FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 1
Maxine trudged through the woods while I nestled inside her jacket's pocket, guiding the way. She carried a shovel with her. I guessed I shouldn't be surprised that a cultist had a spare shovel in her trunk, probably to bury a body at a moment's notice. Maxine seemed like the type of person who came prepared for a gunfight. All of PHPD were looking for the red Ford Explorer.
We had been walking for four hours now, but the demon never tired nor complained about the trek toward the foot of Mount Selene, the second tallest mountain in Oregon, rising for almost eleven thousand feet.
A dormant steep-sided stratovolcano and part of the Cascade Range, Mount Selene killed forty-nine people when it erupted back in the seventies, leveling a good portion of the forest with ash and sending almost sixty-thousand-foot plume into the sky. That didn't include the number of climbers who died during the ascent to its peak for over a century. Though it might not be as tall and gigantic as Denali, Foraker, Fairweather, or the other mountains in the country, all routes leading to the top were considered treacherous and deadly and only recommended for experienced climbers, buffeted by strong winds and surprise storms. The weather in the valley was unpredictable—sunny in the morning and a rainstorm by the afternoon.
Even the surrounding forest got a history of missing hikers and campers due to grizzly bear and mountain lion attacks. I've heard plenty of rumors that the mob and gangs affiliated with the cartel drove out here just to dump the bodies of their victims. I didn't know if it was true, but it was enough to scare people around the area. It's large enough to dump a body in.
Bodies like mine, I thought bitterly.
For us locals, we just called it Hell's Peak.
And it was a perfect place to build my dungeon.
"Stop," I commanded.
Maxine stopped in her tracks.
"I'll take a look around," I said.
Grasping my many-eyes, I zoomed out of the forest, breaking through the canopy with my consciousness, and faced the south side of Mount Selene's picturesque snow-capped peak. It didn't look like Hell. It was beautiful. Tranquil.
Cascadia Lodge was a mountain ski resort popular in winter and early spring on the northern side. Technically, it was popular all year round for corporate retreats, college students, and family gatherings. Our senior retreat after we graduate was going to be held there. I frowned that I would never get to experience it. There were also several beginner and intermediate trails for avid hikers and plenty of scenic campgrounds. The north side was always busy. I could only see up to a couple of miles from Maxine's location, and I couldn't get a glimpse of the lodge from this side of the mountain. Mount Selene's broad flanks covered almost fourteen miles.
As for the southern side, it hosted a few 'adventurous' trails and most of the climbing routes leading up to Selene's peak. However, few people traversed the area, except for the more daring ones. Swathes of McLaren Forest hadn't been explored thoroughly, after all. An expanse of Douglas fir, hemlock, and pines as far as the eye could see. At the most southern tip was Point Hope, glittering like a faint beacon under the fading afternoon sky.
I spotted the nearest hiking trail from Maxine's location was about two miles away. It didn't look like it had much traffic going through it. Ten miles westward, I could barely see Highway 26 and the offshoot dirt road where Maxine left the red Ford Explorer. I turned east, where I spotted the rest of the Cascade Mountain Range and Cedar Lake, a fifteen hundred acre body of water just over three miles from Maxine's location, and fed into the Clackamas River. A small off-beaten road leads back to Highway 26 from the lake's southern side.
Hell's Peak to the North. Highway 26 to the West. Cedar Lake to the East. Point Hope to the South. I liked what I saw.
I went back to Maxine. "Move northeast. Continue for another mile or two. You will see a lake," I said.
Maxine nodded and continued walking for another hour until we reached the northern side of Cedar Lake.
I smiled. "This is it. This is where I'll build."
Maxine nodded over to the other side of the lake. "I see buildings, my liege," she said.
"Ah. That's Cedar Pine Summer Camp. It used to be owned by the Gradys, but when Old Man Grady died three years ago, his wife and sons tried to sell the place, but there was no buyer for a long time. Now, it's rotting."
One of my favorite summer memories was in that place. I remembered the gauntlet race Old Man Grady used to host, where we had to swim to the island in the middle of the lake, find a colored flag, and then row a boat back to camp. The winner gets one of those disposable fifty-dollar Visa cards and extra scoops of ice cream during chow. My friends and I would hit up the arcade, watch a movie, and then buy root beer floats at Josey's once we got back to town.
"No one would bother us here," I said.
"But you need essence," Maxine said. "As I've said in the car, you need to be closer to town or even that ski resort to lure people in easily."
"The only essence I want are the people who murdered me, demon," I said. "As what I'm going to do after that…I haven't gotten that far."
"I sense you do not want people to come here, my liege."
Damn, these demons. They're always so insightful. "Yeah, because I'll be murdering them." Now that I calmed down during the drive out of town, the reality of what I had done in Green Hill hit me like a fucking truck.
"For you to survive," the demon reassured me. "You are still at a juvenile stage, my liege. You are still starving. You need more essence, or you will die."
"I said I haven't gotten that far yet. Let me worry about what happens once I get rid of the cult," I said, annoyed.
Don't get me wrong; I didn't want to die. But ever since I got stuck inside this gem, I feared death with obsession. I didn't know if it was an after-effect of my being a dungeon core or not, but it had exacerbated my fear a hundredfold. There was no way to stop it, like I was forever stuck in a fight-or-flight mode. All I wanted to do was burrow deep into the earth, hide, and build.
Build. That feeling kept growing and growing when I dismantled the Yates Residence. It was all I could think about during the drive.
"First, we will build the dungeon here, okay?"
"As you wish, my liege."
I opened up the prompt. The Monsters, Dungeons, and Traps tabs were grayed out again as inaccessible.
[Discovery (Potential Dungeon): North Cedar Lake.]
[Would you like to designate North Cedar Lakeas your dungeon?]
"Designate North Cedar Lake as my dungeon."
[You created a dungeon!]
[Unique Location: Picturesque Lake]
[Rank (Z): #2641 > #2595]
[Power: 10/10]
[You received: 100 crystals]
[Dungeons are now accessible]
[Monsters are now accessible]
[Traps are now accessible]
Well, at least I got extra crystals. That brought me to two thousand total, hopefully enough to create the dungeon I wanted.
"May I ask a question, my liege?" The demon asked.
"Shoot."
"Why the woods?"
"Huh?"
"The woods. There is an ideal mountain range not too far from here. You can burrow through and hide your gem and protect it with caverns and winding corridors. It will be a perfect place to house your core."
"As much as I wanted to stay underground, I've never been good with the dark."
The demon seemed surprised by my revelation, raising its eyebrow and slightly leaning forward, intrigued. I wondered if it genuinely expected me not to fear anything.
"And besides, I like the woods. It's…me. I hike. I camp. I eat s'mores during the summer. My dad would take me deer hunting sometimes in these parts. I would go skiing with my friends during the winter. I had my first beer during a high school bonfire not far from here. I spent six weeks of my summer at that abandoned summer camp before they closed for seven years of my life. So I don't want to live deep underground where I can't feel the sun anymore. If I'm going to be stuck in this gem forever, I wanted to be out here, moving with the wind, you know?"
Maxine remained expressionless. I doubted demons would suddenly grow a little bit of empathy. It looked like it was annoyed I wasn't doing an excellent job of protecting myself.
"Also, we don't have dedicated adventurers here, demon. Not like in other worlds where they delve through dungeons looking for treasures like it's a job. I reckon that's about the case?"
Maxine nodded. "Plenty of cities build wealthy guilds around powerful and prosperous dungeons."
"Well, this is Earth, and we do things differently here. Not many people know what I am to look for me. We don't have adventuring guilds. Not many people do magic or wield swords. We have clubs—Hiking, water sports, skiing, mountain climbing, camping, mushroom hunters, and survivalist groups. All the outdoorsy stuff you could think of is all around us. If—" I paused. "—If I get hungry for essence, I can lure those people who got lost in me, took a wrong turn, went off the beaten path, and ended up at a place they won't suspect."
"And what's that, my liege?"
"A cabin."
Grasping [levitate], I flew out of Maxine's pocket, moving toward an empty clearing on top of a rocky outcrop. If I looked directly from the abandoned summer camp, several bigger trees obscured the area. But it left enough space to get a great view of the lake and the mountain range if I erected the building here.
"I'll build a cabin on this spot."
I pulled up the [Dungeons] tab and reviewed what I needed. Fortunately, the sunset wasn't until 7:43 PM; I had at least three more hours of daylight to build the cabin. I don't have to wait weeks to finish it when you have magic money!
My dungeon was a two-mile-wide radius, centered around the cabin, large enough to involve parts of the lake and the nearby woods.
I started small. I only had two thousand crystals to spare and still had to build traps. I dug ten feet through the earth, which would become my cellar, then I placed wooden floors to cover it, leaving a gap for a cellar door on the floor.
I decided to create a one-story cabin with two bedrooms. An ample enough space for a shared dining and living area with a mason-bricked chimney. A kitchen with a small pantry. A covered front porch. A mud room with a screened door leading out to a back deck overlooking the beautiful lake. And then one bathroom with a washer and dryer. There were billions of items on the list; some I couldn't pronounce and so alien to my tongue that I had to ask the core only to show me Earth-made items.
