NIGHTMARE SUBURBIA
Part 1
The darkness stirred, and I called out.
I couldn't remember how I died—only the pain that almost caused me to black out and the confusion that followed. The darkness awaited me; it was all I had ever known since I awoke. It was constantly stirring, silent, and unbroken—an expanse of infinite horizons. I called out nonetheless, hoping for someone to answer back.
How long had I waited? Weeks? Months? Decades?
Without sight.
Without hearing.
Without feeling.
It's all too much to take. Hard enough to imagine that this must be the afterlife and that I must be dead. I hadn't eaten anything for a long time, and still, I breathed the same; I felt the pulse under my jaw, on my wrist. I'm still alive.
Barely. I wouldn't call this living.
I looked down at my body. I was still wearing my school clothes—a white T-shirt, a brown jacket, dark blue jeans, and black shoes. I could even spot the stain of the burrito I ate during lunch, the spilled coffee stains on the hem of my pants, when night came…when the alley beckoned…when the truck swerved up the curb….and the door opened…and…
A sharp pain wormed from the center of my forehead, radiating to the back of my skull and down the spine. I didn't want to think about how I died anymore. I was there, and now I'm here.
Yet my new existence was impossible.
I should be dead a long time ago from hunger. From thirst. I bit my tongue and bled and bled and bled, but it regrew the next day. All the blood drenching my shirt dissipated. I reckoned I must be dreaming. No, I was trapped in a nightmare. A coma? Was I stuck between life and death? I imagined laying on a hospital bed for months while my family and friends visited me. Did I even have visitors? I couldn't hear them in the darkness—their sobs and conversations. I had read somewhere that coma patients were still aware of their surroundings.
Only the darkness kept me company. Always the darkness. No reassuring voice from my mother. No hushed whispers from my friends or the hums drips, and beeps of machinery that kept me alive.
Nothing.
I had never been a religious man, all dressed in my Sunday best. I went only to church twice in my life (the first was for my baptism, and my grandmother dragged me to the second). Perhaps I shouldn't have shunted it away. Maybe then Heaven might be real, and this was Hell. Maybe Purgatory? I hoped I'd run into another soul trapped like me if I walked far enough. I didn't find anyone.
I prayed. That never worked.
I cursed and screamed. That didn't work, either.
I bargained, but no one took it.
So, I waited.
And waited.
And waited.
I was a lonely flame in the darkness, and I had forever.
Until someone blew out the light and saw everything.
Standing at the glade's edge, I saw my own naked corpse lying on the ground, a grotesque semblance of its humanity.
My eyes were hollow, the organs floating inside a jar stained red, sitting north. My ears were sheared off, floating inside their own jar to the east. The tongue got ripped out, entombed in another jar to the south. And the nose was torn off, again in a jar to the west.
Etched upon the damp earth were the painted glyphs of some demonic ritual. Candles illuminated the dark forest. The air hung heavy with the acrid scent of death, urine, and feces as the moon's pale glow seeped through the gnarled branches overhead. The night was a mere inky backdrop against which the ritual symbols danced in vibrant defiance.
Around my body were seven figures—Four men and three women. For a bunch of demon-worshipping killers, I didn't expect them to be like some upstate suburban parents in a midlife crisis, off to see their kid at a football game. No robes. Just a bunch of puff jackets, khakis, and basic tees.
The two men crouched beside my body had just finished slicing through the torso and abdomen, disemboweling it, while the others chanted a strange language I had never heard before.
I screamed. I wanted to tear them apart but could not move a muscle against them. I couldn't raise my arms to strike them down.
"Stop!" I howled, my voice cracking with desperation. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" But my empty pleas resounded through the air, and the merciless butchery persisted.
They couldn't hear me.
They weren't even aware I was there standing amongst them.
The knives continued their relentless dance, slicing deeper, extracting the heart from the ribcage. The gruesome trophy raised triumphantly, a perverse exhibition that made their chants louder.
I'm dead.
Dead.
DEAD!
Panic clawed at my sanity as I scanned my surroundings, desperately searching for a way out of this waking nightmare. I stumbled into the dark woods, every step taking me farther yet inexplicably leading me back to the glade. The maddening loop of my torment played out endlessly, mocking my feeble attempts to elude the horrors unfolding before my eyes.
Unable to bear it any longer, I put my hands to my ears, a futile attempt to block out the sickening symphony behind me. The wet and hard schlick-schlick of the garden shears opening up my ribcage to plunder the remaining organs assaulted my senses.
This is a nightmare, I thought, a twisted figment of my tortured mind.
I resorted to desperate measures, pinching my own flesh, breaking an arm, and crashing my skull against the trunk of a nearby tree. But no amount of pain could stop the horror, unyielding and all-consuming.
