The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S13E12

Episode Date: September 8, 2019

It's episode 12 of Season 13. On this week's show we have tales about 80s-style horror films. "The Graduation" written by D. Williams (Story starts around 00:04:40) Illustration courtesy of Jörn Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Nicki – Nichole Goodnight, Kevin – Atticus Jackson, Anne – Jessica McEvoy, Matt – Matthew Bradford, Peggy – Addison Peacock, Radio DJ – Mick Wingert, Jeremy – Kyle Akers "Are You Adelaide?" written by Jimmy Juliano (Story starts around 00:31:15) Illustration courtesy of Mark Pelham Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Peter Lewis, Daniel – Kyle Akers, Caroline – Erin Lillis "On Your Honor" written by Rona Vaselaar (Story starts around 01:13:10) Illustration courtesy of Abby Howard Produced by: Jeff Clement Cast: Anna Marie – Nikolle Doolin, Anna’s Mom – Sarah Thomas, Stephanie – Nichole Goodnight, Jessica – Jessica McEvoy, Amanda – Erika Sanderson, Brittany – Addison Peacock, Mrs. Baker – Mary Murphy "Vermin" written by Meg Molloy (Story starts around 01:49:20) Illustration courtesy of Lukasz Godlewski Produced by: Jesse Cornett Cast: Frank – Atticus Jackson, Mike Vanderhoff Jr. – Graham Rowat, Gina – Jessica McEvoy, Wilbur Henderson – David Cummings, Larry – Dan Zappulla, Yuppie – David Ault, Fox – Jesse Cornett, Cop – Elie Hirschman "Close Your Eyes, Sleep" written by Olivia White (Story starts around 02:30:00) Illustration courtesy of Hasani Walker Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Narrator – Jessica McEvoy, Vanessa – Addison Peacock, Lottie – Mary Murphy, Ash – Erin Lillis. Meagan – Nichole Goodnight, Mr. Audrey – Mick Wingert, Mom – Nikolle Doolin, Mrs. Audrey – Sarah Thomas "But There’s No Sleep at Camp" written by Olivia White (Episode Wraparound Story) Illustration courtesy of Hasani Walker Produced by: Phil Michalski Cast: Robert – David Cummings, Scott – Peter Lewis, Dakota – Addison Peacock, Kimberly – Nichole Goodnight, Emilio – Atticus Jackson, Effie – Jessica McEvoy, Ben – David Ault, Leslie – Nikolle Doolin Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast   Click here to learn more about American Horror Story 1984 on FX   Click here to learn more about D. Williams   Click here to learn more about Jimmy Juliano   Click here to learn more about Rona Vaselaar   Click here to learn more about Olivia White   Executive Producer & Host: David Cummings Musical score composed by: Brandon Boone "But There’s No Sleep at Camp" illustration courtesy of Hasani Walker Audio program ©2018-2019 - Creative Reason Media Inc. - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors.   Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

This episode of the No Sleep Podcast is brought to you by American Horror Story 1984. Premiers September 18th at 10 p.m. on FX. Bobby's a real back-to-nature guy, huh? How long you reckon it'll take him to get that fire going? Too long. It's freezing. What's wrong with you that go lighter like any normal person? Oh, ye of little faith. I bet our camp leader is quite an expert with wilderness survival.

Now, what was that about it taking too long? So you've all been arriving throughout the day, and I've spoken to most of you personally, but I haven't had a chance to address everyone as a group yet. Firstly, I'd like to thank you all for coming up to Camp Shady Pines. As you know, we've had some trouble over the last few years, so I really want to make this reopening of the camp as grand as we can. So it means a lot that all of you have signed up to be counselors

for the summer, especially given the, well, the history of the place. What does he mean by that? You don't know? Wow. We'll address that later. For now, I just want to remind everyone that the kids arrive next Friday. We have six days to get everything ready. From tomorrow, it's going to be hard work from dawn till dusk. But for tonight, I want everyone to relax, have fun, and get to know each other.

Sweet. Kumbaya around the campfire. So I thought. we could all go around the circle and introduce ourselves. I'll start. I'm Robert, owner of Camp Shady Pines. I'm a chill, fun guy. I hope.