Furnishing it was much easier and cheaper. Maybe the other dungeons weren't too concerned with the delver's comfort, choosing to build narrow hallways with poisoned dart traps, which netted four hundred crystals, compared to a queen-sized bed for five. Or a cavern that looked like a temple, complete with ancient statues, demonic mosaics, rune-inscribed pillars, and plenty more for a thousand.
With the furnishings, the cabin only cost me three hundred crystals. I even excavated the land around it to create a dirt road, connecting it to the road on the southern side of the lake. I built a short hiking trail from the cabin to the lake's shore, where I erected a small boathouse, canoes, and a fire pit. Outside the cabin, I made a small tool shed and left a decent area empty for parking. As an added touch, I put a fence around the cabin with the sign: NO TRESPASSING. PRIVATE PROPERTY!
Once everything was done, it looked like any cozy cabin in the woods, far from civilization. The last thing I built was the cable wires to connect it to the electrical grid. And voila! As the sun set over the horizon, I had electricity and internet.
The demon ran her hands on the porch's support columns, knocking on the wood.
"What do you think?" I asked.
"I prefer the caverns, my liege," the demon said. "But the cabin looks…homely."
"It's meant for the delvers."
"You are building them a house to sleep in?"
"More than that," I said. "Um, when we contact the cultists, they'll go here. We'll lead them far away from town. Far from any signs of help. This will be their only shelter."
"Shelter," the demon whispered. "But not really a shelter."
"No. It will be a trap. There's no phone signal, so they wouldn't be able to call for help. All I had to do is shut off the wifi, and they are in the dark."
I created a few traps as well. They weren't as elaborate (and expensive) as the "Spinning Death Wheel" but like the rug from the Yates Residence masquerading as a household object. I added the rug trap near the front door to prevent anyone from escaping. I also made the stairs breakable, triggering only if a delver tried to flee a monster from down there. The windows would clamp shut if a delver attempted to escape that way. I was also inspired by the demon's trick of using the electrical wires, dangling a delver off the floor. I placed that in the living area with the ceiling fan that could fall and knock someone out.
Outside, I strategically placed the bear traps and the nets under the leaves and dirt and hung hooks from trees. If the cultists managed to reach their car and drive away, I could trigger a tree to fall in the middle of the dirt road, trapping them in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by the dark. They had no choice but to return to the house.
Back to me.
"Where would you like to put your core, my liege?" Maxine asked. "I don't think it's a good idea to stay in the cabin with the delvers and be within their reach."
I nodded. "I found a better spot. I want you to take me there."
I guided Maxine deeper into the woods, about a quarter of a mile from the cabin, and told her to stop before a dying oak tree.
Towering for over sixty feet, its gnarled trunk, once thick and robust, was now riddled with deep cracks and crevices, serving as silent reminders of the countless seasons it had weathered. Once rough and sturdy, its bark had turned a dull gray, peeling away in patches to reveal the frailty beneath. Moss and lichen clung desperately to the rough surface as if desperately trying to breathe life into the dying giant. The tree's branches were now bare, stripped of their foliage. A few scattered leaves, pale and lifeless, clung precariously to the skeletal limbs. They rustled weakly in the night breeze.
Perfect. "Put me inside there," I said.
The demon smiled. She didn't like the cabin's cozy atmosphere but seemed to love the creepy tree. Maxine put me into a crevice, and I sank deeper into the tree. Licks of the weave flowed out of me, gently caressing the tree's insides, extending out some of its cracked fissures to close and swallow me. The tree became my armor.
In an instant, I felt the land breathing underneath—the light breeze, multiple branches creaking, the waters lapping from the lake and the nearby river, insects humming, squirrels chattering, and so much more. I sensed the new cabin, the dirt road, the few hiking trails, the boathouse, and the main road down the south. I could even see parts of the abandoned summer camp from the borders.
Even the dying oak tree seemed to…change. It creaked more ominously against the wind. As the sun continued to go down, its distorted silhouette merged with the encroaching darkness, creating an otherworldly sight. Shadows danced and flickered around the tree, casting strange and distorted shapes upon the ground. Occasionally, a weak gust of wind would rustle through the decaying leaves at the bottom, producing a haunting whisper that seemed to echo through the lonely forest.
"You look magnificent, my liege," the demon said.
"You still have the shovel?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Find my body. I reckon you know where it is? It's not far from here." Maxine nodded. "Good. Dig me up and bring me to the cabin. Take a picture of my corpse using Maxine's phone and send a group text to the cult with the picture. Tell them to go to the cabin and that you are alive and waiting for them."
"And if they bring more friends?"
"You mean the police?"
"Yes."
"They won't. If they do, they will find the body and perform an autopsy on my corpse, which will incriminate all of them. They'll go alone to get rid of the evidence for good. Once they get here, you two will be waiting for them."
"Two of us, my liege?"
I smiled. "You won't be alone for long." I turned to the northern side of the clearing and summoned the monster I made with the cabin. "Come closer."
Demon Maxine followed where my consciousness went and looked northward. A towering giant of a man emerged from the shadows, strolling with heavy steps and dragging a double-sided wood axe. The demon shrieked and cackled with excitement, jumping and twirling. "More! More!"
The stranger approached into sun's fading the light.
THE GOLIATH
Dread Score: 4/10
Creature Type: Humanoid
Cooldown: 1 week
Weapon(s): Double-sided Axe; Hunting Knife
Special Traits
Mask Wielder I
A mask goes a long way to cause instant fear. Send chills through the minds of the delvers. Masks also heighten their senses, making them aware of the proximity to their closest delver.
Brute Strength I
The monster exudes considerable strength above and beyond a normal human and can easily shed through a delver's defenses.
Not Quite Dead I
Kick them. Stab them. Bludgeon them. They get right back up for another strike. The monster is harder to kill, and it will take considerable effort for the delvers to take the creature down. Every time the monster gets up, it depletes their Resolve over time. (Stun Duration: 1 minute)
He wore a dark brown trench coat, a nice-looking suit and a black tie underneath, a pair of hiking boots, and a dull-white fox mask covering his entire face to complete his creepy getup. He let the axe rest to the side, hand gripping the tail end of the handle while he breathed audibly through the mask. An interesting thing about [Humanoid] archetypes was that you get to choose what weapons they wield. He studied Maxine curiously before regarding me again.
"Meet the Goliath, demon," I said. Demon Maxine waved.
The Goliath nodded slowly and grunted. I didn't give him a special speech trait, so he could only grunt in response. I didn't need him to speak anyway. I wanted him to stop any of the cultists from leaving the woods.
"Okay, demon, you can go and fetch my body now. As for you, Goliath, I have a plan, and I need you to listen carefully."
FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 2
Not even two hours after the cabin was built and the demon left to dig up my body a few miles away, I encountered a major problem.
A white van approached from the main southern road but didn't look lost. At first, I thought it was Coach Hodge and his little band of cultist fucks, but I instructed the demon not to text them until we retrieved my dead body back to the cabin. However, the van drove past the branching dirt path leading to my place, heading straight for the abandoned Cedar Pine Summer Camp's entrance a few miles up the road.
There was one great benefit of building a permanent dungeon. Though I could only activelyaffect an area around a two-mile radius, I could "see" past another mile or two. I still couldn't reach the other side of the mountain and peek over the hundreds of people visiting Cascadia Lodge, but it allowed me to spy and observe a large swathe of my domain, including Cedar Pine. If I remained a core, I wouldn't even be able to see this van coming.
It felt strange, wasn't it? My domain. It was the most appropriate thing I could think of to describe my new place. So, I projected myself inside the van unnoticed, a passive observer amidst my intruders.
Two men sat on the front seat, clad in darker clothes and wearing black gloves. I noticed one of them had a pistol holstered on his belt. Two more men sat on the back, wearing similar clothing, but flanked another—fifth—man curled up on the floor with a bag over his head. A rope tightly bound his wrists behind his back.
"What the fuck?" I muttered out loud. I cringed, waiting for their heads to turn around to where I stood, but they didn't react. I gotta get used to being invisible to humans.
One of the men from the back kicked the bound man. He didn't stir. "Nah, still knocked out," he said. "Are we there yet, bro?"
The driver glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah. Just about." He slowed the van down and veered gently onto the driveway leading toward the camp, passing by the sign:
WELCOME TO CEDAR PINE!
ENJOY YOUR STAY DEATH!
The STAY section was spray painted off. Under the DEATH part was a graffiti of a skull skewered by a knife. How lovely. Since it had been abandoned, numerous teenagers and some college students frequented the camp for a night of drinking and debauchery. The Gradys had put up a gate last year to dissuade the trespassers from ruining more of their property, but it didn't stop people from hiking and jumping the fence. The sheriff's office would sometimes send a squad car to check out the property once during the day and night over the weekend since they're good friends with the family.
And I recognized the driver's voice.
Moving to the front, Leo Grady, the late Old Man Grady's eldest son, parked the van in front of the gate. Leo hopped out of the vehicle, fishing for a set of keys from his pocket, and opened the padlocked gate. He swung it open. He gestured for the other man in the front (now behind the wheel) to drive forward. Then, he closed the gate behind them. He climbed back into the van, taking the empty passenger seat.
