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Chapter 13

Sheriff Tidus Woods stomps out a cigarette, observing the damage more closely. "Christ." Spits on the ground and bends his knees.
He can see from the corner of his sunglasses them city folk in that bus, are taking off. Shaken enough to stay, somehow, in this
rotten town.
"I don't trust them people." Gloria says from behind him. He nods, and gets back to standing, pulling another cancer stick from
his breast pocket.
It was hard enough keeping everything contained. New people, made new problems. He sights a flickering object in the distance,
that is enough to catch his eye, but not enough for immediate investigation. He had to find Becket. God knows the man is injured,
or in these god forsaken parts, worse.
"Close up shop, Gloria, Have yer boss hassle me bout all this." Just in that moment, he could see some splotches of blood, and
small splotches of black muck. Could be car oil. Atleast he hoped so.
"Damnit..." Darla complains.
"They have no idea what they are in for." Darla says in a distance.
"None do." The huge law man exclaims in an emotionless tone, walking the trail of spots. Noticing a metal door.
"Hey Gloria, where does this door lead?" He asks.
"That leads to the stairs to the cellar, but he couldn't have gotten in there, it doesn't have a handle." She replies.
"Hmmm..." Puffs on his smoke with some inquisitive notion in the word spoken. "How does it open then?"
"There is another door inside the Diner that leads to another set of stairs to the cellar, but I don't have the key,
it's the boss's office." She exclaims.
"Get her on the horn," He sighed. "I will check it out later." After all, it wasnt the only splotches around, was just a hunch,
and not even a very good one, from the way it seemed.
"It doesn't make any sense." Darla says, standing over the corpse of the late, Mrs. Becket. "Didn't they just sell the property?
What could have happened?"
He was about to give some kind of theory, like chance, when a hiss came over his radio. "Sheriff?"
"What is it?" Tidus Woods replies over the radio.
"Got a call, from Ol Hillary, says she ran into some trouble with the Dover Boys, want me to check it out?" Not what he wanted to hear
right now, not the Dover's, Jesus, not now. "Sir?"
"Shut up a min!" Woods orders, releasing the button. "Christ. Christ."
Eyeing the area, just reminded him of what a mess this all is, car wreck, dead woman, presumably missing dead man walking,
blood, glass, and car parts everywhere, what a day... If there was trouble, it was always, them Dover boys. It was approaching dark
now, and that meant any hope of finding the poor bastard would be hard to do with so little man power at his disposal.
"Sheriff?" Darla asks, now right next to him, almost startling him. "You don't suppose... IT, wouldn't let them leave?" She
sounded a bit scared. Gus always had his stories, and was quite vocal about his opinions about the Wood.
"Don't be rediculous." Tidus replies. She didn't seem convinced. "Look, I loved Gus, ya know I did, right? But theyz jus'
stories, rantings of an old vet."
"You know there is something out there in that Wood, something evil, don't you go denying it!" She tried to protest, but was
shot down by a holding up of the officer's hand. He heard something, some crackling out in the woods, like branches being stepped on.
He turns around to look, but has to squint through darkening tree lines. Nothing. Atleast he can see.
"I can't pretend to know what it was like for Doug to live up there at that farm, curse of haunting, don' matter, it's all a
bunch of hoodoo." Stomps another cigarette, that nearly burnt his fingers, as it had burnt down to filter, inhaling a little bit of
ass. Coughs a little. "If ya ask me, since his daughter went missing, the man probably couldn't handle it, took it out on his wife
and what was left of his mind."
"At any rate, can I get a lift home, as you can see, I ain't leaving in my car?" Darla says, pointing at the totalled remains
Doug smacked into just an hour or so earlier.
"You know I can't do that Darla..." A thought enters his mind, gets on his mic. "Hey, you still there at the station, over?"
"Copy that Sheriff." The voice over the speaker on his shirt confirms.
"Why don't ya come down here and give Darla here a ride home, I still got so much shit here to go over, god damnit.." Let's
go of the button for just a moment. "... and while youre at it, why don' you bring some lanterns and flashlights."
"Roger that, sir."
"Alright Darla, I got you your ride." Tidus sighs. "Damnit, damnit, damnit..." Whistles a toneless tune, walking around in
small circles, examining what he can with what little light remains around.

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Chapter Fourteen

"Here we are Doctor." Becka gently pushes on the shoulder of a snoozing Eric Lambert. Okay, snoozing
may be a gentle way of saying, passed out at this point.
Reluctuantly, it would seem, he rises to his faculties, enough to grunt and see that they are at a
train station. "What are we doing here? Not gonna drive all the way?"
"I actually pulled some strings down at the office, and got a car waiting for us when we reach our
end of the train ride." She said, tugging on his shoulder keeping him awake to make sure he is listening.
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Miss Government hotshot." He says. 'If she wasn't so pretty, I may have not been
convinced to come along for this little joyride to Frank's whatever it is going to be.' '"You just got to come
see for yourself!"' Frank reenters his thoughts. He helped with the convincing, but it was mostly her.
"Are you against the train or something?" Becka Ortega, Woman in Black asks. "I am tired, and I
don't like wasting time, and you are CLEARLY not driving us anywhere, or any shape too." She sighs. "Short
of asking that bum down the street to drive us, I say we take the train Doctor."
"The train is fine, just... hang on..." You ever have those moments, you gather to a bar with a bunch
of buddies and you all get together and committed to an idea that sounded great at the time, but when you sober,
next morning, you just wind up finding that it wasn't a good idea and should have reconsidered? Well... Eric was
beginning to have such a feeling. He was atleast, sobering.
"Alright then." She gets out of the car, closes the door. She probably closed it gently, but to Eric Lambert,
it may as well have been slammed. He knew he was about an hour ago, slammed, that is. The moment of silence was nice.
When she opened his door for him, he nearly shook. "What? You want me to roll out the red carpet or something? Unbuckle
your seatbelt thur?"
"I can handle it, Jeez..." He manages to clumsly get out, and get to his feet, nearly falling, feet and legs, feeling
fuzzy and waking up from half sleep, followed by the tinglies. "You don't have to be so snyde."
"We are actually almost late, we gotta get tickets in fifteen minutes, and on that train." She points to the
distance. He squints to look, but the sun just above where she is pointing is one hell of a glare to see through
for him right now. He will take her word for it.
"Your'e the punctual type aint ya?" He says, closing the car door, while putting on his indiana jones style of
hat.
"The agency I work for makes it a point to train its agents to always be in proper place and time." She grins,
"Now cmon, Let's go catch a train!" She gives him a gently tap on his shoulders. After a few shakey steps, and a little
practiced balance technique of years of drunken wisdom, Eric proceeds to enter the train station, following Mz Ortega's
surprisingly sweet rear end for an agent.
