CHAPTER 3
“Look,” Fletcher says, interrupting me, “Is this going anywhere?”
I sigh. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. The only place your tale seems to be going, Caleb, is you and your friends getting high in a cave and playing pranks on each other. By the way, I’m not sure of the relevance of every little thought that pops into your head. You think you’re the first guy to have a crush on a girl? To sneak off and smoke weed? Please, we were doing that back in my day.”
I don’t move. Even now, the memory of the cave sticks to me like a chemical burn, and my body feels stiff and rigid at the thought of it. It takes me a moment to drag my thoughts back to the present. Slowly, I lean forward over the table. Fletcher still hasn’t touched his coffee. He’s been hanging on my every word. It’s why he hasn’t left yet. He can’t leave. Not now. Not after everything he’s seen.
“You wanted to hear the whole story,” I say, “so, here I am, telling it. All of this is connected. If you don’t know what I was thinking about on that exact night, then nothing that comes later will make any sense. It’s all connected,” I say, tapping out the next six words against the table. “All of it.” Tap tap tap. “Every single piece. Which means you need to understand all of it. I’m starting as close as I can to the main event. And we both know the stakes here, which is why you haven’t left. I am your only fucking witness to everything that happened, and I think it’s funny that you think you can rush me because you have a badge. Like I give a shit about that. So, Agent Fletcher, I’m going to take however the fuck long I want—”
Fletcher hops up from the table fast enough that he almost topples the damn thing. Every single person in Hogfather’s turns to look at him and he stalks out of the diner to a general murmuring. Just who is that guy, they’re thinking, and why is he storming out from a conversation with a high school kid?
Outside, I watch Fletcher light a cigarette. I watch him smoke it. I watch him shake his head and mutter to himself as he lights up another, thinks better of it, and grinds out the stub and nail both under his shoe. It’d be a simple trick to know what he’s saying with a simple usage of Forces or Mind but what’s the point? I can guess and be close enough. What the fuck am I doing? and Am I really going to go back in there?
He is. Fletcher returns. “Sorry,” he says, to the first waitress he passes, and slides back into his seat. “Please, Mister Cross,” he says, with porcelain politeness. “Continue.”
I do.
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“Emmers?” Max said. “What the fuck?” He laughed, not believing it to be anything other than a prank. “Wow. Okay. How’d the two of you do that?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I said. “Emma?” I called out into the cave depths. “Emerson?” I looked back toward the opening of the cave, saw no sign of her. She couldn’t have gotten far. Did she go deeper?
It’d be like her, hiding just out of sight, to spring out and shout ‘boo!’ It’d almost be funny.
“I’ll try calling her,” Max said, pulling his phone out. “Shit, I’ve got no reception. How about you?”
I checked mine, frowned. No bars. “Same here.” I raised my voice again. “Emma, come on—this isn’t funny! Okay, okay, haunted cave, you got us!”
Max leaned forward, peering deeper into the cave. “Wait, I think... I think I see someone... There. Moving, just a bit further into the cave. Yo, Emma!”
I stared, trying to follow his gaze, but didn’t see anything but blackness. Even shining my phone’s flashlight into the darkness did little more than look pathetic.
Max glanced at me. “What’re we doing, Caleb?”
“We’ll go a little bit deeper,” I said. “She can’t have gone far. She might have slipped and got herself hurt. Come on.”
Stupid. How stupid we were. What we should’ve done, was back the fuck out of there and run screaming into the night. We should’ve come back with some dynamite and blasted the cave shut ourselves. That was the sensible option. But I had always hated mysteries, if only because I could never resist solving them. And there was a part of me that wasn’t going to leave Emma alone in some bizarre cave.
So, we pressed on. This time, I led. The cave stretched onward. A little bit became a lot. Every step, I expected Emma to burst out from behind some rock or our of some shadowed alcove and act like it was the funniest prank ever, and we’d all laugh. But she didn’t.
“You said you saw something?” Max asked. “Earlier?”
“Yeah, I think I did.”
“What was it?”
I wasn’t sure. It was hard to remember. Like something out of a dream.