"Are you sure no one's gonna bother us out here?" The driver asked.
"Not many people come here, John," Leo said. "It's private property. My property. We're good."
The driver—John—nodded. "It better be."
Leo had changed drastically since I last saw him five years ago when Cedar Pine was open before they shut down permanently. He used to work as one of the camp counselors—one of the better ones, in my opinion—and he taught me how to build a fire in the woods and identify what kind of mushrooms were safe enough to eat around the area.
Now, he had sheared off his 90s Leonardo DiCaprio blonde locks (well known by all the girls in the camp crushing on him) to a faded buzz cut. He was paler than usual. Last I heard, he joined the army after the camp shut down, and the rest of the Grady children moved to Portland while Abigail Grady stayed in Point Hope, but I didn't realize he was back. I didn't remember seeing him around town either, but then again, I did not have a good track record with my memory lately. I noticed the tattoos peeking from his wrist and upper chest.
I didn't know much about this John fellow. He was the same age as Leo, looking like he was in his late twenties (maybe early thirties?), and he was the one carrying the gun. My knowledge about guns was limited by what my father had in his safe, but it looked like John carried a 9mm. It could be a Glock, which probably held at least fifteen rounds. If they ever find the Goliath, they could stun him with that.
What brought them out here? Were they another group of cultists sacrificing the guy they tied up? It didn't look like it. They didn't carry any weird stuff I saw on the meadow—no extra jars or markings they had to lay out. There wasn't even a glowing gem.
I didn't get the memo that being part of a cult is a popular hobby these days. Maybe if I joined one, I wouldn't end up dead. If they're genuinely part of a cult, I'll just kill them. No question.
But they were something else. Something new.
Back at the cabin, I woke up the Goliath, sitting quietly under the cellar and staring at the blank wall. Before I was interrupted, I watched him do that for two hours. Creepy, but I didn't have a lot of entertainment to go around lately. Watching the tv seemed arbitrary, and I also didn't have cable or paid for several streaming services (a point I'd get back to later once the cultists were gone).
The Goliath rose from his squat position and stared at me with that haunting, murderous gaze.
"Um, we have potential visitors," I said. "They're at the Cedar Pine Summer Camp."
The Goliath nodded and picked up the axe leaning against the wall.
The strangers drove for another two minutes until they reached the camp proper, where they parked in front of the visitor's center, the main lodge in the middle of the camp. The four men hopped out of the vehicle; the last one roughly yanked the bound man out and let him fall flat on his face on the dirt. He laughed lowly. The bound man groaned awake.
"Scottie!" John glared at him. "Careful!"
"What?" Scottie shrugged. He looked like a younger version of John, only with lighter brown hair than the former's darker shade. I reckoned this must be John's younger brother. Maybe a cousin? "We're gonna hurt him anyway."
"Not out here, you're not," John pushed him away from the bound man and smacked him on the back of the head. "Out here, you follow my lead; you got that?" Scottie rolled his eyes. John pointed to the fourth man, a tall and lanky guy with thick-rimmed glasses standing by the side, and clearly didn't want to get involved in the spat between John and Scottie. "Art, pick him up and get him inside the lodge," John ordered.
"Yes, boss." Art shot Scottie a sympathetic look before he put his arms under the bound man's armpit and dragged him into the lodge while Leo opened the door.
John leaned closer to Scottie. "You want this job or not?"
Scottie scoffed and was about to walk toward the porch when John grabbed his elbow and dragged him back to face him.
"Hey, I'm talking to you. Do you want this money, Scottie?"
"Yeah," Scottie lowered his head. "I already told you."
"Then you don't fuck this up. You asked to join the big boys. Well, this is the grand club. No more dealing shit on the street where you're top dog because out here, shit gets real, okay?"
"I got it."
"I didn't hear you."
"I said I fucking got it!" Scottie shook John's hand on his shoulder. "Jeez, John. You sound like Dad." Scottie stomped into the visitor's center, almost elbowing Leo.
I could tell that Leo and Scottie hated each other, and his relationship with John was strained at best.
John heaved a sigh and followed after him.
"Hey," Leo stopped him. "He gonna be a problem?"
"Nah." John shook his head. "He's just dipping his toes."
"He better not drown then. We're gonna have to finish by dawn," Leo said. "I hope he has the stomach for it."
"Unlike you, Leo, my brother and I grew up in the street. We learned to have strong stomachs."
Leo chuckled. "Oh, good. The more, the merrier. I hate to perform to a dead audience." He jogged back to the van. "Let me get my tools."
"And can we do something about the lights? It's fucking dark out here, man." John looked up to a moonless sky.
Leo smiled, the same smile he would flash at the girls in the camp. "Sure. I've just got the thing."
By tools, he meant a hefty duffel bag with all sorts of gear: ropes, an assortment of knives from big to small, hammers, needles, crowbar, scissors, pliers, and many more. He grabbed a gas can from the back of the van, strolled into the lodge, and put enough juice on the generator. Lights illuminated the place.
"And…let there be light," he muttered to John after he turned on the generator. "See? That was easy."
John sighed. "Now, on to the hard part. Let's get this over with."
"What are you talking about? I'm the one doing all the work."
John scratched his chin. "You could use the exercise."
"Got a gym membership for three years, fool."
"Well, I'd rather watch TV than babysit tonight."
"Beggars can't be choosers."
"After tonight, things might change for once."
Leo shot him a curious look. He didn't want to pry, but t was threatening to spill out of his lips. "What'd you mean by that?"
John, out of habit, looked around for any keen ears. "I was thinking of moving to Chicago with Scottie for a while now. You know, leave this thing all behind?"
Leo took a step back. "What, like, leave Mercer?"
John nodded.
"That's a high price than kidnapping some guy," Leo said. They rounded the corner and entered the mess hall.
"Hopefully, I'll catch him on a good day."
Leo snorted. "That's going to take a month. At least."
"Can't hurt to try."
"So, Chicago, huh? Good luck."
"Thanks, man."
"Did you break the news to Scottie yet?"
"You know him. He'll complain. He'll grovel. Then, he'll follow."
Art dragged the bound man across the lobby, the mess hall, and then into an empty office, kicking away empty cans of beer bottles and old sleeping bags. He and Scottie lifted him onto a chair, keeping his wrists tied behind his back. A minute later, Leo and John entered the room. The former turned his nose at the small graffiti on the wall about how Wayne Loftus and Candace Purcell fucked and got pregnant here. There were also various graffitis of dicks, big breasts, and, oddly enough, tons of cats.
Leo frowned. "I'm gonna have to ask my brother to clean that up when he comes here next month."
"Nice dig you got," Scottie huffed. "Might have to buy it later. It's cozy."
"I hope you have a million bucks then," Leo said. "We've been trying to sell it for years now."
"Have you asked Mercer?" Art asked. "This can be a good hideout for the crew."
Leo paused. I could tell that the thought perturbed him a little. He didn't want this Mercer guy to get his hands on his property. "It didn't cross my mind," he lied. He then gestured over to Art. "Take off his hood."
Art nodded and took it off. The bound man flinched, squinting his eyes from the bright light. He was a balding man in his mid-forties. Dark mustache with a prominent pot belly. He's the type of guy you'd find sitting at the front of the bar with a tall glass of beer, watching sports and catcalling women by the alley: an average Italian-American, blue-collar Joe from the city. I didn't know what he did for Leo and his goons to kidnap and bring him out here.
As his vision adjusted, it landed on Leo.
"Leo! The fuck!" He tried to get his wrists off but realized it was bound together. "What—what the fuck are you doing, man? This better be some sick joke."
"Hey, Eddie," Leo gave a small, casual wave. Just another day at the office vibes. "And, no, this isn't a joke, sadly."
"Does Mercer know about this?" Eddie spat. "My cousin's not the man you want to mess with."
"Huh. I'm getting scared already."
"Quit fucking around, kid! Untie me now. Look, you're new—"
"Uh-huh?"
"—And I'll let my cousin know this is just you being green. That's all. Whatever the Gallahan Boys paid you, we'll double it! Swear!"
Leo shrugged. "Oh, before you say anything more, Eddie, Mercer's the one who sent us."
Eddie paused for a long moment. "No. No, he didn't. My cousin wouldn't do that."
Leo fished out his phone. "Sure, sure. Do you want me to call him? I have him on speed dial. But knowing your cousin, he's not the type of guy to be bothered at night unless it's an emergency." Leo put the phone back in his pocket.
"My cousin wouldn't do that!" Eddie repeated.
"See, he just did." Leo leaned closer. "Listen, Eddie. We don't really have time for chit-chat or sit around a campfire singing kumbaya. Why don't you tell us the name of the DEA agent you cut a deal with? Make it easy for you, man. If you don't, the next few hours won't be pretty."
Eddie blanched. "I don't know any DEA," he said. "Wait—you think I'm a fucking narc? Fuck you, Leo! I didn't do any of that shit! You—you got the wrong guy! I'm family!"
