When we got home, Bryce asked for a few hours to destress before my barrage of questions. He spent most of it reading a gothic mystery novel on the sofa, as well as retreating into his room to do some private journaling.

The evening settled in, and Bryce finally scuttled into my room.

“The mayor, huh? When were you planning to tell me that was what you did here?”

He threw his arms up in exasperation. “Look, I… there was…” he struggled, “I don’t know. I’m not sure if I ever would’ve felt comfortable mentioning it if I’m being honest. I never chose the job. They gave it to me when I got here, and since then, I’ve just been trying to get by.”

I only had one glaring question on my mind at this point.“

Everyone in that building said that you hated Meredith Lane.”

“People here say stupid stuff, literally none of that is–”

“Bryce, just please, please tell me you didn’t order for that poor woman to get chained and tortured like that.”

Bryce stared at me, aghast.“

Do you really, actually think I’m capable of something like that?”

Of course, in the moment, I told him no.

But as I lay there in bed that night, the question spun around in my head.

Was Bryce capable of great evil?

The guy I’d known my whole life? No.

The guy who’s been trapped in this demented town for months now? I’m… not sure?

This place could ruin anyone after enough time, couldn’t it?

I stopped myself there, and turned my brain off for the sake of some shuteye.

In the morning, I checked the clock on my bedside table. 7:15 AM. That’s twice now.

I entered the dining room.

Bryce had left breakfast on the table for me! Sweet of him.

With it, came a note:

Got called in for an early job. I’m helping make candles today - whatever that means here.

I know it’s in your DNA to be brash, but please don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.

Stay home. And if for some strange reason you still decide to wander out, stay far, far, far away from the graveyard. Bad things happen the closer you get to it.

I took a bite of my toast. Me? Brash? Why I never.

After finishing up the morning spread, I sauntered to the living room window and looked outside.

Once again, folks were gathered inside the Victorian mansion across the street. They sat in a circle, each of them with a book in hand. This time, however, their attention was focused on a TV in the room – something playing that I couldn’t quite make out from my vantage point.

Someone rose to turn the TV off.

Then they all looked at me in unison and smiled.

What.

Without missing a beat, they shifted their focus back to the books. One of the men began to read aloud, while the rest followed intently.

Welp. One thing was for certain: I’d rather be chained up like Meredith Lane than forced to join the disturbing reading group here.

I pondered what to do with my day. Surely, not everything in town was preposterously dangerous? At least one of the 80 or so convenience store clerks must have had some sort of insight on how to escape… right?

Wait.

Bryce wasn’t home. Again.

And he had a journal.

Did I dare?

It would’ve been an invasion of privacy, sure, but, y’know, desperate times, desperate measures, sometimes you gotta break some rules, yadda yadda yadda.

I entered his room. After a bit of scanning, I located the journal that he’d stashed in one of his drawers.

I flipped to the latest entry, hoping to find something interesting.

At the top of the page was yesterday’s date. Underneath, a few bullet points lazily scribbled:

- What was with the portrait of the car in the Parker building yesterday?

- Guy who attacked Rose looked familiar?

- Who is Meredith Lane? Why did I kind of like seeing her get tortured?

What?

The third line stunned me. Felt like a bullet had gone through my stomach.

Suddenly, my pocket vibrated sharply.

A text?

I pulled my phone out and read the first new message I’d received since I’d arrived here.

From a number I didn’t recognize, it simply read: “Be outside in one minute. Your job for the day is ten bodies.”

You have got to be fucking kidding me.

Was this a test? Was I supposed to ignore it? Or was this a task I had to follow?

Does this town really want me to kill people?

A knock at the door. Then another. And another.

I stashed the journal back into the drawer, now with bigger fish to fry than figuring out Bryce’s inner workings.

I searched my mind for a “smart thing to do” here and came up empty. Rudderless, I walked to the front door’s peephole and checked outside.

A man in a Hawaiian shirt stood idly at the door. He looked bored. Further out, an ambulance sat parked on the street.

Is he gonna kill me?

As if reading my mind, he spoke up.

“Not gonna kill you, newbie.”

I didn’t respond.

“You’re on the route today,” he added.

Could I actually trust him?