“I saw us,” I said. “I think.”
“You think.”
“Like from very far away. From the top of a mountain or something. Emma was sitting on that rock, and I was looking at your watch. And the shadows,” I shivered, feeling the flesh of my arms prick up again, in a way I honestly never had before. “They moved. Like fingers creeping into the corner of my vision.”
Max nodded. We walked for a little longer.
“There has to be a logical reason for this,” he said.
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. Like maybe—”
And that was when I heard it. A voice. All around my head, like it was coming out of the very molecules of the air, out of the shadows in crevices, even screaming out of the wrinkles in my brain.
<̶̢̗̌̑̒͗͊<̴̛̖̭̖̱͇͙̑́̓̋̇͒̌̍̈̔̓͗̉͐́͒͘͠Ɏ̷̛̙̬̰͉͖͙̬̦̘́̋́́̓̅͒ ̷͖̱͍͝Ẍ̸̢̧̨͚͚̰͎̱̹̹̼̰͕͉͕̜́̅̃̌̅͊̽͒̊͂͜͝͠₲̵̖̞̍̂̓͆̇̅͆̆̎́̿̿͋̍͠Ⱨ̵̨̨̧̡̡̦̠̳̬͍͎̹̰͉̝͉̒͗͛͌̃͋̈́͘͝ͅX̷̛̛̩̜͖̻͖̐͗̇̏̄̿͐̄̇̕͝₴̸̧̗̭̠̻͕͈̠͕͇͕̯͎͈̐̆̀̊̏̄͗̅̈́͝ ̶̛͎̻̤͈͔͊͒̉̀́͆̈̎͑͌͘ͅ‘̸̡̛̠̰͈͓̳̘̯͕̤̲̀̋̀̃͐̍̅̀͂̀̄̅̿̀̚͘͝͝ͅ₮̷̡͉̳͙̟̲̥̗̜̰͈̺̖̼̥͓̈̏̂͆̈́͒̀͒̓͌̽̍̌̀͛͠͠ł̵̧̢̡̨͎̩̼̥̫̺̰̬̘̙͓̰̰̗̔͝ ̵̧͔̫͈̀͜₭̵̢̺̤̺͍͕̹̪͈̯̤͈̠͓͉̝̙̜̱̅͐̈̿̀͠͝₦̷̻͇̉͊͋̀̿̑̅̆̀̿̔͊̓͗Ɇ̸̟̪̺͉̓̑̿̉̈́̾̕͘̚₣̴̛̞̙̰̮̝̲̿̀̆̓͆̃̎͌̀̀̿͘Q̵̢̮̻̲̦͕̥̲̭̪̮͚͓͚̱͓͉͆̽̏́̍̄̒̄͑͝₴̶̥͙͔̟̼̠̘̼͉̬̱̙̻̫̹͋̀̓̑̃̏́̾̇́̊͌̇̀͜͜͜>̶̧̡̨̣̻͉̖̩̩̼͆̊́̅̑̌ͅ>̵̛̜̗̦̝́̌́̑̒̂̏̕̕͘
Even now, the memory of it, that voice in the dark, makes every single hair on my body stand up. It was like the echo of a garbled transmission meant for someone else—the voice of a sadist as he tongues the edge of a knife, a desperate cry for help from the bottom of the ocean, or hearing your voice in the recording of a psychotic. All of those and none of them.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Max was saying, “—the weed was tainted with something.”
I spun about. “What the fuck was that.”
“What was what, Caleb?”
“That, the fucking— the fucking voice, Max!”
“Caleb, you’re starting to freak me out.”
“We need to get out of here,” I said, barely holding it together. “We need to get out of here right now.”
“What, and leave Emmie behind?” Max turned, looking back the way we came. “Uh, hey—when did we turn a corner?”
“We didn’t. It’s been a straight line. Max, don’t fuck with me, please.”