Leo stared at him for a moment. Nodded. "Well, you were. Then, you start…what did Mercer say again, John?"
John crossed his arms. "Skimming."
"Ah. Yes. Skimming the books. For years, mind you! And you also made some unofficial deals with the other cartels when you were in Colombia for a few months, right? Cut a big paycheck for yourself? It's probably why you can afford that house in Hillside. Not even Mercer has a house there, and I doubt your wife can afford the property from her advertising salary. What was her excuse again, John?"
"Big bonus at the company," John said, sounding almost bored.
"Hm. Yes. A big bonus. I call bullshit. How much is the DEA paying you to bust one of our labs in the docks, Eddie?"
"So, this is what it's about? The Glover job? That's not me, Leo! I wasn't even near that fucking place!"
"When you cause Mercer to lose three million bucks of operations and severed several contracts he worked on for half a decade to cultivate, you don't really have an avenue to argue, Eddie. We know you didn't work alone. Let's face it, you're a dumb son of a bitch, and you can never plan that Glover job all by yourself with your two brain cells."
"Fuck. You."
Leo shrugged. "I'll pass. Aside from you, who's the rat?"
Eddie looked around the room to the other two men standing at the sidelines. He wanted to beg them to stop Leo, but I realized he didn't even recognize who they were.
"Please, Leo. You got the wrong guy. You gotta believe me! Look, I don't know you too well, but my cousin trusts you, and my cousin trusts me, too! We can work together! There must be some misunderstanding. I…yes! I got set up! It's a setup! Someone's trying to take my place and wants to get rid of me!"
I shook my head. Even I could see the guy scrambling for any reason to get out of the hole he was quickly digging into—poor guy.
Leo pursed his lips. "A conspiracy?"
"Yes. Yes! Exactly! Someone's trying to take me out. It's the Gallahans. We don't know what those Scottish fucks got up their sleeves, man. Maybe…or maybe it's the Chens! We don't trust the Chinese, right? You know. You fought against them and all."
"I served in the Middle East. And we're not at war with the Chinese," Leo said. "But cool story. The problem is, Eddie, you're not that high on the ladder when you think about it. It'll be an inconvenience to take you down a peg. Frankly, It's not worth the hassle."
"Didn't you hear what I said? Mercer trusts me!"
Art and Scottie chuckled from behind. Leo continued, "Oh, but he fucking doesn't. Never has. You should have read the room better, buddy. Even a newbie like me can see it."
"No, no. He trusts me," Eddie groaned. "Listen, I don't know anyone who works for the DEA, alright? Swear to God!"
Leo heaved a sigh and frowned at John. "But we suspect a rat in the barrel, Eddie, and you know who he is. You're gonna help us root him out."
"But I don't know anything…"
"Then, hopefully, by midnight, you will." Leo grabbed his duffel bag from behind the door and put it on the desk. Zipping it open, he fished out a rusty set of pliers. "Let's start with your right molar."
They tortured Eddie for two hours, and I watched everything. It didn't make my stomach turn like what the demon did to the cultists in the Yates's residence but with a startling fascination. As if I was a voyeur at something I shouldn't bear witness to, drawn by the violence these men inflicted on another. They were like ants behind a glass terrarium.
Leo knew what he was doing. That was obvious. Whatever shit he went through in the Middle East, he used those tactics while wearing civilian clothing, got into a mob, and quickly became their go-to lackey. A lot had happened in five years, and how quickly a person's luck changed. I mean, look at me. I'm now a glowing rock.
A twig snapped from behind the window, drowned only by Eddie's screams and sobs. Fortunately, the people in the room did not notice.
The Goliath spied in the shadows, waiting. After he watched for half an hour, he moved toward the door.
"Stop," I said. "Wait."
He turned to face me, curious.
"They are armed," I said.
The Goliath slightly lifted his axe and puffed up his chest.
"Yes, I know you are durable, but it will stun you, and they will escape. If you die, I won't be able to get you back in a week."
Behind the mask, I could feel the Goliath raise his eyebrow and gesture at the men questioningly. It seemed to appreciate I was concerned for its well-being.
"They are not in the dungeon yet," I paused as Leo waterboarded Eddie for the third time. "For now, we wait."
I couldn't tell if the Goliath looked disappointed, but it followed my command nonetheless, keeping to the shadows and spying as Art and Scottie came in and out of the room for a smoke break.
So tempting, I thought.
The Goliath could easily sneak behind and drag them into the woods. But then the others would have noticed them going missing. Then I could lure more delvers to the cabin. The massacre on Green Hill still left me hungry for more essence.
No, get that thought out of your head.
The smart choice was to wait for this one out. These men might be long gone once the cultists arrive at the cabin, but a lot could happen tonight. The demon hadn't come back with my dead body yet. And if these guys ever stepped into my borders…
Well, they're fair game.
FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 3
John glanced at his watch, realizing it was almost midnight. Leo perused through his various torture tools like a surgeon inside an operating room, picking up and feeling the weight of a mallet. John gave his shoulder a gentle tap and a shake of his head. Leo's shoulders slumped, and they regarded Eddie.
"Hey, man, we're gonna take a break," Leo said casually, like they're going on recess. "But you better use this time to take a breath and think about your choices, you know? It better be the right answer, kapish? You don't look so good."
Eddie didn't answer as he took in labored breaths. His cheeks had already puffed up from the four teeth that Leo extracted. His right eye was bruised when John punched him repeatedly with brass knuckles. His pinky and ring fingernails were torn out, and he was soaking wet from the waterboarding.
I had to walk out a few times and enjoy the lake's serene waters under the moonlight. Still, Eddie's muffled screams inside the visitor's center cut through the woods' silence.
Throughout all that, the only information they got from the man (between the sobs and the whining) was that he was approached twice by an undercover agent before to spy on Mercer and his organization. He denied them both times. But when Leo pressed on who those guys were, Eddie swore he never knew their names and had never seen them. Even I could tell he was lying. It wasn't enough for the men; they wanted to leave with a name. A face, if possible.
John pointed at Art and his brother. "You two watch him closely," he said before leaving the office with Leo.
They went to the mess hall, where John picked out his phone and dialed Mercer's number. He picked up within three rings.
"Yeah?" Mercer said on the other line.
"He's not talking yet, boss," John said. "We've got a rat, though. He confirmed it, but he didn't give any names. Said he'd never seen them before."
John and Mercer continued to talk on the phone, but from what I could glean, it seemed like this Mercer fellow was in full panic mode because of some meth lab that exploded in the docks in Portland, kneecapping almost a quarter of his profits. I guessed even mob bosses had loans to pay now that the feds were breathing down his neck and threatening him with decades in prison.
Over in the other room, Scottie shuffled on his feet. He leaned to Art, "Hey, I got to use the restroom," he said.
"But we're watching him," Art said, pointing to Eddie. His head hung low, still taking in labored breaths.
Scottie guffawed. "You think he's gonna escape when he's that fucked up?"
Art shrugged. "What is it then? Number one or number two?"
Scottie winced. "Number none of your business, Art." He walked out of the room. "I won't take too long."
"Better be fast, Scottie."
Scottie waved him off. "Yeah, yeah."
With the bathrooms inside the building not working for a few years, Scottie went out of the lodge, hobbling toward the only outhouse nearby, which was near the docks. On the shore were stacks of overturned metal dinghies abandoned when the camp closed. All of them were still in good condition.
Back at the visitor's center, John was still talking to Mercer. I doubt he realized his younger brother left the premises.
"Tired of this shit," Scottie muttered under his breath, fallen leaves crunching under his boots. "We got an emergency." He mocked John's voice. "It's going to be an all-nighter. You ready for this?" Heaving a sigh, he stopped in his tracks. "Scottie, you idiot, I could have just hung out with Carla. Maybe get laid instead of being stuck in the middle of the fucking—"
A twig snapped by the edge of the wood.
Scottie turned, listening.
I could feel the Goliath clenched the axe's handle as he stepped behind a large tree. Still, he's a lumbering brute. He could never be that sneaky. I had to purchase a trait for that.
Scottie stepped closer toward the tree line, peering into the darkness. The Goliath didn't move. He either got creeped out or the "call of nature" overpowered him when he started dashing toward the outhouse. "Hold it, hold it!" He mumbled with each step.
Fortunately, he reached it, dropped his pants, and sat on the toilet. He tried to ignore the lingering smell inside, but given he'd be there for at least a few minutes, he couldn't hold his breath that long.
The Goliath turned to me, but I shook my head. "Wait," I ordered him again.
Meanwhile, Art was left alone with the prisoner. He fished out his phone from his back pocket and started playing a Candy Crush knockoff. Spat a curse when he lost too many moves and didn't get to the next level.
"Fucking stupid piss of shit app."
Like a true loser, he bought more coins and hearts for ten bucks, which would only run out in a few minutes anyway. I frowned in disappointment.
That's when I heard it.
A bone snapped, drowned out by the ching-ching chimes coming from Art's phone every time he made a combo.
Immediately, I went to the source: Eddie.
