noveltune Arc 5 | Dead Pacifica (Part 12)
Arc 5 | Dead Pacifica (Part 12)
DEAD PACIFICA
Part 12
I stopped following Dylan and the others and teleported to North Cedar Lake, where the rest of the Dead Pacifica crew were busy setting up for the livestream, which was in three days. They had been here since the beginning of the week, busy preparing my domain for the production, which I quite enjoyed watching all of the behind the scenes drama, as I had been interested in how movies were made before. Even though they weren’t technically creating a real movieor a big-budget Hollywood production, it was still highly entertaining for a bored Dungeon Lord like myself.
Around sixteen crew members were hired by the show’s producer, Owen Baldacci, who were all now scurrying about like ants all over the dungeon, thanks to his wealthy father who had some big pull in one of the larger film studios in LA. I didn’t want to replay the night when he practically begged his dad for more money for the livestream. His dad must have looked at the spreadsheets and realized his son was about to make some bank from this production alone and wanted a piece of the pie. Also, the studio was trying to find ways to reach the younger audience, and smelling an opportunity, partnered with Dead Pacifica for this project.
More money means more people are watching, I thought, eager for the delving night to commence. Hell Rock Live had been plastered all over social media and on the news blogs as one of the most anticipated events of this week. Oracle had been tracking the algorithm, and interest had jumped to a whopping twelve-hundred percent since the announcement.
However, these people were just the day crew. The night of the delve, only a third of the initial crew would be left behind to manage the rest of the show, so I couldn’t even add them to the official list of delvers. From my observation over the past few days, Owen would be part of that group along with his assistant producer, Heidi Birchall, who had been “mysteriously” avoiding Dylan ever since their one-night stand a month ago. Some juicy drama there that I could potentially mess with during the delve. Big Mac would stay as the main camera technician, along with three other production assistants led by Kimberly Morgan.
They set up cameras and microphones in the woods, along the trails, near the lakeshore, in the cabin and the boathouse, at the abandoned summer camp, at the junkyard, and even at the large amusement park. The only place they couldn’t see was the Core Tree, hidden under a dome of an illusion spell. A total of thirty-three hidden cameras, with about a dozen inside the cabin itself. And they certainly didn’t see my own additions: a swarm of nanite cameras currently hibernating in the shadows.
Once the scenario started, Oracle would stitch my feed directly into their monitors as if they’re part of the show! They were bound to notice eventually, and I was counting on it. That spike of confusion and fear was always worth a few extra drops of Resolve.
My archetypes were getting restless. I told them to stay clear from the property and to let these humans do their work unhindered, even though some of them would really love to play with their food early. But I had to be a stern parent and put my foot down and flatly told them NO. It felt like corralling a pack of ravenous hounds into a basement while a dinner party roared upstairs. I promised them their turn would come, but for now, the humans needed to be productive, not dead.
As the four-day countdown began, I dialed the Dread up to a low hum. These were just the little things. A strange and sudden gust of wind. A weird, discordant laugh in the woods. The occasional glimpse at the periphery of a person standing in the middle of the clearing, watching you. Maybe watching you outside the window. Maybe under the bed. Maybe behind the bathroom curtain.
The archetypes had fun with it, too. The Sawyers drove past and gave Owen and Heidi a fright, playing with the typical hillbilly stereotypes in the movies by walking out of the woods with a hunting rifle and a string of dead rabbits and squirrels, and a few ominous warnings about the powerful spirits that resided in these woods and how it was hungry around this time of the year. Just as Dylan and his friends were warned by their harbinger, the crew was as well.
As predicted, Owen continued with the production and instead hired several security personnel so that there were no more trespassers. The crew were also expecting some of the die-hard fans to crash the party for the fame; their audience wasn’t that bright anyway. I got a jolt of excitement when I realized these guards were going to be present during the delving night, too.
“Ah. Appetizers,” Demon Bolton said to me once.
As I flew across the dungeon, I caught several of the crew were busy filming B-shots around the property. This footage was to be used for the pre-taped segments before and during the initial live show, which they’d send back to their editors in LA. Owen and Heidi had a full schedule planned since Dylan and Retto were going to interview several people from Point Hope about the history of the town and North Cedar Lake, like a crime-horror documentary. Owen and Heidi already met with all of them and signed the paperwork their lawyers wanted them to sign.
One of them was my cousin, Charlie.
