Haunted Rayne

7 - Sanctuary for the Haunted

A shower of precipitation fell over Rayne Foster's face as she emerged from the tunnel, blinking away droplets that splashed her eyes. Suddenly, she slipped and fell backward, but Cole caught her by the hand and heaved her to her feet. Her heart stilled, forgetting to pump a beat when she saw a little red eye of a camera perched in one of the trees.

"Don't worry about it," said Cole, noticing her concern. "My buddy, Pierce, does a lot of volunteer work in the office. There hasn't been a live feed from that thing since the school year started."

Rayne followed him through the rain, weaving between trees as water drenched the ground. By the time they reached the cover of a small, abandoned shack, Rayne was actually smiling. She always craved the adrenaline rush that came with risky adventures, but lately, she noticed it was one of the few things that made her truly feel alive. 

"Now, that's a smile," Cole whispered, breathing deeply. The rain had stripped his brown hair of styling gels, anchoring thick, sopping strands to his forehead. Her own curls were now a wild, textured mane framing her cheeks, and she caught him glance at her white T-shirt and the black bra that shone through underneath. He said, "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

She stepped back and frowned. "Don't get used to it." Pausing to take in her surroundings, Rayne noticed the shack was incredibly small, barely more than a single square room. It was fifteen feet long and seven feet tall. Cole shut the decaying wooden door behind them, transforming the loud roar of rainfall into a dull drumroll. He lit a white candle with his Zippo, illuminating the room and casting flickering shadows. Melted wax clung to the floor, a testament to past visits. "What is this place? Are we still on campus?"

"Yeah, we're about a hundred yards away from the cement wall barrier, so technically, we're still on campus. Just in the backyard," he said with a chuckle. "Lucas and I found this three years ago. The dorms have a strict 'no visitors' policy, so this is where we come to hang after hours."

"And you haven't been caught?"

"Not yet. I think the lowerclassman History teacher might have suspicions, but I caught him making out with Bianca's friend, Hillary Berkshire, once. He knows better than to say anything."

"Which one is Hillary?" Rayne asked, more interested in gathering intel than gossip. 

"Uh, cute, reddish-blonde one." He gave her a knowing look. "You thinking blackmail?"

Instead of responding, Rayne began to walk the room and survey her surroundings. "What about the other girl? Black hair? Bangs?"

Trailing closely behind her, Cole said, "That's Jackie Kwon. She's off limits though. Pierce has a thing for her."

"Means nothing to me. I'm not friends with your buddy, Pierce."

"That's fair," said Cole, and strangely enough, Rayne could tell that he meant it. "But if you are considering blackmail, then you're gonna have to dig up your own dirt on that one. Bro code and all." He cocked his head and smiled. "Are you saying that you and I are friends?"

"Hell no."

She turned away from him and continued examining the walls. Next to a time-worn table set in the back corner, a steady drip of rainwater leaked from the roof and pooled, staining the floor. Rayne looked up, tracing the source to a rusting raft bar bolted to the ceiling, carrying a large metal hook in the center. She wondered how long that had been there. After all, the russet barnwood boards that built the shack were all cracked and rotting, and the smell of pine needles and mildew hung heavy in the air. 

As she ran her finger along the wall, Cole stepped behind her, running his fingers through her hair. A chaotic vision flashed before her eyes: It was Bianca Hawthorne, again, with Cole, more passionately this time, his lips on her neck as he pressed her against this very wall; then Lucas and Cole, tangled in a fistfight on the ground, blood streaming from Lucas' nose, falling and pebbling on the hardwood planks; then a party, about ten people, dancing, smoking, drinking, making out; and lastly, she saw a pair of broken eyeglasses on the floor.