He still hung his head forward, blood drooling from his lips, pretending to be passed out. Behind the chair, his left thumb was at a weird angle, disclosed off its joints. Eddie slowly slipped out of the binds. He didn't even react to the pain, even when it looked like it fucking hurt. How many times had he done this? The ropes untangled and fell with a slight thud on the floor, but given where Eddie was sitting, Art didn't have a line of sight. He was too busy riding the high of getting to the next level. He probably thought that ten bucks was a good purchase.
Eddie popped his thumb back, opened his one good eye, and stared at the open duffel bag and the weapons across the table.
I raised my eyebrows, impressed. "He's got balls than I gave him credit for," I thought out loud. Out of habit, I looked around. Obviously, no one heard me.
Eddie glanced over to Art leaning near the door and started coughing. "Water," he whispered roughly. "Water. Please."
Art looked up, annoyed. "Shut up," he said and went back to his game.
"Please. I'm thirsty," Eddie said.
I realized Eddie was only pretending. Tried to look as pathetic and too hurt to talk. I won't hurt you; look at me; I'm broken. That's probably what he tried to convey. "Water," Eddie whispered. He glanced at the half-empty water plastic bottle next to the duffel bag.
Art furrowed his brows, hesitating. Finally, he sighed, shoved the phone back in his pocket, and walked over to the table. He picked up the water bottle.
"Thank…you," Eddie said. He gave him a small smile.
Art extended the water bottle…and then tipped it over. All the contents spilled on Eddie's lap, soaking his pants and shoes. Art chucked the now empty plastic bottle on Eddie's forehead and laughed. He walked back to the door.
Eddie rose quietly, ignoring the pain all over his body. Meanwhile, four doors down to the mess hall, John argued loudly with Mercer over the phone, wanting to finish Eddie off and bury him in the woods. "He's tapped out, Mercer. We can't get anything out of the guy," he said. But Mercer begged to differ.
Leo stood patiently to the side, head hung low, arms crossed, pretending to be anywhere but here.
Eddie snuck behind Art and, in one swift motion, wrapped his meaty arms around his neck. Art's eyes bulged in surprise, trying to shout as he lifted two inches off the floor, but Eddie got him in a headlock and quickly took him to the ground. He squeezed his arms, probably breaking Art's windpipe. Art was a skinny dude, and Eddie probably got a hundred pounds over him. There was no contest about who would win.
Art kicked.
Clawed at Eddie's arms, drawing blood.
Reached behind to gouge out Eddie's eyes. Too far. Too slow. Too strong. Too…
His kicks began to weaken. Art's curled fists merely tapped on Eddie's vice-gripped arm before. Finally, his eyelids grew heavy. Saliva drooled from his lips until his heartbeat slowed.
Eddie waited for a couple of seconds before he loosened his grip. He checked for a pulse and barely felt the gentle tap under his jaw. Still alive but unconscious. Maybe for a little while.
Eddie fished for Art's phone—password locked. Eddie sighed and closed the phone, and opened it back again. This time, he presented the screen over Art's face.
He got in.
I was worried that he would call the cops over to the camp. The last thing I wanted was for the authorities to be nearby while the cultists were going to be next door. I also didn't want to alert Rebecca Torres, the sheriff's deputy. Instead, he quickly opened up the settings and disabled facial recognition and the password before texting an unknown number with a coded message: Let's go to the zoo this weekend.
While he waited for a reply, Eddie grabbed a sheathed knife from the table and snuck closer to the door. He opened it just a crack, listening to John and Mercer argue down the hall. He closed the door back again when he received another message.
Are you alright? It said.
Eddie frowned. Texted: Grab the pack. Get out. Lay low. I'll be at the meeting point. Mercer knows.
He opened the contacts tab and deleted the unknown number. He went over to Art and checked his belt, trying to find a gun, but John was the only one carrying it. Eddie muttered a curse and heard John end the call since the shouting match had died down. He searched for the van's keys instead, but Leo had them.
Over in the mess hall, John gave Leo the bad news. They were going to torture Eddie until he spilled the beans.
"That's gonna take a while," Leo rolled his eyes. "Might be dead before we get anything."
John huffed. "I think that's the point," he said. "Mercer's gonna make an example out of him."
"That bad?"
John said nothing and looked out the window with a good view of the lake. "We're gonna have to get Evelyn and the kids, too, once we're done here."
Leo gritted his teeth. He didn't like what he heard. "They're nice kids."
John shrugged. "Like Mercer wanted. An example, even if he's family."
"Cold."
Eddie crept toward the windows facing the woods. Luckily, the windows were unlocked, and he quickly slipped out into the night. He threw Art's phone and stomped it on the ground. He picked out the SIM and threw it into the bushes. He probably didn't want the number he dialed to go back to Mercer.
Once the cool air entered his lungs, he ran for the van, almost circling the visitor's center until he reached the front. He found the driver's side door unlocked.
"Come on. Come on." He looked at the glove compartment and the overhead console for the keys. Nothing. He slapped the wheel out of frustration. "Shit!" He spat. "Shit, shit, shit!"
For a brief moment, I felt terrible for Eddie. I had a sneaking suspicion that the number he dialed was probably his family or maybe his accomplice. The undercover agents, maybe? Could he really be working for the DEA?
I projected my consciousness back to the mess hall and found Leo had joined John near the windows. The latter was staring right at something across the lake.
"Huh. That's interesting," John murmured suddenly.
"What?" Leo asked.
"You didn't tell me you have neighbors."
Leo tilted his head. "Um, we don't."
"Then, what's that over there?"
John pointed across the lake.
Pointed at my cabin's faint lights on top of a shallow cliff overlooking the lake. In the darkness, it stood out like a beacon.
Shit. I quickly shut off the lights, which only made it look worse.
John winced. "You definitely saw that, right?"
"Yeah. That's…not there before," Leo said.
"Are you sure?"
"My brother and I came down here eight days ago for a potential sale. We checked around the lake, too, but that building has never been there."
"Are you sure?"
"I grew up around here. No one is supposed to own a property around Cedar Lake except us. We're too close to the National Forest, and half of the feds own the area."
"Well, someone's staying over there. Maybe you missed it?"
"I don't know—"
"Can they hear us? See us?"
"I doubt it. The lake's too big for that."
"Good. It looks like they went to sleep." John headed down the hallway toward the office. "Let's finish this."
FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 4
Eddie took a deep breath in the van and glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. He frowned and swiveled the mirror to the other side. Grabbing his knife, he climbed out of the van and stabbed the front tire, which let out an audible hiss.
"Trying not to get them to follow you?" I commented, amused. Let's see how that worked out for him. I thought he could hotwire the van, but he didn't know how.
Eddie ran toward the visitor's center before taking the path into the woods; his footsteps were quick and impressively quiet. But he stopped a foot into the tree line, catching sight of the docks and the tempting stacks of metal dinghies and canoes on the shore, reflecting the moonlight.
I looked over his shoulder to the Goliath standing merely twenty feet away from him, breathing quietly behind the mask, gripping tightly on the axe's handle and ready to strike if need be.
Eddie eyed the lake's pristine waters hungrily. Out of the men inside the cabin, Leo could definitely track him into the woods. He's a former Marine. God only knew what that fucker could do once he's chucked into his element. If he went over the water, he could lose them there. By the time he's on the other side of the lake, he might be able to find a trail back to the highway or a trailhead, steal a working car, or maybe hitchhike his way to the meeting point. Of course, this wasn't what he was thinking (I'm not a mind reader…yet), but it was evident on his face.
Then he eyed the lit cabin across the lake before I shut off the lights.
Even he realized that someone must be home.
I also realized that if someone was home, they had a working car and phone.
I shook my head. "I'm only going to disappoint you, dude. Don't do it. You're going to die if you go over there. There are traps. There are monsters." I had two hours to kill waiting for Maxine to come back. I might have added deadlier encounters along the way before these fuckers arrive in the camp. "Oh, and a lot of shit you don't want to deal with. Most of all, don't go in the freaking water. There's a merma—"
Eddie left the tree line and took the branching trail toward the shore.
"Ah, fuck. I forgot you can't hear me. Hey, man. It's your funeral."
By then, A slew of shouts and curses emanated inside the visitor's center. I spied inside the office and found Art grumbling on the floor as Leo shook him awake and John pacing worriedly around the room.
"Find him!" John shouted and hoisted Art from the floor. "We're screwed if he gets away."
"Jesus, Johnny, Art's hurt. Give him time to wake up," Leo said.
"We won't have one, Leo, if that fat fuck gets away! Where's my brother?" He grabbed Art by the collar and pushed him against the wall. "Did he take him? Is he hurt?"
"He…he went to the bathroom…!" Art mumbled and forced a cough.
"He's probably in the outhouse," Leo added.
"Shit. My throat hurts," Art complained, massaging his neck. "Thought I was gonna die, ma."
"Suck it up. Eddie must still be in the camp. Spread out. I'm gonna get my brother."
"What do we do once we find him?" Leo asked.
"I don't know, and I don't care. Bash his skull. Kill him. Doesn't make a difference."
"Mercer said—"
"—Change of plans, Leo. We're killing the bastard. He's a dead man walking anyway. It doesn't matter if we kill him now or four hours later."