He looked at his watch. “Look, it’s your life. Do what you gotta do. But, bad things do happen when you turn down a job, so I’d strongly suggest–”

I swung the door open, raised my fists and shot him my meanest glare. That should scare him.

He chuckled. “It’s gonna take more than a punch to kill me, I’m afraid.” He pivoted and began descending the stairs. “Alright, let’s head out.”

I followed him. He casually paced towards the ambulance’s rear doors, opened them, and stepped inside. I peeked in behind him, anticipating the horrifying sight of piles and piles of dead bodies…

Instead, the ambulance looked surprisingly ordinary. To the left, a white bench stretched along the wall. A rather striking woman was seated, dressed in a cloak that was all-too-familiar to me at this point. The Hawaiian-shirted man settled in beside her. On the opposite side, a pile of single-fold stretchers were haphazardly arranged against the wall. Dominating the center, a modest table was firmly anchored to the floor. Atop it sat an eye-catching candle and a worn, black digital camera.

I climbed into the back. Without missing a beat, the mystery man slipped on a cloak similar to the woman’s and handed me another just like it.

“Your uniform for when you’re on the job,” he clarified.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

He shut the back doors, struck a match to light the candle, and moments later the vehicle set into motion.

I begrudgingly put on the bulky cult outfit. Guess I’m part of the club now.

Unsure of what to do next, I ran with an icebreaker.

“So, is our job…” I said slowly, “to, uh… bash people’s heads in or something?”

The man and woman looked at each other, eyebrows raised in shared bemusement. They started laughing.

“Oh, you newcomers,” the man said, wiping away a tear. “So good…”

“Yes,” the woman tagged, “We use terrifying black magic rituals to punish all those who try to leave.”

“And sometimes, when the magic doesn’t work, we resort to the ancient art of… stick throwing.”

She nodded. “Never underestimate a well-aimed twig.”

Dorky giggles permeated their sarcastic ribbing. It was annoying.

“Look, clearly you two are having a ball right now, but can you just say it plainly: You don’t kill people. Right?”

“Right,” the woman responded, more seriously. “Some of us just want to get through the cursed day and go home.”

Fair enough, lady.

It was an interesting ambulance ride. I learned their names! Matthias and Svetlana. They were a couple, actually. I’m ashamed that I only caught on once I saw them sneak a kiss.

They spent most of the ride doing some… pretty nonsensical stuff. With a deck of cards, they played a demented version of “Go Fish” that I couldn’t fully understand the rules of. Later, Matthias broke into song - belting what sounded like three vaguely familiar pop tunes randomly mashed together. Svetlana knew it and sang along, which is I guess what mattered.

Finally, Svetlana pitched a game where we would all ask each other increasingly personal questions. I bowed out, using the excuse that I was still jarred by the “no small talk” rule in the Parker Group building.

The two of them passed questions back and forth. “What’s the funniest thing that’s ever happened to you”, “When was the last time you felt super embarrassed?”

And then, rather innocently, from Svetlana to Mattias. “What was the happiest moment of your life?”

He looked back at her wistfully. “The day I met you.”

She held her hand to his cheek, and they shared a genuinely loving gaze.

Barf. Barf barf barf barf barf barf. Too much, please make it stop –

The ambulance screeched to a halt.

The driver called out. “Alright, body retrieval! Let’s go.”

My colleagues shifted to a more somber tone. They opened the rear exit and stepped out. I followed.

We had stopped at a house.

There, on the grass before us, a man lay dead. A camera in his hand. His twisted neck, contorted body, and protruding bones gave me flashbacks to Meredith.

Two police officers stood over him. They regarded us as we walked up.

“Took a photo of himself. Sucker’s way out,” one said.

The other officer chimed in. “You gotta question the logic. Did he think this would somehow be a shorter death?”

The first mimed taking a photo, voice high-pitched in imitation. “He was probably like - ahhh, this will be painless!”

“Hahahahaha! CLICK! DING! Wait, why am I not dead? Wait, what’s that?! AHHHHH!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Matthias pulled a stretcher from the ambulance, setting it next to the lifeless figure while the officers laughed. Together, he and Svetlana softly lifted the body onto it.

“What the hell? Why are all of you so damn glum?” one of the officers said. He turned to me. “You. You especially.”