The station itself wasn't really anything special, just a two floor waiting area, with a coffee shop, bathrooms
seats, and various signs of booths indicating various bus and train companies. The good doctor wasn't exactly sure
where he was, passed out some time ago, on the way here, throwing caution to the wind, keys handed to someone, from...
Well, she never really did say, other than, "The Agency". He would have to question on her again on that in the future.
For now, everything seemed on the up and up. Likely going up on another witch hunt or spook story, that will get him no
farther in career, or out of the hole he is in. 'What are you doing Eric?' A voice enters his mind.
"Eric? Eric!?" Becka calls out from in front of him, bringing him back to the real world outside his own head.
"I got the tickets, and they are just ready to leave here in about five minutes, want anything?"
He was a little shy to do more than glance a couple times, but eyeing the fact her blouse was a little unbuttoned,
and could see some of her cleavage, lead to some ideas of what he wanted at the moment, but he didn't want to share.
"Like what?" Typical response of anyone really. Looking around, there isn't much to be had, and if the offer is
in the open, suppose it is human nature to wonder, just how much one is generous, before the welcome of generousity is gone.
"Oh, I don't know, I could use a mocha!" She seemingly zooms towards the coffee stand. Some ancient goddess as
their logo, he kinda chuckled in his mind that this woman must worship coffee and those who drink its franchise.
That aside, caffeine in a warm beverage did sound like a great idea.
"Make that two then!" Eric calls out, middle of the walkway of the waiting area, as she is already ordering
hers. "Double shot." He couldn't help it, he was gonna push the offer. It costs a little extra, but damnit, he needed
to come to his senses, atleast long enough to gain a clear grip of what he was in for.
"Great minds think alike!" She grins at him. Had to admit, made him feel a little fuzzy. Cupids arrow just
grazed him. It has only been so long, and she was growing on him. She was lively, entertaining, and well... Perky!
Her red hair and suit, and the fact she is from an Agency, made him think of the Xfiles, an old show on tv, to inspire
truth of aliens, and it all being out there. He was beginning to feel like in an X-files episode.
"Alrighty then, here is your brew, lets go." They walk to the line forming for the train, now boarding passengers,
announced above on the intercom and the four monitors around the bottom train level floor.
"Oh shit, oh shit..." A man in line, is drastically grasping in his coat and backpack. His woman near him,
seemingly frustrated. All they had on them was a backpack.
"What is it Shaun?" The woman cries out, eventually, curious.
"I can't find the tickets, I must have forgot them in the car!" The man exclaims. The ticket keeper, already
ahead, clicking tickets. "I could have sworn, I put them in my pocket, but must have fallen out when I put my wallet
in it."
"Sir, can we keep the line moving?" The ticket keeper inquires of them, still five or so people ahead of them,
as the man Shaun rummages through his backpack a third time.
"I'll just go check and be right back, okay, save our place in line, don't freak out!" She trots, with her
shoes, clearly not designed for being on the move, but for show and dinner parties, not for bolting to your car.
The man named Shaun gives a grin to those noticing this little social display take place. Glances over at the ticket
keeper who seems to have less than an amused look on his face.
"Think she will make it?" Becka asks Eric, with a prod from her shoulder, at his chest in joking manner.
She chuckled a little too. Shaun looked her direction, and she noticed she was being a little nosey and rude, and
looked down as if, she didn't say anything.
Just as the sound of this man named Shaun's wife is no longer hearable echoing through the Train Station,
the ticket keeper asks the question. "Ticket?"
"This could take a while..." Eric quietly mumbles to himself, watching as the next few moments, the man
frantically trying to explain it was all just a matter of waiting for his wife.
"Step aside sir, and come back with those tickets, or I can't let you on, no exceptions. Train comes,
with or without us." The ticket clerk, was after all, just doing his job, but this kinda flared up a little frustration
within Shaun. He could see his wife now in his mind, looking through a car for the tickets, and not finding them
at all. That was just like her. He decided, as most would at this point, to start letting those behind him hand
their tickets over so to get on the train, with him in front, blindly assuring his wife Patty, would be back with
their own. By the time Becka and Eric made their way to the front, the man decided to bolt it after her, to help
in her pursuit of the tickets within the car, or wherever they may be.
"I bet they see the train go, tickets in hand." Eric gestures and jokes towards Becka. He felt comfortable enough
to do that now. Miracle what a cup of coffee and a pleasant attitude from a lady easy on the eyes could do. She bursts
a laugh, Shaun could hear, as he races out the front door, he turns back with a glare she couldn't see.
"Eric!" She chuckles a little, as they enter the train, sipping on their hot mocha's. He wasn't sure, if it
was worthy of worship as the logo goddess indicates, but it sure tasted good, and woke him up a bit.
The inside of the train, was to be expected. Not much to it, just seats facing forward, and aisle. He didn't
really feel like any particular spot that was really better than any other to sit, nor knew how long he would be
sitting there. He let Becka lead the way as she spoke up and said. "I got us coach seats up ahead, more leg room."
She grins.
"First class huh?" Eric says from behind her, making his way, dodging luggage in the way as people seat to
get comfortable, eyeing him as he passed. He almost tripped on a backpack, as the man it belonged to, rips it out from
under his feet, stumbled a bit. He was lucky enough to catch himself propping with the seats with his hand from falling.
Vertigo hit him a bit, as he kinda woozed back into focus, the view of the beautiful Becka Ortega grinning turned towards
him.
"You okay?" She asks.
"Just fine." He manages to gain composure and continue forward. His coffee spilt a little, down a seat, and
felt embarassed. He was still a little intoxicated for his own good after all, even after passing out for however long
he did. Finally making it to a sliding door area, with a room with two benches in it. Becka plops down, towards the
window. Looking out. He sits next to the door, closing it. He felt it was best to do so, he wasn't feeling all that
great. Who knows? Once the train starts moving, the motion may make him throw up his three day old chinese he had before
he ventured off. The hangover headache lurching in, in small doses.
"Hey check it out! You can see the parking lot from here!" Becka exclaims. "They they are running back!" Eric looks
out the glass with a throb in his head. All he could see was sun glare and pavement. He humored her.
"Oh so there they are." He sits back down, taking a finger tip to his temples with his eyes shut a moment, sipping
on the mocha, hoping it will settle his stomach, and mind. "So, courtesy of the Agency you work for huh? What was it called
again?"
She turns his direction, and frowns a little. "I am a part of a division, outside of government, that investigates,
and maintains threats against the nation and her interests, it has no official name." She looks out the window, still seeing
the couple frantically running. Lucky for them, the train hasn't started yet. Becka was actually amazed that woman could
run in those heels like that, at that pace, with her husband tugging on her arm like that. "They actually think I am a joke,
that this area we are going to, isn't real. I know it is. All of it. My partner..."
