About an hour later, Ashley woke with a violent jarring from Victoria, who was looking at her with sharp green eyes. She sat up so fast it made the bed bounce.
"What is it?" she said with agitated breath. Her black, kinky hair was a knotted mess.
"I don’t—know," Victoria stammered. "It’s still dark." She thought she sounded like a frightened little girl. Maybe she was.
"What?" Ashley croaked. "You woke me up for that? What time is it?"
"Our phones say it’s still forty past midnight."
"Okay, then our phones are clearly broken. What are you so wired about?"
She didn’t know. She just felt a layer of fear thickening over her flesh, like a hardening shell.
"Don’t you feel like you’ve been sleeping a long time?"
Ashley thought about it. She did.
"So what does that...?" Ashley started, somehow knowing the answer to the question she had started to ask.
Victoria felt as if bugs were writhing around under the sheets. Cold, numberless, tangible little creepers that climbed and fell off her skin, off the covers. They climbed and climbed, trying to reach her hair. Trying to get into her pores, her mouth, her ears, her eyes. Roaches and moths and bees.
"Ashley, I’m scared," Victoria said, gripping her friend’s arm.
She could almost picture Ashley smiling at her in the dark, amused at her incompetence. Then, suddenly, the nightstand lamp clicked to life and the room was lit. When Ashley turned back to face Victoria, she wasn’t smiling like Victoria had imagined. Her face was distraught, terrified.
"I thought I felt bugs," Ashley said, shivering.
They both threw back the sheets. But there was nothing there.
***
They waited another two hours before deciding to tell the others. In those long hours, the moon had not moved an inch from its place and the sky was the same shade of inky purple.
"What does this mean?" Ashley asked after a long period of silence. "Do you think we’re just being silly? Imagining things because we’re afraid?"
Victoria shook her head and stood to move near the window. She knew what it looked like. It looked like the night was never going to end. It looked like time had no relevance here like it did in the real world. Of course, that couldn’t be true. But that’s what it looked like. And she had to disprove those absurdities before she could give Ashley a logical response. The problem was, though, that the absurdities couldn’t yet be disproven. The only logical course of action would be to leave. And that was the only plan she had.
"Shouldn’t we leave?" she asked.
Ashley nodded and rose from the messy bed. "I thought you’d never ask."
A claustrophobic fear swept over them and they ran out into the second floor hallway and treaded over the floor heavily, knocking on everyone’s door. First Winston came out, looking groggy with his blonde hair tossed in a mess. Then Kevin and the boys, then everyone else except Wendy and Bleak, who were sleeping downstairs.
"What’s going on?" Kevin asked.
"Look at the time," Ashley said.
Everyone did—those few, at least, who still had battery left on their phones.
"12:40," Kevin stated. "Uh—Yeah mine’s been acting up."
"No, that’s what all of our times say," Vicky said.
"Okay, what’s your point?" Mike asked. "All that means is that the crappy reception in this house fucked up our phones."
"That doesn’t even make sense," Ashley said.
"Well, what else then?" Mike snapped. "You saying it’s still midnight? Are you fucking high?"
"Do you have to curse so much?" Victoria asked, then turned back to Kevin. "Ashley and I are leaving."
"Good," Mike said from behind them.
"Yeah, that’s a good idea," Kevin said. "We’ll all pack our things."
"What?" Mike snapped. "Why us?"
"I’m just tired of this place, okay?"
Mike grunted.
Everyone except Michael agreed (so he was forced to agree too) and packed up whatever little they brought. Once they got downstairs, they summoned Wendy and Bleak who, like before, were cuddled together in the dark. They stirred before looking up at the gang.
"We’re leaving," Kevin said. "Sorry to wake you."
Wendy yawned. "Okay," she said, mid-yawn. "What time is it?"
"We’re not sure. Something’s up with the phones."
Kevin led them to the veranda where they stared wide-eyed at the still night. The trees and grass seemed oblivious to the oddity of the night, swaying slightly in the cool breeze like night dancers. Near the cemetery, there was a thick gray fog brushed over the distant air. The sight of the fog made Victoria shudder.
"What are we waiting for?" Emily asked, taking a long stride off the veranda onto the dew-licked grass. As she was taking slow, crunching steps she began walking quicker toward the fog, where the cemetery was. The gang watched, hesitant for some reason, as she reached a distance that made them uneasy.
Beginning with Winston and Sasha, the group slowly came off the veranda and began following Emily. She looked over her shoulder a moment to see the group walking a distance behind.
And then she screamed. Just before she made it into the fog, she let out a piercing, echoing shriek that rang in the night, as something underfoot gripped her leg.