Svetlana and Matthias lifted the stretcher and brought it into the ambulance. The officers closed their distance with me.“

You’re pretty tense,” the second officer remarked. “Maybe living with the mayor is starting to take its toll on you?”

Matthias called from the ambulance. “Alright, let’s go Rose!”

But I couldn’t move. The collective stare of the officers had me petrified.The first officer leaned in closer. “I’m sure you know the mayor is terrified of cops, don’t you? He has a whole page about it in that diary of his you snooped this morning.”

How could they possibly know –

“What? Do you not realize we see everything? Do you actually think your rule-breaking is going unnoticed?”

I backed away from them as if they were two lurking panthers. No sudden movements. Calm. Deliberate. Any misstep could spell doom.

Gently, I felt for the edge of the ambulance before hoisting myself through the rear doors. I closed them behind me.

Mercifully, the ambulance rolled forward.

I settled into my seat. As the fear subsided, involuntarily, my eyes swelled up.

Matthias placed a hand on my shoulder. Svetlana gently touched my arm.

“Don’t worry about those creeps,” said Matthias.

“Those shits won’t do anything to you,” she added. “They’re just talk.”

I appreciated the gesture. Unfortunately, it was hard to feel great with the grim sight of a mangled corpse in front of us.

Matthias shook his head at the sight. “Even with how hellish all of this is, I’ll never understand doing something like that to yourself.”

Svetlana gazed at the stretcher, her eyes full of compassion. “Perhaps, he just wasn’t strong enough to handle it anymore.”

Matthias shrugged.

Despite some weak attempts at small talk from all three of us, it was hard to shake the dismal air now permeating the ambulance.

The ride went on for a good while. Until -

“Destination!” the driver called.

The vehicle jolted to a stop.Svetlana pushed the doors open, revealing a vast forest expanse. The trees, though large, were spread out and sparse.

In the distance, I spotted a thick white fog that seemingly stretched out into eternity. Were we at the edge of town?

One by one, we exited the ambulance, our steps crunching on the leaves underneath. The rear doors had been left ajar.

“Okay,” I started. “So what do we–”

I was interrupted by the CLICK of a camera.

I shuddered. Svetlana held me still as the sound of another CLICK went off. Then another.

“What’s happening–”

“Don’t worry,” she soothed. “We only have to collect the bodies.”

I realized that each echo of a click was accompanied with a piercing flash contained within the smothering mist ahead of us.

What was this?

A gentleman I barely had time to notice stepped out from behind a nearby tree and paced toward the fog. He muttered under his breath, “It’ll be okay, it’ll all be okay, just a quick snap, I won’t even feel it, then I’ll be free.”

He crossed the threshold into the fog and ventured deeper, becoming more of a faint trace with each step.

In my peripheral, I noticed another woman in tattered clothes step across the forest, and into the shrouding haze. Her mumbles barely reached my ears: “I believe in the walking fire the holy serpent the tree of life will perish for our salvation.” In she went.

From behind us, another man triumphantly jogged past, straight into the mist. He shouted out as he did: “It’s a fucking mirage! There’s nothing real keeping us here!” Deeper he went, until he was just a speck in the white veil. “Everything was a lie–”

CLICK.

CLICK.

CLICK.

Each click was accompanied with the sound of a harsh pop, and a powerful flash within the fog.

The sound of bodies dropping.

And then, as if they were the tide coming in, the bodies softly and effortlessly slid right out of the fog. Right in front of us, now.

Bodies with pulverized heads. Like all the others I’d seen the ambulances drop off.

I tried to process what I was seeing. Matthias, meanwhile, was all business. He pulled small stretchers out of the ambulance and began positioning them next to the bodies, sighing all the while. “Quota was 10, so this should be pretty quick,” he said.

I scanned the environment closely. Far off, more lifeless forms lay scattered. The clicks continued, lights flashing, bodies floating out of the fog. There were already way more than ten dead here. Behind us, groups of people lurked behind trees, staring out into the abyss. Were these folks who were contemplating ‘escaping’ too?

Svetlana addressed Matthias briefly. “I think our newbie is scared, so I’m gonna comfort her.”

He nodded as she led me aside. “I’m not that sca–” I started, but she shushed me.

“I love you,” she called out to Matthias.

“Love you too,” he responded, a tad absently, distracted by his work. What a pro.