I flew past the cabin’s roof and found Big Mac setting one of the cameras on the corner of the living room. He swayed precariously, catching himself just as he nearly lost his footing on the upper rungs of the ladder. With a sigh of relief, he steadied the device and fished out his CB radio and called basecamp, a collection of large trailers parked like wagon trains nearby in the middle of the woods.
“How’s the feed looking? Picture look okay?” Big Mac asked.
“Solid on our end,” Heidi’s voice crackled through the static. “Maybe nudge it a little to the left? A third of the frame is just showing the top of that cabinet. There. No, just a bit—yes! that’s perfect. You’re a saint, Mac.”
“Yeah, yeah. Well, that’s the last of ‘em. Unless I’m missing something?”
“Uh, nope. That’s all for the cabin. The pizzas just arrived by the way. We got your ham and pineapple, psycho.”
“Shit’s still food, Heidi. Pineapple’s just as good on anything. Have you ever tried pineapple curry?” Big Mac descended the ladder, the metal groaning under his weight. “I’m pretty much done here. Want me to pack it in and head back?”
“Hang on. Owen’s saying something,” Heidi replied.
“Copy that. Standing by.” He paused and smiled. “You guys better not eat all of that pizza.”
Big Mac wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead and looked around the room. Despite daylight streaming through the windows, it still cast these long shadows across the room, and he couldn't shake the prickling sensation at the base of his scalp. This was the site of the infamous satanic massacre where a ton of people got killed and only left two survivors: a child and a badass teenager, literally a real-life version of young Laurie Strode or Sydney Prescott. Big Mac was Tessa Burton’s number one fan, but she refused to do any interviews with the podcast because of Dylan’s reputation, much to his dismay. Although he admired her more for calling Dylan Griffin a sad bag of trash. Lord only knew how many times he wanted to do that without getting fired. If ever that interview happened, he’d be so giddy with excitement in the studio he’d be a total wreck. Surely the ratings for the pod would be so high for the Tessa Burton’s interview since the girl had amassed quite a following since Dylan and Retto featured her story on the pod multiple times. It was still debated extensively to this day how she managed to defeat multiple murderous cultists—some were bigger than her—and got out of the woods beat to shit while still protecting a child. Badass all-around.
Last I heard, she’s in New York, he thought. Several of his college friends now lived there, and he imagined visiting them and then running into Tessa? That would be so sick! He was sad that Tessa had to make all of her social media private though and disappear from the internet. Too many creeps and parasocial assholes harassing and stalking her.
For Big Mac, it was pretty wild and surreal to be here now compared to just talking about it in the studio. But the cabin no longer resembled the creepy dwelling depicted in the police archives; it had been scrubbed and sanitized into just another house filled with the kind of high-end aesthetics favored by the urban elite. He didn’t know how Owen and Heidi managed to convince the owners and the Duncan Estate to film on site, but Big Mac wasn’t about to complain. The paycheck alone would cover his rent for months.
Thanks to the props department, they had to spend four days turning the cabin less of a suburban mom’s wet dream and into Evil Dead. Fake exterior walls. Spooky props and paintings. An installed fog machine inside the cabin with fake cobwebs and sound systems that mimicked a child crying. Mannequins dressed up as clowns and scarecrows hidden all over the house. And yes, even fake evidence that the police miraculously left untouched. Kim had done an awesome job making this place into a haunted house. Honestly, Big Mac would pay for that.
So what if it’s fake? That was not what the audience wanted. It was certainly not what Dylan and Retto wanted. They expected to be terrified and for the audience to experience this terror packaged as brain-rotting entertainment! So what’s the big deal if they had to lie a little?
The radio hissed back to life. “Hey, listen. You’d need to go down to the cellar and set up a camera there, including the ritual room.”
Big Mac laughed. “Didn’t the owners say we’re not supposed to be down there? I recalled earlier that the door to the cellar is locked.”
“Can you just go down there and set up the cameras, please?”
“Wait, is Owen telling me to break into the cellar? Are we not gonna get in trouble for that? You do know the point of the livestream is that people are watching it live. If they ever find out, we’re so gonna get shut down. They might call the cops because we’re technically trespassing.”
“We’re literally renting the whole place including the summer camp and the amusement park. We have the permit and everything! They can’t do anything about that.”
“I don’t know. It’s a slippery slope, Heidi.”
A big pause. “Well, um, don’t get mad. It’s already open since last night?”