Leo paused, clenching his teeth. "Alright, boss. Understood."
I returned to Eddie, who already reached the shore, dragging a dinghy (surprisingly in excellent condition) into the water. He climbed in, grabbed the paddle, and rowed toward the cabin. Watching him paddle that fast was fascinating, but I'd do the same thing when my life was on the line.
After a few minutes of watching him row the boat, John stomped out of the visitor's center, spotted the only outhouse nearby, and marched toward it, calling out Scottie's name. Scottie hurriedly grabbed an old toilet paper still inside a plastic cubby against the wall.
"I'm coming! Jeez! If you want to use the toilet that bad—"
"Eddie escaped!" John said behind the door, the gun already in his hand. "Get the fuck out of here and help us look for him."
It took a minute for Scottie to finish and get out of the outhouse when John pushed him against the door, almost loosening it from the hinges. "You were supposed to watch him."
Scottie's eyes bulged. "I—I had to go to the bathroom—" John punched him in the chest. Hard. "Ow! What the fuck, bro!"
"I told you you weren't ready."
Scottie rubbed his chest. "I'm sorry, okay? He looked fucked up—"
"I don't wanna hear your excuses." He shoved a walkie-talkie into his hands and walked away. "Should've brought more guns. Shouldn't have brought you."
Scottie glared at his back as he followed after him. "Look, I'm sorry, Johnny. We're going to find him, okay? Don't worry about that. He couldn't have gotten far—"
John stopped in his tracks. "Not a word, Scott. If Mercer finds out that his piece of shit cousin escaped, do you think he's just going to let us walk? You know what happened to Romero last time he fucked up?"
"But that was an accident—"
"It wasn't, Scottie. Do you think he just happened to hang a picture frame, fell down the stairs, and cracked his head open? Nah. Mercer sent someone to kill him. If we fucked up, we won't be able to get out of Portland."
Scottie rolled his eyes. "Where? To Chicago? You're still set on that?"
"Just help me look for him, man." John walked away, shaking his head.
In pure universal luck, Scottie huffed, put his hands on his hips, and turned to face the lake.
Under the moonlight, Eddie's faint form and incessant paddling were obvious. The dinghy broke the twinkling surface of the water.
Scottie laughed. "Ah, dude…I fucking found him."
John whirled around. "What?"
"He's right fucking there, man." Scottie let out another bellied laugh. "Holy shit. This motherfucker."
John followed where Scottie was pointing, but he didn't join in laughing. He grabbed the walkie-talkie from his belt. "Guys, we found him. Come by the docks. Eddie's on a boat."
"A boat?" Art asked from the other line. "Uh, copy that. We're on our way."
John and Scottie ran to the wooden docks and stopped by the edge. John scratched his head, thinking about what he should do.
"Hey, Eddie! Come back, man!" John shouted, waving his arms around. Eddie never bothered to turn around. He just paddled faster once he heard their voices. "If you keep paddling like that, you're gonna give yourself a heart attack!"
Eddie grimaced. "Fuck you, Johnny! You're a dick!"
"Well, that's nice." John snorted. "Yep. He's going to have a heart attack."
"What are you doing?" Scottie reached for John's gun. "Just shoot him."
"Are you crazy?" John stepped away from his reach. "There are people across the lake. If they hear gunshots, they'll call the cops."
"I thought we were alone out here."
"Nah. There's a cabin across the lake. Leo and I saw the lights before they turned it off. Eddie might have seen it, too."
Scottie heaved a sigh. "Okay, and? Even if they did, Eddie's dead already, and we can get the fuck out of here."
"I can't shoot him from three hundred yards away, can you?"
"Leo can. He's dead; then we drive away. Take the I-5 and be gone with minutes to spare before the cops show up."
"Mercer wants proof that we killed him. He wants pictures, and then we gotta bury him before they trace it back to him or us."
Scottie crossed his arms and said nothing.
"Eddie!" John called out again. "We're gonna talk this over! Come back!"
Still, Eddie refused to turn around. He's already blending into the darkness, his gaze focused on the other side of the lake.
A minute later, Leo and Art ran down the trail, footsteps beating against the dock's old, rotting floorboards when Art stepped on the wrong section and fell halfway into the water. He screamed. He must have sprained his arms and shoulder blades when he caught his fall.
"Shit, that's cold!" Art exclaimed.
"Help him out of there, damn it!" John ordered. Scottie and Leo dragged Art out of the hole. "This night just keeps getting better and better!"
"I'm sorry, John! This isn't exactly the Four Seasons!" Art blurted out. "I'm trying over here, man. Give me a break."
"Next time, watch your step." John pointed Eddie out to the others. "He's over there."
Leo let out a whistle. "Damn. He moves fast."
"I think he's heading for the cabin."
"I think so, too."
"Come on. We can cut him off with the van. I remember seeing a dirt road heading that way. Maybe it's the way to the cabin."
"Um, yeah, that's gonna be a problem," Art said. "Eddie slashed our tire."
"What?"
Art raised his hands. "But, good news, we got a spare out back. It'll just take time to put it on—"
"Eddie, you motherfucker!" John screamed out of frustration. "You're fucking dead."
Leo grunted. "I reckon the van's not yours?"
John rolled his eyes. "It's my uncle's. He's going to fucking kill me if it's broken. I owe that asshole five grand already. Here." He gave Leo the gun and glanced over to Scottie. He's going for his younger brother's idea.
Leo narrowed his eyes. "Are you sure?"
"Shoot the guy. Drag one of the boats over there, and we can, um, drag his boat back to shore and bury him."
"What about the people from the cabin?"
"It's the woods. They could be hunters. It could be nothing. Just make a clean shot. One gunshot shouldn't raise any suspicions."
Leo shrugged, aimed for a few seconds, and fired.
I heard the unmistakable ding of metal as the bullet bounced off it. Eddie flinched and ducked.
Leo frowned, disappointed. He didn't like missing a shot, so he tried again. This time, I could smell the coppery scent of blood. Eddie yelped and leaned over to the side as blood poured out of his shoulder, but the dinghy was too small and narrow for his size. It was built with younger kids in mind. He scrambled to take cover behind what little barrier he got, but that merely shifted the weight to one side.
The dinghy tipped over and threw him overboard; his gasp was drowned by the cold rush of water entering his mouth. The boat capsized over his head.
"You got him?" Scottie asked.
"Yeah," Leo said, unsure. "I might have nicked him a little. Does Eddie know how to swim?"
John nodded. "Yeah."
"Hm. He's still alive, then. I might have hit his shoulder."
"At least he's injured," Scottie said.
John breathed through his nose. He glanced across the lake—to the spot where the cabin's lights were. "You think they heard?"
"Maybe."
"Can't you shoot him again?"
"It's hard to see him now without the boat," Leo said. He pointed at the dark waters. He's got a point, I thought. From where I stood, it was hard to tell where Eddie was. The dinghy's metallic hull faintly reflected the moonlight, which made it easier to spot, but it now slipped under the surface. For a person swimming in the dark of night… that's almost impossible. Eddie wasn't exactly wearing any reflective lifevests.
John turned around and started heading back to the trail. "Alright. Art and Scottie, how long until the tire is fixed?"
Art thought for a second. "I don't know. Maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes?"
"Finish it in ten. Let's go." The rest followed him, but I noticed Art had a considerable limp.
Eddie's head broke through the surface a few seconds later with a loud gasp. He didn't hear John shouting anymore or the voices of the others. When he thought the coast was clear, he started swimming to the other side of the lake, but he had difficulty moving his left arm. A small, narrow trail of blood followed him.
The Goliath stood at the lake's edge, hidden amongst the trees, and watched everything unfold. With keen eyes, he spotted Eddie right away, swimming in the middle of the lake. He followed him from the shore and never let him leave his sight.
Eddie swam and swam and never looked like he was about to tire. The cold was biting. His skin paled. His lips were a lighter shade of purple. He tried to ignore the fact that he was swimming in the darkness with the lake's pitch-black depths right under him, pulling him, going on like an endless void. The deepest part of Cedar Lake was around two hundred feet, and I knew old lava tubes and caverns that bore deep into the Earth beneath the surface. Lots of cave divers had frequented those depths and died in the past.
"Lord God, please, help me," Eddie muttered, shivering. "I know I haven't gone to church for twenty fucking years, but please, let me get out of here. Let me see my wife and kids again," he prayed. "I'll do anything. I'll do anything. I'll do anything."
I frowned. Maybe I can…
But then, an invigorating rush filled me as I witnessed his aura emanating out of his body into a lighter orange. I could feel his desperation now—his will. I could taste the cold, salty tears forming in his eyes. Each stroke of his arms as he swam. Each muscle was straining against the frigid waters.
Eddie entered the dungeon and swam deeper into my domain.
As he got closer and closer to shore, and once he caught sight of the small dock I built near the boathouse, a glimmer of hope welled inside him, and his Resolve slowly dissipated from the orange shade to a lighter green.
A faint giggle of a woman echoed in the darkness.
Eddie stopped swimming and listened.
And listened.
And listened.
