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The moon cast a glow over the abandoned factory, its skeletal frame forming twisted shadows on the ground. As the group stared up at the imposing building, like a concrete tumor in the woods, they felt a cold dread move into their bones.
On the ground in front of the factory’s large, rusted door lay what Eric had found: the rest of Keith’s jacket, crumpled and smeared with blood.
A thought had been haunting Stu for a while now. It had been with him when he saw the blood stain on Jennifer’s sweater, sure, but maybe it had been there even further back than that. It wasn’t until now that the thought had solidified enough that he could put it into words.
“Hey, Eric,” he said in a low voice. “That story you were telling, back at the campsite …”
Everyone turned to Stu, silently registering his meaning.
“It’s just a story,” Eric replied.
“Yeah, but, did you make it up, or did someone tell it to you?”
Eric looked around at the group. Everyone stared at him now, waiting for his response. “I don’t know, I think my uncle told it to me. They’ve been telling that story forever in San Palmo, it’s just something they make up to scare kids.”
“Just because it’s an old story doesn’t mean it’s not real,” Christine said. “Folk tales can be a way to pass on warnings from generation to generation.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Roxy scoffed.
“Is it?”
“Yes, it is. There’s no evil presence hunting people in San Palmo. If there is someone out here, it’s just some psycho that followed us out here so he can enjoy murdering us one-by-one.”
“That’s … really not any better,” Betsy remarked. An uneasy silence settled over the group as they contemplated the awful turn their night had taken. Just an hour earlier they’d been having the party of their lives, and here they were, standing over the bloody jacket of their missing friend, wondering if monsters were real.
“Alright,” Brandon said, breaking the moment. “Either way, we need to split up and search this place.”
“Are you fucking stupid?” Roxy snapped. “You don’t ever split up. That’s exactly what a killer would want us to do!”
“Rox, we don’t have a choice,” Brandon argued, his eyes scanning the darkened windows of the factory. “This place is huge. If Jen and Keith are still alive in there, their time’s running out.”
“And if there’s a killer loose, our time is running out. We need to go get help, and we can’t do that by getting ourselves picked off.”
“I don’t like it either, but he has a point,” Stu interjected. “It’ll take us an hour just to get back to town.” He looked over at Brandon, who nodded at him.
Roxy opened her mouth to argue but found she couldn’t. “Fine,” she said, pointing at Brandon. “But I’m sticking with you, tough guy.” She flicked open her lighter, casting a small flame that danced in the night air. “You’ll need me to keep you safe in there.”
Despite their predicament, Brandon smirked.
“Christine and I will go together,” Stu said, standing by her. Even though they’d barely spoken a word to each other since he told her about the move, more important things were happening now. He still cared about her, and still felt the need to protect her. Christine quietly nodded in agreement.
“That leaves me and Betsy,” Eric said with a shrug. The moment the words left his mouth, Betsy grabbed his arm and pushed in close to him.
“Okay, then,” Brandon said, nodding toward the entrance. “Let’s go.”
The heavy metal door creaked open under Brandon’s strength, and together they entered the dark building, shining their lights all around them before cautiously stepping through.
The musty scent of decay invaded their nostrils as a gust of stale air enveloped them. Without anything to hold it open, the metal door slowly shut behind them, sealing them off from the outside world. The deathly silence that followed was broken only by the echo of their hesitant footsteps.
“Ten minutes,” Brandon said, “then we meet back here.” He pointed to the front entrance. “No hero stuff, just straight search and rescue.”
“And scream if you find anything,” Stu added.
“Not a problem there,” Betsy squeaked.
The vast interior of the factory opened up like an ancient labyrinth, a filthy echo of its former glory. Rusted machinery stood as silent sentinels, their rusted gears frozen in time. Dilapidated conveyor belts snaked through the space covered in the ghostly nets of dead cobwebs.
“God, I hate this place already,” Roxy muttered. “I can’t imagine why Jen and Keith would come in here.”
“Maybe they were trying to stay alive,” Brandon replied. He couldn’t help but worry about their friends, hoping they were still alive and waiting to be found. He shuddered to think what kind of danger would make Keith run and hide. Keith was a lot of things, but chicken wasn’t one of them.
With her eyes adjusted somewhat to the dark, Roxy studied the factory around them. The walls, once adorned with posters and safety regulations, were now covered in peeling paint, the vivid colors faded and chipped. Shafts of moonlight pierced the gloom to reveal discarded tools and broken equipment; relics of a forgotten era.
“So what happens if whoever attacked them is still here?” she asked.