They were at it for about an hour when the youngest woman of the group, long blonde hair tied into a ponytail, looking more annoyed that it was taking too long, marched toward the two men and handed them an odd-looking stone. She and the second man desecrating my corpse returned to form a circle around the man who pried my heart out. I pegged him to be the leader.
The Leader walked and stood by the northern end, right underneath the jar where my eyes floated, raising the translucent gem high in the air.
They recited another long chant.
I stood up from where I hid. My legs and feet had a mind of their own, and I found myself walking toward the gem like a moth to a flame. As I stumbled forward, the world infinitely became smaller, suffocating, seemingly blurring into a tapestry of haze. I didn't like it. The air clung to my skin, heavy with an unspoken tension that prickled at the edges of my consciousness.
Run.
Run.
Run, you idiot. Get the fuck out of here!
But there was nowhere to go—only the dark gathering in the periphery, waiting hungrily.
I could see the Leader's features more clearly now that I was closer to the bonfire. He almost looked like…
…A name.
I remembered a name. Coach Hodge. Justin Hodge. My high school's football coach.
"What are you doing walking alone in the middle of the night, Marky?" Coach Hodge asked me once, a truck parked by the curb, window rolled open. I couldn't remember when this memory occurred. I couldn't remember why I was walking home alone in the first place. "Do your parents know you're out?"
"Don't tell them!" I remembered saying. "Um, they…they don't know. Please. I live a few blocks from here, coach. I'll get right home."
"Come on, kid. Get in. I'll give you a ride, at least."
I hesitated. "It's just close by. I don't want to bother you."
"Nonsense. You still got a mile to go. And I can smell vodka from here. Get in. I'll get you home before your folks notice you're gone, maybe get the stench of alcohol off you."
"Okay. Um, thanks, coach."
"No problem, kid. Now, what's the address again?"
I didn't remember anything after that. All messy and hazy. Radiohead blaring on the radio. Wrong street, wheels turning somewhere else. "You made the wrong turn, coach." A blue handkerchief over my nose and mouth. I kicked and tried to scream. The darkness seeped in.
My heart pounded against my chest, clenching my fists to the side as the trees seemed to close on me. I couldn't contain the tears any longer. Every nerve ending crackled with searing energy, propelling me to tear Coach Hodge's throat out.
No.
A voice. Distant. Hollow.
The gem.
Touch the gem.
At first glance, the gem appeared unassuming, its size no larger than my fist. Its smooth and polished surface betrayed no hint of what it contained. Yet, upon closer inspection, tiny cracks meandered across the gem, like spiderwebs spun by invisible hands. A chaotic dance of colors played out within its crystalline core—an intricate kaleidoscope of shades, as if the gem held glass threads to keep itself together, glowing brighter and brighter as I drew near.
A burst of crimson energy leaped from the gem's surface, forging an electric connection with my outstretched fingertip. My flesh remained unscathed, but an otherworldly sensation permeated the rest of my body. Coach Hodge seemed ignorant of the vortex of colors emanating from the gem. To him, it was nothing more than a rock devoid of the energy I now watched grow outward, enveloping me.
My rational part screamed for me to flee, to escape the clutches of this magnetic force. Yet, an inexplicable compulsion compelled me forward, rendering me powerless against the gem's allure. The welling pit in my stomach grew, a bottomless chasm threatening to devour every rational thought.
Touch. Yes.
Grasp the gem. Go on.
Determined, my fingers closed tightly around the strange gem, knuckles turning white under the strain. A sinister thrill coursed through my veins, mingling with a primal fear that refused to be silenced.
I thought, No, Mark. Let go. LET GO!
Yet I willingly embraced the beckoning abyss, surrendering to the tantalizing unknown that awaited beyond the boundaries of the glade, gradually creeping in to consume me.
NIGHTMARE SUBURBIA
Part 2
There is a perfect understanding when a being is confined to the boundaries of the known world, where things are merely explained in theories proven to be closer to the truth. When the universe seems to fit, it calls to your connection to it, embracing its vibrant symphony, weird intricacies, and the unknowable of Mother Nature. You are alive, and this is the mundane menagerie of your existence. Accept it.
I lost a part of that for something…more.
Something I couldn't explain.
I could see. Not just confined through my own eyes, but as if I grew new ones behind my skull.
Suddenly, I possessed a strange sight that transcended my physical form, peering through the foliage of trees, burrowing deep beneath the soil, soaring within the clouds, and even permeating the very air I breathed. My senses became heightened, tasting the essence of everything around me, hearing even the faintest whispers, inhaling the subtle variation of nature's scents, and feeling an intimate connection with every living being around me.
It was addicting.
Invigorating.
Powerful.