"Oh my God!" Sasha shouted. "What is that?"
She began sinking.
The group faltered in their steps.
"What is she doing?" Mike asked, straining his eyes sharply.
Sinking.
"Help me! Please, help me! It’s got me! HELP!!!"
And sinking.
Two more beings—shaped like humans, but moving awkwardly, like pictures in a flipbook—came popping out of the ground like moles. They were sickly thin, worn out to the bone; skeletons wrapped in wet, moldy brown flesh.
Sasha ran forward stupidly and Kevin caught her shoulders, tugging her back, and she fell hard on the grassy rug beneath her.
"We have to help her!" Sasha screamed in an inhumane voice.
They all stared on blankly. Terror froze them to stone, like drying lumps of cement.
Mike wanted to run and save her. He wanted to… but his knees buckled even at the thought of moving. This is Emily, goddamnit! GET HER! GO GET HER! This was it—his time to be the hero, to show her. To show them all. Now. Right—now!
Black liquid—it made a sloshing sound as it spurted through the air—erupted from Emily’s waist.
Goddamit, SAVE HER NOW!
"Goddamit!" Mike cried, because his legs wouldn’t move.
I can’t, stupid boy, I can’t move a muscle, his legs said to him. Look what’s out there!
"What are those things!?" Mike cried, crumbling to his knees.
Emily was sinking ever deeper—the workings of this scene were slow, a slow brew, a poisonous sloth of an event. A framed picture of horror. The sound of Emily’s voice in such pain made Victoria want to vomit. And Sasha began to scream rampantly. She just wanted to scream until she choked up a solution for Emily.
""Help me please!! I don’t want to die!!!" Emily was halfway into the dirt now, both her legs and waist submerged in the soft earth. She was attempting to grip the black soil, but the force pulling her down was too strong. She could feel the ghoul’s rusty fingers digging into her calf muscles. No one could bear to watch anymore, and everyone but Sasha and Mike turned away. Sasha saw a squelch of blood lap over the grass and gagged, then vomited helplessly over the edge of the veranda rail. Mike wanted to follow suit, but nothing came up from his throat. There was a point, when Emily was nearly submerged up to her shoulders, where her face suddenly changed. It was the look of acceptance. Like she knew that nobody was coming to save her. They were all too afraid. Those cowards, she thought as she sniffed mucus and spat her tears away. Jesus, she thought again. I’m about to die. I’m only seventeen.
Her final thoughts as the cold dirt took her eyelids under:
For fun, she almost laughed while choking on the wet dirt. We came here for fun.
***
It was a strange thing that nobody heard the screams. That nobody in town showed up to help them. The group ran shakily into the house; each of them shuffling incoherent thoughts in their minds, trying to piece together what they'd just witnessed.
They stumbled in heavy steps, like men on stilts. Sasha was clutching the rail and gagging between sobs. Everyone was looking down, even as the cold rush of the mansion’s air greeted them in the main hall.
The chandelier in the sitting room was still on, and they shuffled in that direction, following the soft glow in the edge of the large black hall. Their eyes darted around the dark like knives slicing butter as they crossed the hall. When they reached the room, nobody had the sanity to light a fire, but the room was so cold that Winston helped Geo set one ablaze. Victoria wanted to say something, but she felt that anything she might conjure up to say would be unsubstantial and void. Her thoughts were a frantic combustion.
"What just happened?" Ashley asked her privately.
Victoria could only shake her head.
They must have been in that room, replaying the ghastly scene in their minds, for nearly an hour. They must have been clinging onto their sanity like spiders flailing on gossamer webs against harsh winds. They were finding it nearly impossible to breathe—each intake of air rattling their chests as if their breasts were pregnant with some manic demon.
Across the room, Sasha sat numbly, her eyes red and moist, with two sore pockets drawn beneath them. Her mouth hung slightly ajar, and she was making a soft crackling noise with her throat. Everyone in the room was doing a poor job of pretending not to notice her, or comforting her, for that matter. Bleak was holding Wendy around the waist, and he whispered something in her ear.
Wendy flinched when she heard what he said. She looked at Victoria, tapping her fingers against Bleak's wrapped arms. "Do you think..." she hesitated, "Do you think the same thing happened to that kid from class?"
Kevin blinked. "Icarus? You don’t think—"
"She doesn’t know," Victoria cut him off. "I guess now it’s a possibility."
Hell, anything is a possibility, Victoria thought.
"How ca—how can we leave?" Ashley asked, her voice a hollow breath of air.