“Dude, I’m not. Look! There’s a fucking—”
<̶̞̰͋̄̀̕͜<̵̨̢̨͚̤̠͍̙͓͇̫̼̻̪͙̼̲̯̀͗͆͌͐͋̈́͋͌̏͗̃́̈́͛̋͠X̵͚̖̹̤̼͓̝́Ɽ̶̨̲̙̤̱̫͍̟͓͇̼̞̱͕͚̑̍͒͌͆̓͒̑̊̈́̅́̏̀̈́̕̚͝ ̵̧̼̭̟͙̘̣̞̲̊́̿̇̌̾Ɇ̵̱̪̝̗̀̃͐͆̅̔̓̚Đ̷̛͙̝̳͔̤̣̏̃̋͗̃̕͝X̵̡̳̟̤͙͓̝̀̍̆̃̓̽̽̇͑̃̾̇͛͝X̷̲̯̜͉̠͇̜͚͒͗₦̴̨̨̢̣̖̖̣̘̻̝͈͎͎̭̤̠́̑̚̕̕ͅØ̶̛̛̱̗͈̓͊̐̎̀̄̓͆͝Ɇ̶̲̖͉̗̹̩̙͙̳̠̃́̀͊͂̚ͅ ̵̢̺̖͔͔̀̆̓̓͛̄͝₥̴̮̀̈́͑́̽̍͌̍̾̆͛̇̉͒̚X̵̤͎̹̿̉̈́̕͜₦̷̨͔̩̩̠̼̙̝͓̻̳̗̞͈͊̽̏̕͜Ɏ̴̡̡̧̞͍̻̔̓̄̀̈́͐̎̾̇̾̎̌̉͌̋̀̕͝͝ͅX̷̢͍͍̜̻͈͉̠̯͉̤͖͙͖̟͍͙̼̓́͒͌̆̑̽̑̈́͛͑̑̊͌͒̕>̴̨͎̜͖̰̭̺̄̐̈̕>̷̡̨̡̢̧̤͔̪̬̘̟͔̫̃̑͑̓̊͊̓̔̋́̒̐̇̋͘͝ͅͅ ̷̛̛̗̬̟͕̀̍͂͑̈͋͌͝
“—wall there!”
I shouted, gibbering: “It happened again!”
“What?”
“The voice, the fucking voice. Oh my God, it took her—he took her.”
“Caleb,” Max snapped, grabbing my shoulders. “Caleb, buddy, I need you to snap out of it. Emma needs us. We have to keep going, okay? You’ll be Emmie’s big knight in shining armor, alright? But,” he laughed, forcing it, “maybe we’ll lay off the weed next time, huh?”
I nodded, meeting Max’s eyes. He was as scared as I was. Maybe more.
“We have to go on,” I said. “He won’t let us do otherwise.”
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So, we continued on. I looked at my phone three times in what had to be twenty minutes and the time hadn’t changed once. I tried not to think about it. Max kept himself busy by singing pop songs under his breath—and then, we saw the glowstick.
It was just sitting there, in the middle of the cave—if it was even a cave, at this point—like someone had put it there for us to find, a single point of neon aqua light. “She has to be nearby,” Max said.
“She left it there, so we’d know we were on the right track. We have to be getting close.”
“And then we’ll just walk out of here?”
“God, I hope so.”
And then she was. We walked, and there she was. Lying in the middle of the tunnel, not a scratch on her—she looked like she was just sleeping. I jogged over to her, or her body. Tried not to think too much about that second possibility.