I feared it.
I peered from above the glade. Whatever form I projected to interact with the physical world disappeared. Was this what death felt like? I could fly! Not just that, but I was also standing on the ground.
Pulling higher, I was in the middle of McLaren Forest; a gentle breeze rustled the leaves below, almost peaceful except for the horror awaiting under the canopy. Over the horizon, six or maybe seven miles, was Point Hope, the town I grew up in for more than eighteen years of my former life; the lights faint under the witching hour. Without a watch, I could still tell the exact time; 3:34 AM.
From the glade, an off-beaten trail meandered towards a narrow dirt road flanked by three parked vehicles on the shoulder eagerly awaiting their occupants—the men and women who murdered Mark Castle.
Coach Hodge's sudden cursing brought me back to the ground.
"What the fuck?" Hodge stared at the gemstone, dumbfounded.
I stared back at him, not from where I stood but from the stone itself. Coach Hodge carried me as if I was an object. Looking down, my entire body was gone.
I was the gem.
At first, I thought Coach Hodge recognized me as the stone, but it didn't seem like it.
"Uh, coach? Is something supposed to happen?" The young woman with the blonde ponytail. I recognized Jenna Batten, a popular real estate agent in the area. Mom bought their new house from her when we moved across town for something more upper-middle-class suburban and less "other side of the tracks."
Hodge kept staring at the gemstone as if looking at it harder could discern what was wrong with it. "It should have worked." He turned to the second man, who aided him with gutting my body. "Dave, did you fucking get the goat I asked for?"
"I did!" Dave squeaked. "I made sure and talked to the butcher, Hodge."
Hodge picked up a goblet I did not see from the pointed pyramidal glyph near the southern end and took a whiff. "This better be Saanen goat, Dave, or I swear if you get me another pygmy like last time—"
"—I swear! It's the goat. Seen it drained myself."
"Oh my god, this is Portland all over again," another woman sighed, massaging her temples as she sat on a log. She was a few years older than Jenna, with dark skin with curly black hair tied into a bun. She looked familiar, but she might be another townie like the others.
Hodge shook his head. "No, this is not another Portland, Maxine, because we'll fix it."
"Oh? Like you did the last time?" Maxine asked. "How did that turn out for the rest of us?"
"Coach, what's wrong?" Jenna asked again. Out of the others, she seemed new to the group, almost lost. She held tight to her jacket and was the only member who refused to look at my disemboweled corpse, pretending it wasn't there.
"This is what's wrong." Hodge threw the rock to the ground. I felt its impact on the damp Earth and thought it would break me into million pieces. I remained intact, fortunately. "Fuck. We wasted it."
"I can't have another delay, Justin," another woman from the circle said. "You promised us it would be tonight. We covered for you when this Castle kid went missing, and now—"
Hodge heaved a sigh. "I know, Becca. I'm aware. We've got important shit coming up."
My heart sank. Becca? As in Deputy Rebecca Torres? With my many eyes drifting in the wind, I leaned forward to take a better look. Yes. Definitely her.
"So, that's it? The ritual's a dud?" A heavy-set man in his fifties leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree. "For fuck's sake, Hodge, we killed that kid for nothing."
I recognized the voice immediately: Kirk Gamble, my English teacher. Probably the only adult in school I had a good relationship with. I took all the English electives Mr. Gamble taught each semester (he never repeated a course every other year) just because I liked the guy, an uncle I never had. And Mr. Gamble watched while Coach Hodge and another stranger butchered one of his students. I almost burst into tears again.
"Blame Dave, Kirk," Maxine huffed.
"It's not me. I swear! I have the receipts in my car if y'all ungrateful motherfuckers keep accusing me all night."
"Quit yapping, Dave," Hodge spat. "I'm trying to think."
"It's getting late," Maxine said.
"I said I'm thinking!" Hodge shouted. A pause. "Fuck!"
Rebecca stepped forward. She had enough. "Okay, we're going to bury the body as clean and as fast as possible. Leave this glade like we're never here. The rest of you burn the clothes you wear. Don't just dump it in the trash and forget about it."
Maxine rolled her eyes. "I just fucking bought these," she muttered.
Rebecca ignored her comment. "And make sure you scrub your shoes clean. If you want to burn it, too, that's fine. You got that, Max?"
Maxine gave her a thumbs-up before turning it into the middle finger.
Rebecca turned to Hodge. "What about you, Hodge?"
"Yeah?"
"It's over, right? The ritual didn't work?"
Hodge glared at Dave again before regarding the gem in his hand. "Yeah. Didn't work."
Rebecca nodded. "Okay. We all know the drill, so get to it. That also means you, Jenna. Get the tarp over there. That's it. Bring it over to me and help me with the legs. Don't think about the blood. I don't want to clean up your puke. That's evidence."