"Look, I didn't mean anything by it..." He sighed. "Just trying to get a grip on everything, and got fire ants,
crawling all over my brain." She looks over at him. Gives a half grin.
"There are threats out there that can't always be explained..." Becka says, backing up away from the window. She can
hear the train start to hiss as if to warm up. "...Ghosts and paranormal, people said to have powers of ESP, Telepathy, and
such." "Where most of it is usually a contained threat that can be either dismissed or discredited, there are a few, very real,
very dangerous things out there doctor, and if I told you, I would probably have to kill you."
They could feel the train, start to move, just a nudge, before stopping again.
"That was weird." Eric says. Suddenly they can hear a loud peircing shreik of terror.
"Oh my god, Oh my god! Help, Help! Someone get me out of here!!! Shaun!?" Is heard from outside. Eric and Becka
immediately get up and clam over to the other side of the train to see two security officers, and that couple from earlier.
Shaun and Patty.
"Did you see?" A dude exclaims from the normal seating, just beyond their coach area. "That lady's shoe broke and fell
underneath the train, she nearly got ran over!!" Suddenly, a whole lot of people were at that side of the train, staring out the
glass.
"Oh my god." Becka gasps, taking her hands over her mouth, dropping her coffee. Eric felt a chill down his spine.
"Thank god that woman is okay..." Eric can make out the Driver sweating bullets, making sure everyone was okay, with
security there. The woman looked frazzled, but able to stand, take off her shoes and hop into the train. The two in coach look
through the aisle door to see Shaun and Patty by security, lead to a first class coach just beyond theirs to the left.
"Yikes..." Becka says, and picks up her coffee cup, now down to a quarter full, rather than half. She sips on it,
after clearing the lid with her suit sleeve.
"Wonder how the driver knew to stop." Eric says, mostly to himself, but loud enough Becka could hear. She could only
shrug, and she was quite for most of the way to their next desination. Watching as the trees dance and fly by from view, and
acres, of farmlands.
If you would have asked the Driver why he stopped that day, he wouldn't say, but we will save that for another chapter,
another day. Perhaps double, the chapter now, plus one. Note the writer doesn't even know, but it will be so, somehow, someway.

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Chapter Fifteen:

It has been nearly a week, since he launched his article. Both online, and in the newspapers, and the magazine.
Wherever would take the story. This felt, like the real deal. There had been video uplinks, here and there from the
house, the Frank Chamberlain had decided to dwell in, knowing that it is haunted. For whatever reason, David. B. Anderson,
was his media target for these exclusive videos, photographs and the like.
David has been highly criticized, and even the material itself, since sent wirelessly through the internet
from the middle of nowhere called 'The Wood' hasn't exactly helped, his career. They weren't usually much to publish stories
of spooks and goblins, and those kinds of things that go bump in the night.
Originally to him, it was going to be a paranormal and UFO goldmine, and he would be the center of it, making sure
the story was told straight. They weren't ever friends, and to his knowledge, he never even met Frank Chamberlain, but he
was eager to take the story, especially when the funding came in to nudge him to do so. Money aside, the videos became an
obsession. Hours upon hours, David would sit there and watch these multiple videos with great detail and interest, even when
nothing relevant was happening on the screen he would be seen from coworkers, just squinting and staring at tv screens, in a
dark office. Everytime he reviewed one set of videos sent, it would seem more, and more, would pop up in his emails, in waves.
It grew to the point, he actually made himself a makeshift bed out of the couch in his office, just so he could nap there,
starting fresh and immediately review film or documents.
Before this time, he was in fact an amazing writer for the magazine, not every writer in fact, even HAD an office.
Other writers hunting for the space, start smelling weakness, and begin to mock his theories, and videos. He could hear them
of course, out there, joking about him and all this, at the watercooler, acting like they are bigshots, echo chambering what
they hear from other media and sources. This was gonna make David B. Anderson a household name, and besides, the pay is good.
A tap at the door. Three times, to be precise. To which David glances, just long enough, to see it's his editor, and
elects to ignore to open it.
"I am not in the mood, Larry." No eye contact, David says, waving his boss, Larry Mills to shoo.
"Well you best be getting in the mood Dave, because, all this..." He looks around the room. He can see a few days
clothes, a pillow and some blankets all beshoveled about the office. An odor that can't be really identified catches up to
Larry's nose, and he repulses a little, shaking his head. "...All this just ain't healthy, David." Sits on the desk next,
to him, still being ignored. Angrily, Larry Mills, turns off the screen. David shoves off his headset, presses the space
bar on the keyboard, and yells.
"WHAT!?" His yell can be heard outside the office, and he even had to admit, he wasn't exactly in the best of moods,
tried to warn poor Larry.
"You haven't been selling magazines David, that is WHAT..." Larry rises to his feet, plants a hand in his pocket,
starts to lecture. "You, you, you shirk and give other staff members your writing assignments, you sit here looking at TV
screens all day, you talk about some story your working on, I have seen nothing on since almost a week ago, and I would be
SURPRISED, if you had a fucking shower since!"
"I know I have been putting stupid stories about politicians and celebrity mishaps to the noobs, and spending alot
of time here, but I am really unto someth..."
"No David, go home." Larry interrupts. "Pack up your clothes, get them, and yourself cleaned, for fucks sake, and take a
few days off, get your head straight man." He can see the dissapointment in his writers eyes, and that look, he had seen it before.
"Look, I know you feel youre unto something, and thats great, its what I admire and hired you for, that passion, but you gotta take
it easy, youre starting to act crazy, and disturb business. Like seriously David, get a hold of yourself."
David could feel the eyes of everyone in the office. Even with his blinds shut, he could tell. No one was talking,
just listening, staring at his office door. He felt a little bit of embarrasment, but he knew he was right, it all just, sounded
crazy, right? A moment of doubt came in, what if this millionaire was just using special effects to trick him into thinking he
was seeing what he thinks is ghosts? But, then, why no contact, wouldn't he gloat or mention specific parts to see, not just raw
footage and photographs? Maybe he was working hard. Obsessed. Needed a break. But, he wouldn't admit it to Larry.
"Fuck off Larry." He eventually said. "I will tell you what, I will go down there and see myself, if you want me gone so
badly." Takes his coat off the rack and begins to head out the door when there is a ring of his phone.
"Hello, David?" a man's voice is heard on the other end. To which David glares at Larry.
"Yes, this is David B. Anderson, can I help you?" He says snidely. Giving his editor the finger.
"You better be out of here in an hour Anderson!" Larry shouts at David, even while on the phone, the distraction was
enough, all he could do was make out a name.