“What the fuck? How?”
“Owen and Kim opened it? Heh.”
Big Mac looked directly into the camera he had just mounted on the wall, throwing his arms out in bewildered frustration and a disappointed look that read: Are you guys crazy?
Another beat behind the radio and Owen took over with his posh British accent crackling through the air. “Listen, big man. By the time they notice, it’s already too late and the stream is over. If you’re worried about the money, you won’t pay a cent. I will pay for the damages.”
Big Mac scoffed. You mean your father will pay for the damages, he thought. It’s no secret that Owen Baldacci was a typical nepo-baby that populated LA like flies over a rotting carcass given that his dad was some big executive over in Hollywood. Owen was used to moving through life with a reckless certainty, a man who had never seen a consequence he couldn't buy his way out of. He’s the reason why the fees for the production trailers were for a fraction of the cost, and shipped to bumfuck nowhere with great speed. Big Mac had seen the spreadsheets too, and knew that the livestream already cost almost seven figures.
“I’m more concerned about the trespassing charges, dude,” Big Mac countered. He also really didn’t want to go down there.
“Well, technically they didn’t spell it out in the contract, did they? As far as we know, we’re allowed to go down there. Verbal agreements don’t really hold much in court. If they take us to court for it, they’re going to be in for a bloody shitty day. Don’t worry. I have my dad’s lawyers on speed-dial. Just get down there. It’s getting late. Dylan and the others should be arriving into town, and I don’t want to keep them waiting in the hotel. And the pizza is getting cold.”
Big Mac groaned and gave another look at the camera.
“Now, now, stop pouting,” Owen said. “It’s not as scary as you think it is.”
“Have you been down there?” Big Mac asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Really?”
“Well, only for a few minutes to see what’s down there. Dylan will love it.”
Big Mac stopped walking toward the kitchen where the door to the basement was. “Is it safe?”
“Yeah,” Owen said, unsure. “Very safe.”
“Bullshit.”
But Big Mac went anyway. He pulled the heavy wooden door open, and a draft of stagnant, freezing air billowed up to meet him. He ran his fingers across the wall, looking for the light switch, found it, and flicked it on. It didn’t work. He flicked the switch up and down a few times, but it seemed like the lightbulb down the basement was dead.
“You didn’t tell me the light’s out.”
“Ah, yes. I forgot. Sorry about that. Once Hudson and Philip’s done with the shots at Zone Six, I’ll ask them to fix the lights down there.”
He took two steps down the stairs before the darkness swallowed his boots, stopped, and turned back. “Nope,” he said.
“Where are you going?” Owen asked when he saw Big Mac through the camera on the living room again.
“I’m not going down there blind, man. Just hold on a sec?”
He rummaged through a gear bag until his fingers closed around a heavy-duty flashlight. He could already hear his wife behind his ear, calling him out for being stupid. Going down alone in a basement, Kevin? Don’t be those idiots in horror movies that die first, he imagined his wife saying. Armed with a light, he forced himself back to the basement stairs and turned it on.
Dust motes danced in the beam like tiny insects, and for a moment, he thought he saw someone moving down there, but it was just a trick of the light and his nerves. Eventually, he reached the foot of the stairs and began setting up all of the gear while ignoring how creepy the basement was. He even went back out to the van parked at the front of the cabin and grabbed another studio lamp, hooked the wires in, and dragged it down there. While the upstairs interior was heavily renovated by the new owners, it looked like nothing much had changed in the basement.
However, they didn’t discover the secret door to the tunnels yet.
“Has it always been this...”
“—what? Creepy? Fuck, yeah. It’s Hell Rock. That’s kinda the thing, dum-dum,” Owen said. “That’s what untouched wilderness is. Lots of people go missing and it becomes spooky because people love to make up dumb stuff. There. I solved the mystery.”
“I’m not joking, man. It feels...I don’t know, wrong to be here somehow.”
Heidi chimed in. “One time I heard a woman crying in the woods yesterday.”
Big Mac paused. “You’re messing with me.”
“Honest! I heard it. I went in there, looking for it and everything. I must have been there for like an half an hour, maybe? Turns out it was just Claire. Her girlfriend broke up with her and stole her dog, and she had to drop out and go back home to LA. See? Spooky stuff can be explained by mundane things.”
“What’s your explanation of mine?”
“Humans are social animals. We don’t like being alone. It’s just your biology triggering your instincts to find more people.”
