FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 6
As Scottie lost sight of the group in the fog, his face suddenly scrunched up, and he whirled around as if he felt a presence behind him. However, the Goliath had already moved to the side and walked toward the back.
Scottie searched for a few seconds until his gaze landed on the driver's side view mirror, catching a shadowy shape that disappeared into the mist, trailed by muffled heavy footsteps. Grasping [Telekinesis], I slowly dragged the walkie-talkie that Scottie placed on the passenger seat while he was distracted and shoved it underneath.
Scottie narrowed his brows, considering what to do. He went for his belt clip but found the walkie-talkie wasn't there. He turned to the passenger seat, remembering where he had last put it. It wasn't there either.
"The fuck?" Scottie muttered out loud. He searched at the sides and reached his arm underneath, almost touching the walkie-talkie by the tip of his index finger.
But whoever was outside the van was already getting away, moving toward one of the trails that led to the lake.
"Shit," Scottie huffed.
It might be Eddie; he's probably wondering.
He glanced at the cabin to where the other men were searching for him, then to the lonely trail. Eddie was a big guy (though the Goliath almost dwarfed him), and he reckoned he must be sneaking around the cabin, hiding from John and the others. Well, he was going to catch him instead.
Scottie took the bait.
He crawled into the back of the van and opened the duffel bag. He sheathed the knife on his belt and picked up a bigger wrench. Maybe he could knock out Eddie with it. Satisfied, he climbed out from the back and into the cold night.
"Guys?" Scottie called out in a whisper. He didn't want to alert Eddie that he was on to him, but he probably guessed having a backup would increase his chances of capturing him.
No one answered. They're too far away.
Scottie shifted nervously. "I can do this. I can do this," he said.
I recognized that look he sported. One that wanted to prove something. He wanted to prove to John that he wasn't a kid anymore. That he could correct his own mistake. After all, it was partially his fault that Eddie got away in the first place. If he had been in the room when Art was knocked out, he would have clobbered him, and John wouldn't be upset.
Feeling the weight of the wrench, he marched toward the winding trail.
His Resolve turned a fair orange and slowly got darker the farther he got from the van.
Art and Leo flanked the cabin first, peering cautiously through the casement windows. It was too dark inside, and none of the cabin's lights were on.
Leo shot a wary glance at the storage shed forty feet away down a slope, bordered by two tall trees with enough space out front for a large stump, where a black-iron hatchet with a darker yellow handle was embedded on the rough surface. Beside it was a stack of fire prest logs.
He stopped in his tracks, debating whether he should go over there.
With a sigh, he crept toward the shed and found the door open. The shed was as big enough to shove the van inside. He noticed the stacks of tools, a workbench on the opposite side, and a chainsaw on top of a Uline tool cabinet.
Leo searched the shed for a few seconds, glancing over the chainsaw, and ran his fingers over the unused metal blade of the cutter teeth. It looked brand new, as if someone just bought it from the store. It didn't look like anyone was there, so he closed the door and headed to the back of the cabin.
Art, meanwhile, was still limping due to his (almost) fall at the dock. It didn't look as bad when I left them, but he still felt discomfort when he put his weight on his ankle. He peered into the cabin's small bathroom awning window, which was a little higher than the rest of the cabin's windows. He had to stand on his tippy toes (with one foot) to get a good look inside. He found no one. He walked past the generator shed but didn't bother to look in there, probably judging it was too small, and continued to the back porch. Leo was already bent over, cheek almost touching the ground, and checking underneath the porch in case Eddie hid there.
"Found anything?" Art whispered.
Leo shook his head. "Nothing."
"Should we head inside?"
Leo nodded.
At the front porch, John reached out at the porch swing to stop it from swaying and creaking. He then crept closer to the living room's bay windows and peeked inside. He could faintly see the outline of the fireplace, the half-end of the couch, and a little bit of the stag with elaborately sharp horns displayed on the wall, but nothing more. He moved toward the door and grabbed the handle.
It was unlocked.
I saw how glad he was of that. At least he didn't have to pick a lock or something.
I intentionally left it unlocked anyway.
John stuck his head inside and looked around. When he thought the coast was clear, he stepped past the doorframe with the chill wind and slowly closed the door behind him. He didn't want to alert whoever was inside with the sudden cold draft entering the cabin.
John looked around the kitchen and the living room with his flashlight. The cabin had an open floor plan, so there weren't a lot of corners to hide behind. Plus, it's a small building. It struck him weird that he didn't hear snoring if people slept here.
It was deathly quiet.
He could practically hear himself swallow his saliva. He made sure not to trip on the rug along the way and watched his step. Cabins like these were bound to have creaky floorboards. He strode toward the kitchen island just in case Eddie was hiding behind it but found no one there.
John checked the first door to his right since it was closer and found it unlocked. He held his breath, anticipating that the door would creak so loud it would give him away, but it swung open without a hitch. There was a queen-sized bed and identical nightstands flanking it. A vanity next to a walk-in closet that was left open, and another door that led to the bathroom. A landscape painting of Mount Selene in winter hung on the wall above the bed.
There was no sign of Eddie.
The bedroom next door was also empty, with a similar design to the former room. Even the bathroom with its bathtub combined with a shower hose, a single toilet, and a small cubby area for supplies. By then, Art and Leo jiggled the doorknob on the back door. John crept down the short corridor to the mud room and let the two men inside.
"No one's home," John said worriedly. "I don't even see any personal belongings. No bags. Nothing."
"That's weird," Art blurted out.
"We can give it a second look. You might've missed something. Even if no one's here, Eddie might be hiding," Leo said.
Art and John took each of the bedrooms, searching every nook and cranny of the place. But Leo headed over to the living room, guided by the flash on his phone, and made sure he didn't make any loud footsteps as he picked up the telephone next to the couch and put it against his ear. There was no dial tone.
I saw Leo visibly shiver, goosebumps rising to the nape of his neck. He surveyed the living room and walked over to the kitchen, touching the stove with his palm, frowning, and then checking every cupboard—no signs of food. Even the refrigerator was empty. The fireplace remained unlit, or it had never been used at all.
That troubled him more. I could tell.
It's a cold night tonight, and there wasn't a vent heater or a furnace to warm up the building.
"I should've put food there; my bad," I muttered. I made a mental note to buy food with the crystals and conjure them in the cabin with magic. That shouldn't cost much. I doubted Dungeon Cores across the universe would bother feeding their delvers and making the dungeon like a cozy home when they're supposed to scare (or kill) them.
However, Leo's Resolve turned from a lighter shade of green to a faint orange. Huh. Maybe that's not bad after all. Clearly, I've spooked the Marine. It was weirdly one of my proudest moments that I managed to scare Leo—fucking—Grady. When I was a kid, I thought nothing scared the guy.
Leo entered the master bedroom, where John searched the empty walk-in closet. He didn't even bother to be stealthy anymore.
"John," he called out. "We gotta get out of here."
"What? Why?"