"I gotta stop you right there Trevor, hold on, I am expecting an important call, and one is coming in now..." David
feigns, and presses the hold button, hanging up the phone temporarily. "What is your problem huh? I am leaving okay, let me
follow up on this lead that I have been waiting for days on, and go do some research and come back with the story of the
century, does that sound good to you, LARRY!?" He was lying of course, he had no idea who this Trever person was really, but
it was a good excuse as any to give that political tool of an editor a stick up his ass a little, to make it seem like he had done
more than review paranormal data. He didn't need the magazines money, they needed his writing, he knew it, they knew it, and up
until now, it had been harmonious. Somehow Larry might have known the phone call was a convenient ruse, but believed, when Dave
had that look in his eyes, that passion of a story, he wasn't gonna drop it until every word was written.
"It better be some fucking story..." The editor mumbles and slams the office door. "Get back to work!" He could hear
him yell at the eaves droppers.
David just grins a little, looks at the screen a moment. He could see his reflection, in it. He HAD seen better days. What
to do, what to do... His heart bolts, as he swears he makes out a little girl in red behind him, he turns around in a hurry. Nothing.
Looks back to only see his ugly mug staring at him. In truth, he was scared, to go. He would have rather it have been Frank Chamberlain,
on hold right now, then whoever this Trevor guy was. Did he mention he was a writer?

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Sixteen:

Molly was driving up the long driveway, and noticed a few guys, setting up studio lights in one of the farm fields, to
the right of the drive, which was a part of the property, indicated on the map Frank Chamberlain sent her. She decided to check
out what they were up to, maybe get to know some of the crew. She pulls into the grass a bit, then gets out and walks to the Bull
fences.
"Alot of lights, don't ya think?" Molly asks loudly to the men setting the metal structures up. One turns his head from a
ladder, and heads down it.
"I'm sorry, what was that ma'am?" A man with a heavy city accent asks. He clearly, wasn't one of the locals.
"Thought we were supposed to see some UFO's." She says pointing the skylights with a brief laugh.
"Haha, well, I should hope so, but not here, this is a special spot, the boss says." The man says coming up to her, he
couldn't be more than maybe 25 at oldest, kinda cute too. "The name's Benny, that up there, that's Mick."
"Hi." A man's voice is heard, still working on the metal framing.
"Hello." She waves to the voice, beyond the blinding studio light. "I am Dr. Jameson..." She chuckles a little bit, look at
her, being so formal. "...Molly." "Frank sent me out to this wooded nowhere, and it sounded fascinating, what's so special about
this spot?" She observes the area. Doesn't look special. Just a Bull Pen with a tiny barn to put food for them in.
"Well Molly, seems there is a story, wanted to see if there is any truth to it." He looks up, and squints. "The man was saying
strange stuff would happen when he would lock the bulls up at night or even the day time."
"Oh?" She looks around. "Like what?"
"Various things..." Benny says, as another light comes on, nearly blinding him.
"Story goes, Doctor..." Mick says as he comes down as well and approaches her, stretching his hand as if the pen is an
attraction. "The Bulls keep getting out, the former tenant of this property kept saying, without any damage to the fencing."
"That is strange." She looks around more carefully. These pens were built to withstand a charging bull, there was no way,
they simply busted through or flew through, the gate, had to have been opened. "What about the gate, possible one of the locals, came
over and opened it, let the bulls out?"
"That's what the owner thought at first too, he started at first, using multiple locks, and setting traps, hoping to catch
any who might be doing it." Mick smiles. "Says it was always something different too, like one day the chain was missing, but the lock
was still latched on the ground, next day, all the traps had gone off, and not a trace of blood or tracks, locals cooberate this by
saying he used to be down at the hardware store not far from here, nearly every day, looking for new ways to keep his prize bulls
inside their pen here."
"Does sound like a mystery..." She says. She is getting cold, without her jacket, she just feels chilly out here. Not quite
the weather she is used to either.
"The oddest thing was when he said, the bulls all wound up crammed into this feed barn, one day, in a trance, with little to
no space between them." Benny says.
"That's not possible." Molly says, "Bulls wouldn't ever, even if trained be lead into such a confined space, it be completely
against their nature."
"I see." Mick says. " I wouldn't know what is a bull's nature or not, so you could be right, and it's enough to see it as
odd to say the least, wouldn't be the weirdest thing I have seen today."
"What do you mean, seen?" Molly asks. Could they have already seen phenomenon here? That would be too fantastic for
words.
"You haven't gone up to the house yet, have you?" Benny asks her, as she shakes her head no. The men laugh. "Oh boy,
then you are in for a treat."
"What's so funny, am I going to see something, if I go up to the house, really?" Molly asks. "You're just putting me
on."
"Welcome to the Wood of Weird." Mick says, laughing a little. At this point, she was beginning to get a little freaked
out. They sounded very serious, but her scepticism, still in tact, despite her interviews prior, has lead her to believe,
they just wanted to scare her.
"Anyways..." Molly says as she hears cracks of branches out in the dark woods beyond their pen. The others, noticed it
too. Mick grabs a remote from his pocket, aiming the lights towards the woods and direction of the noise. Growling can now be
heard, increasing, the grass and trees seem to shake and brustle.
"What is that?" Benny asks the group, with silent response.
Molly draws closer to the pure wooded area, seperating the farm land to the trees, and everything, just, stops. No noise,
no sounds of branches, not even oddly, the wind.
"Well... we are in the woods right?" Mick says. "Bound to be animals." He joins next to Molly looking out with his flashlight
as well now too, scanning the area. "See anything?" He asks her.
"Nothing, it all just went... dead." The groups hearts race as a terrifying shriek is heard behind them. They turn around,
Mick's flashlight catching movement around Molly's car. Slowly walking now that direction, Mick somehow still with it enough, to
redirect the lights towards the other direction. Goosebumps touched their skin.
The flashlight flickers, growling can be heard, but it seems like from all around them, no way to make out where. Mick bangs
the flashlight, with the flickering more frantic. The wind blows an ominous sound. Molly listens to the environment, searching
everywhere with her eyes, all the stories of the dire wolf, getting to her, maybe. Mick was right after all, they were out in the woods,
could be ANYTHING.
"Over there! Look!" Mick directs his flashlight to where Benny in a distance is pointing, from where they just were. Yet there
was no visible sign of anything. "Did, did, did you see that? It was huge!"
"See what, Benny?" Mick scans with his flashlight. "I didn't see!"
Molly runs into the pen, the most well lit area, and the most guarded, its fencing was clearly well designed, the best she has
seen to keep predators out, and the livestock in, Mick followed her, and called for Benny.