Max asked, “Is she—”
<̶̨̤̼̹̮̙̱̥̻̓́̋̈́̑̉̈́̍<̷͖̝̭̯̳̟̆̀̽͜₦̸̢̨͇̯̲̼̰̣͔͈̥̖͖̦̭͑́̈́͗͌̌͜͝͠͝X̶̢̦̗͍̱̺̜̼̉͛̈́̍̈́̇̏͗̆̀̏̿̑̇̀͜͝͝₩̷͈͎͚̣̜̩̿ ̸̤̪͍͙̪̜̩̬̤̙̓̇͜͠Ø̴̨̡̱̰̦̣͉̏͠₱̴̢͇̼͇͍̱̭̻̜̹̯̙̱̭̦̳̻͈̀̀̑͌Ⱨ̷͉̰̐̀̏̈́̈̔͂͋̐̏͌̏͠ ̸̧̨̛͔͖̬̤͉͙̫̐̆̐́͌͜͜Ʉ̵̢̢͚̙͇͇̓͂̿Ø̶̧̞͎̥͙̻̬̬̳̖̞͚̅͂̓̔̏͛̏́͑̌X̴͌́̌̆̿͆̅͆̉̃͑̒͘͘͜ ̵̢͕̪̙̳̺̯̲̯̦̍̌̓̉̊̃̂̂̽͂̾͗̿̔̕Ⱡ̷͙̿͊̆̋̆̎̀̔̇͐̚̚₵̴̧̲̤̤̼̣̘̼͈̞̗̙͕̜̐̈́̚͝͝ͅ>̶̘͖͎̝͕̦̯̠̝͎̮̙̓͑̀̄͋͆̚͠>̵̨̯̖̙̱͖̼̣͓̦̪͓̺̰̯̹͂͐́̓̄̿̑̉́̔ ̵̛̯͕͎͖͚̼̟͊̇́̍̇́͌̉̒̚͘͝
“—okay?”
I kneeled down, looking. “She’s— Oh, shit, she’s not breathing.” I felt for her pulse, fingers on her neck, not at all how I’d imagined ever touching her. “She doesn’t have a pulse. Max, she doesn’t have a fucking pulse!”
“Oh, fuck,” Max said. “What if we’re having a stroke? What if we’re—”
The world hitched again, and I was seeing myself. There, kneeling at Emma’s side with my fingers on her neck. Max, behind me, clutching at his scalp, shirt soaked through with sweat, eyes wide with terror.
And then, something else.
<̴̢̛̮̤̠͍͈̠͈̯̙̯̬̞͔̳̏̂̅͒̄̿̽͛̉̾̅̐̔̕̚͘͝͠ͅ<̵̛̦̻͓̯̼͛͑̐̇̈́́̅̓́̋͌́̀́X̴̨͖̤̪̠̺̝͎͕̼̿̿͗ͅ₦̶̛͎͌̒̔̌̓̒͌̓̿͒̐͘͘̚͘͜Ɇ̵̨̧͖̺͙̹̘̖͉͉͎͉̖̺͈͎͙͛͊̈́̋̌́̓͌͠ͅ ̷̧̢̛͉͙̫̺͇̲̜̦͔̠̗̜̭͈̱̼͒͗́͋͑̌̑̅͑̓͒͘͠ͅⱧ̷̧̨̛̛̫̠͉̤̗̣̳̘̮̓͆́̊́̒₮̸̧̬͇̻͇̭̺͓̞͙̆̈̔̽̊͐̍̾͌͆̈́̾̃̌͛̚X̶̝̯͉̮̰͓̗̽̈́̃̅́̅̈̀̔̇͗͂̏͝͝ ̶̡̛̛̰̙͉͚̖̜̬͐͆͂̇̽͌̈́̓͛̊̏̕͜͠Ⱡ̸̢̨̰̮͉̪̤̝̞̗̝̙̰͎̲̱̤́̆̎̎͑͋̌͘͜ͅX̴̨̡̧̯̙͚͖̞̰̯͍͌͂̑͛́̅̾͊̄̓͝₲̴͖͉͖̼͓͖͇͖̼͇͙͚̫̤̬̪͒̀̀̽̅̈̋̉̄̒̓̔̌̿͘Ⱨ̵̧̨̛̠̰̙̈́͝͝X̴̢̡̢̺͓͈̥̙̪̻̎̆ͅ>̴̢̹͎̦̜͉́̐̏͐͊͠>̵͓̝͑͛̚ ̷̧̻͈̳̩̳̭͍̫̙̥̍̍̀̔͗̓̌͑̒̈́̈̽͋̽̆̊͗͘͝ͅ
A presence. Another person, I thought, at first, before I realised it was more like the absence of a person. A gap in reality, a patch of darkness that stood out even against the abyss of the cave. It was there. It was close. It was closer.
I blinked. It was closer again.
I was saying, “Max, we have to— oh, fuck, we have to go!”