"I don't know, man. Something's wrong. There's no landline. No food. No bags. No clothes. No shoes next to the door. The stove's not even warm. The fireplace hasn't been used for how long. And get this: I didn't see any family pictures, did you?"
John went rigid. "I didn't notice that."
"Weird, huh?"
"What are you saying? Like it's staged?"
"Yeah. Maybe." Leo gulped. "I don't know."
"You said this cabin never existed before, right?"
Leo nodded.
"Then what about the light we saw?"
"I don't care anymore, Johnny. Let's just get the fuck out of here. Eddie might still be in the lake. We'll get down there and pluck him out if we have to—"
A muffled thud echoed from below.
John paused. "Did you hear that?"
Leo nodded and shushed him. "Follow me," he mouthed.
Another thud, louder this time.
Leo and John walked out into the corridor where Art was already waiting, listening. He gave them a puzzled shrug. Leo also motioned for him to follow, and they walked back to the living room. The noise was a little louder here, coming from the carpet under the coffee table.
"Come help me with this," Leo asked Art, gesturing to the coffee table. They lifted it while John pulled the carpet off, revealing a cellar door.
"So…what do you think is down there?" John asked Leo.
Leo shrugged. "Fuck if I know."
"It could be Eddie."
"Could be something else, too," Art said.
"Like what, Art?"
"An animal?"
Leo tapped the tip of his boots on the latch lock bolting the door shut. "You think an animal crawled down there and locked itself inside?"
Art shifted uncomfortably from where he stood. "You've got the gun. You go first."
Leo and John exchanged a worried glance; the former hesitated momentarily before he crouched down, slowly unlatched the bolt, and lifted the cellar door open. Immediately, a musty smell invaded their nostrils like earthen wood mixed with damp socks left out too long. They could hear the noise much clearer now. Scraping. Like someone kicking against the wood.
"Be careful," John said.
"I've been shot at in the desert. This is nothing," Leo said, but it was more for his benefit than the others.
Leo took a deep breath and tentatively took a step down, and down, and down, and down….he stopped. The darkness here was almost suffocating. He glanced over his shoulders to the others, remaining still on the landing.
Leo bent forward and aimed his phone into the darkness. It was a spacious cellar, but unlike normal cellars, this one lacked junk—no assortment of old furniture, cabinets, tools, and the like.
He scanned over to the southern corner—on Eddie bound to a toppled chair, mouth taped shut. One eye puffed from the bruises Leo had inflicted on him, but there was no mistaking the fear evident in his gaze. He was calling for help, begging, screaming even though his mouth was taped shut.
"Holy fuck!" Leo exclaimed out loud and bounded down the steps. John and Art followed, with the latter stopping in his tracks.
"Who the hell tied him up?" Art asked.
Leo was already on Eddie and peeled the tape off. It was harder to do, and he might have taken some of Eddie's thick mustache hair with it. Eddie yelped from the tearing and shrunk away from Leo's touch. It had only been less than an hour ago when Leo and the others were busy prying his fingernails and wrapping a wet rug over his head while they laughed.
"Get me the fuck out of here!" Eddie screamed.
"Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Calm down. Who did this to you?" Leo tried to untie the ropes.
"I don't fucking know! Some hillbilly!"
"Leo, hold up," John said, gesturing for him to stop untying the ropes.
"John, someone tied him up, and it ain't us!"
Still, Eddie flinched from the blade when Leo bent over again and started cutting the knots.
"Don't touch me," Eddie hissed once he was loose and tried to stand up.
Art's eyes widened and pointed at Eddie's injured leg. "Holy shit!"
"Something bit me in the lake," Eddie said.
"Something bit you?" John asked incredulously.
"Some animal! Shit, I can't tell. It was too dark. Wait, how did you get out here so fast? Did you fix the van?"
"No thanks to you," Art said.
"Then let's drive the fuck out of here!" Eddie tried to run for the stairs, but he yelped, pain radiating from the wound, so he hopped on his good leg instead.
John pushed him away from the stairs. "Hold on, hold on. We ain't done with you yet."
"Haven't you been listening to what I'm saying? Someone attacked me, and it's not you! He might return, and I am not waiting to see what happens next!"
"He's got a point, John," Leo said. "We'll deal with him once we're out of the woods."
John breathed through his nose and looked to Art, who agreed with Leo.
"Okay, okay." He turned to Eddie. "But you better not do anything stupid."
"Do I look like I can?" He gestured at his injured leg.
"Fine. Leo, help him up," John ordered, taking out the walkie-talkie from his belt. "Scottie, start the van. We're getting out of here."
John waited for a few seconds for a reply.
Scottie didn't answer back.
In the van, John's voice echoed across the empty cabin, ordering Scottie to answer him.
FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 7
Scottie crouched just off the trail, surveying the boathouse ahead. He didn't dare make a move.
I allowed the fog to thicken near the docks, and Scottie could barely make out the boathouse's frame from where he hid. He visibly shivered after he scanned his environment. I could tell he doubted following "Eddie" down the trail. What if it's a trap?
He's not wrong. The Goliath was already waiting inside.
All Scottie had to do was take the bait. Heck, he already took the last one. Why not more?
It's hard to see out here in the dark; all he had was the flash on his phone. Fortunately, flashlights on a phone weren't too bright in the fog compared to the battery-powered ones, so hopefully, "Eddie" did not notice him. He's probably inside with another canoe. While John and the others were scrambling in the cabin looking for him, Eddie would slip away and back at the summer camp, ready to flag any oncoming car from the main road.
I reckoned that's what Scottie must be thinking.
Plus, he's all by himself, which is not a good thing for a delver to do. John and the others were thirteen hundred feet away up the trail (a six-minute leisurely walk) and on a cliff, basically three or four chambers away in a typical dungeon. If I looked at it from a standard dungeon perspective, I imagined the boathouse as just another chamber. My limited knowledge of Dungeons & Dragons and the movies helped paint the picture.
He had two choices: Go back to the trail or enter the boathouse.
He glanced over the trail again before slinking to the cliff's wall, hugging it forward until he reached the next bush.
"Hm. Maybe you need a little bit of encouragement," I said.
I triggered [Strange Noises] inside the boathouse, sounding like someone was dragging a canoe across the wooden floor. There was a U-shaped dock inside the building, and I added an extra detail of something heavy hitting the water just to fuck with him.
The Goliath shifted, aware of my interruptions.
"Let's see what he does with that," I said. So far, Scottie didn't make a move. From above, John, Leo, and Art just entered the cabin, giving it a second look. So far, they had not found Eddie yet.
I took a quick peek in the cellar where Eddie was screaming through the tape, eyes locked at the ceiling and trying to get the three men's attention.
The Goliath merely grunted. He gave a slight shrug and gestured out the window. He could see Scottie's shadowy figure hiding behind the bush from where he stood. He's not very sneaky.
I frowned. "Um, I really need to give you the Speech trait the next time I level up." If I leveled up, whenever that was. "Because this charades thing is getting ridiculous."
The Goliath sighed and raised the axe slightly higher, pantomiming hacking someone to death.
"Oh. You mean kill?"
The Goliath nodded.