“Easy for you to say. I’m here and you’re in a trailer where it’s safe.”
“Quit whining and just set the camera, please?” Heidi laughed.
Owen and Heidi guided him in placing two more cameras: one pointed at the stairs (to see who was going up and down), while the other had a wide shot of the rest of the room, especially the doors to the ritual chamber, where pieces of the yellow police tapes were still attached on the doorframe. Big Mac turned on the camera he was holding and zoomed in on the police tapes. He then panned the light around and landed on the far wall, illuminating the two massive, rusted iron doors that looked more like they belonged in a medieval dungeon than a lake house. They were bolted into the stone, the metal pitted and scarred with strange, jagged etchings.
Taken from novelhall, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Yeah, this is not fucking terrifying at all, guys. Thanks for bringing me here. I’m about to get murdered,” Big Mac said sarcastically.
“Well, if that happens, then just make sure you get killed in-front of the camera, okay?” Owen said. “Give the people what they want.”
Big Mac didn’t laugh. “Christ, Owen...why didn't the owners renovate this part? They spent a fortune for the interior upstairs, but they left this place looking like no one has been down here in ages.”
“Good thing everyone’s up-to-date with their tetanus shot,” Owen said. “You did get the shot, right, Big Mac?”
Heidi sighed. “This is so messed up. Owen, you didn’t tell me there’s still police tapes down there,” Heidi said over the radio to Owen. “Are we really allowed to go in?”
“This is no longer a crime scene since it happened a year ago. If they allowed the new owners to renovate the entire cabin, I’m pretty sure we’re also allowed to go down there.”
“Why didn’t they?” Big Mac asked.
“Didn’t what?”
“You know, renovate. If I owned a house that is part of a giant massacre, I’m pretty sure I’ll scrub any evidence that it existed including a torture chamber for Satan.”
A short, dry chuckle erupted from the radio. “Haven't a clue, mate,” Owen replied flippantly. “And they are worshippers of Astaroth? Remember episode nine? Retto and Heidi did extensive research about that subject.”
“Ah. The Great Duke of Hell,” Heidi chimed in. “Lovely guy.”
Big Mac rolled his eyes. “Yes. Can’t forget about him.”
“Maybe they’re just the sort who enjoy a bit of the morbid stuff. Keeps the property value interesting, I suppose. Or perhaps they simply hadn’t the stomach for it. Either way, it’s brilliant for the stream. Free scenery.”
“Have you checked what’s inside?”
“Um...not really? Kim and I didn’t go—”
Big Mac huffed. “You’re telling me that I am the first person to go in there?”
“The police probably cleaned up everything before they sold the house. You’re not going to find a secret body. Don’t be ridiculous,” Owen said. “Get to it. Chop-chop. Dylan wants a camera down there and I’m not going to explain to him why there isn’t one.”
“Is it even locked—?” Big Mac asked as he grabbed the handle. The door budged open. “Oh, fuck. It’s unlocked.”
“Well, good! That’s one problem solved,” Owen said.
“Kim and I are going to help you out,” Heidi said. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Big Mac aimed the light down the dark tunnel into the ritual chamber. “Um, yeah. That would be really nice.”
“Kim, can you hear us?” Heidi asked.
“Yep. I’m almost done here but if Mac needs help, I can go finish up tomorrow,” Kim replied.
“Wait, hold on. Kim’s not done setting the cameras up in Zone Three yet. The summer camp’s huge and we haven’t even done the amusement park. He can handle the ritual chamber.”
“The ritual chamber?” Kim asked. “Owen and I haven’t gotten down there yet, so we haven’t checked if its safe.”
“Owen already told us. But I’m still not going to leave Big Mac on his own,” Heidi said.
“Big whoop. He’s tough. If he finds something dangerous, he’ll just get out of there, right?”
“Guys, I can still hear you, you know,” Big Mac said, annoyed. “Well, the sooner we’re out of here, the better. I’ll just start checking it out myself instead of wasting time. Let me know when you’re here, Kim.” Big Mac grabbed the duffel bag and headed straight inside.
Beyond the threshold lay a narrow, claustrophobic tunnel that sloped aggressively downward. The air here was different, carrying a faint, electric hum that made the hair on Big Mac’s arms stand at attention.
“Um...hello? Anyone in here?” Big Mac said, then shook his head. He felt stupid calling out to the darkness, knowing no one had been down there since the investigation a year ago.