They were surprisingly efficient, taking down the candles into black plastic bags, shoving the trinkets they splayed on the ground around the glyphs, and burying the rest (anything to do with me) inside a body bag. It was clearly not their first time, and I shuddered from the horrible thought of how many people they had killed for their past rituals. As they got to work, I quickly realized what this ritual was for.
Money.
Everything was about money, as always.
The typical making-a-deal-with-the-devil sort of situation.
Jenna wanted success in her real estate business. Rebecca wanted to become Point Hope's new sheriff. Coach Hodge wanted the state championships for the football team and a contract to coach the big leagues in college. Dave wanted a promotion from his job in a law firm. As for Mr. Gamble, well, he just wanted to get rich. Same as Maxine. Kirk recently went through a divorce, and he wanted a ton of fuck-you money after his wife cleaned him out. Maxine wanted as much success as possible with her multiple business ventures as an influencer for wine and organic produce. She owned a vineyard near town.
Alvin Jones, the seventh figure in the clearing, was a complete enigma. He was a towering man of about six-foot-six, pale and muscle-bound, looking like he could rip someone's head off with one punch. Like Jenna, Alvin was also new to the group, but Hodge already warmed up to him more than the young woman. Alvin quickly picked up my corpse, and though the others were a bit more chit-chatty, letting it know how disappointed they were that the ritual did not work, the tall man said nothing, even when Mr. Gamble asked him what he would miss out until they found a suitable replacement.
It would take weeks, maybe months, of scouting for the right essence: young and with an amplified soul, whatever that meant. From what I could glean from various conversations, an amplified soul was a random universal fluke. You either chanced upon it or didn't.
They just got lucky they had one on their back door—me.
I clenched his phantom fist harder. All those years hanging out with Mr. Gamble was all an act. The stories we told each other that we bonded over were never real. All in the name of scouting my soul for this moment. I watched as they rolled my corpse like a fucking burrito around a tarp, and then they marched deeper into the woods where they buried me. At some point, Kirk picked the gem up.
After burying me in a shallow grave, they marched back to their vehicles in silence. They only had a couple of hours left before dawn.
"Hey, wait a minute. What do we do with this?" Kirk asked, raising the gemstone in his hand.
"Get rid of it. It's tainted," Hodge said.
I stiffened. Don't throw me away. I didn't know what would happen if I were alone in the woods.
"Just like that? We'll just throw it away? Do you know how much this cost? I shelled out three grand for this."
"I don't know, Kirk. Do you know more about this stuff than I do?"
Kirk gritted his teeth. "No."
"I got the book, dumbass. I've been at this for three years, and you didn't complain when I got you fucking tenured last summer. That gem's gonna fuck us up the next time we use it. You better find something else. I know what works."
"Apparently not this one," Kirk mumbled.
Hodge glared. "What? I didn't hear you quite clearly, Kirk. Can you repeat that?"
"Nothing."
"No, I know you fucking said something."
"I didn't say anything, Hodge! Jesus Christ!" He threw the gemstone on the ground, marched to his Toyota, and climbed behind the wheel.
Rebecca stepped in. "Guys, guys! I've had enough of this shit. Can we not argue and go home already?"
Maxine crossed her arms. "How long until the next one, Hodge?"
Jenna nodded. "Yeah. I have a big client coming up in a couple of weeks. I need them to sign on purchasing a vineyard, Justin. I literally mean it when millions are on the line. It's my biggest sale yet, and I don't want anything to mess it up."
"I'll let you all know." Hodge sulked and entered his Ford truck. The same truck that I climbed into before everything went black.
"But can you do it in two weeks?" Jenna asked again, stifling her urgency.
"Jenna, I'm tired. Do you want to scout another kid?"
Jenna held her tongue.
"Yeah. Neither do I, but since everyone thinks I'm the one that should do it, you're gonna have to wait. And Dave, Pick that thing up." He pointed at the gem. "You know what to do with it. As for me, I'm getting the fuck out of here and going back to sleep. I have football practice early in the morning."
Dave sighed and picked the gem up. He was about to walk over to the Range Rover when Hodge drove away.
"Hodge! You're my ride, man!" Dave shouted, but Hodge's taillights vanished when he rounded a corner.
Maxine climbed behind into Kirk's Toyota with Rebecca and Jenna, but clearly, there wasn't any room for Dave.
"I'll give you a ride," Alvin said, gesturing to his beat-up sedan.
Unlike the others, Alvin didn't quite fit the suburban mold the others seemed to proudly wear like a second skin. He wore a leather jacket and black cargo pants. And he wore actual hiking boots for the occasion. While I was in Dave's palm, I could sense the man's hesitation. Maxine shot him an apologetic look before Kirk turned on the ignition and drove away.