"Ehh….maybe?"
The Goliath's shoulders slumped, and they made a slight nod. He patted his belly, then pointed at me.
"Hungry?"
The Goliath nodded again.
I groaned. "All the time, bud."
He motioned with his hands that I shouldn't worry and that he'll feed me soon.
What a lovely guy. Compared to the demon, the Goliath was a pleasant company.
Scottie darted out of the bushes and inched closer to the boathouse. He finally reached the dock's landing, and his flashlight trembled in his hand, casting flickering shadows on the aged planks beneath his feet.
He sneaked toward the boathouse's sliding door. Scottie took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay beyond.
"Heads up. Showtime." I warned the Goliath, but the big man already climbed the ladder to a narrow mezzanine above the interior dock. He stepped into the shadows near the two metal lockers and hanging coat racks, blending with the baggy raincoats, towels, life preservers, and waterproof boat tarps.
Scottie squinted through the narrow window slit on the sliding door. He couldn't see Eddie moving inside, so he walked over to the edge of the dock and found the garage door still down. He scanned the lake and saw no canoe rowing out to the middle of the lake. He was unsure if he saw Eddie enter the boathouse, realizing he must still be hiding inside.
His lips twitched, and he gripped the wrench harder. He pivoted and went back and opened the door, creaking ominously. He closed it behind him, probably to stop Eddie from running away if he found him.
Scottie's phone pierced through the gloom, pointing at the fishing nets tangled like cobwebs in one corner. Silence clung to the air, broken only by the distant sound of lapping waves against the wooden pilings. Three kayaks hung on one wall opposite the various boat tools, fishing poles, and other equipment. Three stacks of boxes stood at the corners, which were primarily empty, made only to fill out the room and complete the boathouse's decor. No kayaks sat on the well dock.
Scottie grinned. He's still inside, he probably thought.
He took a tentative step forward; his footsteps echoed through the space, amplified by the eerie stillness.
There was not a lot of space to hide on the first floor, which was pretty much open. Still, Scottie checked the dark corners and behind the boxes but didn't find Eddie.
A distant scuttling sound startled him, and he spun around, pointing his phone toward the source; the mezzanine. Above, the Goliath gently scraped the but of his axe on the floor before he went still as a statue. He was trying to draw him in.
Scottie hesitated for a moment and glanced at the door and then the wooden ladder.
He slipped the wrench securely on his belt and climbed the ladder.
I heaved a sigh. "He's coming," I told the Goliath.
The Goliath nodded, ready.
Scottie hauled himself up the mezzanine and looked around. There weren't any windows here to let in some natural light from the outside (which barely had any due to the thick fog). The only source of light was the one on Scottie's phone. He immediately spotted the two lockers as tall as him.
Scottie's smile grew even wider. He walked over there, biting his lower lip to stifle his chuckle. His Resolve went back to green.
He was in control now. After all, he had Eddie in his sight. He raised the wrench above his head, hand slowly reaching out for the locker's handle.
He yanked it open!
Empty.
Before Eddie could react, Scottie quickly yanked the other locker open and raised the wrench even higher, but when he peered inside, he didn't find Eddie cowering in there. His shoulders slumped.
"Where the fuck are you?" He muttered.
The floorboards creaked behind him, and Scottie whirled around; his flashlight's beam illuminated the huge barrel-chested figure mere two feet away. A shiver ran down Scottie's spine as he locked onto the Goliath's face concealed behind a dull white-fox mask, his dead gaze piercing through him.
It was as if time had frozen over, even for a split second. Scottie stood transfixed, his mind struggling to comprehend the giant before him; his own senses betrayed him.
Before he could react, the Goliath backslapped him. Scottie yelped, clutched his reddened face, and tumbled to the side…and off the mezzanine's edge.
He fell on his back, scrambling for something to hold (there was none). But instead of hitting the water, His left side smashed the edge of the rickety wooden dock, probably spraining his arm and might have broken a rib or two. The impact quickly spun him into the water like a fucking crash test dummy. He stayed under the water for a few seconds before he broke through the surface, thrashing in a mad panic; pain, shock, and terror mingling into a scream.
The Goliath stood at the mezzanine's edge, glaring at him. He jumped off with his axe in one swoop and landed with a hefty thud on the dock, making it look so easy that even I doubted he hurt his knees doing that stunt. It was meant to unnerve Scottie, and it fucking worked. A big guy coming at you with a big axe and jumping from thirteen feet, AND made it look like nothing? I'd be shitting bricks.
Scottie's Resolve turned a darker orange as the Goliath stood at the dock's edge.
Scottie's eyes darted to the door and the Goliath. He could not climb out of there in time and escape out of the boathouse. His shoulder still hurt from the fall because he had difficulty staying afloat.
"I'm sorry!" Scottie begged. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to trespass!"
The Goliath's grip on the axe tightened.
"Please! Look, I'll get out of here so fast; you won't hear from me again. Promise. I…I was lost! Yeah! I was lost, okay?" He let out a pathetic whimper. "Don't hurt me. Please."
The only answer Scottie heard back was the Goliath's heavy breathing behind the mask. The Goliath wedged the axe on the floor, turned around and walked toward the tools hanging on the wall, and picked up a spear gun.
Scottie's eyes bulged. "No! Please! I'm going to leave! I swear! I'm sorry!"
The Goliath remained unperturbed and walked back to the dock's edge. He wouldn't be able to talk his way out of this.
Scottie screeched. "John! John! Help! Help me!"
But he was too far away from the others. They had already reached the cellar and found Eddie down on the floor.
The Goliath pulled the trigger.
Scottie ducked under the water as the spear smacked through the pilings inches above his head and kept himself under for several seconds. He tried to get under the dock, but it was too dark. He knew he would end up drowning if he continued searching for a way out below the boathouse. His lungs begged for air.
He broke through the surface again, taking in a lungful of breath…and the Goliath reached out from above and yanked him up by the hair. Hoisting Scottie out of the water, the Goliath threw him across the room, rolled, and tangled with the fishing nets. Scottie scrambled to his feet and ran for the door.
But the boathouse's obstacle had already been triggered a while ago, freezing the wheels momentarily. It would take considerable strength to open it, and Scottie struggled to put as much weight to wiggle it loose.
The Goliath sauntered to pick up his axe, still wedged on the floor. He headed for Scottie next.
"Come on, come on! Open you big, freaking-!"
The Goliath raised his axe above his head.
Suddenly, the sliding door gave way and parted open, and Scottie tumbled out onto the exterior dock.
The Goliath brought the axe down, the blade splintering through wood between Scottie's parted legs and inches away from his groin. Scottie yelped and crawled backward. As the Goliath tried to pry the blade off the wood, Scottie got back on his feet and ran.
"Oh. It looks like he's getting away," I muttered.
The Goliath said nothing and yanked the axe lose. He continued the chase. He didn't even run, carrying almost this confident and menacing gait.
Scottie leaned a little to the left side, his right hand cupped around his left shoulder to prevent his left arm from swinging while he ran. His face contorted from the pain, especially when I could sense he broke a handful of his ribs when he fell; his breathing was strenuous.