“Ah. Fuck it.”
He descended for what felt like an eternity, flanked by twenty odd stone statues on either side, dressed in robes and hoods, their hands clasped together in a prayer. Big Mac tried not to look at them directly, scared that one of them was going to turn its head and looked back at him. After a hundred-and-twenty feet of descent, the tunnel spilled out into a massive chamber that surprised him. How could a thirty-foot tall chamber be under a cabin? The logistics of building it boggled his mind. Four larger and taller statues occupied and loomed at the cardinal points of the chamber.
“Jesus Christ,” Owen whispered behind the radio. “I think we hit the motherlode, folks. That’s the shot of the century. Freeze there, Big Mac. I’m gonna take a screenshot for Dylan real quick.”
Big Mac paused, which gave him enough time to really capture the size of the chamber. “We can fit like a hundred people down here.”
“They don’t look like the pictures,” Heidi noted.
“Well, nothing beats the real thing, Heidi,” Owen said. “There. I sent it to Retto and Dylan. Oh, they’re typing. Hold on a sec.” Owen began to laugh. “Dylan said that at some point during the stream, he wants all of the cast to be down there with robes and all from that video.”
“What video?” Big Mac asked.
“From episode thirteen. The footage of Mark Castle’s murder. He wants to imitate that by letting everyone wear robes like the ones those cultists wore.”
Heidi groaned. “Isn’t that a bit gauche, Owen? Lots of people are going to be offended and we’ll be crucified online.”
“Yeah, so what? That’s engagement. Bad press is still good press, Heidi. You know that Retto has been throwing an idea for an Ouija segment during the stream, right? I think we’ve found the perfect place to do it. The show is centered around Mark Castle. Retto and Emily wants to speak to his ghost or something. What better way than to speak to his spirit but in the very room he got killed in?”
“Just make sure Collette and her boy-toy clean up first before they do that,” Big Mac said.
“I’ll let her know.”
“For the record, I want it to be known right here that I’m against this idea, Owen, okay? Big Mac, I’m almost to the cabin,” Heidi said. “And besides, Ouija isn’t real. Are you telling me we’re faking a seance?”
“We’ve already faked half of the livestream. Plus, I’ve got the board and everything. The same board from that horror movie my dad produced a few years ago? I think it was Ouija Evil 2? I actually got the prop as a birthday gift from the director.”
Big Mac wished he wasn’t in the room when they filmed that segment. “I’ll start setting up.”
Owen Baldacci broke the KitKat in two and took a big bite out of the first piece. He watched through the screen as Big Mac mounted the camera near the northern statue and he had already told him he’d like to have at least two cameras inside the ritual chamber covering every corner. So far, everything was surprisingly going very well. Productions set in the wilderness tend to be uncooperative and a headache just for the logistics alone, and it was common to be delayed for a week or two because of the weather.
Fortunately, they hadn’t run into troubles since they arrived into town, not even a dark cloud in the sky, and he hoped the show would run smoothly as butter. He couldn’t wait to go back to LA and talk about this show for the next few weeks in several of his friends’ podcasts. Maybe he’d even get invited to the big ones! He had a feeling the show would be the talk of the town and Owen Baldacci’s name would be stamped alongside Dylan Griffin and Retto Kearns.
This was a massive first step for gaining a foothold into his Hollywood dreams. What’s next? A movie credit as a real producer? He grinned at the thought. He could easily ask his dad to give him a big budget for his own movie, but he hated being called a nepo-baby, and at least Hell Rock Live was going to give him legitimacy as a producer. Next up, he’d be rubbing elbows with the big wigs in town and work with directors like Christopher Nolan, Steven Spielberg, or David Fincher. He wondered if this show could be eligible for an Emmy.
I shook my head. He had grandiose dreams, I give him that. And also a high opinion of himself. But an Emmy? He’s reaching too far into the sun and it might burn him to soon.
Bored, he opened his phone and started flicking left and right through various women in a dating app. He’s the type of guy who actually bought the premium option just so he could cast a larger net. There wasn’t a lot of options when you were surrounded by small towns. He was thankful that the first thing the crew did when they arrived was set up the wifi or else Owen was already dead from boredom days ago.
He stopped swiping when an alert popped up that he matched with someone in the area. He opened the notification and it led him straight to the woman’s profile.
Owen smiled, intrigued. “Hello, Wendy.”