"I am gonna go check it out, stay there." Benny says, treading off out of view.
"Benny, don't be stupid, get back here!" Mick yells, to no reply.
Molly was scared now, that's for sure, the hairs on the back of her neck were standing to no end. There was no sound, but the
buzzing of the studio lights, now pointing on Benny and his red shirt and blue faded pants. They could see him there, heading slowly
towards the woods, obviously looking at something, just not making a sound. Mick's flashlight starts to flicker again and goes out,
at a distance, it seemed Benny's flashlight was synchronistically by coincidence, doing the same thing. Mick hit the flashlight hard,
and the second the flashlight began to behave, the studio lights above, go completely dark. Besides the remaining illume of the
flood of light that had been, and the pair of flashlights, there was simply, no light at all. Molly can't see the hands in front of her.
"Guys, what happened!?" Mick turns his flashlight towards her.
"I don't know, that shouldn't happen, those lights are new." Mick replies, then turns his light towards Benny, but he isn't there
anymore, his light motionless, on the ground. "Benny?" He yells out to the void. Nothing. "Benny!" His flashlight flickers. "No!" he slaps
the flashlight. "Not now!" hit hit hit. flicker flick flick.
Molly can only hear the sound of her heartbeat as she scans the darkness for a sign of anything. Shadows form and go around them,
as the strobe of the flashlight illumes alone the small area. "What is going on here!?!?!?" She screams at the top of her lungs to stop the
silent madness. Suddenly, right in front of her face, is Benny. Mick shines the flickering bulb at him.
"Benny?" Mick asks. It's him alright, that wasn't the question, it was the light blue cloudyness of his eyes, almost ghost blue,
way lighter than normal in contrast, the blank stare, the motionless, just, standing there. "Ben, cmon!" He hits his friend on the shoulder
trying to get a sign of life out of him. Finally, but hauntingly, he turns his head towards his friend, and then back fixated on the eyes
locked lifeless within Molly's. She turns away.
"Enough! Stop it!" Tears in her eyes. This was just way too weird. Despite her turning away and running to a corner of the pen,
she noticed the man named Benny, didn't move, he just stared blankly off in the distance.
"What is wrong with you Benny, snap out of it!" Mick orders, and nudges his friend again. He doesn't react. This terrifies him,
he just isn't moving, and he still doesn't know how Benny wound up right in the center of the pen, after Molly, he shut the gate. It
would have made that annoying oil-less creeek it always does. There's just no way... Yet there he is, like some kind of zombie.
Mick shakes his friend. "Wake up man, snap out of it."
"What's wrong with him?" Molly shouts.
"I don't know, I don't know, fuck, cmon man, talk to me!" Benny's eyes suddenly return to its brown color, and his once, lifeless
face, is now met with a terrified one, and he screams at the top of his lungs. The flashlights flicker, the car's own headlights turn off and
on and honking its horn, the sound makes Mick and Molly grasp their ears, the lights as they are, are just too weird to be coincidence, and
with a moment of chaos, came the end of the storm. The floodlights returned to normal, Mick and Molly left in the center of the pen, eyes
shut tight, ears kept plugged, and with one eye, followed by another, Mick noticed, once again, they were alone in the pen. The door creeked,
Mick jolted. Benny comes jogging over to him.
"Are you alright?" Benny asks his friend, offering a hand.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Seventeen:

"Holy Shit..." Frank says, browsing the basement with his flashlight.
"Ewww." His wife laments. "Spiderwebs, how disgusting! Didn't they even clean down here?" She shivers, clicking down the steps,
joining her husband below them. She almost tripped on a few of the worn wooden steps, wobbling in her heels, catching herself, on the
luckily stable railing.
"Will you look at all this, like oh my god..." Debbie pokes around, examining a desk with a few scrolls, and what seemed lab
equipment, sigils, totems, and just odd stuff to find in a place like this. "What do you make of this, Frank?"
Debbie hands him a book, that seemed to stick out more than the rest. "You ever see anything like it?"
The book itself had a red cover and sigil and odd looking language he had never seen before. Which was strange, considering,
that he had been in most parts of the world firsthand. There seems to be some kind of odd binding to it. Which was the oddest part.
Its huge, and seperated into seven parts. Yet, only the first part was unsealed, which seemed odd. Open up, to uncover documents inside.
This fascinated him. It was as if someone made 7 containers, just wide enough and tall to fit papers inside, and sealed them in thin boxes,
and stacked them to make, it seem like a book.
"What an odd thing, its like a chest, but a book at the same time, I wonder what compelled the author to do it like this."
He opens one metal page to proceed to the next, and flashes over it with his flashlight, the light seems to react to the center sigil
that is on the cover of it. Which freightened him, and his heart jumped a little. "Let's take this upstairs, this must be what Becket was
talking about."
Even though they wanted to be upstairs, it just seemed so fascinating to be down here, in this dank, spider infested, basement.
Every one of three down here, took an interest in something.
Frank, book in arm, takes an eye to what seems like a glowing stone, that somehow is luminescent in the dark. He holds it, and
it felt warm to the touch. It felt, energetic.
Debbie came across some kind of decorated axe. Its blades seemed made of smooth obsidian, and was remarkabely light. It had
gems on the handle, and what looked like runes weaved into the wood somehow. It fascinated her more than anything in the room.
For Susan Chamberlain, she scoffed and clamoured being down there, up until she came across the shelf, with gold things,
and shiny objects. "Why on earth, do you imagine, that Becket fellow didn't pack all of this?" She gets the attention of the others.
"He coulda made a small fortune for himself."
"Good question, babe." Frank responded. "The man seemed... troubled by this place somehow, I guess he didn't want the memories."
"Oh My!" Susan holds a flute, blowing off the dust. Her overdone lashes flashing at spread with a prissy look on her face,
followed by a wide smile. "I used to have one just like this, as a little girl, oh what fond memories!" She places the old flute,
to her chest. "I used to play for hours and hours, trying to master flight of the bumblebee."
"You don't say?" Frank comes up behind her. "I didn't know you had any talent." He laughs, and Debbie can be heard chuckling a
little, as she is heading up the stairs, axe in hand, mystified by it.
"I have you know I am very talented," Susan huffs at her husband, about to make her way up the stairs, one foot on step, one hand
on railing. "You just never took the time to notice how much, hmph!" With a snoody snob lift of her face away from him towards the basement
door, a fix of her scarf, she walked up the steps, wobbling on a few on the way. Frank caught smiling and chuckling at her, every time she
did.
He has always loved her, its not like he only married for beauty and youth. She was talented, and he really did admire her trying
her best to come down this way, and being a sport about things. Not exactly the high end city hustle and bustle she was used to, and
maybe he was a little hard on her about it, yet the cat fights kinda keep the fire alive between em. Hit for hit, one might say.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Eighteen:

"Another dimension?" Molly asks in total disbelief.