He took the trail back to the cabin. Thorny thickets and hanging branches lashed against his skin, with some drawing blood.
"Help!" He cried out again, desperate. "John! Leo!"
He slowed down a little, still trying to put as much distance between himself and the killer, and felt confident that he could no longer see him. But he could be hiding from behind a tree or something. He winced from the pain radiating from his left side when he accidentally grazed a branch with his left arm.
"Fuck!" He bawled.
He heard heavy footsteps against the undergrowth behind him and picked up his pace again. He wanted to call out to John and the others again. Maybe he's getting closer to the cabin, and they could hear him. Then again, the killer would know where he was. A shuddering sob escaped his lips. He should have searched for the walkie-talkie. Should have—
His phone!
He could call John!
He leaned against a tree and searched his pockets but found them empty. He realized it must have fallen into the lake along with his wrench. "Shit!" He gritted his teeth. All he found was the bowie knife still sheathed on his belt.
He gripped tightly on the handle when he pulled it out, the blade gleaming against the fog. At least he had a weapon. He could fight back.
He stepped away from the tree and continued up the trail—
Schlink!
A sickening crunch echoed through the forest, followed by a sudden hot warmth radiating from his ankle and then followed by the most intense pain that almost shocked his system. He looked down at the thick claws embedded through his flesh—a bear trap.
His scream pierced and cut through the dense fog, reverberating among the canopy. Panic coursed through his veins as he struggled to free himself from its steel jaws. The forest came alive with a sinister breeze.
A soft crunch echoed from the darkness, and Scottie's heart skipped a beat. Fear took hold as his gaze fixated on the masked figure standing thirty feet away behind a dense thicket, looking almost curious about his torturous struggle. The Goliath didn't move and waited.
"Oh, my god…." He gasped. He couldn't believe that this was happening to him.
With a huffed grunt, the Goliath put the axe against the tree, bent down, and grabbed the bear trap's chains hidden under the fallen leaves. With a mighty yank, He dragged Scottie behind the thicket, screaming. The Goliath loomed over him.
With the knife still in his hands, Scottie tried to stab Goliath's leg, but the big man already read his moves. He twisted Scottie's wrists, and the knife fell onto the dirt. The Goliath let him go, and Scottie reeled back from the pain, cradling his sprained wrist.
The Goliath fell on his knees and straddled Scottie's hips, locking him onto the ground. He picked up the fallen bowie knife and lifted it above his head. Scottie raised his left hand to block it, but the blade went through his palm instead. Blood gushed out and fell into Scottie's gaping mouth.
Pulling out the knife, The Goliath sank the blade into Scottie's abdomen and forcefully worked his way above his belly button. Scottie's screams were strangled and desperate, clinging to the Goliath's collar, reaching for his neck, mask, and anything he could grab. The Goliath quickly swatted his feeble attempts to escape, pulled the knife out again, and drove the blade through Scottie's spleen.
Scottie arched his back, thrashing underneath the giant. Blood poured out of his lips.
"No! No! Please! No!"
Then, Scottie's Resolve turned crimson red.
There was a drastic change in the Goliath's demeanor. At first, he was slow and deliberate in where he stabbed Scottie to keep him alive, but as if he smelled blood in the water, the Goliath went into a frenzy of stabs, splattered blood, and shrieks.
Seven, eight, nine, ten stabs…and I lost count after that. Between whining screeches from Scottie tearing through vocal cords, which no human should ever produce, the earth beneath and the nearby bushes began to stain with blood and urine.
The Goliath stopped and took a lungful of breath as if reveling in the kill. Scottie gurgled a gasp.
He stopped screaming, fighting hard to keep breathing; arms splayed open wide like an angel. A single tear rolled down his left eye. He tried to speak, but he strained his throat shut.
The Goliath picked up his axe, grabbed Scottie's uninjured ankle, and dragged him back to the cabin three hundred feet up the trail. Scottie weakly grabbed clumps of grass along the way but couldn't find the strength to hold on.
"Scottie's still not answering," John said worriedly.
Leo thinned his lips. "Let's get the fuck out of here."
"You got that right." John climbed up the stairs and hauled himself out of the cellar.
John tried the radio again, but he received the same static. He looked out the bay window and could still see the van. At least he didn't leave, so he's still here. "Scottie, answer me, for fuck's sake!" He shouted onto the radio.
Still, no answer.
Behind him, Leo and Art helped Eddie out of the cellar.
"What now?" Art asked.
"Scottie's still not answering, but the van's outside," John replied.
"Good! Who's got the keys?" Eddie asked.
Leo frowned. "Scottie does."
"Oh, for crying out loud!" Eddie exclaimed.
"Come on, asshole. Up your feet," Art said to Eddie.
"Easy for you to say. I'm the one with a chunk of my leg missing."
"Quit yapping, and let's fucking move." Leo marched toward the door and opened it.
He froze, and all at once, the men's Resolve turned a solid orange.
Standing between the van and the cabin was a mountain of a man wearing a blood-splattered white fox mask. Leo's bowie knife was in his left hand while the other held Scottie, barely kneeling on the ground, hoisted up by his mangled and blood-soaked hair. Leo couldn't even tell where the stab wounds were all over Scottie's body, stained dark red.
"Scottie!" John screeched, but Art grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back inside the cabin.
"That's him! That's the guy!" Eddie pointed.
Leo remained frozen.
"Johnny…" Scottie whimpered. A trickle of blood escaped his lips. "Sorry—"
Scottie's voice was cut short as the Goliath jammed the bowie knife through his throat. Scottie's legs kicked for a second before it went deathly still. The Goliath pulled the blade out of the flesh with a sickening slop.
[You have gained 1 essence: Scott "Scottie" Kitson]
[You have gained 150 crystals]
The Goliath shoved Scottie to the side like a rag doll and glared a mocking challenge at the four men standing on the front porch.
FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 8
Leo's hand twitched, and in a blink of an eye, he pulled out the gun strapped to his belt and fired. Shots rang out into the fog. Eddie jumped behind the door frame and covered his ears. John was too stunned to move as Art pinned him behind the door. Most of the shots hit the Goliath straight on the torso, each bullet sending him a step back until he smashed through the van's windows, and the Goliath slumped to the ground, seemingly dead.
Silence filled the void.
I floated over to the Goliath.
"Uh, are you okay?" I asked, worried. Did the delvers kill my monster? That was a lot of bullets, and I doubted if his special trait would even carry over—
[Not Quite Dead I is activated. The Goliath is stunned for 1 minute.]
I sighed in relief. "Sorry about the guns," I said. "Can you handle these guys? I can summon Old Growth as an assist?"
The Goliath shot me a sidelong glance and closed his eyes, pretending to be dead. I reckon that's a no. He couldn't move yet.
[Warning: You have one more usage for Not Quite Dead I. Running out of slots will temporarily destroy the monster and trigger a cooldown, which you cannot summon the monster within the given duration.]
Ah. Good to know.