He tried to control his breathing, but his shivering wasn't helping. He probably thought he imagined it when he started swimming again.
And then he heard something break through the water, faint but hauntingly audible. He whirled around and held his breath, scanning the horizon to see if someone else was swimming with him. Maybe it was John or Leo.
"Leo?" He whispered.
Makes sense, I thought. Leo's a Marine, after all.
But I knew it wasn't Leo Grady swimming underneath him.
He turned slightly to the right, looking directly at where the summer camp should be, and peered into the dark. His eyes narrowed at a particular spot a hundred feet ahead before his Resolve turned back to orange.
As a lone cloud moved away from blocking the moon, moonlight reflected the lake once again…and cast a shape of a humanoid head floating inches above the water's surface, staring right back at him.
Eddie probably thought it was just a trick of the light when the head went underwater.
Eddie's eyes widened, and he swam faster to the dock three hundred feet away. He wasn't trying to swim as quietly as possible, but a frantic explosion of arms and legs, desperate to get out of the water.
As I hovered and watched fifty feet above the surface, a trailing, subtle wake dispersed from where the head disappeared, drawn toward Eddie's movement and went after him. A large dark blue caudal fin gracefully broke through the water before slipping under, revealing a slender tail of a massive fish.
Eddie yelped as something yanked his foot. He went under the water for a couple of seconds, bursting out in pleading cries, and swam faster toward the dock. "Please, no! Please, no!"
The creature beneath left him alone for a minute or more, waiting (and watching) as his Resolve turned a darker orange. Occasionally, it swam under and merely graced his belly gently, sometimes tickling his hip or violently pulling his ankles and keeping him under the water for several seconds. I lost count of how often I felt Eddie drink the water between his screams. As the creature played with him, his Resolve never went red.
Just like the old man, Ennis Blunden, from Green Hill. That took Maxine a long time to drain.
But finally, he reached the dock's edge and grabbed hold of the wooden ladder when the creature grasped his legs and pulled.
Eddie almost fell onto the water but held on to the ladder's rails for dear life in the nick of time.
And then he screamed, penetrating through the night's silence. Not a scream you would often hear. It was painful. Guttural. Savage. Of someone being eaten alive.
Below, the waters roiled like a boiling pot and, with it, a crimson streak.
"God, please! Mama! Mama!" He wailed and wailed and wailed. His Resolve never went red.
With a quick wave, the creature unlatched its teeth and swam away. Eddie, whimpering, pushed himself up to the dock and crawled out to the boathouse's sliding doors. He put as much distance between himself and the dark water as possible.
Then, he looked at his left lower leg.
A chunk of it was missing.
Eddie sobbed and gently poked at the exposed flesh. Pain radiated through his body.
"Okay. Have to get out, Ed. Gotta get the fuck out of here," he shivered. He propped himself against the door handle and hoisted himself up.
"Help!" He screamed to the cliff—to the cabin standing beyond it. "Help me!"
No one answered.
He limped off the docks and toward the lone trail leading to the top of the shallow cliff. He checked his belt and realized he lost his knife during the scuffle. He took another fearful glance at the lake, looking confused at what had just attacked him. He drew enough strength to put a little weight on his injured leg and continued walking over the rough gravel and gray sand.
The Goliath stepped out of the tree line.
Eddie paused, squinting his eyes. "Uh, hello! Sir! You gotta help—" And then he noticed the double-sided axe the Goliath carried.
The Goliath turned to me for orders since he watched me save him. But there was a familiar twinkle in his eyes as if anticipating something I was not privy to. The demon gave me the same look through Maxine when she sounded disappointed for killing Mr. Blunden in the shed.
Worthy? The Goliath wanted to ask, but he couldn't speak.
"Hey, look, man, I…I just got attacked. And… I'll get out. I'll find the road, and I'll be on my way. I apologize for trespassing," Eddie begged.
"It's gonna be a long night," I muttered.
I've only been a Dungeon Core for twenty-four hours. I didn't know most of the rules. But the hunger I felt for Eddie's essence was overpowering. All I could think about was that he would be a challenge.
A good challenge.
And if he failed, the essence he would shed would be delicious.
I welcomed it, suppressing the temptation and the guilt to open the exit door and let him leave with his life (and most of his body) intact.
"Knock him out," I ordered.
The Goliath grunted and slowly trudged toward Eddie.
"Y—You don't have to do this," Eddie begged.
The Goliath kept moving.
Eddie started backing away when the Goliath suddenly sprinted toward him. "No, no, no, no!" He tried to turn around to run but twisted his ankle and fell on his ass instead.
The Goliath stepped over him, raised the axe, and slammed the butt of the handle over his head.
FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 5
LEO
Leo drove the van out of the summer camp and took the road back to town. He didn't have to go far to find the road he was looking for—one that didn't exist a week ago. He stopped the car in the middle of the three-way junction, peering ahead at where the pavement met the newly-applied gravel road, illuminated only by a single street light.
The darkness beckoned.
Leo looked down at the GPS on his phone. No off-shoot road showed on the screen from where the blue dot—his current location—hovered. He glanced at the road again, confused.
"What's the hold-up?" John asked, sitting on the passenger seat.
Leo wanted to tell him that they should get out of there and take their chances with Mercer, hoping he would be in a good mood, which he hardly ever was. Leo didn't want to go to jail. If Eddie did work for the DEA, it would implicate him if Eddie survived the woods and made it back to Portland. He might go into hiding and luck out into witness protection with the FBI, which would give them time to build a solid case around Mercer and his organization. Eddie would be an excellent prime witness that could testify against his cousin and sink him for good.
What would that be for me? Kidnapping charges? Attempted murder? Conspiracy? Felony Assault?
Those were just the things he could think of at the top of his head. He needed the money after he got out of the military, which left him with three bullets to the gut and shoulder, a couple of months at the hospital with several months of extensive physical training after, and then an honorable discharge that couldn't even pay the bills even with the meager change the VA could dish out for folks like him. Thank you for your service, my ass. From a guy who never went to college, he stared at plenty of minimum-wage jobs that didn't appeal to him. Even taking an associate's degree would be costly.
But a handful of powerful and wealthy people sought his unique skillset, the ones he knew he was good at. How to carve a man and the hundreds of ways he could die. It paid the bills. He paid for an electrical technology degree at a community college so that he could become an electrician. Earn an honest job for once. And it also helped put his younger brother, Danny, into a prestigious four-year university down south. He was set to be a doctor, and Leo remembered how proud he was when Danny got top marks for the MCAT.
"Hey, Leo?" John shook his shoulder. "What's up?"
"I grew up around here for most of my life, John," Leo said. "And I've never driven past that road before. It's like it just…."
"Just what?"
--Appeared out of thin air. Leo gulped. He didn't scare easily. He had camped multiple times in the woods alone in the dead of winter with meager supplies for days, hearing the wolves and coyotes howl in the pitch darkness. But this?
This was something new.
Something that he shouldn't get involved with.
Maybe I never noticed it before. After all, it's been years since his mom sold the house, and everyone moved out to Portland. Hell, Leo had only been around the property once or twice a year since then. Someone could easily have built a cabin for the past five years and placed that gravel road.
But he was pretty sure it didn't exist a week ago. He remembered walking along the lake, hiking into the woods, and reminiscing about the old times with Danny. They never saw a cabin. Never saw the gravel road. Never saw that street light.
"Are we moving or what?" Art asked at the back, breaking him out of his thoughts.
Leo looked over to John, who gave him a puzzled arch of his brow. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Leo pushed the gear stick to drive and steered the van onto the narrow gravel road. Under the forest's thick canopy, the night grew darker.
Leo had a nagging feeling that they were all being watched.
As Leo and the others entered the gravel road and drove for several hundred feet more, a huge chunk of an Atlas Alder broke off and blocked the way out. It was the first of my new traps that got activated, and I spent a considerable amount of crystals to get a hold of the fake tree so I could put it back and dismantle it over and over. It was supposed to cut off the cultists from the outside world and prevent them from leaving, but Leo and his crew would be a good test run for tomorrow's events.
And don't forget to put it back on the tree; I made a mental note. If the cultists arrived tomorrow and found the road blocked by it, that would be so embarrassing.
The four men didn't even hear the branch crash in the middle of the road.
I watched the van drive across the small rickety wooden bridge over a tributary called Crimson Creek, which fed off Cedar Lake to the large Clackamas River.
As they passed the threshold, the bridge's trap activated to standby.
At some point tonight, if someone managed to drive away from the dungeon (evading all of my monsters) and reached the bridge, it would collapse underneath them, plunging their vehicle (and them) into seven-foot-deep water. They'd have to swim through murky water to get to the riverbank, blocked by oily-black vines that smelled like rotten days-old flesh and thorny brambles that would weep blood when a delver made contact.
At least that's what the description said before I bought it from the market.
They would just run into the Alder branch if they braved through the brambles and returned to the gravel road. They had no choice but to go around or over it…where, hopefully, some of the monsters were already waiting.