But I can be a bit of a harsh taskmaster, so you'd better stay on my good side. I'm Kimberly. I loved summer camp as a kid, so I wanted to give something back by making some other children's summers as special as mine were. I'm Emilio.

I'm just here to pick up chicks. Kidding, kidding. I, yeah, what Kimberly said. I'm Dakota. I never did the whole summer camp thing, and I'm always looking for new life experiences, so I thought being a counselor was a good thing to try out. I'm Ben.

I'm British. And? Proud. I'm British and proud. And, well, I figured summer camp was an American tradition, and I had to be part of it. of that. I'm Scott. I like transwave and long walks in the rain. I'm just here to see if the rumors about the place are true. What rumors? And finally. I'm Effie. Well, okay then. Oh, great to know you all.

So what now? Let's break out the booze and get this party started. Oh, oh yeah. Um, there's no drinking at Camp Shady Pines. one. You're not kidding, are you? I mean, it was in your welcome pack. Oh. Oh, yeah, yeah, of course it was. Silly me.

Hey, we have root beer and barbecue and smores, though. Let's get cooking. So, you know what we used to do at camp? Tell scary stories. Oh, man, yes. Ah, now there's a tradition. We could create our own rendition of American Horror Story. Dude, I love that show.

It's back on the air soon, isn't it? Yep. American Horror Story 1984. Premier's September 18th on FX at 10 p.m. And now, boy, it's set in the 80s and at a summer camp just like this one. Camp Redwood. Dude. Sweet. Well, while we eagerly wait for American Horror Story 1984, maybe we can share some American horror stories of our own.

Uh, no offense, Ben. None taken. Oh, oh, oh, can I go first? There's a story I've been dying to tell. It's a dead classic slasher killer story. I first heard it when I was a kid at camp, and it stuck with me ever since. It's called The Graduation. His graduate is ready to party.

Get your head back in the car before it gets knocked off by a tree. What? I'm having fun. Isn't that what this is for? Why don't you listen to some good music instead of this over-since sellout crap? None of these days, Anne, you are gonna find that somewhere in that black safety pin studded heart of yours you actually like over since sellout crap. As if. Ann, why'd you even bother coming if you're just gonna bitch the whole time? Matt! Be nice!

Sorry, sorry. Oh, I think I know what the problem here is. I think little Annie just needs to... Lighten up a bit. Want some? Oh my god, Nikki. That is strong. Where did you get this?

I thought you were broke. You know, Stan, that business major I had accounting with? Well, at our last study group, he was talking about how he had some, and I just asked real nice if he would share with me. Didn't even cost me a dime. Babe! Well, Miss Nicky, don't mind if I do partake. Holy shit.

Peggy, you gotta try this. Oh, no, no, I can't. I shouldn't. Oh, come on. You'll never be a good doctor if you're not willing to experiment. Isn't that what science is all about? Hey, now who's not being nice? Okay, I'll try some.

Whoa, watch the flash. Sorry. I had to capture the moment that pure, darling Peggy succumbed to peer pressure. Wouldn't Nancy Reagan just die? Okay, here goes. Oh, my God. How do you... No more for Peggy. Pass it back.

Hmm, Kev, baby, you want some? Nah, well, I'm driving, babe. You roll a new one to share with me when we get there. Well, if you insist. Matt? No, thanks. I'm set with my friend Jack here. Ooh, can I have some? Yeah, sure.

You don't even want a tiny puff? Peggy did it? and nearly ruptured a lung. No, no, it's not for me. So lame. Pass it back. I want some more. This is fun, guys. I'm glad we decided to do this.

It is fun. Oh, but thank God Jeremy didn't come. Why did you even invite him, Peggy? I don't know. I guess I thought he'd have a good time with us. Well, don't worry. I'm sure Captain Freak had plenty of other engagements to keep him entertained. That's not nice, Nikki.

Maybe not, Peg. But she's not wrong. Take it from the biggest freak in this car. That guy is weird. You really think so? Totally. Like mouth breathing during fetal pig dissection's weird. Ugh, in those glasses.

Barf. Oh. Hey, come on, guys. If Peggy thinks he's okay, then you can't be that bad. Maybe it would have been cool to have him around. I mean, why else would she ask him to come with? Oh my God, Peggy. Did you fuck Jeremy Preston?