John pushed Art off him and ran to where Scottie lay face-first on the dirt. He turned him over; empty eyes faced the sky. John let out a choked sob. "Scottie…oh, God—"
The others cautiously walk toward John, who cradled Scottie on his lap. His brother's blood had already soaked his shirt and hands. He tried to brush Scottie's bloodied hair off the boy's eyes.
"Is he dead?" Eddie gestured over to the Goliath.
"I shot him twelve times. What do you think?"
"Did you shoot him in the head, at least?" Art asked. "No one can come back from that."
Leo paused. "I didn't."
"Better shoot him in the head then," Art said. "I learned that in a horror movie once."
"This ain't a horror movie, Art."
Art scoffed. "Yeah, you're right. We got an axe-wielding maniac. Masked psycho. Cabin in the woods. Creepy forest. Not a horror movie at all, Leo."
"For Christ's sake," Leo hissed and nodded to John. "Scott just died, man."
"Shit. Sorry. I didn't mean anything by it," Art said, but John did not respond. Art walked away awkwardly and helped Eddie out of the door.
"Can we get the fuck out of here?" Eddie exclaimed, leaning against the porch's railings. "I need medical attention!"
"Can you stop complaining?" Art hissed, annoyed.
"Hey, this is all your fault for getting us stuck out here!"
"Oh my god, if you don't shut up, I'm going to take out your other leg," Art threatened. "Mercer still wants you dead."
Eddie glowered but said nothing.
Leo crouched beside John and shook his arm. "John. Come on, man. We must get into the van. We'll help you carry Scottie inside."
"My brother's dead," John whispered as if he couldn't believe what he was saying.
Leo thinned his lips. "I know. I know. But we have to get out. I need to—" he pointed at Scottie's pockets, "—look for the van's keys."
John closed his eyes and, after a beat, nodded his head.
Leo ruffled through Scottie's pockets but didn't find the keys anywhere. "Shit. It's not here—"
He glanced over to the Goliath. Peeking out of his belt was the unmistakable glint of the van's keys against the beams of his flashlight, dangling like a carrot. Leo stood up and checked the gun's magazine.
Only one bullet left.
"Give me the gun, Leo. Let me do it," John said lowly.
"Huh?"
"Let me shoot this motherfucker in the head."
"John—"
"I brought Scottie here, Leo. This is all my fault." John raised a hand and got up.
"No, this is not your fault—"
"It is. We're supposed to move to Chicago, you know. Leave all this behind. Find honest work." He looked down at Scottie's body and held in another sob. "Give me the gun."
Leo hesitated for a moment before he handed it to him.
"Thanks." John cleared his throat and sauntered over to the Goliath. His hand slightly shaking from the adrenaline.
"Come on, come on," I muttered anxiously. The Goliath only had a few seconds left before he could move again.
They would take the van and escape my dungeon if they took out the Goliath. I'm still uncomfortable having people who have seen the cabin and the Goliath. Who knows what they would do? Since they probably had a bunch of criminal records, I doubted they'd go to the authorities and report Scottie's death since Eddie would just accuse them of kidnapping and assault. Then again, they might kill him just to avoid Mercer's wrath.
Leo's too aware that the cabin should not exist in the first place. He might start asking questions about who owned it and discover no property records or a paper trail in city hall. Technically, this was still owned by the federal government.
There was still a sliver of a chance they'd call the authorities anyway. People did stupid things during their grief, and John might do just that. He already felt responsible for Scottie's death. He might have the brightest idea of turning himself to the authorities to make up for it, leading them to me.
Fuck.
I'm not taking any chances. I'm only a day old as a Dungeon Core and already risking my hide to the outside world. I had to nip this in the bud.
The demon was still not in the area to stop them, nor was it aware we had visitors in the dungeon. I couldn't count on the Siren since she was supposed to prevent anyone from escaping via the lake, and I didn't think these men would be near the water for some time. The Old Growth would be the next best thing, but his main job was to stop anyone from leaving via the road.
I quickly flew over to where Old Growth was and realized it was only a few paces away behind the tree line, perched on the gnarled trunk and twisted limbs of a tree. It appeared no different from the surrounding forest in the dark mist, camouflaged within the shadows.
Its limbs were long and sinewy, resembling twisted vines. It had four arms, the first two ending in a sharp javelin-like appendage, while the last two were made for grasping. The creature had no mouth, only a pair of eyes glowing a malevolent shade of emerald green, and surveyed the driveway below with curious fascination.
Old Growth unfurled its limbs with a sickening thud, stretching them outward as if ready to pounce, and stood around six feet tall. The tree trembled as its massive weight shifted. Slowly and methodically, its grotesque form slid down the trunk like a serpent on the prowl, its gaze scanning between the Goliath and John's approaching form.
THE OLD GROWTH
Dread Score: 6/10
Creature Type: Plant
Cooldown: 1 week
Special Traits
Multiple Limbs (4) I
The monster has four limbs, providing stability, balance, and efficient locomotion. This enables the monster to navigate diverse terrains (walls, trees, etc.) and improve their hunting tactics. Each limb can grapple, pounce, manipulate an object, and increase speed during a chase.
Javelin Appendages I
The monster carries two javelin-like appendages, which can be used to injure, dismember, and gore a delver. If a Javelin Appendage is severed or destroyed, it will take 30 days for the monster to grow a new one.
Moving Vines (Thorns) I
The monster can control a 30-foot radius, causing vines to emerge and ensnare a single delver. By opting for thorny vines, these tendrils release venom upon entering any open wound, draining the delver's Resolve and incapacitating them at an accelerated rate.
It turned toward me for confirmation.
"The Goliath's might be in trouble," I said. "If he gets cooled, you need to take them out one by one."
It pointed at the Goliath.
"Oh. If he makes it back up, your job is to shed their Resolve."
Old Growth nodded, crept closer toward the bushes, and disappeared within, curling into a ball and ready to pounce.
John aimed the pistol at Goliath's head but stopped.
"What is it?" Leo asked.
"I want to know who it is," John said and lowered the gun. "I want to look at this motherfucker in the eye while I put a bullet through his face."
"Bah! Just shoot him already and let's get out of here," Art said. He limped toward the double-sided axe on the ground and crouched to pick it up.
John bent on one knee and yanked the keys from the Goliath's belt. Gritting his teeth, he reached for the mask.
The Goliath's eyes snapped open; his hand twitched into a curl.
It seemed like my luck hadn't run out after all.
John gasped, startled that the Goliath was still alive. Harnessing [Telekinesis], I wrapped the energy tightly around John's throat, briefly cutting off his breath. His hands instinctively clawed at the presence, but there was nothing to grab hold onto.
[Power: 8/10]
The Goliath slowly stood up as if the gunshots earlier meant nothing, stained bullet holes where blood seeped out, seemingly closing on their own.
The others' Resolve drained to a darker orange.
"What the fuck!" Art exclaimed.
"Run! Run!" Eddie shouted and hobbled into the cabin.
I lifted John off the ground, legs flailing. He gasped for air, his face red and veins bulging in his forehead. He aimed the gun at the Goliath's head.