Everyone, including--or maybe especially--Sasha, looked at Victoria for an answer. Instead of answering, she crossed the room and took a seat near Sasha. Her arm floated over Sasha's slim shoulders, her blonde hair rustling at the touch. Sasha frowned and looked down. She cupped her hands between her bare thighs, her already-short skirt scrunched up well above her knees.
"You okay?" Victoria asked in a low voice.
She crunched her fists into balls.
"I'm sorry... I—I know she was your best friend."
A tear crawled down Sasha's cheek. Her lips were quivering.
Victoria leaned in only inches from her face. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. Okay? I promise. We’ll get out of here."
Sasha’s eyes flitted around the room pensively.
"What is it?" Victoria asked.
Sasha rubbed her cheeks with her palms. "I just wish..." Sasha spoke with the subtlety of a dying leaf. "I just wish we could have given her a proper burial. You know? She...died like some animal."
Victoria got the thought to say, Oh believe me, she's buried. And in a cemetery no less. She scolded herself for thinking something so cruel and twisted her glance away.
"Would you like to say some words?" Victoria said. "You knew her best."
Sasha nodded abruptly and stood, smearing her tears away. She awkwardly approached the fireplace and turned. The group looked her way, and all eyes were on her. First she coughed out a soft cry, then stood up straight, as if trying to prove herself to be strong.
"Emily--" the name broke off into another sob, and she stomped dully against the rug in frustration. She took a deep breath and started again. "Emily was a good friend," she said with a weak vibrato. "Even though she was popular, she never considered herself that. She always thought of other people first, and she always enjoyed having fun. And she loved life." Her gaze lowered. "We...we should have listened to her when she said that coming here was a bad idea. She was smart like that. I can't..."
Sasha shook her head and walked quickly away from the fireplace, passed Victoria, and shoved her body against the corner wall of the room, near the door. Her body writhed slightly and slid down the smooth wall like a bead of dripping water. And there she cried. For about another hour.
***
"We should eat something," Kevin said later that evening. "We can’t stay here. In this room."
"I'm not hungry," Winston said.
"Me either," Geo said.
"I know... I know." Kevin shook his head. He was walking in circles near the door. "Can we just try, though? I can't be in this room any longer."
They got up and crossed the main hall—Michael switched on the chandelier—and Geo swung open the living room double doors.
"Let's see what's left," Geo said as he catapulted his bag onto the table.
They took an inventory on their food: Three more peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, six bags of potato chips, and four bananas. When they laid it out on the dining table, they decided it was a meal for three, maybe four, people. They were eight.
"This won't last us through one night," Geo said.
"It will because it has to," Kevin said stiffly.
"You mean we’re staying here again?" Sasha squealed, mashing her hands over her mouth in distress.
They broke the bananas in half. They poured out all the potato chip bags into one giant bowl that they'd gotten from the kitchen, then split it into eight parts.
"Okay," Kevin said, slapping his plate onto the table. "Dinner's served,"
"This?" Geo hissed. "Half a banana and some chips? What about the sandwiches?"
"There's only three. We'll save it for next meal until we find some edible food in here."
"Jesus, we're gonna starve here!" Geo cried.
"No," Kevin said sternly, "we're not."
Again, Sasha let out a whimper. They were speaking about the long-term, about living arrangements. This made it difficult for her to breathe again.
Despite his frustration, Geo sat quietly and ate the meal in less than a minute. Everyone else was done soon after. Victoria savored every piece with incremental bites.
After eating, Kevin assigned tasks to the group. Wendy and Bleak washed the big bowl; Victoria, Ashley, and Sasha searched for more food, and the boys made sure it was safe to go upstairs. With what happened earlier, they weren't sure what to expect in their bedrooms. Luckily, when they arrived back to their rooms, everything was just the way they'd left it.
Despite having slept all night, Victoria felt exhausted. A long, soothing yawn spilled out of her mouth. A simmering heat burned behind her tired eyes. This time she passed the white dress in the room without noticing it and collapsed into bed. After a minute, she was asleep.
***
Sasha lay in bed, eyes transfixed on the ceiling. The only sound she could hear was that of the window crackling as wind pushed into it. All was still as she tried to remember how she got to bed. Her skirt was folded awkwardly in ruffles on the bed. Her fingers drummed on her slim stomach slowly. Sasha fought back the dark thoughts. All this would be over soon, her mind recited. Of course, she had no proof to back that up, but she ignored that too. She realized that she was alone. She refused to sleep alone. The others must have forgotten that she was only paired with Emily.