What? No, no way. Holy shit, she did. I did not. Oh, Peggy wants to have Jeremy's weird babies. Don't worry, Cinderella. Maybe Prince Dweebling will show up to sweep you off your feet. God, I hope not. Guys, cut it out. Leave her alone.

Kevin, turn the music back of. Yes, we made it. Isn't it beautiful? It's just the parking lot, Nikki. Yeah, but this parking lot signals beginning of an amazing night that will not end with me having to go to class hungover. Yeah, babe. You'll just be hung over at home. Woo! Hung over at home! I haven't been hung over at home in four years.

God, you are so loud! Who cares? There's no one around to hear me, not for miles. I know, but you're gonna give me a headache. Oh, does Annie need some medicine for her head? Yeah. Annie needs some medicine from that bottle. you stole from Matt. She sure does. Got the beer? Got the beer. Got the boombox? Got the boombox. We're all set to go. I think the pass to the lake is right here.

Yeah, that's it. It's only about 50 feet that way through the trees, and then we're on the shore. Honestly, Peg, I don't know how you managed to get an A on Dr. Carter's final. That thing almost killed my chances to graduate. He's a sadist, I swear. Oh, you know, the study guy was a big help. Yeah, babe. And maybe you'd know that if you ever bothered to study. Shut up, football star. Like you ever had to study for anything.

Hey, wait, Matt can vouch for me. We studied together like, at least once. Oh, we studied like at least once. Here it is, just through here. Right? I told you guys it was perfect. It looks just like being on the beach. Well, but no waves.

But that's what makes it so cool, how still it is. You see the way the moon reflects on the water there? I'd put that on an album cover. Oh, yeah, for that sweet noise band you're in. I bet it'll go platinum. Hey, he stole that from me. Not stole. We were supposed to share it, remember?

Gag me. I'm going to go take some more pictures. Be back in a few. Be safe. Matt, throw me a beer. Nicky and I are gonna go. go for a walk. Have fun, you two. So, uh, medical school, huh? Yeah. I'm, I'm really excited. Good, good. I'm excited for you. It's kind of far away, though. Yeah, I guess it is. It's going to be

weird. New city, you know? New people. Do you want a beer? Oh, maybe. I'm not sure. Here, why don't you share one? That way, if you don't want that much, I can just finish it. Well, okay. Here. Thanks. The lake, I mean, it was a really good idea, Matt. Better than any stupid rat party or university-sponsored celebration. Oh, thanks.

So, what do you think you'll do now? Like, a graduate program or... Me? No, no way. I'm done with college. I'm not yours or Jeremy's level of smart. You shouldn't sell yourself short. I think you're smart. Yeah?

Well, that's really sweet, Peggy. But still, I think I'll go out and get a job instead, get some real-world experience before I go work for my dad. I'm probably going to take over for him when he retires, you know? Yeah, that's not bad either. Family is important and family businesses. Yeah, yeah, it is. I'm really glad you got into that school, Peggy.

Even if it is far away, I think you're going to be a great doctor someday. That means a lot. So, like, just out of curiosity, where Anne and Nikki telling the truth about your thing with Jeremy? Like, have you guys... Matt, please, I just... Yeah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Forget I asked. Here, give me your hand. But why?

Because I think we should dance. Dance? Yeah, dance. It's a celebration, so why not? Okay, so I put my hand here, right? And yours goes there. Yeah, like that. And we sway. Okay? Ready?

Spin. Really pretty tonight. Thank you. You look nice, too. To be honest, Peggy, I think you look pretty all the time. I, uh, I like this song. Me too. Are we going to kiss now?

Do you want to? Oh, gosh. Oh, I guess not. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean... No, don't worry. It's cool.

I'm sorry, Matt. Don't be sorry. It was stupid anyway. No, no, it wasn't. Come on, let's go for a swim. Wait, now? Yeah, come on. Take off your shoes, let's go.

All right, that was one for those young lovers out there tonight. We'll be back with more music after a word from our sponsors here on WNBK. Hey, Peggy, Splash Fight. Ah! No, no, you got water in my house. eyes. Matt? Hey, Matt, where'd you go?

Matt, this isn't funny. You better not try to grab me or something. Please. Matt, I'm out of the water, so no more games. Come out. Matt, Nikki. What's going on? It's Matt.

