The Hallow

5

The whole area soon grows quiet when we are closer to the church. The stone pathway forces our shoes to make a loud tapping sound, and I can't help but watch our feet walk.

My heart is pounding, but I try to appear as calm as possible. I knew this was a bad idea to begin with, but we had to take the risk. I'm still not entirely sure this is real; instead that it's all one giant prank.

I pull away from Carson when we are directly in front of the old church, and cringe when an awful odor brushes my nostrils. The tears start to form in my eyes when I think of what it could possibly be, but before I can let anything out, Carson drags me by the arm toward the back.

The backside of the church is creepier than the front. There is one single window with broken glass in the bottom left corner, but the shards are nowhere to be seen. The wood is perfectly intact, though the paint is chipped. There is a dip in the ground, making it look like Carson and I are standing on a small hill. It looks unusual.

"There it is." Carson points at the indented ground in front of us at a bright yellow colored fabric. He steps forward, but I pull him back. He looks at me confusedly.

"Don't you see that hole under the church? This could be a trap."

Carson leans forward a little to examine the hole in the center of the backside of the church, right where the odd indent in the ground is located. He furrows his eyebrows, and it worries me how dark it is.

"Yeah, you're right," Carson leans back and sighs. "that does look a little sketchy." he steps back and looks around, then walks a little away from me.

"Where are you going?" I ask worriedly, putting my hands out to feel for him.

"I'm looking for a stick to fish it out of that hole." Carson explains, reaching back for me. I grab his wrist, and we walk toward a large tree a few feet away from the church. It is a bit lighter in this area, but only because of the moon. Carson grabs a large branch and nods his head back at the church. I walk first, ahead of him. I am a few feet from where we had been standing before when something strikes the side of my ankle, and I fall to the ground wincing in pain.

"Darcy?" Carson asks. I hear him drop the branch to the ground, and his feet slush toward me. I press my hand against the wound and cry. It is definitely bleeding.

When Carson finds me, he feels around the grass, then finds my hands on my foot.

"What happened? Are you hurt?"

"Something cut me. Or scratched, or bit me. I don't know."

"Are you bleeding?" Carson asks, keeping his hands on top of mine. I nod even though he can't see me.

"Let's just get this done." I assert, not wanting to bring up what is on my mind. That stupid clown is around here somewhere, and he might know of our plans.

"Okay." Carson helps me up, and I whine, but walk anyway. I don't know how severe the cut is, but I will have to deal with it until we get out of here.

Carson's plan works, and as soon as the costume is in his hands, he drops the branch and moves quickly to put it on. His looks make me nervous, but I have to get over it.

"Don't you have a mask or something?" I ask, but Carson doesn't answer. It is so dark that all I can see is his silhouette and the brightness of the costume. His shaggy hair is even more messed up because of the costume.

I hear footsteps in the distance; the familiar sound of sloshing feet in the damp grass forces my heart to pound heavily. I swallow hard and look around nervously.

"Give me your leg." Carson finally says, reaching his arms down.

"What? Why?" I step back.

"I don't know where my mask is, but if I put blood on my face, it'll make me blend in more. Now give me your leg."

I furrow my eyebrows, but give in. If he doesn't have a mask or face paint, then the others are going to recognize that he is not one of them.

I cringe in disgust as Carson rubs my blood all over his face. He gags a little bit, but nothing too serious. My ankle is still bleeding, but it will clot eventually.

"You should tear a piece of your jacket off and wrap it around your ankle," Carson mentions as he rubs his eyes. "if it hasn't stopped by now, it probably won't for a while."

I nod my head and do as Carson says, and when I'm done, we reach out for each other.

"You okay?" he whispers, and I nod. We begin walking back to the front of the church, but make it look like a scene. Carson has to pretend to be dragging me.

"Scream." Carson demands. I shake my head, breathing heavily and nervously.

"No. That'll make us too vulnerable. They'll spot us in no time." I whisper back.

"Then just pretend." Carson says, but I don't have to pretend. I am scared out of my wits, and seeing Carson in this position only scares me more. He grabs me by the hair which makes me shriek. I look around, and gasp loudly when I see someone standing in the entrance of the cemetery. He has a large smile painted on his face, and he nods when Carson and I bravely walk past him.

I'm breathing heavily, and cannot take my eyes off of the clown. That must've been the one that killed Alex. I look forward to see where Carson is leading me, and when I look back, the clown is gone. I silently scream, thinking the worst: he found Maddy and the others.

"Carson . . ." I squeal, but he doesn't answer. He is hurting me, and I don't think he knows that. I reach up and grab his wrist, but it only makes him squeeze my hair tighter. It doesn't feel like he's acting anymore, but I know he is. He has to be.

A streetlight comes into view, and I breathe in slight relief. I can now see Carson's face clearly, and the entire area around us. There is a parking lot surrounded with these dim lights, and blood stains on the ground.

I am now gasping for breath. My legs are failing me, but I have to keep walking because I don't want Carson to start dragging me. My knees and hands are shaking, and I grasp onto Carson's arm desperately.

"Let go." Carson demands. I hold on tighter, and he whips his arm hard, forcing me to release him. I whisper his name, but he doesn't say a thing after that.

We enter the pavement, and I try my hardest to step over or around the bloodstains. Sometimes I don't have a choice, and it makes me cry, but I feel a little more relieved when I see the campground in the far distance.

I try to keep my crying under control, but it only gets worse when I look ahead and see two more people dressed as clowns standing at the other end of the parking lot. One of them starts jumping when it sees us, and the other waves its arms in the air. Carson does not react to them, but walks up and in between them, yanking me harder to make me wince.

I try to turn around to see if they are still there or if they disappeared, but at our angle, and the way Carson has a hold of me, it is impossible to see anything next to, or behind us.

When I feel we are at a safe enough distance away from the other clowns, I look up at Carson. The bloodstains on his face make me tremble, and the seriousness in his face scares me. I have never been scared of Carson until now.

"Carson?" I whisper, and in response, I am thrown to the ground. Sudden pain shoots up my body, making me go dizzy. I bring my hand up to my head, then pain shoots into my side. I can feel the cloth being ripped off of my ankle, and the dry blood that had just clotted has been newly ripped open and is bleeding again. I scream in pain and try to reach my leg, but am forced down once again.

I am then being dragged quickly by my ankles. "Carson!" I scream as loud as the air in my lungs can manage.