As a vampire, Wendy Morrison’s profile picture was meant to entice a wider net as well, especially when vampires gotta eat. She was supposedly twenty-three, an event planner for a local vineyard with an education dumb enough to not make a man feel intimidated or emasculated. Her first profile picture must not look like she’s desperate or clingy but independent—a boss babe only waiting to be tamed—and her bio must insinuate that shedepended on a man’s validation and that she was willing to be his mother if a long-term relationship was on the table. She had a cliche epitaph that read she was a basic girl worthy for a good one-night date or a fuck-and-go, and nothing else. Perfect for the majority of men looking only for the latter.
These photos were all doctored by Oracle through an algorithm stolen—well, more like borrowed—from the black market. From plenty of porn sites actually. It had smashing success enticing would-be delvers for a quick snack in the long months without a full delving group. I had an algorithm built for women as well for Duke Henry and his third spawn, William, or the Sawyers. With an eighty-percent success rate, I’ve fed on men and women who would more than likely end up as predators in the future, or borderline going to be arrested for a sexual crime or for domestic assault against their partners. Nothing of value was lost from humanity with them gone.
I made sure Owen matched with Wendy.
I delved into all of my delvers’ pasts, swimming through their good and bad memories, and yes, even experienced through their sins. Behind his British charms, mild-mannered accent, and the power of his wealth, Owen boiled down to a man whose vices were of the flesh. His mind was often muddled with ways he would ravage women—people that he knew in real life and were friends with!—if the restraints of polite society wasn’t as restrictive of such carnality. The way he would picture Heidi, Kim, or any of the female cast members at certain moments, even if it was just for a few seconds, gave me the weird ick. And such fantasies were played out from hired hookers where he, alone, controlled the scenario, even the way these women dressed for his gratification.
But he was a nice guy, or so he told himself. A gentleman! Every American woman he talked to dropped their panties with his accent alone.
And Wendy deserved such a nice guy.
Like Big Mac, Heidi was still processing how she felt being in North Cedar Lake after all the research she had done for the show over the past year. It was a surreal and exciting that these woods she was now walking on could create so many horrifying stories of crime, murder, and disappearances that spanned decades. Stories of witches, demons, serial killers, and yes, even Bigfoot.
Only Retto was ever really interested in talking about the supernatural elements of these stories, but with Dylan and Owen having the final veto of what went up on the podcast, most of it never had seen the light of day except for the several Reddit, TikTok, and YouTube theories that cropped up since the show debuted. Heidi was guilty of fueling some of those posts for her entertainment. They got so popular that Dylan had to include parts of it to the show just to appease the fans much to his annoyance of wanting a serious and grounded podcast. Heidi was happy he got around to accepting some of the supernatural elements to basically green light a haunted house livestream masquerading as journalism. Episode One Dylan would never have agreed to this stunt.
As they say in Hollywood, money changes minds, Heidi laughed at that.
Even when Dylan was trying to be serious in the pod, he was the most unserious person on the show. She doubted the man even listened to his own show because he’d realize at the very beginning that Retto was actually the smarter and level-headed one. She actually told him a few times, even faking it as an internal poll she did, but he didn’t listen to her advice. Dylan knows best, as all his friends said often, but usually with a little venom.
Come on, Heidi. He’s not here. Why are you thinking about him? Heidi sighed and walked faster toward the cabin, hoping that by helping Big Mac she’d be distracted that Dylan was going to arrive in town tonight.
She knew she had been avoiding him. Some it were not on purpose, but she still welcomed not having to talk to him. It was a chore just doing that in the studio, so when the opportunity arose to fly to Oregon early, she took it. She’d ignore a few of his texts that didn’t involved work and only responded to him through emails and group calls either through zoom or on the phone. Shit’s too awkward to talk about what happened that night especially when she’s now back with Cole. She hoped Dylan would just drop it, pretend it never happened, but that’s not Dylan’s style at all. If he couldn’t have the shiny thing in the room, he’d do everything to get it.
“Mac, are you still at the ritual chamber?” Heidi said on the radio as she saw the roof and outline of the cabin through the foliage.
“Yep. Are you almost here?”
“Just about. I’m approaching the cabin now. Kim, I think I see you on the front porch. You don’t have to wait for me. Just go inside.”
Her radio crackled to life again. “What are you talking about? I’m still two minutes out.” Kim said. “By the way, Owen, if you’re listening, this is a fucking piece of shit. It doesn’t run more than fifteen miles per hour.”