She pulled me away from the scene, to a looming tree beside the fog.

“What is it?” I asked her.

She pulled something out of her pocket and placed it in my hand. It was a sketch. A pencil drawing of Matthias. It was pretty good.

“I drew it for him one random night. I’m very grateful that sketches aren’t illegal.” A quiet laugh followed her words.

I shot her a confused look.

She smiled. “Please give it to him, okay.”

“Uh, sure,” I said. “...why?”

She took a deep breath, then turned around and disappeared into the fog.

Wait.

What are you–

CLICK!

She was close enough that I saw the flash cave in her head.

Before she’d even hit the ground, her corpse was pulled out of the fog and brought to my feet.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

In disbelief, I wandered back to Matthias. He was in the midst of loading another body into the already full-looking ambulance.

“Finally deciding to help, eh?” he said, presumably hearing my steps.

I couldn’t say anything. He turned around in response to my silence.

“Why are you crying?”

I’d clearly forgotten how to talk. He walked up to me, his gaze lowering to the item in my hand. I passed it to him. A confused smile crossed his face.

He lifted his head to peer over me. His eyes found Svetlana’s body in the distance.He exhaled sharply.

After a minute of stillness, he approached what was left of her. I placed my hand on his back and accompanied.

Walking that small distance felt like a lifetime.

Finally, she was in front of us. Matthias looked down at her lovingly.

“She never isn’t beautiful.”

The best I could muster up in response was a platitude. “She really loved you, you know.”

He scrunched up a smile. “And I, her.”

He stood. He put the sketch into his cloak pocket, then lovingly tapped it after placing. “So, the good news is, I’ve already loaded eight. I pray that Svetlana and I won’t be too heavy,” he said.

And then, with a brisk pace, he walked into the fog.

No.

I chased behind him, crossing into the mist. I reached out to pull at his cloak.

“Please, please stop, just wait a second, there has to be something you can do, there has to be something–”

I’m not even sure if he could hear me. Deeper still, he went. Deeper still, I followed. My words didn’t even make any sense.

What am I doing? This is insane.

I extended out with all my might to pull him back.

“Please, you can’t just give up.”

CLICK.

And he was gone.

And as his blood flickered onto me, I realized I was going to be next.

There I was yet again, staring death in the face, whilst feeling nothing but confusion.

With a violent yank, I felt something pull me out of the fog.

Suddenly, the cloud of white was in front of me. I wasn’t within it anymore.

I turned around to see who or what might’ve pulled me to safety, but it was already gone. I could’ve sworn I heard a whisper as the force brought me out. The words: “You should be enjoying your gift.”

I cried in fear and hell and all things awful as Matthias’s body appeared beside me.

In the hour it took to get up and finish the shift, I wondered what the fuck kind of gift this was supposed to be.

–

It wasn’t fair. Neither of them deserved this.

So I did the only thing that felt right. When the text came in, telling me to “Drop the bodies in the middle of the street. Any street is fine.” - I refused.

They deserved a proper resting place. And so I told the ambulance driver that the instructions were to take all ten to the graveyard.

He seemed surprised, but he obliged anyway.

It wasn’t until halfway through burying the bodies that I remembered Bryce’s warning about the graveyard.

Though, to be honest, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

Yes, amongst a sea of hundreds of pre-dug graves and tombstones marked by the names of strangers, it was a bit weird to see mine and Bryce’s names among the bunch. But besides that, it was pretty tame!

The ambulance driver brought me back home. He didn’t seem too stressed about the two crew deaths today. His logic was “It’s unfortunate, but that’s the way things go.”

When I pressed him on what he meant, he said “There’s a certain decency to letting things go. A decency in allowing death to be death, and not fighting it. And not being the kind of person who tampers with that reality.”

Okay, Freud.

When I got home, I remembered Bryce’s unnerving journal entry, and tried to muster up the sanity to finally start being afraid of him.

But I just couldn’t. He’s harmless. I know he is.

Though I will say, he’s acting pretty weird right now. He’s staring out the living room window at the Victorian mansion across the street. He’s holding one of his mystery novels in his hand. He keeps saying “I get it now, I get it now, I get it now,” and he’s starting to look a bit frenzied.

I’ll ask him what’s going on once he calms down a bit.