Dave let out a breath. "Um, do you know where I live?"
Alvin nodded. "Hop in."
Dave shoved me—the gemstone—inside his stinking backpack and climbed into the car.
As the beat-up sedan rumbled away from the forest, I realized I was tethered to that cursed gem.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape its grasp. I was like a hapless kite tied to the sedan's roof, helplessly watching the world whiz by, mocking my attempts to flee. Each time I dared to venture beyond its boundaries, which was around a mile radius, I found myself back inside the car, forced to endure the excruciating small talk between Alvin and Dave about jobs, sports, and whatever the hell Dave thought would be an excellent conversation to drown out the silence.
I did learn one thing. Apparently, they had been recruited into Hodge's little demonic cult for a few months now. However, that didn't tell me how Hodge learned such things in the first place.
We drove past the sign:
WELCOME TO POINT HOPE, OREGON.
POPULATION: 43,556.
Below it (with a couple of bullet holes), read:
HOME OF FINE GRAPES!
DRIVE SLOW!
A few vineyards flitted past my peripheral vision as we delved deeper into the town proper. Though my memories were hazy, I remembered eating with my friends at the old pizzeria and dinner theater every third Thursday of the month like a ritual. Where my family would eat breakfast every Sunday at a mom and pops waffles restaurant with the best french toast in the state near the park. Where my cousin had a beautiful wedding by the gazebo. I remember everyone made a big deal about a family of geese moving into town.
Eerily, there was not a soul in sight. Downtown was always busy, even for a mid-sized town like Point Hope.
Alvin parked the car in front of Dave's two-story ranch house, nestled at the northeast edge of town. My friends and I called it Green Hill because it was where most of the town's wealthy residents with daddy issues resided, overlooking most of the city on top of a literal hill.
Dave stepped out of the car, retrieved his bag from the backseat, and attempted a half-hearted display of gratitude. "Thanks, Alvin. I guess I'll see you around?"
Alvin merely nodded. "Goodnight."
Dave grinned and replied, "Or should I say, good morning?"
Alvin didn't laugh. He pushed the button from his side, rolling the window up before driving away, leaving Dave dumbfounded.
Dave dropped his smile. "Asshole." He walked toward the front door and entered the house.
The first thing Dave did when he entered the house was casually strolling into the bathroom, humming an Eminem song, strip everything he wore, and dumping them inside a black plastic bag. He then hopped into the shower, stayed there for almost an hour scrubbing every inch of his flesh, rinsing his hair and body with shampoo and men's body wash three times, and even cleaned his fingernails with a toothpick. Despite the circumstances, he displayed no signs of urgency—just another routine he had done many times.
Then, Dave entered the basement and dumped the plastic bag into the incinerator. Only a few houses now have these, but I reckoned that Dave built it for this special occasion. How long had Dave and Hodge sacrificed people for their greed? Hodge mentioned it had been months.
How many bodies did they go through to get Dave this lovely house? A well-paying job? This prominent reputation in the community, living in the affluent side of town? When I passed by the hallway earlier, I noticed a portrait of Dave's good-looking family. A beautiful wife. Two kids. One boy. One girl.
I instantly recognized Xavier Yates, a junior from McLaren High who played baseball and mostly kept hanging out with the douche canoe squad. The girl must be Vivian. Sometimes, I'd see her in the library, where she kept mainly to herself, unlike her brother. I didn't even know that Dave was their father, and I wondered if Dave's family knew that all of this money came from the children he killed.
Using my many-eyes, I floated through the walls and headed to the house's second floor.
The children were sleeping in their respective bedrooms. Xavier was a loud snorer, and Vivian had those whale sounds reverberating from the portable speakers at the end table. Hm. Heavy sleepers, I thought. They never woke up while their father tried to get rid of the evidence of my murder. I couldn't find his wife anywhere. The master bedroom looked unslept.
Suddenly, I felt Dave fish me out of the backpack, contemplating whether to throw me in the incinerator.
Shit.
In a split second, I snapped back my consciousness into the basement, into the stone.
I desperately tried to find a way out but couldn't move. I was just a dumb, stupid rock stuck at the mercy of a fucking killer. I couldn't even shout for help or for him to stop. I tried running through Dave with my floating consciousness. Maybe I could possess him? But it just gave me a fucking massive headache, and I never wanted to do that again.
Dave felt nothing. Not a flutter in the wind or sensed a presence in the basement; the way his hair rose at the nape of his neck when he sensed he was being watched—none of that. Dave strode toward the incinerator, ready to throw me inside.
That's when I noticed a slight shimmer at the bottom left corner of my vision. I focused on the glow, and everything around me suddenly slowed into a nanosecond crawl.