"Another dimension." Benny replies.
"Look..." Mick says, still observing the area, puzzled. "... We can't pretend what we know what we experienced
for sure, it's the best guess."
"It coulda been the trick of the lights flickering, for all we know, bio electric static in the air..." Molly starts
to come up with any explanation that came to mind.
"Weather balloons, swamp gas.." Benny says with a brief chuckle.
"Benny! Not now." Mick says, giving him a gesture to can it.
Molly just kinda felt more and more uncomfortable around these guys and the area, each passing second. Everything seemed...
calm, just as it was before. Her mind was puzzled with alot more questions than answers.
"So what do you think it is, Mick? Temporal displacement? Dimensional?, and what was up with that growl?" Benny asks,
both their backs turned to Molly, talking amongst themselves. To her they seemed to be nerding out over this, and that made her
feel foolish. Here she was, the one among them with any kind of scientific degree, feeling like the least informed one of them.
Temporal Displacement? Where'd the guy come up with that, some kind of Star Trek Episode? She didn't have to stand around to
watch them chat, she was better off heading to the house, letting Frank know she made it. Her nerves surprisingly feeling a little
light, as if a huge weight had left. Odd.
"Heading to the house, or out of town, doll?" Benny calls out, as she opens her door. Mick hits him on the shoulder. "What?"
"Don't forget why we are here." Mick replies to him, eyeballing Molly, waving his hand. "I heard a couple reports of townsfolk,
saying that people were suddenly like, swept in different dimensions it seemed like, different surroundings and sometimes subtle at first,
they say the more it happens the more the dividing line takes notice, or something like that, was really weird..." A story for another
chapter perhaps, but for now, Molly wasn't sticking around any longer.
Barely on purpose, her tires spun quite a bit on mud underneath them, and she sped, peeling out. Enging roaring. Showing her
frustration. Even though, from her rearview mirror, the two self proclaimed, "Ghost Catchers" barely took notice.
By the time she got to the house, several cars were already parked in front of it, including several trailers, a campfire,
and a bus. Quite alot of people. It made her wonder, what she was doing here, if she was even needed. She slowly drove towards a
spot that looked good, when she was being waved at by what seemed like a friendly face enough. A woman, though a young one, even
younger than her, wearing a shirt of a "Ghost Catchers" logo, just smiles and seems so welcoming. Molly rolls down her window.
"Can I park here?" Molly asks, embarassed, not seeing any reason she shouldn't.
"Oh, of course you can! Park anywhere here, its totally fine!" She chuckles. Molly gives a gentle but sarcastic nod,
pulls in just a few more feet and parks. "You... You... You are THE Dr. Molly Jameson aren't you!?"
Molly looked surprised. Even in her biology study graduating with honors, she was never really recognized for much. More
often than not criticized for her work, this barely twenty something girl, seemed enthusiastic, treating her as if she was her #1
fan. "I... Am?"
"Oh my gerd, oh my gerd! Hey, Devon!" She screams and shouts to the distance.
"What?" A voice grumbles from behind the bus. A head pops out, as a puff of smoke is seen, his hand trying to rid of it, suspiciously.
"I should probably get inside, and talk to Frank and..." Molly starts to say, but the woman persisted her remain still a moment.
"Don't tell me what, put out to ganja, and come meet the greatest cryptozoologist that ever lived!" She barked back at Devon, he pinches it
off, and comes walking up. 'THAT is what I am known as?' Molly thinks to herself.
"Jesus, do you have to be so loud?" He says as he approaches, putting his hands into his sweater. "I mean, I still got the shakes
from that diner, trying to calm my nerves n shit."
"I... appreciate you guys whanna to chat, but I wanted to get to Frank before I decide to..." Molly says, trying to kinda, inch past
them without being rude. These Ghost Catchers people were definitely characters within themselves.
"You don't get it Devon, I read her research on the Chupacabra, and I found it just fascinating, not to mention her work, on several
other fields of biology, this woman is a genius! Show some respect!" Julie says, punching his shoulder.
"If you want to go inside, I won't stop you, this chick is nuts." He says to Molly, pointing at Julie. They seemed like teenagers.
Getting high, smacking eachother. Just what kind of people did Frank Chamberlain, one of the richest men alive, hire? and... Why?
She just got past the two, and up to the door, when it just bursts open, and reveals her to be face to face with a well dressed, and
remarkabely groomed man. Both had wide eyes, for a moment in surprise.
"Good evening, Ma'am." He eyes the area behind her. "I take it, as you do not have a small child, you are the Molly Jameson, we are
expecting." Molly nods, and peers into the hallway behind him, a few people here, a few cameras there, wires, all over the place. Almost
seemed more like they were filming a movie here, than investigating anything.
"That would be me." She says with a grin. Almost saying it in a question, afraid of the response. She wasn't used to the royal
treatment or recognition.
"Right this way, then, I shall take you to Mr. and Mrs. Chamberlain." He looks at the two on the ground, outside, tackling
eachother, seemingly playfully. "I am sure you are eager, to meet him." Molly turns to see what he was looking at and laughed a little.
It was like young love that Devon and Julie, or atleast really close childhood friends. She kinda admired the bonding.
"Why yes I am, good sir..." Molly says, following the man. "And what is your name?"
"My name is Thomas Branson the third, good doctor." He says with a smile. "I have been a driver and butler for Mr. and Mrs.
Chamberlain for many years now it seems, not always an easy task either, I am afraid."
"Does it pay well?" Molly asks, as they approach a door, which seems to be a bedroom door, knocking on it.
"Indeed, Ma'am." He winks. "It's benefits far outweigh the costs, that is, so far."
"Who is it?" A voice is heard from behind the door. "Is that you Tom?"
"A Dr. Molly Jameson has just arrived sir." The butler responds. A brief shuffling is heard, and some coughing, perhaps
even the sound of a knocked over lamp.
"Okay um..." Some indistinct chatter from Frank. "Sen.. Send her in." Frank is seen, shirt buttoned incorrect, with
a foolish grin. His wife, kind of, laying there, under the sheets, with an embarassed look on her face. "Second thought, gimme a minute, I will
come out in a moment." Tom quickly closes the door, smiling embarassingly at Molly.
"Oh my god, that is like, so gross." Molly says, covering her face and laughing with Tom.
"I know, right?" He replies, also trying to stop from laughing. "Funny thing is, they were just arguing about 5 minutes ago." Their
laughter at the moment continues, as the door opens again, Frank, now in an expensive looking robe, half unamused at his butler and
guest laughing at his expense.