Peggy, what? Why are you wet? Matt and I, we were swimming and he slashed me and I couldn't see him and then he was, I couldn't see him anymore. He didn't come out of the water. Matt? Matt? We got to find him. Maybe he just got turned around. We don't have a fire or anything, so maybe he just misjudged and got back out somewhere further down. Yeah, yeah, that's probably what happened, right, Peggy? I don't know. Maybe. Well, then we got to look for him. And go that way and see if you.

you could find him. Nikki and I will go back this way. Heggy, you stay here in case he comes out closer than we think, okay? Okay. Got it. Matt? Come on. Matt, where are you? Guys? Pegg, what is it? Did Matt come back? Did you find him? No, I heard a noise. I think someone else is out here. What? Who else would be out here? Maybe they can help us. No, no. This didn't sound like someone who wanted to help. What do he mean? I don't know. They wouldn't answer me and ran through the trees like they didn't want me to see them. And I think they broke something. You're just on edge. We all are. It was probably nothing, Peck.

It wasn't nothing. Someone was there. Wait, where's Anne? I haven't seen her. She hasn't come back yet. Maybe she went further than we did. Maybe she found him. Come on. Anne. Man. Matt! Stop. I told you someone else was here. Oh my God, Kev. Don't worry, babe. Don't worry. It's okay. Hey, who is that? Come out, man. Before I beat the shit out of you.

This, Ann, you've scared us. Did you find Matt? Come on, Ann. Stop messing around in the bushes like a weirdo and help us out. Guys. Guys, over there. Who is that? Over there. Look. But... Then who... Annie! Sure. He took my camera. Who did this to you? A man, he...

What do you mean, no face? Anne, what does that mean? Maybe she's... She's gone. For the car. What about Matt? You heard her. Whoever that was must have got him too.

We can't stay. We can't help him. If I... Keys are gone. What do you mean the keys are gone? I left them in here. Whoever busted in the windshield must have taken them. What do we do?

I don't know. I need time to think. Just give me a minute to think. I can't get it out. Oh God, Peggy, your foot just... Let me see here. Just... I can't quite.

It's slippery. Hold on. Got it. Here, just hold still. Let me wrap it. Oh, Nikki, your dress. It's just a dress. Don't worry.

Are you okay now? Yeah, I'm okay. I'm okay. Okay, good. Kevin. What should we do? I'm going to run for it. What?

No. No. Listen, I'm not just going to leave you here. You two will hide, and I'll run and get help. I'll come back for you. Can't we all run? We won't make it. With the drills coach makes us doing practice, I can outrun anyone.

But you won't be able to keep up, especially with Peggy's foot like that. If I run, and you both hide in the trees there until I get back, we can get through this. What about the car? I don't know how to get it started without keys. And with the windows broken like that, waiting in it for me to get back is more likely to get you trapped and keep you safe. You hide in the trees? I'll run.

It's our only option. I will come back for you. I swear. Okay, baby. All right, now go. Hide. Further. Further, I can still see you.

Stop there. Hold still. Okay, that's good. Stay there and stay quiet. Run like the lightning, Kev. I love you. I love you so much. I'll be back soon. I love you. Don't cry. You'll be okay, won't he? Of course he will. I'm really scared, Peggy. I know. How did this even happen? Annie and Matt? I don't know. But we have to be quiet now, okay?

Okay. It's gonna be okay. Everything will be okay. I want to go home. Shh, shh, shh, don't move. Do you see him? No, the trees. Did you? He did, but he was wearing a mask like a... I don't know. It looked like he didn't have a face.

He drove away. Yeah, yeah, he did. He's gone. But why? Why would he just leave? He has to know there were more of us. Who cares? Maybe he lost interest, maybe he missed his freaking curfew. It doesn't matter. He's gone.

Now, come on. If we hurry up, we can catch it with... Kevin? Oh, Nikki, don't go. Don't. I can't run. Please. What do I do?

Hide. Hide. Hide. So we're finishing off this block with one last request. This one coming in from Tyler for his lovely lady, Karina. Tyler tells me that Karina is a warranted. Let go of me. This makes her feel better when she's homesick.

Since it was a big hit last year back in our home country. Let go of me. Don't touch me. Jeremy? Yeah. Oh, my God. Oh, God. Thank you.