The shimmer expanded.
CORE
DUNGEONS(inaccessible)
MONSTERS(inaccessible)
TRAPS(inaccessible)
A prompt.
What the hell is this?
There was no doubt about it. A prompt. Like a menu from a video game? I was stunned momentarily, trying to wrap my head around this new development. Yes. It was exactly like a game. What the fuck am I? Am I in a simulation? I tried clawing my eyes and prying the device off my head, but I felt nothing.
Only the core was accessible to me, and it took a moment to learn that if I focused on the word again, I could click it and drop more information about the tab.
[CORE - Mark Castle]
Rank: Z (???)
Power (current: 5/5)
Defenses
Heat Surge I: Heat your body and protect yourself. Perfect opportunity for a distraction or an escape. Duration: 6 seconds.
Offenses
Mind Shock I: Stun your enemies with a static zap. Duration: 6 seconds.
Telekinesis I: Move an object or a creature more than ten feet in a three-dimensional space. Duration: 6 seconds.
Movement
Levitate I: Move your core no more than ten feet off the ground, allowing you to move horizontally or vertically for the duration. Duration: 10 minutes.
I realized these were my abilities exerted through the gem, but I had no idea how to access them.
Come on, come on! Concentrate!
Time around me gradually began to speed up again, and I was running out of time. I focused on [Heat Surge], straining my mind against those two words, compelling them to work, and willing the gem to heat up. I quickly noticed the Power prompt near the upper tab and how I currently had five.
Maybe if I—
Once I drew a mental link between Power and [Heat Surge], Dave suddenly yelped.
"Shit!" I fell to the ground, skidded, and rolled under an old couch.
[Power: 4/5]
Dave clutched his hand, mouth agape, and stared at the couch. "…the fuck?"
I can't believe that worked! I wanted to holler. I saw my Power go down by one, which meant using one of the abilities would drain it. I had four left.
Dave's heart raced as he approached the couch, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He bent down, lowering himself to a crouch, and cautiously angled his head to peer into the darkness underneath, which hid me from his line of sight. As his eyes strained to adjust, confusion danced across his face. His brows furrowed, questioning whether what he felt was a figment of his imagination.
Shaking his head, his fingers reached into the darkness, searching for any trace of my presence, desperate to grasp my body. He hesitated briefly as if bracing for the searing heat again. He was getting closer.
I lashed out with [Telekinesis].
Like a phantom gust of wind, it surged from within the gem, rippling through the air with an electric charge. The force collided with Dave's outstretched hand, propelling him backward with unexpected ferocity. It sent Dave hurtling across the room, his body flailing. The force of the blow jolted him off his feet, his back crashing against the lally column ten feet away from the couch and almost tipped over the industrial storage cabinet behind him.
Dave groaned in pain, struggling to regain his breath. He stood up, wobbling unsteadily on his feet, and stumbled over to an old table where he had left his phone. He cautiously glanced over the couch, making sure not to go near it. Then, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Hodge's number.
Hodge didn't pick up after a few rings, and it went straight to voicemail.
"Hodge, call me back. Something's fucking wrong with the gem, man. You gotta get to my house.Now. I don't know what to do." He ended the voicemail.
His eyes darted from the couch to the stairs. Was I still here? He probably wondered. He had to get closer to the couch to get to the stairs. I was reeling for a way out myself. Obviously, I shouldn't let him up the stairs. Who knows what he had up there he could use against me? Some demonic spell to contain me? To destroy me? I didn't know how capable David Yates was of magic, but I didn't want to find out.
I only got three Powers left.
He slowly walked toward the couch, fearing that if he made any sudden moves, it would trigger my telekinesis. He crept forward, careful not to make a sound, until he was only inches away from the stairs. With a sudden burst of speed, he ran up the steps, heart pounding, taking them two at a time. The basement door was wide open, and he reached out.
The door!
I grasped [Telekinesis] again and slammed the door shut just as Dave reached the upper landing and halfway through the door frame, striking him square in the face. With a strangled yelp, Dave clutched his broken nose and stepped back.
I still had a few seconds left with [Telekinesis], and I pulled his shirt down toward me.
He felt his body tilting dangerously over the edge, and he tried to correct it, but his right foot missed the first step entirely and slipped.
His arms flailed in a futile attempt to regain control, but it was too late. The world around him became a blur as gravity yanked his stumbling form. Dave tumbled down the stairs, the clash of flesh against wood reverberating through the confined basement.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud!
Then silence, broken only by Dave's ragged breaths as he lay on his back, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs before passing out.