"Give me a minute." Molly says, in the middle of their laughter, which only made them continue more and more loudly.
"Bout how long it takes for..." Tom starts to say something, when finally Molly's laughter and expression on face of joy,
turns to embarassed panic as they can see Frank isn't quite as amused as they are.
"Alright, alright, enough you goons!" Frank says, with a smile. "Welcome to the Wood, excuse the animals, and my butler, and
my erm um... moment..."
"I did a few interviews on the way here, which was intriguing, and I did also experience something at the bull pen, on the way
here." Molly said, trying to get out of things, in a way. She wanted more reasons to stay, and the idea of dire wolves and odd plants,
and stuff was fascinating, but she wasn't like those people, those ghost catchers, or enthusiasts on complete mystery, she was a biologist.
She wanted to be known for more than, her work on the "Chupacabra" which to her was a passionless article she wrote for some magazine,
in her more zealistic days. Then, almost seeing her boss and wife together in a supposive haunted house making love? Just about a deal
breaker there for her.
"Look around, Molly." Leads her to the living room, and the kitchen, the bathrooms, and other rooms, everywhere but the basement
so far. "If you see, you will see, all kinds of high tech sensory and camera equipment, data devices and detectors, with night vision,
back up batteries, everywhere but the main bedrooms, which are upstairs, and thank goodness, my room, for privacy sake. Showers are broken
and we are working on that, but the toilet and sink works just fine, almost new. That Becket guy did good work on this place, and it is
a darn shame he sold it to us, only to die shortly after, can't say why."
"Wait a min, the former owner died?" Molly gasps.
"Seems so, seems he lost control over his car and died sometime after hitting a diner just almost outside of town." Frank says.
He looks down to the ground. "Those Ghost Catchers, from TV, They came from there, few hours before you got here. They may seem calm and
silly now, but when they first came here and told me about all of it, I was like, ya know... Shocked."
Molly nods. Hard to believe she had been laughing her head off, only just moments before, only to feel almost instantly depressed.
"So what do you need ME, here for?"
"I need your expertise, expert analysis." Frank says, sitting down in one of the chairs in the living room, Tom, and Molly joining
them, Barry Underwood, already there, on the couch.
"If we wanted just believers, non sceptics, people to blow smoke up our ass, we woulda hired JUST those idiots outside." Barry says,
waving, then rising to shake Molly's hand, firm handshake. "Hi, I am Barry Underwood, and I can assure you, that my camera's and technology,
is of the finest and most sophisticated of technology, and I gotta tell you, there are some things, I have already captured, that are just
insane!"
"It seems, we all have something strange to tell, don't you find that weird, why here, why out here?" Molly asks.
"Alot of legends around town, and in the papers, and in this book and some downstairs in the basement..." Frank says.
"Basement?" Molly asks, ask Frank and Barry kinda laugh together a moment. As she is handed and thumbs briefly through the book.
"Oh, yes, the basement." Barry says with a very deep almost terrifying grin on purpose.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter nineteen:

Most of the town, have already gotten to know Officer Phillips. Especially the ladies. The talks of
his boy like looks, and slick black hair, made alot of the townswomen crave to call 911 to open a pickle jar,
or get their cat out of a tree. Darla had heard of the tales, and they didn't do the man justice.
The officer who just got out of his vehicle, walking her direction with lamps and flashlights, to her,
was a god among men. A true sight to behold, and she nearly lost her balance, when he said...
"Are you the one I am driving home?" 'YES! YES DAMN YOU! TAKE ME HOME! RAVAGE ME' Her inner desired
thoughts raged inside, but instead she replies, with a simple...
"Yes... I don't live far, and I hope it isn't a bo..." She starts to say.
"Phillips! Over Here!" The loud booming voice of Sheriff Tidus is heard from a relative distance away.
The Officer quickly shifts focus of attention and starts jogging towards him, away from Darla. Which at
first made her feel a little upset, but then she got a nice view of his backside and the butthurt subsided. Truly
he was a god amongst men, she bites her buttom lip.
"What ya got Sheriff?" He asks as he approaches him in the Woods a little bit. There was alot of trees, and
thick brush everywhere in this town, even the diner outside of it is close to woodlands of forrest. Brushing past
some of it, nicked his arms with thistles and bristles to reach, the sheriff, who is knelt down.
"Been here for bout 10 mins, barely any light, can't quite make out what it is, but its everywhere,
trails off, towards that direction, through all this shit." He grabs a lamp out of the officer's hand and lowers it
to reveal the black oil like stuff, he saw in the parking lot. "What do you make of it?"
"This related to Doug Becket you think, and the accident?" Officer asks suspiciously. "I mean, I don't know..."
"Wonder what it is, can't be blood..." Tidus lowers and gathers a sample. He knows a doctor in town who can
examine it, he turns to for things like this. Not that he ever really needed things like that, not here, not in this town.
But, it was someone he knew he could trust. He did not, want this accident, becoming an incident that spreads outside his
control and hands. He did not, want people coming from outside, like feds, poking around the Wood.
"Could be nothing, or something unrelated, ya know?" Craig Phillips tries to reason. "We should focus on trying
to find Becket, right? He couldn't have gotten far."
"I don't know. Something doesn't feel right." The Sheriff says. "It's never been this far out of the Wood before."
"What hasn't?" Craig asks in wonderment.
"Never mind." Tidus responds. "Not important, as you said, just go and give Darla a ride home and come back here,
and help me find Becket." He lights a cigarette. Guy that size, probably has the lungs for it.
"I will be right back, but look, if there is something youre not telling me..." Craig Phillips hasn't been on
the force long around here, but he felt out of the loop on alot, and going through the old case files of town, had been
a bit of a side obsession. Weird testimonies and even pictures of some pretty odd and dark stuff, he was surprised never
reached global attention. He didn't particurally feel like, hated or disliked, and he wanted to feel apart of the guys,
which are few around these parts.
"Well if you get to doing what I ask, maybe I'll let ya in on some shit now n then boi! Now geet!" The Sheriff
Tidus yells at Officer Phillips, which makes him snap to it. It's not like he was keeping things from the kid, really.
He didn't know what IT was, or what IT is, he just knows, IT exists, and we ain't talking, Stephen King here. This black
muck is somehow related, and this newbie passing it off was kinda pissing him off. Dead men don't just trail off when
no one is looking. Even IF Becket had limped off, somehow, someone woulda noticed. Was like the man just vanished,
even from the man who saved him, who was equally suspicious. Alot of people seem to be gathering up there at his old property,
setting up all kinds of equipment and nonsense. As if the Wood will allow them to leave any more then it did Becket. Once
its got a hold they say, this place just don't let go.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter twenty: The truth is out there

For a few hours, it has been pretty uneventful. Camera's, only picking up movement of the crew, inside and
out of the house. A few deer here and there, and trash panda's scrounging their new cans filled with discarded stuff
to scarf. Most of the 'Ghost Catcher's' are outside, surrounded by campfire, their bus a wall from wind, high studio
lights provide illume in the otherwise pitch black wilderness surrounding them. The others, inside the house. In one
room or another.