Thank you. Whoa. Hey. Don't do that. It's okay. What are you doing here? You invited me, remember? But I thought you couldn't.

But you're here. You're here. and your clothes. Did he hurt you? Where's your car? No, I'm not hurt. And I parked about a mile down the road. We have to go.

There's a man, and we have to get to your car. If you can help me, if you help me, my foot. Whoa, what's your rush? You don't want to stay a minute? I turn the music back on for us and everything. Maybe we can dance. No, no, we have to go now. No, we have to hurry.

Okay, okay, geez, I'll hurry. At least, let me take your picture first. You really do look so pretty tonight. Jeremy, where does you get that camera? Well, from Anne, of course. I didn't mean to scare her quite so much. I think it might have been the mask. I'm not sure.

Nikki didn't seem to notice it, but maybe she was distracted by Kevin's head. or maybe I took her eyes too fast for her to really get a chance to look at it. Matt and Kevin, I wasn't expecting much of a reaction from anyway. Matt didn't even see it. And with you, I thought, why even bother with it at this point? Honestly, I really wanted you to see me anyway. I thought it would be more fun. But...

Oh, that's what makes it all so special. Don't you see? You killed them, all of them. Matt and Anne. Yeah, Matt and Anne and Kevin and Nikki, all of them. I always wanted to do it, you know. And I've done animals before, but never people. I never knew who it should be.

But then you invited me here and it was, well, it was like it was fate. But why? Why would you do this? Because I like you too. And I so wanted you to be my first. Pretty Peggy and all her friends. I mean, there will be lots more after you, of course, but this way I get to carry you around in my heart forever. See?

It's beautiful. No. Please don't. Please don't. Don't worry, Peggy. It's so sharp, you won't even feel it. I promise. Don't struggle.

Don't you see? It's perfect. Isn't it perfect, Peggy? Isn't it perfect? Well, that was something? I suppose slasher killers are a bit of a sore spot for you. What do you mean? Oh, you know, killers in the wilderness.

Group of plucky young adults getting picked off. I imagine Robert's not keen on hearing about it. But why? Let's just move on Does anyone have another story? Oh, hey, what's wrong? Your story was great. It's not that.

I just miss my family. I get like this on the first day of camp. Jeez. Don't be mean, Scott. Everyone copes with things in different ways. Yeah, I get blind drunk and drown my sorrows in the arms of a good woman. Don't even come near me, creep. Hey, hey, let's everyone try and get a lot.

Yes, quite. Let's see some camaraderie. We need to act like a family. Isn't that right, Robert? Well, uh, yes. Yeah, that's right, Scott. His family's important, isn't it, Robert? Yes. So if, for instance, a beloved family member disappeared under sinister circumstances in an event that we still don't have clear answers about, you'd want to know what happened, right? Well, yes.

Is this going somewhere? No, nowhere at all. Just a hypothetical. Anyway, I've got a story, if you guys want to hear it. Yes, please. What was Scott talking about? Beats me. Maybe it's something to do with...

Listen up, everyone. My story is about family and bonds, connections that span the decades. So do listen up. As I ask, are you, Adelaide? Neil had read about ghosts before. They often haunted the pages of his comic books that arrived in the mail every six weeks, and he'd checked out the scary stories book from the library,

the one with the tombstone on the front cover, and the black cat with the yellow eyes on the back cover, at least seven times before the librarian just let him keep it. But now he was looking right at one, a real live ghost. Her face was disfigured. The left side was so torn up that Daniel could see the spirit's teeth and jawbone. The flesh that hung off her cheek looked fresh. Her left eye socket was empty and the right eyelid drooped. Daniel thought he knew the rules of ghosts and what to do if he ever encountered one, but in that moment he froze. Thoughts raced through the boy's head.