I made a point to make the gravel road long, winding, and claustrophobic, as if the forest were close to pressing against the van's windows. It was meant to disorient a delver, and if it was the other way around, it made it challenging to navigate if they tried to escape. I purchased a handful of medium-sized boulders camouflaged by bushes and thickets for five crystals. If someone ran off the road, they'd hit these boulders instead, hopefully totaling their car.
I even made a neat illusion trap for it.
I got inspired by those cheap jump scares in horror movies when a character managed to drive away from the house of horrors, and they're stupid enough to take their eyes off the road. And suddenly! They look back and—shit!—there's a person, ghost, killer, or monster standing in the middle of the road, and they swerve to avoid it, reducing their chances of survival by half since they fucked up their vehicle and they could no longer escape, leaving them in the mercy of their pursuers.
I was hoping it would work like that here, too.
For a hundred crystals, I bought the ghostly illusion of a veiled lady in a tattered, dirtied bridal dress, crying in the middle of the road. It's not an official monster since I didn't buy it off the [Monsters] tab, but it was meant to scare a driver off the road and cause an accident. However, it only had a one-time use per dawn, so I had to trigger it carefully. I didn't bother purchasing the higher-end versions of the trap, where she could be projected as a vivid hallucination to the delvers, but it'll do the trick for what I had in mind.
"Can't see shit," John muttered.
I projected my consciousness inside the van again, where John wiped the fogging windshield with his jacket's sleeve, and the heater was on full blast. Thick mist rolled in from the woods and enveloped the van.
"It's foggy out there," Art said, unsure. "Where's it coming from?"
John tapped Leo's arm. "Be careful. I don't want to get into an accident. We just fixed the tire."
Leo nodded. "I'm trying."
"How long until we reach the cabin?" Scottie asked.
"It's the opposite side of Cedar Pine, so…a mile? Maybe two more?"
"Just get us there before Eddie does," John said.
While I waited for them to arrive at the cabin, I opened up the prompt to review my [DUNGEONS] tab and then selected North Cedar Lake.
NORTH CEDAR LAKE
Dread Level: 4/10 - new dungeon(+); bloodthirsty core (++); massive domain(+)
Crystals: 755
Essence: 2
AURA & ENVIRONMENT (3/3)
Unnerving Fog
Strange Noises
Luring Trance
MONSTERS (4/5)
Name
Marker
Status
Possessing Demon
— Out of Bounds !!!! —
Active
The Goliath
Cellar
Active
Siren
Siren Nest
Active
Old Growth
Trail B
Active
LOCATIONS
Master Bedroom (Cabin)
2nd Bedroom (Cabin)
Living room (Cabin)
Kitchen (Cabin)
Bathroom (Cabin)
Cellar (Cabin)
Front Porch (Cabin)
Back Porch (Cabin)
Cellar Tunnel (Cabin)
Storage Shed
Generator Shed
North Cedar Lake
Boathouse/Docks
Siren Nest
Underwater Tunnel
Main Road
Trail A
Trail B
Trail C
Campground A
Hunter Shack
Newer tabs had cropped underneath the locations since my borders had expanded (and the change of scenery), including the new monsters I made while the demon went off to dig my body. I realized that the Dungeon Core adapted to whatever environment I designated as my dungeon. The Yates Residence was considerably smaller than I had now, the northern half of Cedar Lake and the surrounding McLaren Forest. Owning vast acres of land let me gain more influence, deliver more Dread, and extra monster slots (The Yates Residence only allowed two). I could have designated Green Hill as my dungeon, but that would be a bad idea in the long run.
The one thing humans were good at was destroying something they didn't understand. Shoot first; ask questions later. And even if I made Green Hill a dungeon, hundreds of people living there would die. It's hard to stay hidden when people keep dying in the wealthiest neighborhood in town from brutal circumstances.
The dungeon's methods of extracting essence were…less than pleasant.
It was one of the reasons why the demon wanted to set my primary dungeon inside a cave; the area of possibilities I could create and excavate below ground was massive. I wouldn't doubt if I could dig dozens of miles underground and even build cities if I'm powerful enough. However, Earth didn't have thousands of dedicated adventurers who would gladly dive through these death traps to grab some loot and the coveted treasures. The demon and the system had hinted hundreds of worlds made delving like a typical nine-to-five job akin to being a doctor, lawyer, or office clerk.
Good for them, I thought. Only a tiny percentage of people on Earth wanted to explore a cave unless they were spelunkers. It would have made things easier if I lived in those worlds. I would know the rules on day one and gain plenty of essences the right way, but instead, I was left scrambling for dear life.
But it's not so bad, either. If I got teleported there, I probably wouldn't survive on my first day against a veteran delver and a band of adventurers. At least on Earth, humans were oblivious to my existence.
Speaking of treasures…
Was that my purpose now? Give freebies at the end of the tunnel? Drop loot like some video game?
I was still getting used to my new body, and thinking about treasures and loot was far away from my mind. I wanted all the cultists dead, and I am not giving them a fucking prize if they lasted long.
But tonight presented a convenient opportunity while these men were in my domain. Maybe I could learn a few things about my core while I—no—my monsters torture them.
Aside from including [Strange Noises] and [Luring Trance], I swapped the [Phantasmal Cold] for [Unnerving Fog] since they were almost the same thing. However, the fog was exclusively a regional effect, shrouding the land in heavy mist, which could disorient the delvers if they ventured into the woods. I couldn't wait to increase their duration once (and if) I level up.
Unnerving Fog
The dungeon is covered by a swirling cloud of heavy mist, bringing chill winds. It can disorient and shed a delver's resolve over time. Duration: 1 hour.
It did the trick. Leo slowed down as he navigated through the fog. Art grasped a pendant of the Virgin Mary from under his shirt's collar, uttering a quiet prayer. Scottie and John ignored the bumpy ride even though John looked like he would be sick.
The road suddenly widened. Leo had more space to navigate as the forest retreated away from him. A few seconds later, he could make out a shape of a roof in the distance, and he then steered the van to the side, stopping right under an elm tree.
"So. This is it," Leo said, studying the cabin curiously.
A neat thing about the environmental auras of a dungeon was that I could tweak them. So, I pulled the mist back a little so the four men could get a good view of the cabin's shadowed facade. The porch swing out front swayed gently from a chill wind. If I were them, this was going to freak me out.
"Where's the car?" Scottie asked.
"Huh?" John turned around.
"The car. If someone's staying here, where's their car? You don't think Eddie got here first and called for help, do you?"
"Maybe we should leave. Maybe the cabin owner already drove out of here," Art said worriedly.
Hm. Should I do something about this? Maybe I should. Sighing and harnessing [Telekinesis], I switched on the living room light. They couldn't see much inside since the curtains were closed, and they parked fifty feet away from the front porch. Their heads swiveled in unison, anticipating a person to walk past. I counted to five and turned off the lights again.
[Power: 9/10]
"Uh, maybe someone is home after all," John said. "We should go take a look. It might be Eddie inside."
"I don't know about this, John," Art said. "This place is fucking creepy."
"It's a cabin in the woods. Of course, it's fucking creepy, Gomez." John opened the door and took out his gun. "But I'm not a pussy. Are you?"
Art clenched his teeth and said nothing, and followed Scottie out of the sliding van doors. Leo hesitated to get out of the van, but when he watched John, Scottie, and Art stalking closer to the cabin, he drew enough courage to step out. He fished out his phone and turned on the flash before studying the ground. He frowned. His hand went over to his hip, searching for something, an instinct of a soldier looking for a weapon. He found nothing there.
"Leo?" John whispered, crouching with the others and trying to blend in with the heavy mist. "What the hell are you doing?"
Leo crept beside him. "I don't see any tire tracks," he said. "If Eddie got here and the owners drove him back to town, they would have left tracks. As you can see, the ground is muddy. There isn't even a faint track. I don't think anyone's been here for a while."
"You think he's still here then?"
"Or still swimming in the lake."
John nodded. "Okay. Let's spread out. Check the perimeter. Find a way inside."
"What about the other people?" Scottie asked. "What are we gonna do?"
"I told you we should have brought more guns," Leo said.
"Hey, I didn't think this was gonna happen. It's supposed to be an easy job."
"There's no point complaining about it," Art said. "I'll go around back."
"Scottie, why don't you stay in the van?" John said.
"Me? Why?"
"If things get out of hand, I need someone behind the wheel ready."
Scottie didn't like it, but John gave him a look that he would not argue out here while Eddie and an unknown number of people were inside the cabin.
"Wait." Leo crept back to the van and slowly opened the door. He grabbed the duffel bag, took out a few things, and went back to the others. "Here." He handed Art a knife and a crowbar while he held onto the mallet and another knife. He gave Scottie a knife as well. "Better to have weapons."
John grabbed the mallet off Leo's hand and handed him the Glock. "You should get this. You're a better shot than me."
Leo nodded. "Sounds good."
"Alright. Scottie, get back inside the van. The rest of you, let's move."
Scottie grumbled back behind the wheel and huffed. "I can fucking handle myself, thank you very much." He put the weapon down on the passenger seat.
Scottie watched the others disappear into the fog and out of his sight. Outside the driver's side window, The Goliath stood two feet behind him, looming through the glass