Investigation and fancy into the place, became a passtime to many of them inside. A treasure trove of all kinds
of odd knicknacks, journals, books, video cassettes, picture albums, alot these Becket's seem to leave behind. Whatever
Chamberlain paid them, mustve been a lot! They figured. They practically left everything that didn't fit in their car,
behind completely. It was assumed to some, they had planned to have movers come and collect their belongings.
"Becket crashed right into Jenny's Diner?" Barry Underwood asks Mick in astonishment. Placing a hand over his
mouth in assumed horror.
"Right near us too, his wife was dead on the spot." Mick says, flicking ash into an ashtray he made from a soda
can. "Pulled them out of the car myself."
"Christ." Barry finishes his drag, and passes it back, blowing out smoke nice and easy and slow. "That must've
been quite the trip."
"That poor woman!" Ruth Rainer says, beckoning the joint be passed her way. Which was quickly offered.
"I'm sorry, I just figured, since you were a mom..." Mick says, laughing a little as he coughs up a few clouds
of smoke.
"That what? That I have always been one? A square?" She motions with your index fingers a box in the air, joint
in hand, puffs it once more and hands it over to Barry. "Besides, kid is asleep, it's all gewd!" She says in an accent,
trying to sound cool, the other's in the room, can't help but to laugh.
"Where is the little one sleeping anyway, what's her name?" Mick asks, taking a puff and putting out what remained
of the roach.
"Ashley. I got her set up in one of the guest rooms, this is quite the house." She replies. leaning back in a
surprisingly comfortable recliner.
A burst through the front door and the emergence of Julie to the living room. "Mick! Mick! Ya gotta come outside!
Ya gotta check this out!"
The whole room, is suddenly bursted to their feet. Rummaging outside, to see everyone standing up and looking up.
It didn't take long for the other's to see what they were looking at. Five, no wait, six objects in the sky by quick count
of Mick, seemingly hovered above their campsite. Giant bright lights, so illuminated, it made their flood lights, seem like
40 watt bulbs, and it was hard to make out any details.
"Can you hear that?" Devon called out. "That, humming like noise?"
No one replied really, but all gave a gentle nod, eyes on the skies, arm's attempting to shield enough of the illume,
to make out any details of what, was about them. What do they do? What CAN, we do? Enters their minds.
"Don't just stand there Benny!" Mick yells at his friend next to Devon. "Get the fucking camera!"
Benny has a look on his face of a daze, like 'Oh yeah! we got camera's!' look on his face, and runs into the bus.
"Oh my god... is this... really happening?" Molly asks the others, whom was at the campfire, just chilling in silence,
enjoying the outdoors before, before... well, this, happened.
"Are you sure being outside is the best of ideas right now?" Tom asks the others. As a Butler and security for the
Chamberlains, he was increasingly concerned, specially after the events of earlier.
The person who seemed to be captivated the most, was Frank Chamberlain himself. Who seemed to be the least freightened.
arm raised in the air, as if trying to reach them way up there.
"My god, I have heard of these." Ruth exclaims. "Like, Plasma balls, or something, I got some of the documents with me
actually in my car from MUFON regarding something like these."
Frank was waving his hand back and forth, and incredibly, the, whatever they were, are trailing the movement of his hand,
as if, having some kind of contact or control over them. "This, is incredible!"
"And now, Its all being filmed." Benny exclaims from the background.
"Yeow!!!" Frank yells, as he pulls the stone from the basement he took earlier out of his pocket. It was glowing even more
than usual, and burning hot, so hot, he drops it on the ground. Suddenly, FOOM! Everything goes completely dark. The only illume,
is coming from the stone, which is now sinking into the ground itself, as if, even it, can stand the heat of the object.
Screams from the women in the group cause a bit of a panic. One moment, they are blinded, next, its as if, someone flipped
the off switch.
"Not again! Not again! Fuck this place Frank, Fuck you! If I live through tonight, I am fucking leaving!" Molly shouts. As
if responding to her horror, panic and anger, the ground begins to shake. Not at all once either but in rythyms, and in what can only
be described as a growl from the darkness as the cause. As if some creature's terrible breathing, causes the ground to quake beneath
its feet, and it was, everywhere to them.
"Again?" Barry asks everyone. "What the fuck is this place you got here Frank?"
"Long story, just everyone shut the fuck, up!" Mick yells at them. "Benny, turn on Night vision, tell me what you see."
"G..g..ggg..good idea." Benny says, barely becoming aware of himself of shock, and turns on the night vision, he forgot
he even had. Thank god for small favors. All the ghost catchings, and haunted houses, they never encountered this much thrill, and
he wasn't sure of what to make of it.
"Well?" Mick pokes at Benny.
"Hang on, I am barely seeing anything but us." Zooming in and out, looking everywhere he can, and then, he looks up. "Holy
Shit... They are still there..."
"What?" Mick asks, looking into blackness. "What are still there?"
"Those... those things, those plasma balls or whatever you whanna call em, fuck! I see them, they are like glowing in the
lense." Benny responds. "Here, I am coming to you, you can see for yourself, okay, still recording too."
Suddenly the dark didn't seem so bad to some of them, as if, the fact their activities were being recorded, were a validation of
some sort of safety, security blanket, a reason not to run. Running blindly into a pitch black wooded area, wasn't a safe or wise thing to
do, they were all adults, they knew to stand their ground and kind of keep silent most part, and just listen and use every sense other
than sight to gain a sense of surroundings.
"Holy shit, youre right, what could cause that effect?" Mick asks. Another growl, another shake. Mick loses balance and loses the
camera on the ground. "Shit shit shit shit." tries to find it desperately blindly with his hands. That camera, was the only window he had
to see, and he lost it tumbling over a slight rumble, FUCK!
"What the...?" Barry asks no one, and just falls silent.
"Barry? What's up?" Nothing. Just, nothing. Which made Ruth worried.
"Mick, Whats going on?" Benny asks, now kinda wishing he didn't give up the camera.
"Fuck, I lost the god damn camera, im trying to find it okay? Jesus!" Finally, he felt a familiar object. There it was
a foot or so away from him, had to be the camera, adjusts it, looks through the lense and... FOOM! All the lights but the ones in
the sky suddenly burst on blinding his right eye, Night vision was not meant to take in, studio flood lighting.