"Not a chance."
I flung him across the driveway, and he crashed onto the front porch's steps. His arm (the one where he still held the gun) bent awkwardly to one side and buried underneath his torso, and the sudden jolt of pain involuntarily twitched his finger around the trigger, and the gun went off with a loud crack.
Leo scrambled away from Goliath and ran toward John, lying on his belly. He turned him over, and blood spurted onto his face; the gun clattered to the side and fell under the stairs.
John's shirt quickly stained red.
"Fucking…shot…myself—!" John tried to speak, hand clutching his belly as blood poured out of his mouth. He struggled to breathe.
"Don't talk! Don't talk!" Leo grabbed him by the collar and dragged him into the cabin. "Inside! Inside! Now!"
Art abandoned picking up the axe once he realized the Goliath was moving toward him. Better to get away without a heavy object weighing him down, especially when his ankle still bothered him. He ran to the porch and grabbed John's left arm, and together, he and Leo dragged John into the cabin.
The Goliath picked up his axe as Leo bolted the door shut.
"How is he alive?!" Art shrieked. "We fucking put a lead on him a dozen times!"
"Doesn't matter!" Leo shouted as he removed his jacket and pressed it on John's abdomen. "Art, find me the fucking first-aid kit."
"I don't know where that is!"
"Try the kitchen. Look through the cupboards."
"He's just standing there," Eddie whimpered, looking out the bay window. "What's he doing?"
"Eddie, help Art look for the first-aid kit now!"
Eddie glanced over at him. "That's not gonna help him much, Leo."
"Shut up! We can save him."
Eddie gritted his teeth and sobbed. "Oh, fuck. We're all going to die out here, aren't we?"
"I said shut up!"
Art flung open every cupboard in the kitchen, throwing out anything that didn't look like a first-aid kit. "It's not here!"
"Try the bathroom," Leo said, and Art shambled toward the only bathroom. John grabbed his wrist. "Just you hold on, Johnny. Everything's going to be okay, alright? You're gonna be fine."
John forced Leo's fist open and shoved the van's keys into it. "You…get…out. Leave…while…you…can." He struggled to sit up, straining against the pain. "He'll…come…in…soon. I'll…hold…him—"
"Johnny, just lay back down." He put the keys on the floor and continued adding pressure on John's wound. "Art's going to find it. Art! What's taking so long?!"
"Give me a fucking minute! I just got here!" Art searched under the sink and found the first-aid kit I shoved at the very back. He grinned. "Finally. Found it!"
Back in the living room, the fireplace's logs burst into flames, a bright orange glow casting on Eddie and Leo's faces. An inexplicable surge of electricity coursed through the cabin, causing every light fixture to flicker to life simultaneously, flooding the entire space with an unsettling glow.
As if possessed, the radio abruptly sprang to life, a crackling sound that pierced through the chaos. "All By Myself" swelled from the speakers as the cabin whirred to life.
Everyone froze where they stood; their Resolve continued to shed.
Yeah. That freaked them out.
The bay window suddenly shattered. The object flew across the room, rolling on the floor until it settled mere inches away from John's feet.
It was Scottie's severed head, his lifeless gaze locked onto John and Leo.
John made a strangled scream.
The Goliath peered through the broken window and smashed more broken glass off the frame. He swung his meaty legs around and stepped into the cabin interior, the axe glistening under the hearth's glow.
Eddie picked up the fire poker and charged at the Goliath, but he stepped into a trap before he could make the swing. The light fixture above him burst, and a thin line of cables wrapped around his neck and hoisted him two feet above the floor. Eddie dropped the weapon and clawed at the wires. The ceiling cracked under his weight, and a small section collapsed on his head. He fell to the floor with the cables hung loosely around his neck, knocking all the air in his lungs.
The Goliath swung his foot and kicked Eddie's head hard, knocking out more of his teeth and rendering him unconscious. His Resolve remained at a darker orange. Frowning, the Goliath stepped over his body and headed for Leo and John instead.
"Go!" John screeched and pushed Leo off him. Art grabbed his shoulders and forcibly dragged him into the corridor.
"We can't leave him!" Leo shouted, but Art shoved his body between him and the master bedroom's door.
"We have to! We need to run!"
The Goliath marched toward the corridor, but John quickly grabbed his ankles. His grapple was too weak. He couldn't twist his body just enough to gain leverage with the bullet still lodged into his abdomen. He let out a defying roar, but the Goliath merely shook his grip off his ankle, stepped on his elbow, and chopped off John's lower arm.
The intense pain dropped John's Resolve into a deep red. He knew it was over. He was injured, and he could barely move. All he could do was stare up at the motherfucker standing over him.
"Leo, Art! Runnn—!"
The Goliath swung his axe, striking John's shoulder with a sickening thud, withdrawing it before delivering another merciless blow. John's screams pierced the air with each savage strike.
[You have gained 1 essence: John Kitson]
[You have gained 150 crystals]
Leo stood transfixed as he peered through a narrow crack in the door. In a panic, Art swiftly slammed the door shut and locked it.
"Help me!" Art pleaded as he pushed against the weighty vanity dresser. Leo snapped out of his daze and rushed to assist, combining their strength to barricade the door.
Crash!
Wooden shards exploded into the room, one piercing through Art's cheek. The axe wedged in the door momentarily before being forcibly removed, and the Goliath's white-fox mask appeared through the narrow gap.
FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 9
The Goliath hacked through the door and widened the gap by several inches. He could put his entire arm through it now, and it would be only a matter of time before he would get into the room.
I wondered if the cultists would behave the same way if chased by a masked psycho across the cabin. Leo and his crew were a good test run for what I had in store for them.
Consider this a dress rehearsal, I thought. Better to spot any mistakes and curate their eventual suffering before the cultists use the space tomorrow and make the cabin as deadly as possible for them. I wanted Coach Hodge and his ilk to suffer the way they made me suffer.
Unfortunately, Leo and his friends were the accidental test subjects.
But what if anyone made it out alive? The night was still young, and there were plenty of chances of escape.
I mulled over the thought and focused on the Goliath.
Art stumbled back to the closet door. "Leo! He's breaking in!" He shouted. "What should we do?"
Fortunately for Art and Leo, the vanity dresser was wedged against the nightstand. Even if Goliath could open the door, he wouldn't be able to walk inside but had to either brute force his way into the room or crawl through the gap he chopped off. Both options would only slow him down. He retreated into the hallway.
"The door, Art!" Leo pointed. "The bathroom!"
Art quickly dashed toward the bathroom door (shared by both bedrooms). The Goliath marched into the second bedroom, but Art managed to lock the bathroom door from the inside before the killer could get to him. He rushed back to the master's bedroom and closed the second door. "That should stop him," Art said. "What now?"
"Um, let me think." Leo paced and ruffled through his pockets. "Shit! I left the keys in the living room!"
"Do you think we can get it?"
"With that fucking guy out there? Nah. Not a chance."
"If we don't get the keys, where can we go? We can't run into the woods in the dark!"