What is she doing here? What does she want? Is she going to kill me? He didn't know the answer to any of those questions, but he moved past them pretty quickly. Instead, he landed upon something the books never mentioned, something that caught him by surprise. She smells like cinnamon? None of the books ever talked about what ghosts smell like. Daniel expected them to smell earthy.

are like a bin of wet worms. Do they all? Smell like cinnamon? Ghosts were real. The year was 1984. It happens once a year, sometimes a few times a year. Henry's train yard,

a train-themed restaurant and playground closed since the mid-1980s opens its doors. It's a magical place, well-done burgers and baskets, of crispy waffle fries delivered on a miniature electric locomotive. The train circles the counter before heading back into the kitchen, empty flat cars awaiting more food to fill the bellies and imaginations of the excited

children. Outside, kids and adults speed around evergreens on dirt rails in steel, four-wheeled pedal cars. No one wears a helmet. There aren't any to be found. The slide on the train playground is rusted and has jagged corners, but no one seems to mind. The property owner, Daniel Jacobs, is something of an enigma. Daniel is approaching 50, his hair graying and his beard unruly. His overalls complete the look of a somewhat offbeat train conductor. He tends to the grounds and interior of the restaurant, but he's never officially opened Henry's train yard. since assuming the land in 1997.

Instead, he hosts private events, mainly for train-obsessed children and their family and friends. Oftentimes, these children are disadvantaged, to have special needs or are sick. Daniel keeps in touch with regional organizations, ones that provide opportunities for these kids. They help coordinate with Daniel, and Daniel hosts the children and their guests,

Food and entertainment are on the house. The most curious piece of entertainment at Henry's train yard is a vintage Simon knockoff game. The memory game, players must memorize and repeat a sequence of tones and lights on the circular, multicolored electronic board. It has its own special room in the restaurant. Daniel encourages the children to play and he will scratch his beard nervously as he watching. The game has only four colors, red, green, yellow, and blue. The longer a player lasts, the sequences become faster and more complex. It's simple to play, but difficult to master.

The children often bore of the game rather quickly. There is a lot more to see and do at the restaurant, after all, but no one could ever be as obsessive about the game as Daniel himself. Most hermits have a rumor attached to the moment. and Daniel is no exception. The locals say that Daniel spends much of his time playing the Simon knockoff, all alone, holed up in his home behind the restaurant. He keeps track of the color sequences in small notebooks,

searching for a mysterious combination that has eluded him for decades. Hundreds of these notebooks line wooden bookshelves in Daniel's living room. No one is quite sure what. Daniel is doing, what code he's trying to crack. They just know that it will take him a really, really long time. Daniel is searching for a specific sequence of the four colors that is 25 moves in succession. The odds are not in his favor. Assuming the Simon knockoff does not have a pre-programmed limit of potential sequences, there are one quadrillion, 125,899. billion, 906,842,6244 possible combinations.

Yes, you heard that right. Even if Daniel hit 100 correct and unique sequences of 25 moves per day, it would take him over 30 billion years to attempt every combination. So what is he doing? Daniel won't tell, but he knows. He's hit the combination before back when he was a boy. If he's done it before, he can do it again, he reasons. He'd call what happened back then a million to one shot,

but that isn't doing it justice. What Daniel stumbled across when he was 11 years old was a near impossible sequence to hit randomly. It was so unique and special that something happened. The sequence of tones and colors reached someplace else. It reached beyond the realm of our understanding to a different plane of existence, to the separation between them and us. In its heyday, Henry's train yard was a formidable foe in the family restaurant industry of northeast Minnesota.

Families and adventurers flock to the area to enjoy camping and fishing, fresh air and serene lakeside accommodations and trails. Henry's train yard was tucked away down a country road between two towns. If you weren't looking for the restaurant, you might not find it. Like many businesses in the area, Henry's train yard relied on the summer tourist influx to stay afloat. The restaurant did 70% of its yearly business in the months of July and August. For much of the year, business was, for all intents and purposes, pretty dead. Its owner, in 1984, the year that a ghost appeared before Daniel Jacobs was Henry Sturchy.

Henry had opened the restaurant in 1979 in memory of his daughter, Adelaide, who died at the age of 20 in a horrific accident involving a docked boat and a propeller. Adelaide had always been known to the local. for her love of trains. When she was a child, Henry often drove his daughter down to Duluth to take a train ride to the Twin Cities from the Union Depot. Don't speak of her, especially in front of Henry. Daniel understood his mother's warning.

He didn't want to upset Henry, not when he'd been so good to Daniel and his family. Adelaide's death is the reason Henry took us in. Like Henry, Daniel's mother was a single parent. and she too lived with loss. Caroline Jacobs lost her husband to cancer at the impossibly young age of 29, and she raised Daniel and his older brother, Tim, alone. Caroline didn't have an education beyond high school. She never thought she would need it.