NIGHTMARE SUBURBIA
Part 4
Blood trickled down Dave's cheek and splattered onto his shirt. Blood soaked his hair from the gash where he smashed his face as he tumbled down the steps. His right leg bent in an odd direction.
My vision blurred. I couldn't believe I had done this. I might have given him a concussion, but Dave was still alive. Barely. His phone lay three feet to the right; Its shattered screen mirrored the damage I had inflicted. It still worked.
Someone texted him.
ASHLEY (Wife, answer!):
Flight got delayed by 1 hour. I'll be home a little late. Don't pick me up at the airport. I'll take an Uber. Love you.
I didn't know how long I stood there, staring at Dave's unconscious body, still numbed from what I had done and what I was capable of.
My stomach suddenly growled. I was so hungry. The feeling came out of nowhere, but it was all I could think about as I stared at Dave. I must have been too distracted by all that had transpired. Everything was happening so fast. Did the gem require nourishment? Do rocks even need one? How would I eat? These thoughts swirled in my mind while I stood there motionless.
I decided to use my powers. Maybe I could figure out more about my abilities if I used them. But first, I needed some food. And water. My thirst was becoming unbearable. But the other three tabs were still inaccessible, and I wondered what they meant about Dungeons, Monsters, and Traps. From the words alone, they didn't paint a pretty picture. If I could move people and objects around and levitate, I shuddered to imagine what was behind the Monsters tab.
The sudden jolt of the water pipes pulled me out of my thoughts. The children were awake, getting ready for school. An hour after I knocked Dave unconscious, Xavier and Vivian prepared their breakfast in the kitchen. I spied with my many-eyes like a fly on the wall.
"Hey, Viv. Did you hear Dad come home last night?" Xavier asked, taking a bite out of his toast.
Vivian wiped her mouth with a napkin and nodded. "Yeah, I think so?"
"When?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. It was late."
Xavier nodded. His eyes darted to the ceiling before he walked out of the kitchen, went up the stairs, and checked his parents' bedroom. He found it empty, just like I did. With a sigh, he went back to the kitchen.
"Dad's not home," Xavier said.
"Maybe he went to pick up Mom. Isn't she due back from the conference today?"
Xavier nodded. "I don't know. Something's bugging me."
Suddenly, Xavier looked in my direction.
I froze. I thought he could see me for a second until he shook his head and finished his breakfast.
"Well, since he's not here, I'm driving us to school," Xavier said.
"Mom's car? No way."
"Yep. She told me I could."
Vivian narrowed her gaze and chuckled. "You're lying. She never even allow me to drive it."
"Oh my god, Viv. She did, okay?"
"Dude, you wrecked your car three months ago. Mom did not tell you to drive hers."
"Would you rather ride the bus?"
Vivian pursed her lips. "Okay. Fair point."
Xavier grinned. "Come on. Finish up."
"What? This early?"
"I like school."
"Yeah, right. You want to get there because Carly's in Publications. And their meetings are like seven in the freaking morning," Vivian teased. "Whipped."
"I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear you." Xavier fished out the car keys from the bowl near the front door. Vivian wolfed down her sandwich and gulped down the orange juice. She quickly followed Xavier into the garage.
They stopped, staring at their father's BMW.
"Wait, Dad's home?" Vivian muttered.
Leave, I wanted to say. Just go! Get to school! Your Dad's not in the house.
"Coach Hodge picked him up last night, remember? Maybe he's not back yet," Xavier said, walking up to the Escalade.
"What the heck are Dad and the coach doing that they're out until morning?"
Xavier shrugged. "Probably drinking."
"Dad doesn't drink, Xav."
Xavier paused, regarding the garage door again. He looked like he contemplated checking out the house again. Suddenly, his phone chimed. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the screen before a wide smile crept on his lips.
"What?" Vivian asked.
"Nothing."
It was Carly texting him. She was one of the most popular girls in school. She played volleyball, wrote for the school's newspaper, and planned on running for school president for her senior year.
CARLY:
Omw to school. I'll see u by the quad with Zoe once I'm done w/ meeting.
Xavier opened the driver's side door. "Get in."
Vivian rolled her eyes. "That's Carly, isn't it?"
"I said get in. We don't want to be late."
"We got like forty-seven minutes until the first bell, Xav. That's like too much." Vivian stifled a laugh.
"Whatever."
"What about Dad?"
"I'm sure Coach Hodge will drop him off any minute. He's picking up Mom from the airport, after all."
Vivian sighed. "Okay. Fine. Why don't you tell Carly already that you like her? It's so exhausting seeing you run around like—"
Dave suddenly jolted awake, snapping me back to the basement. His ragged breaths grew heavy. A broken rib might have punctured his lungs. He coughed and wheezed as he tried to sit up until he noticed his broken leg. The Escalade's engines roared as Xavier turned on the ignition.