“We kick his ass,” Brandon replied. “Or we run.”
“I vote run.”
“Yeah, maybe. Either way, we just need to find them and get the fuck out of here.”
As much as she hated to admit it, Brandon was right. If Jen and Keith were still alive, judging by the clothes they’d left behind they were bleeding pretty badly. In emergencies like that, minutes mattered. Not to mention leaving them there meant leaving them alone with whoever had attacked them. If she was in their shoes, she would hate to think she’d been abandoned, left for dead by the few people who actually cared about her.
“Okay,” Roxy agreed. “Let’s get this over with.” They pressed on into the ancient factory, lights held ahead of them, the shadows closing in from every side.
Heading the opposite direction, Stu led Christine through a dimly lit corridor that seemed to connect one section of the factory to another. The smell of mildew filled the air, making every breath a struggle. Above them, patches of moonlight filtered through the gaps in the roof’s corroded metal, tendrils of ivy snaking through the cracks to intertwine with the decaying building. Given enough time, nature would reclaim the space entirely.
Stu looked over at Christine. She was shivering, hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. He felt like he should say something before it was too late, before, God forbid, something happened to one of them. The thought of their conversation back at the campsite being Christine’s last memory of him—of them—was too much to bear.
“Chris,” Stu began, hesitating for a moment. “I know this isn’t the best time …”
“Don’t,” she cut him off.
“I just want to tell you one thing.”
She turned to him, eyes burning. “Honestly, you want to talk about this right now?”
“Look, I just … I want to make sure you’ll be okay,” he said softly. “I know I screwed up.”
“Stu …” Christine sighed. “I appreciate that, but can we talk later? We need to focus on finding Jen and Keith right now.”
“Fair enough,” Stu conceded, continuing on into the darkness. And yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that there might not be a later for them. For any of them.
Eric and Betsy navigated the darkened hallways of the factory together, their bodies pressed together. Betsy tried to keep up the pace despite wanting nothing more than to turn and run, the idea of falling behind somehow even worse. Every step revealed a new layer of ruin and rot.
“Look,” Betsy said, pointing to a broken door hanging off its hinges. On its dusty surface was what looked like a large, obscured hand print. “You think they went through there?”
“Maybe,” Eric replied.
They approached the door, slowly. Eric pushed the half-broken door open, its hinges creaking loudly. Betsy winced. She hoped they hadn’t given away their location to whoever might be in there with them.
As they stepped into the room beyond, a chill ran down Betsy’s spine. The walls were adorned with grotesque graffiti, and skeletal remains of old machinery loomed in the darkness. There was a smell in the air she couldn’t place, like rotten leather.
Eric stopped walking.
“What is it?” Betsy asked, her eyes wide as she studied his face.
“I can’t stop thinking about Keith and Christine,” he admitted, swallowing hard. “I just hope they’re safe.”
“Don’t you mean Jennifer?” Betsy asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Right. Yeah,” Eric said, feeling his cheeks flush. Betsy frowned at him like a disappointed parent.
“You know something? You boys are disgusting,” she said with fire in her eyes. “Nancy’s dead, Jen and Keith are missing, and you still can’t stop thinking with your penis.”
“Whoa! What are you talking about?” he asked, incredulous.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’ve seen the way you look at her, your tongue practically hits the floor when she walks through the door.”
“I- uh …”
“She’s with Stu, her boyfriend, he can protect her just fine.”
Turning away, Eric muttered, “Not for long.” Betsy caught the comment and squinted at him.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Eric sighed. “Listen, I’m not supposed to say anything but … Stu’s moving to New York in like two weeks. That’s what they were fighting about back at the campsite.”
Betsy couldn’t believe her ears. She wanted to tell Eric he was a liar, that he was making it up to cover for himself, but the truth was it all made sense. It explained why Stu had been acting so weird recently, and why Christine had been so upset earlier. She wasn’t the type to get worked up over nothing, and Stu moving across the country certainly wasn’t nothing.
“Holy crap,” she concluded.
“Yeah. Holy crap.”
Betsy could tell Eric was telling the truth. He looked deflated, as if he’d been carrying the weight of his secret around for a long time and had finally unloaded it.
“Well … just remember, he’s still here for a few more weeks. Even after he’s gone, you need to give her some time before you try anything. She was pretty much ready to marry him.”
He nodded solemnly.
Betsy shuddered. “If we get out of here, Christine’s gonna be pretty messed up about this.”
“If we get out of here,” Eric said, “we’re all gonna be messed up.”
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