The Haunted Mine: A Lorimer Graveskeeper Choose Your Own Adventure Story

Chapter 3: The Long Walk

"No thanks, Jim. This isn't the kind of thing I'm looking for. Maybe I'll try Cottonwood," Lorimer said.

"That's a shame. You seem like a good dude, and the money's pretty easy. See you around," Jim said, shaking his hand.

What the hell was he going to do? Lorimer thought as he started walking home. It felt like bad luck kept finding him since he left New York. Everywhere he went they followed him, luring him back into their liminal world, finding ways to whisper the stories of their lives, or more often, their deaths. It wasn't a coincidence, surely, that Jim was the only guy in town looking to hire. They were trying to sink their teeth into him again. Maybe this time he should have let them. It was his sixth month on the road, running. He had no money, no friends, and no family left. He had to find a job but walking the 25 miles in the desert heat to Cottonwood from here every day seemed impossible, if not distinctly dangerous. He would lose his room here if he couldn't cough up the rent next week. The owner was nice enough to forgo a deposit, he might not be so lucky in Cottonwood.

Lorimer opened the door to his apartment. He flicked up the switch by the doorway but the light wouldn't turn on. The room was cold, much colder than outside. His breath rose to the ceiling. She was standing in the corner. He'd never seen her so clearly before. Her eyes were red and her neck was bruised. Her tongue was swollen and lolling out of her mouth. She looked at him through a curtain of dark, greasy, tangled hair. She couldn't have been older than 16, and for the first time since he saw her, she started walking towards him. Lorimer grabbed the small bag he had laying by the door. It was lucky he never unpacked.

"Lorimer..." she whispered, reaching out her hand.

He ran out of the door and nearly tumbled down the stairs of the apartment. He reached the street and saw her walking out to the porch, staring down at him, smiling in a way that was closer to the baring of teeth.

He shook his head and started walking down the main street, down the sloping hill, and out of town. He pulled his flashlight out. The desert stretched before him, cold, vast, and unforgiving. He could make it to Cottonwood by morning if he walked quickly. Maybe he'd be lucky and someone would be driving down the road. He looked around, the blackness was absolute, endless in every direction. He knew that only he was at fault for condemning himself to this meager half life, wandering in the darkness, perpetually on the run. He wished, more than anything, for an end to this loneliness, the opportunity to turn back time and choose again.

THE END