanished into the shack was freakier than a cat video with no views. No hesitation, no fumbling—just straight to the door like she had GPS in her creepy skull. Tim and I crouched behind the shack, ears pressed to the wall, but it was silent as a mime convention. No creaks, no whispers—nothing. Either the place was soundproofed like a recording studio, or she'd teleported to Narnia.
Dawn was creeping in, painting the sky a sickly gray. One thing was clear: Granny was up to some serious corpse-crafting mojo, but was she a ghost, a zombie, or just a really weird senior citizen? My money was on "all of the above," but we had bigger fish to fry—finding Ryan and Lila before the game turned us into its next collectible action figures.
"Let's move," I whispered, checking my phone for a signal. Nada. "Seriously? No bars? This village is like the Bermuda Triangle's hillbilly cousin." Tim checked his phone, frowning. "Same. No signal. We're cut off."
"Perfect," I groaned. "Ryan's MIA, and we're stuck in Deliverance land with no 911. Where'd he go? You think he ditched us to chase that Jasper Reed lead?" The business card with Jasper's name was in Ryan's pocket, and I couldn't recall the exact address.
Tim's eyes scanned the horizon. "Maybe. If he's following the card, he's our best shot at finding Lila. Let's ask around."
As the village stirred, a few early-riser farmers shuffled out, hoes in hand. I flagged down a guy who looked like he'd been plowing fields since the Reagan era. "Hey, sir, we're looking for Jasper Reed's general store. Know where it is?"
The farmer scratched his beard, sizing us up like we were city slickers lost at a hoedown. "Jasper's place? Down that side path, straight shot. Only store in town." He pointed to a narrow trail—the exact one the tricycle granny had warned us to avoid. My stomach did a backflip. "Uh, thanks," I said, my voice wobbling. "That path's… safe, right?"
He shrugged, already turning away. "Haven't seen Jasper in weeks. Might be on vacation or somethin'. Good luck." His tone screamed you're on your own, dummies.
Tim and I exchanged a look. "That's the 'dead come out' path," I said, mimicking Granny's creepy cackle. "Coincidence? I think not. Farmer Joe seems legit, but why's Jasper's store on the no-go list?"
Tim's jaw tightened. "Villager's probably fine, but that path's got bad vibes. Granny's warning wasn't for kicks—she's hiding something." He paused, then added, "She's not human, Jake. Corpse refinement's dark stuff. No good guy's brewing zombies in their backyard."
I shivered, the shack's mummy flashing in my mind. "Okay, but why's a creepy old lady playing Night of the Living Dead? What's the endgame? And what is corpse refinement, anyway? Sounds like a bad Etsy shop."
Tim sighed, leading the way down the path as he explained. "It's old-school black magic, peaked during the '60s counterculture when folks got weird with occult stuff. You take a fresh corpse, pump it with rituals—think voodoo on steroids—and it becomes your puppet. They're not zombies, exactly—more like soulless drones with a bad attitude. Problem is, they're volatile. One wrong move, and they turn on their master like a Roomba with a grudge."
I blinked, half-expecting him to say sike. "So, Granny's building an army of undead minions? That's… not the retirement plan I'd pick. And Lila's tied to this how?"
Tim shook his head. "Dunno. Maybe she found out about the ritual, came looking for a way to break the game's curse. Or she's bait to lure us here."
The path grew colder, no breeze, just an eerie chill that made my teeth chatter. Low, tiled houses lined the trail, their roofs sagging like they were tired of existing. Up ahead, a faded sign read General Store, swinging crookedly over a shuttered storefront. "Bingo," I said, pointing. "Jasper's place. Looks deader than disco."
Tim knocked, the sound echoing. No answer. I tried again, pounding harder. "Yo, Jasper! Open up! We're not selling vacuums!" Still nothing. I glanced at Tim. "Maybe he's napping. Or, you know, actually gone."
Tim studied the door, his face grim. "More likely he's not here. Place feels empty—hasn't been touched in days."
Before I could suggest coming back later, a creaky door opened next door. An old man, wiry and weathered like a human jerky strip, poked his head out. "Who you lookin' for?" he asked, squinting like we'd interrupted his Wheel of Fortune marathon.
Tim stepped up, all business. "Jasper Reed, runs the store. Know where he's at? We heard he might've left town."
The old man hesitated, his eyes darting to the store. "Y'all best head back to the city," he said, his voice low. "This village ain't right." He plopped onto a stool, clearly ready to spill some tea if we pushed.
I leaned in, channeling my inner detective. "We're here because it's not right. What's the deal with Jasper? Something happen?"
He sighed, rubbing his hands like he was warming up for a TED Talk. "Jasper's family's had a rough year. His wife, Mabel, dropped dead from a heart attack a while back. Then Jasper up and vanished a week ago. Folks say they brought it on themselves—bad karma, y'know? Too much shady business."
Tim's eyes sharpened. "Shady how? What'd Jasper do?"
I pulled out my secret weapon—a half-pack of smokes from my pocket. "Here, pops, have a cig. Take your time, tell us everything." His face lit up like I'd handed him a winning lottery ticket. He lit one, puffing out a smoke ring that could've been an Olympic logo.
"Jasper was a hotshot back in the day," he said, savoring the nicotine. "Went to college, got into tech—computers, AI, that brainy stuff. Partnered with some city folks, made bank. But word is, it was dirty money—scams, maybe worse. Mabel used to brag about it before she passed. He came back here a few years ago, opened the store, kept to himself. Then, poof, gone."
My jaw dropped. "Wait, tech? Like, coding and software?" My mind raced to the game, Ethan's studio, Emily's diary. Jasper wasn't just some rando shopkeeper—he could be linked to the game's creation. "You sure about the tech part?" I pressed.
The old man shrugged, exhaling another smoke cloud. "That's what Mabel said. Called it 'brain machines' or some such. I ain't up on that city nonsense. But Jasper was sharp—too sharp for this dump."
Tim and I locked eyes, the pieces clicking. Jasper's tech background, the game's digital curse, the village's zombie granny—it was all connected, and Lila was caught in the middle. But where was Ryan? And why did this feel like we'd just walked into the game's final cutscene?