"Help!" Dave screamed. "Help me!"
His voice reverberated through the basement. I flinched and floated back toward the couch.
"Xavier! Viv! I'm down here!"
But Xavier and Vivian didn't hear him. Vivian connected the USB cable charger to her phone to the car's speakers. Music blasted through them, drowning out Dave's muffled screams from the basement.
"Help! I'm down here!"
The garage doors slid open, and Xavier drove out into the street, heading into town, and left me alone with Dave. He heard the car's noise gradually fade, his chance for help dissipating.
Dave tried to reach for his phone.
Without hesitating, I unleashed my telekinetic power, swatting the device away from his fingertips. It soared through the room and tumbled under what used to be a TV stand.
Dave froze; the realization hit him like a truck. I was still there, or at least the phantasmal presence he believed was tormenting him. His quivering lips and glazed eyes showed me his fear.
And it was fucking intoxicating.
More, more, more, was all I could think about.
His frantic gaze darted around the room. There was none.
In a hushed whisper, desperation dripped from Dave's trembling voice. "Please," he pleaded, his words barely audible. "Whoever you are, I swear I have nothing to do with it. It was all Hodge. Justin Hodge. Please! He summoned you! Not me!"
Ah. He believed I was a demon. I could see his mind click into place; he probably thought his fiendish little groupie managed to summon an angry citizen from below. And now it was taking his frustrations out on him.
"I swear I had no part in it. I don't even know how to do magic! It was all him. So, please, just let me go. Let me go!"
Anger welled inside me. Were those tears? Unbelievable! After the unspeakable things he had done, he dared to cry and beg for his own life. Bullshit. What about mine? Did he stop to think he was murdering a person? I had a life, and now it was fucking gone! I lost everything! What about my poor parents? They had been worried sick while I was missing for days, now rotting in the woods, waiting to be found. He just murdered me a few hours ago, and now he wanted mercy? My mercy? The sheer balls of this man.
"Please. I have a family." He choked up.
[Power: 2/5]
"So do I, asshole!" I cried out. "Fuck you!"
Grasping [Telekinesis], I dragged across the cold, hard floor. He thrashed and yelled, his cries echoing through the dimly lit space. Finally, I released my grip on him near the lally column with a resounding thud. With seconds left to spare with my power, I pushed the heavy industrial storage cabinet over.
And on top of his head.
Dave's eyes widened with terror as he realized the danger he was in. His broken leg immobilized him. He raised his arms in a last-ditch effort to defend himself, but the feeble gesture proved useless against the cabinet's weight. These heavy industrial storage cabinets could weigh almost two hundred and fifty pounds—some even more. The cabinet groaned and creaked as it teetered on its edge and bore down on him.
"No! No—!"
Dave made a high-piercing screech that lasted for a split second when his elbows snapped and bent unnaturally, the sickening sound of bones breaking punctuating the room. Skin tore, and blood mingled with the cold floor.
With a sickening squelch, the cabinet crushed his head mid-scream, nearly severing his head. Only his lower jaw and a row of perfectly nice teeth remained. His body twitched. His other unbroken leg jerked erratically before it subsided.
My insides churned with a nauseating mix of horror and disgust. But I had no mouth, and all I was left with was this nauseating aura, and I had no way to vomit and get rid of the exasperating feeling.
I killed him, I thought, disgusted. I fucking killed him.
I stared at Dave's lifeless body for a long moment. It didn't seem real. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I hallucinated all of the bullshit, and this was Hell; everything was my punishment. I expected a camera crew to come out and tell me it was all a prank. A huge, fucked-up, elaborate prank.
I wanted to cry. I really did. But no tears came. Not even a strong pull welled deep in my gut, bringing down my heart. I just stood there, or rather floated there, frozen like a fucking idiot. I killed a person. Shouldn't it affect me more? But all I could think about was how fucking hungry I was after.
Food. I needed food.
I needed to eat something. Anything.
Then I noticed that Dave's body emanated this faint reddish glow. Wisps licked from the corpse, hanging mid-air before dissipating. I could taste in the air its enthralling allure. I was drawn to it. Or rather, the gem was.
I needed it.
Using the last of my Power, I rolled out from under the couch, levitated five feet off the ground, and moved closer to Dave's body. The moment I drew near, the reddish wisps instantly melded into my aura, a euphoric trance that momentarily blinded me. As my vision returned, I was bombarded by several prompts all at once.
[Rank: Z - #4987 > #4702]
[Power: 6/6]
[You received: 100 crystals]
[You received: 1 essence]
[You can now upgrade 1 core ability rank]
[Discovery (Potential Dungeon): The Yates Residence]
[Would you like to designate The Yates Residence as your dungeon?]