I grip the Fumer's head, tossing it into the swamp to ensure it doesn't regenerate, then turn to the guest house.
"Lucas said the dissection room, but screw that. Let's find the 'arm' first."
"Let's make him mad."
"An enemy you don't know worries me."
"Oh, I have a request."
"?"
Evelyn asks me to write a letter. I enter the trailer, find paper and a pen, and write as she dictates.
"'Zoe's in danger. Help.' Good? Who's this for?"
"It's a long shot. Saying it might jinx it, so I won't. Put it in a bottle and float it in the swamp."
"? Fine."
I open the fridge. A photo of the deputy, alive, marked with a red X. When was this taken?
"What's this?"
"Something's written on the back."
I check. "The cop's waiting in the underground dissection room." Lucas's words.
"So, pushing the dissection room…"
"He didn't want us to see his failed setup."
"Lucas, so lame."
"Lame."
Ignoring it, I grab a jam jar, close the fridge, find crackers on a shelf, pile on jam, and eat. Gotta fuel up. Sorry, homeowners.
"No fighting on an empty stomach."
"Fancy."
"Hope it's not my last supper."
"Won't let it be."
I finish, rinse the jar, insert the letter, and step outside, winding up.
"This good?"
"Don't break it."
"Got it!"
I hurl the bottle. It arcs into the swamp, floating away. I shoulder my backpack and head to the guest house.
"Please reach that person."
"By the way, what's a D-Type subject?"
Evelyn's face twists as we move through the guest house. Bad question? Passing the crank-made passage and crow door, I peek at a baby mummy clutching its left arm.
"D-Type's my sister. Never met her—she died as a baby. That mummy's her. Mia transported it, and I had it retrieved."
"Left arm's visible, but not the right."
So, the "right arm" is a mummy arm that size. Passing the piano room with Margaret's diary, a loud BANG echoes. Piano?
"What was that?"
"No idea. Doesn't matter."
"Doesn't feel like it. There were A, B, C, D-Type subjects too. I was the best, named Evelyn, E-Type, thanks to that woman's embryo."
"Forget that awful label. You're just Evelyn."
Evelyn gets negative fast. I hope her earlier spunk wasn't fake.
"Besides Rose, I have other sister-like figures…"
"Who?"
"Me."
"Huh?"
"The old woman me. I'm a residual thought—basically, a ghost, not the real thing."
"???"
Speak plainly. The old woman Evelyn hasn't reformed, so why call her a sister?
"You're kind, but don't sister the bad you—"
"No! Bad, but still Evelyn, and you…"
"I did what?"
What a future me. Talking, we reach the door. I dig in my backpack for the lantern.
"Here. Lantern, lantern…"
"Lantern's strong, right? Water-electric."
"I thought of Pokémon, but let's not."
Chatting nonsense, I set the lantern on the scale, balancing it. The lock clicks open.
"Good… What's wrong?"
"I don't wanna go in."
"Why?"
"Even if past me set it up, it's scary!"
I peek. Pitch black. Kinda creepy.
"After Margaret's spider form…"
"True, got used to it."
With Evelyn, I scan the dark with adjusted eyes. A torn alligator plush, a ball, party decorations scattered. A kids' room?
"Your drawing?"
"Embarrassing…"
"'MY FAMILY.' Nice."
Teasing, I move on. A figure appears—I jump.
"WAAH!?"
"KYAA!?"
I kick it; it shatters. A mannequin. Scared me.
"Your fear hit me directly!"
"Sorry."
Apologizing to a fuming Evelyn, I proceed. A teddy bear's nearby. I check—black mold spills from its mouth. Gross.
"That's my scare tactic memory."
"Just dirty."
"…True."
Near the bear, a torn drawing—ship split in half, people blown apart?
"What's this?"
"The tanker I was on. I broke it."
"You did this? Impressive."
"Supposed to get mad!"
Evelyn blushes. Bad deed, but I'm honestly impressed. Wait, if she can do this, isn't real Evelyn insanely strong?
"Embarrassingly, I can split tankers."
"Scratch that, terrifying. …Whoa."
"Whoa."
Through the next door, a mold-covered room. A huge wall lump. We both recoil. Your doing, Evelyn.
"Different perspective, just horrifying."
"Yup."
"Don't come here."
A voice. We lock eyes. Weak, but unmistakably Evelyn's. Old Woman Evelyn's trap?
"I can show illusions to infected humans. Careful!"
"Got it."
"Don't come" means something's here. I push into a room with a bed and a dollhouse in the corner.
"Don't come."
"Told not to, so I gotta."
"Like with Daniela, Cassandra, or Bela. I'm so predictable."
Nothing under the bed. I open the dollhouse, finding a note with a drawing: red circle on the wall behind the bed. I touch it—cracks open easily. Inside, a one-armed girl mummy with an oversized "right arm."
"No way. This it? Who's she…?"
"Don't ask."
Creepy, but I yank the "right arm" off. Too big for a baby's.
"You found it."
D-Type might be twins: a baby (died at birth) and a girl (died from growth). A-Type to D-Type are Evelyn's sisters, maybe.
Evelyn's secret plan with a meal. Bio protagonists should eat crackers.
Hope you enjoy the next part! Feedback, typos, or ratings boost my writing speed!