“That’s because it’s a golf cart, honey,” Owen said. “Treat it with respect. We only have two of those.”
“Wait, Kim, did you said you’re still not here?” Heidi asked.
Heidi broke through the narrow trail and entered the gravel lot in front of the cabin. A woman stood by the front window, face pressed against the glass, peering into the cabin. Now that Heidi got a good look at the intruder, she did not have Kim’s blonde pixie cut and heavily tattooed arms but a cardigan-wearing, glasses-wearing, red-headed woman who seemed like she got lost from a Sunday brunch.
“Can I help you?” Heidi called out to her.
The woman jumped and stepped back from the window, beaming a smile that was a fraction too wide, her eyes crinkling behind her lenses. “Oh, hi! I didn’t hear you come up!”
“Um, can I help you, ma’am?” Heidi asked again, though she didn’t dare approach this woman.
“Oh, Rachel’s fine. And no, I was just walking by the area with my daughter, Cassie. It’s tradition around this time of the year.”
It was only then that Heidi noticed the other one, sitting on the porch swing. I had masked her presence just long enough to make the reveal jarring. Cassie was perhaps eighteen or nineteen, draped in a very thin V-neck blouse and a bikini top that left very little to the imagination. Her midnight-black hair fell over her shoulders like a shroud, contrasting sharply with eyes so blue they looked bioluminescent. She stretched, a slow, feline yawn that spoke of a comfort level no human should feel in a place like this. She waved at Heidi, her smile sharp enough to be uncanny, same as her mother’s.
“Yes, this is my daughter, Cassie. Short for Cassandra,” Rachel explained with a doting tone.
Cassie got up leaned over the railing. “Hi. We’re just visiting.”
“This is private property,” Heidi said softly.
Fortunately, the two women heard her. “Oh, are you the new owners of the Fairlie cabin?”
“The what?”
Rachel laughed. “Oh. Silly me! It used to be called The Fairlie cabin around here before it got turned into what’s popular with kids nowadays! What was it? Hell Rock?”
“No, um, this is a film set? We’re renting the place.”
“Oh! You’re those podcast people!” Cassie said excitedly. “I watched it so many times. I don’t remember you, though. I remember its just a bunch of guys?”
“I’m a producer,” Heidi said, and she didn’t know why she was even telling them this as if she was defending herself in front of a judge. She liked to tell them to get the fuck out, but they were honestly friendly and polite that it would be rude of her to do so.
“It’s such a beautiful property. I can just die. I don’t know why the new owners left it to rot though,” Rachel said, looking around the front porch heavily faked to look rickety and abandoned for the stream.
“It’s for the show,” Heidi explained. “It doesn’t usually look like this.” If these people were friends of the owners, Heidi was afraid they’d tell them about what they’d done to their property.
“Oh, I would have thought so! I’ve walked past it many times and I remember it doesn’t look like this a few weeks ago. Silly me!”
“Mom, you’re so dumb sometimes. It’s embarrassing,” Cassie giggled.
If that was Heidi’s mom and she talked like that, she would for sure get a stern look, or an infuriating back-handed passive-aggressive response. Instead, Rachel began to grovel. She apologized to her daughter with a frantic, desperate energy that made the hair on Heidi’s arms stand up.
It unnerved her.
“Sorry, but this is technically still under construction, lots of loose things that aren’t secure, so if you folks could vacate the premises for your safety and the crew, that’d be awesome.” Heidi was proud of how she handled that as nicely and professionally as possible. She didn’t want to call Hanlon, the head of security, on the radio just to drag these two women out. She didn’t want to embarrass them.
Until she saw the two men walking out from behind the corner.
One of the men of the same age as Rachel approached her. “Oh, this is my husband, Caleb. And that’s my son, Joshua.”
Joshua, who looked like a couple of years older than Cassie, leaned against the railing. Without a word, Cassie also leaned forward and pressed a deep, lingering kiss to his lips. Her eyes stayed wide open, staring directly into Heidi’s, cold and challenging. She slipped her tongue into her brother’s mouth while their parents stood by, beaming with pride as if they were watching a child open a birthday gift. Like Rachel and Caleb didn’t think this was fucking weird at all, and Heidi couldn’t mask how gross she felt watching that all over her face. What was also strange was that Cassie didn’t look like her sibling at all! None of them did.