Rising from the bed, she patted down her skirt and headed to the door. She checked herself in the mirror, which hung over the door like a portal to another dimension, and noticed her blonde hair parted chaotically and her eyes puffy. She combed through her hair with shaky fingers, gritting her teeth when she forcibly pulled through a knot. She heard it tear in her head.
When she left the room, her eyes searched the hall like a lighthouse beacon, contemplating which room to disturb. She hoped to God that they weren't all asleep.
Kevin's room, her first choice, was locked. So was Victoria's. She saw a bar of light spilling under Winston's room and knocked with her finger bone. The sound mixed with her slow breathing. The door opened with haste, and Winston eyed Sasha with confusion.
"Were you asleep?" Sasha asked, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
"After everything that's happened? Not a chance," he said quietly.
She smiled painfully. "Can I come in?"
Winston stepped aside and she stepped in. The room was by far the largest in the house. It was about the size of the sitting room downstairs. Perhaps larger. Similar in design to her room, but with an added fireplace and an area in the corner of the room with incense and a peculiar rug, probably for meditating, Sasha thought.
Winston pressed his lips together in an awkward smile and crossed over to the fireplace.
"Shall I start one?" he asked, rolling a log with a small pitchfork from the wall.
Sasha shrugged. "Up to you."
He nodded and lit the fire. Sasha sat on the bed with her hands pressed between her thighs. Her eyes were lost somewhere beyond the room. When the flame was fully active, Winston went back to sit on the bed.
"How are you doing?" he asked.
Sasha hung her head heavily.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Sasha didn't move.
"Maybe we should try and get some sleep," he insisted, kicking off his shoes.
Sasha nodded.
He looked at her. "You can stay here if you'd like. I'll sleep on the armchair."
She shook her head without looking at him. "I'd rather sleep with you. I don't want to be alone, Winston."
He felt a rush of heat bake his cheeks.
"All right," he said.
He burned out the fire and shut all the lights. He and Sasha slipped under the covers. Oh dear God, Winston thought. I'm in bed with Sasha Perkins. Then another voice pressed through: She's grieving, you pig. Keep your sick dirty thoughts to yourself. Suddenly, Sasha pressed closer to Winston and his stray arm accidentally felt her silky thigh. His heart skipped to an abnormal pace. The feel of her body heat made his mind parade with fantasies. He battled to suppress them.
"Hold me," she said in the dark.
Winston swallowed. He anchored an arm around her slim shoulders and pulled her closer. He could smell warm strawberry body spray in her neck mixed with dry sweat, and her hair smelled of clean shampoo.
Sasha draped her arm over his chest.
"Thank you," Sasha whispered. "But don’t get used to this."
He wouldn't.
***
Kevin Cooper's eyes leaped open. He looked around the room and saw that Geo and Mike were gone. Sitting up, he rolled his shoulders back into a tight stretch and yawned. He felt like a bear stirring from hibernation. Seeing that it was still dark outside made him utter a sigh. The nightmare hadn't ended. Emily really was dead. They really were trapped.
He rose and shuffled to the hall, seeing that it was already lit. Geo and Mike were out there, watching the graveyard through the window. Their figures looked like huddled statues until they heard Kevin's footsteps and turned to him.
"Why didn't you wake me?" Kevin asked.
Mike looked to Geo. "Geo woke me up when he opened the door, so I came too."
Kevin nodded. "Is anybody else up?"
"Not that we know of."
"What are you guys doing?"
"You can see the graveyard from up here." Mike pointed, tapping the glass.
Kevin saw the hill buoyed in the distance. The fog made it difficult to make out, but the hill crested just high enough, like an iceberg looming over deadly waters.
"I think we can get past it," Geo blurted out.
Michael nodded. "There has to be a way."
"But we’ll get taken like," --Kevin hesitated-- "like Emily."
"Maybe we can try the back of the house," Mike suggested. "There's a fence, but right over’s Vender Avenue. We'll be safe there with all those shops open late."
"Late? We don't even know how late it is," Kevin grunted.
"We know it ain’t morning yet. And I’d rather take my chances out there."
Kevin shook his head in bewilderment. "We don’t stand a chance out there. What if--"
"We have to try." Victoria was standing at her door, a shadow in the dark.
The boys whipped around, then relaxed when they saw it was only her.
"How?" Kevin asked.
Victoria crossed over to the window and gazed at the cemetery, a spear of longing piercing her heart.
"Mike is right; we can go out the back," she said. "The fence is closer that way, and there’s less graves back there."
"But what if we…" Kevin looked gravely at the tombstones. "What if we die?"
Victoria scoffed. "I think that’s a risk we can all afford to take."