“Caleb,” he said, puzzled. “What’re you—” And as the shadow passed over him with all the tranquility of a sunny day turning overcast, I was looking through my own eyes again, turning, looking for Max, shouting at him for him to help me grab Emma.
And he was gone.
And so was Emma.
It was just me.
Alone.
Only, I wasn’t alone.
There was something here.
Or someone.
<̶̟͗͛͐̂͂̃̆̏̈́̉̐͒̓̇̽̿̚͠͝<̷̡̳͕̰̮̝̙͓̝̲͕̣͍̙̙̺͚̳͂̾̌̍̔̄̀̋̏͝͠₴̷̛̜̗̋̊͂̔́̋̃͝͝ ̶̛̛͉̳̘̥̬̈́̅̀̎̄̾̀̓̾̇̑͛͛͒̇̒͜͝Ø̶̡̡̮̗͍͂̾͌̔̄̾̓́̏̓͂́̈́̕ͅɎ̸͕̦̬͕̫͋́͊̈́̆̂̋͐̔͘͘͠X̷̨̰̼̘̮͙͕̫̽͑̑̽͝ ̴̨̨̛̮͕͈̜͕̺̖̭̥̖̟̈́̆̃̍̏͌̓́̋̎̈́͝͝₴̶̖͍̰͇̰̐̂͋̋́̾́̀̂̃̉͗̒̚͜͠Ӿ̵̭̱͉̬̱̼͎̜̝̉̔̃͒̔̉̂̂̔̆̿͠₳̸̢̛͎̰̖͓̻͚͙̪̠͖̳̜̣̟̲̮͚̈́̔̋̆͜ ̵̥͈̳͔̹̣̣̿̃͆̏̈́͋̄̆̾̃͝Ẍ̶̨̛̘̪͚͚̬̩̫̰̫̩̤͕̮̗́̊̑͋̾̌̿̈́͛̉̈̀͒̄͘͝₵̸̡̳͕̝̞͇̘͚̱̻͓̮̦̱̜̠̋̓̔͊̀͂͂̅͜ł̷̧̨̢͔͓͕͖̹̟̮̫͎̖͉̫̹̖͖̯̎͊̍̅̏̄͘͝͝͠≯̰͐̐>̷̛̗̯̠̞͈̮̳́͑̄̂̾̔̄̿̍̊͊̏̔͜͠͠͠ͅ ̵͓͕͈̬̫̮̬̯̿́̕
The world fell away. Or the world remained where it was, and I fell away from my body. My brain, sparking and dancing, tried to make sense of it and I beheld each and every impulse as it leapt each and every neuron, and heard my thoughts somewhere in the distance: what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, I’m having a stroke, I’m having a stroke, help me. The thoughts became words and they rippled out of my mouth with sonic impulses, and the vibrations echoed into eternity.
<̵̯͔̗̪̃̎̀͐̓͌̽̉̈̽Ɇ̵̧̢̝̹͉͉̤̝̳̬̖͚̖̓͌̆̓̿̐̽̀̅̄̀̕̚͝ͅ฿̶̨̬̻̘̝͎̟̖̐̑̌ͅX̴̢̢̘̩̜̗̠͈̖̣͕̣͇̑̈́̉̉̄̈́̈̒͜₴̵͇̀̆͜͠ ̷̩̣̾̑̇͜₴̷̞̲̏̂͌͆̀̔̾̽Ӿ̸̼͊́̔̿͋̽̄̀͋̂͛̚̕͝͝>̷̢̬̲̣̞̬͚̲̙̜͍̉̀͊̄̆͂͘̕͘͝≯̢̩̪̼̦̜̾͆̏͑͒̎̚
I raised my hands, looking at them. Skin and flesh and sinew and nerves and bone and, beyond that, molecules and atoms and the incredible, imperceptible space between them. Nothing was solid, everything was closer to mist. Even the rocky walls of the cave were so fleetingly substantial. A fractal interplay of fields and waves and particles and vacuums. And that even that conception of reality was nothing but an interface for the divine spark of consciousness. I could smell thunder, and marijuana, and I thought of my father.
Then, something arrived.