"The ranger station."
"The ranger station?"
"There's a fire lookout tower nearby. We're still at the tail end of fire season, so a fire watcher should be there. We can't get a signal, but they have a radio. We can call for help!"
I frowned. A fire watch tower wasn't included on a list of locations in my dungeon, so it should be outside the boundary. I flew out of the cabin, searched the area with many-eyes, and quickly located the tower two miles north outside the border.
Inside, I could make out the fire watcher on duty, listening to country rock radio while he brewed hot water on a gas stove for his empty mug of tea. A Self-help book about dating in his forties sat half-opened on the desk.
Even if Leo and Art went that way, they had to traverse at least five miles by the most direct route to reach it. That's a two-hour trek. Minimum.
Leo darted toward the double-hung window, which opened by lifting the bottom part. Unfortunately, there was no latch, and given I deliberately made it hard to open during a chase like this, Leo had to open it by pulling as much weight into it.
A loud thump reverberated from the bathroom as the Goliath broke into the first door and started hacking through the next. The Goliath peered through the gap again, breathing heavily.
"Come on, Leo! He's almost through!" Art exclaimed.
"Give me a sec!" Leo said over his shoulder. "Fucking thing's stuck!"
Art looked around frantically for anything that might help him stop the giant. The vanity dresser wedged against the door was filled with empty jewelry boxes and a few knickknacks—nothing useful. The nightstand next to it held nothing but an alarm clock. Two unplugged lamps were on either side of the bed; they wouldn't have been strong enough to do any damage anyway.
The Goliath reached into the gap and tried to turn the knob from the other side, but Art grabbed one lamp off the nightstand and threw it at him. It bounced harmlessly off the door, but the Goliath reeled his arm back and started chopping again; it was too narrow for his frame.
Leo gritted his teeth, muscles straining against the force, veins popping out of his neck as he lifted the window open with a gratifying roar. "Hurry up!" he yelled. "I got it!"
Art grabbed another lamp from the table and threw it at the Goliath. This time, the lightbulb shattered against the gap, shards of glass shattering out through the opening, which caught the Goliath straight in the face.
The Goliath staggered back, plucking the shrapnel off his mask inches away from under his left eye.
Leo lifted the window, but it only opened halfway. He tried to force it open more, but it wouldn't budge.
"Fuck this." Leo picked up the chair from where the vanity dresser used to be and threw it over the left-side window. Glass shattered everywhere. Clearing the windowsill of any sharp glass, Leo hopped over and climbed out of the bedroom. He almost missed a step, catching the window frame, but a jagged glass still embedded in the structure sliced through his palm.
"Shit!" Leo staggered back and reeled his hand close to his chest. It started to bleed.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Careful with the glass, Art. Hurry." Leo grabbed Art's arm and guided him through the window.
I frowned. "I should have placed a contingency there." I made another note to reinforce the window by purchasing a magical barrier to keep it sealed.
I detected movement from the living room, and I darted over there to see what it was. Eddie was finally awake, crawling on the floor toward John's hacked-up body. He quickly snatched the van keys and, grabbing the couch's armrest, hauled himself back to his feet. With Goliath still distracted with Leo and Art, Eddie limped out to the front door and opened the latch, stumbling onto the front porch. He headed for the van.
"Heads up," I said to the Goliath. "Eddie's got the keys."
The Goliath pulled his hand from the doorknob and left the bathroom. Leo and Art must be wondering why the Goliath suddenly stopped his pursuit, but they welcomed the brief respite. Art finally managed to climb out of the window, but his injured ankle made it difficult to lift his leg over. Another sharp edge cut through his lower calf and Art yelped. Leo grabbed his ankle and yanked it off the glass.
"Can you walk?" Leo asked.
"I—I think so." Art put some weight on his leg, but his knee buckled over. "Nope! Not happening."
Leo thinned his lips. "Come on. Give me your arm." Leo grabbed Art's arm and put it around his shoulders. He placed his free arm around Art's waist and hoisted him, supporting his weight. They both limped toward the parking lot.
"Leo, someone's got the van!" Art pointed out, and the strangled roar of the engine came to life, and the red brake lights pierced through the fog as the van reversed. "It's Eddie! He's got the keys!"
Leo grinned. "Yo! Eddie! Wait up!"
The van screeched to a halt. Leo grinned and dragged Art toward the van.
Inside, Eddie glanced at the side view mirror and saw Art and Leo's shadowy frame in the mist getting closer and closer…and so did the hulking mass standing by the cabin's front porch, the axe already in hand. Eddie gritted his teeth and pushed the gear to drive. He put his weight on the gas pedal, and the van sped out of the driveway.
Leo's face fell. "Eddie! No!"
"What the fuck!" Art exclaimed. The realization that their one guaranteed escape sped out of their reach sent Art's Resolve to red and Leo to a darker orange.
Leo tried to hoist Art back to his feet, but the latter slumped in defeat. "Come on, Art! We can get to the ranger station." A lie, of course. Even I didn't believe Leo's words, given Art's injured.
"I—I can't! My leg."
"We can make it!"
"I don't know if I can, Le—!"
Thwack!
The axe's blade wedged deep into Art's right shoulder blade, severing his clavicle and down through his ribcage. Leo stumbled back and fell on his ass, scrambling to escape the Goliath looming behind Art.
Art gently caressed the blade with his knuckles as if he couldn't believe it was inside his body. He looked up at the masked psycho behind him, lips quivering, but held no fear—just this thousand-yard stare. The Goliath brought his foot down on his back and yanked the axe off his shoulder. Art floundered forward and hit the dirt face-first. He let out a hard cough, and blood spurted from his gaping mouth.
[You have gained 1 essence: Arturo "Art" Gomez]
[You have gained 150 crystals]
Leo sat frozen, watching the Goliath bring the axe down twice on Art's spine. Yet his Resolve remained at a darker orange, not enough to collect the essence I needed to grow. Not once had his Resolve turned red throughout the night, and I suspected he was like Ennis Blunden.
What did the demon say again? Ripen the meat, right?
I could tell he wouldn't move, his adrenaline and fear freezing him in place. Bringing [Strange Noise], I whispered in his ear:
Run.
Leo brushed off his right ear and screamed. He rolled over, hauled himself back to his feet, and scampered into the woods. I never saw a man run that fast before, but I reckoned that his military training had kicked in. He took off into Trail B, which led north into McLaren Forest, heading toward the mountains.
Toward the direction of the ranger station.
I turned to the Goliath, watching Leo disappear into the fog. Was that a smile on his face? I still couldn't see behind the mask, but it looked like he was pleased by the turn of events. He slightly bowed in my direction as if saying thank you for giving him a chase scene.
The Goliath marched into the woods and bolted to a full sprint.
"Huh. So, you can run, after all."
Now to Eddie.
I turned my attention to the driveway. I sensed Old Growth lurking in the woods, darting from tree to tree as it followed the van through the winding dirt road. I flew into the van's cabin and found him scrambling to control the van through the thick fog and disorienting him. I still had twenty-five minutes left with the environmental aura—plenty of time for the delver to make mistakes.