Thankfully, she heard the sound of the golf cart driving down from Trail B and stopped behind her. Kim stepped out of the cart and walked up to the cabin.
“Is everything okay?” Kim whispered to Heidi, though her eyes never left the “family.”
“They’re...just passing through,” Heidi managed, but she was glad Kim was here.
Kim raised an eyebrow. She didn’t believe that. “Excuse me. This is a private property and a closed set,” she said without mincing any words, brave enough to step toward them.
Rachel got flustered. “Oh, we’re all friends here in the eyes of our Lord! We just want to appreciate the view.” She gestured over to the cabin.
“Do you know the new owners?” Kim pressed.
“Very well. He lets us pass by here many times. Many times.”
“Well, without a way for us to verify that, we’re gonna have to ask you to leave. This site is for crew members only? I don’t want to go as far as calling our security to escort you off the property.” Kim didn't raise her voice, but she reached for the radio at her hip.
“Can’t we stay for a few minutes to admire the beauty of this place? My family loves this forest,” Rachel asked. “It feels like home.”
But Kim didn’t back down and unclipped the radio. “Please leave or I will call security.”
Cassie, still draped over the porch railing like a predatory cat, let out a soft laugh. She glared at Kim, her blue eyes darkening. “Mom, Dad...let’s go.”
Rachel quickly perked up. “Oh! Okay! Okay! We’re going. We’ll stop by here next time when its less crowded.”
“Try next week,” Kim countered, watching them like a hawk as they began to retreat down the driveway.
Cassie blew them as Joshua put an arm around his “sister.” Caleb glared at them but said nothing. As they were about to cross the tree line, Rachel broke from the group and headed back toward them and fished out a pamphlet. Plastered on the font was the skeletal head of a stag that almost looked like a bone mask, with large golden yellow antlers juxtaposed a mountain range and a full moon. The stag was tall, lanky with mangled fur, dressed in an intricate flowing robe of golden yellow. Looking at the image made both Kim and Heidi troubled. At the bottom read: CHURCH OF THE UNWORTHY.
“What a blessing it must be to stand in your shoes, graced by His light,” Rachel whispered, her eyes wide and glassy. “Good luck.”
“Come on, mom. He is expecting us,” Cassie called out.
“I’m coming!”
Then she was gone, sprinting after her family into the shadows of the pines. When Heidi could no longer see them, she breathed a sigh of relief; the pamphlet feeling unnaturally heavy in her hand.
“That was fucking weird, right?” Kim said.
“I was not going to say anything, but yeah. Super weird,” Heidi said. “The daughter gave me the creeps.”
“They all gave me the creeps. You know what? I think half of this town’s got a screw loose. I guess that’s what you get for living in a place called Hell Rock,” Kim said. She pointed at the pamphlet. “Nice poster.”
“Church of the Unworthy? Never heard of that before.”
“Me neither.” Kim leaned in and pointed at the stag. “I don’t think they’re Christians.”
“Paganists?”
“Well, this is Oregon, sweetie. Lots of weird people here with weirder hobbies, and I guess, religions, too. Reminds me of the guy actually.”
Heidi titled her head. “What guy?”
“Gold-yellow robes? The white mask?”
“Don’t know who you’re talking about.And I think that’s bone?”
“Of all the work you and Retto put on the show, I still can’t believe you haven’t encountered his works.” Kim rolled her eyes. “I’m talking about Lovecraft, duh. The Yellow King?”
Heidi looked at the pamphlet again. “Lovecraft didn’t write The King in Yellow.”
“The Yellow King’s still part of the Mythos, though.”
“Yellow Kings, stag zombies, pagans, or whatever. I’m just glad you got here in time. I thought I was going to get murdered.”
“That’s what I’m here for. You know I got your back, babes.” Kim turned around to face the cabin and smiled. “So, eh, what do you think?”
Heidi chuckled. “Good job. I would never be caught in a place like this when it looks like that.”
“Well, you’re here now, aren’t you?”
Heidi paused for a moment, struck by Kim’s words. Yes, I’m here now, aren’t I?
“You coming? Big Mac’s waiting for us.” Kim asked when she realized Heidi was still standing in the middle of the parking lot.
“Uh, yes. Coming.” Heidi folded the pamphlet and put it in her jacket’s pocket.
“You’re seriously keeping that?” Kim asked.
Heidi shrugged and chuckled. “Who knows? It might have some good laughs.”