Not me. Not Max or Emma. It came out of the gaps between matter like it’d been hiding behind them. A figure of grace and depth, darkness turned material. A figure, a silhouette, an impression of a person upon the horizon, the shadow cast from outside. I knew it was a man, somehow, as much as something like that could be a man, and his awareness fell on me, so heavy that I couldn’t breathe.
≮̧͖͈̲͈̝̺̫͎̞̭̾̍̅̎͒͗͂͐̈́̉̾̆̌̎͆̈͘͜͝≮̧̢̙̬̻̄͐̆̍͗̒₴̵̨̩̮̬̝̥̭̀̈̆͌̆̕͝Ӿ̴͍͉̉̄̒̇͐̆̓̕͠Ӿ̴̡̧̳͇̩̭̼̫̪̩̺͇̩̰̉͆̕₳̷̢̧̓̈́̍͒͝ ̸͇̬͉͓͓̍̃Ɇ̷̛̬̲̦̪͈̜͂̀̾͋ͅӾ̸̖̄̈́͛͋̉͌͋́>̷̢̨̟̱̦̼͈͉̯̯̣̎̈́̅̓̄́̂̊̀̆̈́͋̊͗̕͝>̵̨̡̧̗̙͍͚̦͈̜̺̠͓͍̳̰̹̓̋͝
He moved—no, traveled without moving. Jumping and jittering like he was out of sync with the world, a stop-motion puppet in the hands of a madman, clipping and popping forward and back but ever closer, ever closer. My body refused to move, static screaming in my ears. Or it did, but he was quicker than the impulse to do so. If that even mattered anymore.
<̴̢̢̧̢̡̧͖̱͔̜̳͙̦͎̖̼̔̾̒̉̌̇̑̀͆́̀̌̀̕͜͜<̵̛̤̦̺͈͗͋̂͊͐̿̿̓͆́̂͂͐̅̍̽̽͝X̸̛̼̗͖̩̥̜̬́͊̒͑̽̒̓͑̓̅̊̅̃̈̇͋͘͜X̴͈̟̣̝͇͔͊͊̑̾́̒̌͊̓̄͐̕͝ͅ₱̶̡̧̢̛̛̟̙͚̼͉̓̂͠͝Ⱡ̵̨̢̧̘̼̥͙̫̬̲̘̻̅́̾̍̒̋̾͛̅͒̍̕͘͝͝ͅ ̴̪̟̙̱̬͕̦͛X̵̨̛̛̝͉͎̲̘͓͈͇̯̱̯͍̖̹̫͗̀̏͂͌̎̕͜ͅX̶̺͍͔̟͉̔́̆̈́́̈̉͗̇̎͠>̷̨̡̛̼͈̗̠̠̖͔̪̘͓̖̺̉͋͆ͅ>̷̨͖̹̼̤̏͐̊̓͒̃̊͌̅́̉̀̄̐̅̚
So close now, that I could’ve reached out and touched his face, that yawning void in which I saw stars and galaxies and the infinite cycle of beginnings and endings. My brain was sparking, short-circuiting, simple electrical signals replaced by lightning, and I was bleeding and seizuring and dying as I knew this being, this man, this Shadow, was laughing.
The cave went away; space collapsed and time ceased to be relevant. The Shadow, as vast as the darkness between galaxies and as infinitesimal as the gap between quarks, reached out from behind and within me, the fingers of some infinite hand grasping, closing, and—
<̵̢̥̺̦͈̮̬̹͂͊̈́̄͜<̵̫̣̥̟̺̣̈̌́̄̌̾̐̓̕͜Ɇ̶͍̼͖̼̠̜̺̩̅̔̽͠₴̵͎͕́͂̑₳̷̪͓̤̦͚͓͙͓̀̈̓̓̚͝Ɇ̸̢̺̟͈̲͎̗̩͋͐͝Ⱡ̷̯̤͎̯͉́̍̈́̇̾̿͑̾͜Ẕ̴͇͕̘̠̥̟̈̏̕>̶͎̠͉͖͉͋̏͆̓̑̓͝͝>̶̘̹̕͝͝