Let's see if this fog and the road did as they were designed.
"Come on! Come on!" Eddie exclaimed, wiping the beads of sweat forming above his brows.
Adrenaline must have been coursing through his veins. I saw Old Growth darting between the trees, waiting for my command. He was getting closer to the bridge.
From the side view mirror, Old Growth rushed across the road inches from grazing the van's back bumper. Eddie must have seen its shadow from the side view mirror. He glanced at the rearview mirror and checked both side view mirrors. Not taking any chances, he put more weight on the gas pedal.
I braced myself for the bride's illusory trap.
As he rounded the corner, A thin shadowy frame of a woman stood in the middle of the road, dragging something behind her. Headlights briefly illuminated Maxine's startled expression. Eddie looked back at the road just in time to turn the wheels hard to the right. He tried to regain control of the spinning vehicle when the hood clipped something through the thicket, spun again, and threw the van's double doors from the back wide open.
That's when Eddie saw the tree ahead, and all he could do was cover his head with his arms as the airbags blew up on his face.
Unfortunately, Eddie wasn't wearing a seatbelt.
Eddie flew out of the windshield and rolled into a ditch as the van's hood crumpled around the trunk. The wound on his injured leg opened wider; his fibula broke and poked through flesh. His left arm angled and rotated awkwardly, and the impact knocked the air out of his lungs. Eddie lay on the dirt, unmoving.
Demon Maxine sauntered over to the ditch's edge and frowned.
"I was gone for one minute, and we got delvers in the cabin?" She let out a cackle. "And I was not invited to the party! How fun!"
"Took you long enough," I said. "We still got one in the woods. The Goliath is chasing him."
"How fun for him. What of this one?"
"Same story. He tried to escape. Old Growth is—"
Old Growth hopped off the tree and landed next to Maxine. The demon didn't even flinch.
"Hello, Oldie. How are you?" The demon asked. "Are you having fun?"
Old Growth merely shrugged.
"Ah." Demon Maxine nodded. "Tis' that night, I see."
Eddie coughed and gasped for air.
"Holy fuck. That whale is still alive," the demon said.
"Help…" Eddie cried out weakly. His Resolve turned a darker orange, but it was slowly dissipating. "Help!" He forced to roll his head sideways and looked up to the ditch—to Maxine looking back at him. "Please…help…me…"
Maxine frowned. "He's dying," she whispered under her breath. "Poor fool."
Eddie furrowed his brows. "Why…are you…just standing there? Help. Me! Ple—" He paused. As his vision adjusted in the darkness, he noticed the sinewy mass of vines standing next to the woman. "What…what…"
Old Growth tilted its head curiously and crawled down the ditch.
"What the…what the…"
The demon smirked. "Ah. Sweet, sweet fear of the unknown," she mused. "I forgot you humans get a bit freaked out by magical creatures. Ahhh. I love Earth. So gullible and naive."
Old Growth loomed inches away from Eddie's face as if smelling his aura.
"Please…don't…hurt…me—"
The javelin-like appendage pierced through Eddie's back and out of his chest, and Old Growth lifted him off the ground. Dangling with half his broken leg, Eddie clutched the javelin's pointy end, trying to pry his body off it. It was no use. Old Growth brought Eddie's face close to its own as if savoring its first kill.
Eddie's Resolve switched to red.
"Game over," the demon said.
With its other limbs, Old Growth clutched Eddie's head. The other two grabbed his injured leg and his broken arm. In one swift pull, I now know what it looked like for a man to be split in half.
And that's what happened to Eddie. The arm came off first, then the leg. Eddie was still screaming when Old Growth wiggled the javelin still embedded in his flesh before he tore his head off his shoulders. It then threw Eddie's ripped body (and the loose limbs) back onto the road.
[You have gained 3 essences: Edward "Eddie" Mands]
[You have gained 450 crystals]
Demon Maxine picked up the head and, moving Eddie's half-gaping mouth, said, "Congratulations, Oldie! I am your first kill! Here." The demon threw Eddie's head over to the plant, but Old Growth didn't catch it; it rolled back into the ditch.
Old Growth wiped the blood off the javelin and retracted it back into its arm. He gave Maxine a courteous bow.
"Damn. He almost made it out," I said.
"He will not last long in the dungeon," Maxine said. "Not with a broken leg, at least. In other dungeons, it is a death sentence."
"Are you all this brutal to delvers? Even in other worlds?" I asked. "From what I've seen in the past twenty-four hours..."
Maxine and Old Growth shared a curious look. "Of course, lord dungeon! It is your special system. That is why we flock to you."
I narrowed my gaze. "What do you mean by that?"
Maxine didn't let her grin slip and gestured to the dark woods. "You said there is only one left, right?" She asked, changing the subject.
"Um…yeah. Leo Grady. I know him."
"Close?"
"He's been my camp counselor over the years. Back when the summer camp was still open."
"Is he running?"
"Yes."
"Good. A chase sheds Resolve. It won't be long now."
I said nothing.
The demon frowned. "We will make it quick once his Resolve is red, lord dungeon. At least we do not have to torture him; just…let him run out of steam."
"Would that work?"
"Endurance is the key many humans lack. I know things."
Maxine walked back down the road and picked up a black body bag. "You imposed, and I shall deliver. Your old body, lord dungeon." She placed the bag in front of me. "Very difficult to extract, mind you."
"I gave you a shovel."
"No. Someone was there."
"Someone? Do you recognize them?"
"I gleaned Maxine's memories. They are called Kirk and Alvin."
"My English teacher. I don't know about the second guy."
"Well, they're looking for your body as well. Fortunately, I had already dug it out of there when they arrived. You must have freaked them out because of the massacre centered around the Yates Residence."
"They didn't follow you?"
"I made sure they didn't. And even if they did, we'll kill them."
Right. "Open it."
The demon raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She crouched down and unzipped the bag. Hollowed eye sockets were what greeted me first. My mouth hung open with a missing tongue. A strong, putrid smell invaded my nostrils. Even the demon took a step back and wiggled her nose.
I sighed. Last night's events flooded my memory, especially Coach Hodge's face.
"You two should help the Goliath with Leo," I ordered.
Old Growth poked Maxine on the shoulder. Maxine leaned over as the plant monster mimed something with its limbs.
"Ah. Oldie's asking what happens if his Resolve doesn't turn red?" Maxine translated. "If his Resolve hasn't gone down this late into the night, he might be worthy. If he dies, he'll shed multiple essences."
"It's not guaranteed he'll turn red, is it?"
"No."
I paused. "Alright. If his Resolve remained high, knock him out. We'll collect the essence later. For now, demon, drag my body back into the cabin. Old Growth, you chase after Leo. You're faster than him. And the demon, after you drop my body in the cabin, take Trail B."
Old Growth nodded and sprinted into the woods while the demon collected what was left of Eddie's body and shoved them inside the van. I made a mental note to clean up the area and hide the van somewhere the cultists wouldn't find.
FINDERS KEEPERS
Part 10