She found a job waiting tables at Henry's train yard in 1981, and Henry allowed her and her children to live in the guest house on property rent-free. The kids were put to work in the summer, mainly grilling burgers and calling out orders as train stops. Next stop, Grand Moray. Daniel was the gopher. He'd pedal his bike the five miles into town when they ran out of milk or needed a part for a pedal car. Sometimes he'd mix the chocolate malts and poured the soda. When the soda wasn't as fizzy as usual, Daniel felt like it was his fault and would apologize to the guests.

Caroline managed the place on the few occasions when Henry was away. She'd earn a bit more money on those days. The Jacobs weren't taking any vacations to Disney World, but they scratched out enough to get by. For the most part, they were happy. The summer of 84 changed that. Bull never meant to summon a ghost. And even if he did, he would have never chosen to summon the restaurant owner's daughter.

What happened began as an accident. Daniel had been collecting UPC symbols from bags of imported flour for months. Send 100 UPC symbols and receive a free prize. The message was written entirely in Italian, but Daniel figured it out. The boy cut out the symbols before dragging the garbage to the road once a week. And when he collected 100, he sent them away to the Italian address on the body. box. Ten weeks later, a package arrived in the mail addressed to Daniel. It was a foreign knock-off Simon machine, a Silas, it was called. Daniel played incessantly. Outside of reading Hardy Boys' books

or pumping quarters into the pinball machine in the arcade, he jimmied open the lock and used the same quarters for weeks at a time, but Daniel never told anyone this. There wasn't much to do in the summer, so Daniel played Silas for hours on end. He regularly had runs of 15 or 18 sequences. He strived for more. One late July evening when everyone else had gone to bed and the night was still, Daniel was playing Silas alone in the dark restaurant. He stayed awake by guzzling cups of soda he'd poured for himself earlier in the day and stashed away, and it was in the restaurant. And it was in the restaurant that Daniel went on his record run. He hit 22 in a row, then 23, then 24, and then when Daniel triumphantly smashed to the yellow button to hit 25 in a row, something strange happened.

The Silas machine began to shake. The colors and tones spat out faster and faster. Daniel thought it was all part of the game. When the restaurant began to rumble, he realized it wasn't. Four light bulbs shattered, and the miniature train fired up and circled the counter. The bell that Tim rang to announce orders began clanging on its own. The restaurant got immediately colder. Then, all at once, the bell stopped.

The train slowed to a halt. It was dark and quiet. Daniel thought back on this later, the moments before the ghost arrived and concluded he was more confused than scared. He thought it was a power surge and maybe the wind blew into the restaurant and rang that bell. Normal, rational things. Had he stuck around one minute longer, had his mother not rushed into the restaurant and yanked him outside asking him, What in the hell are you doing in there? Daniel would have seen the black mist circle between the chairs and bar stools

and materialize into the form of a dead girl. As it stood, Daniel didn't see the dead girl until three nights later. Daniel was lying in bed, considering all the strange things that had been happening. There was, of course, the initial night with the Silas game in the row. restaurant, but since then, other odd events had occurred. On two occasions, Daniel had returned to his bedroom and found all 25 of his Hardy Boys' books on the floor, laid out in five equal rows on the carpet. He didn't do this, and his brother shrugged his shoulders. All of the laundry detergent was dumped into the dishes for the stray cats behind the large shed, and Daniel simply poured

it back into the correct container. Thankfully, no cats got sick. Tim complained of the restaurant sink, spewing the rustiest water he'd ever seen. So damn thick it could have been blood, Tim said. Someone scrubbed hello under the bathroom mirror with soap, except it was written backwards. When neither of the Jacobs' children admitted to it,

Caroline punished them both. Daniel thought something was going on, something otherworldly. He'd read enough scary stories to know how these things go. Maybe, just maybe, that Silas game had summoned a ghost. His suspicions only increased when Henry announced that morning he was leaving town for five days. Henry never left for that long before. He said he was traveling to Iowa to visit his sister. sister who was sick. He was on the road before the lunch crowd rolled in, and he put Caroline in charge

in his absence. The timing was too convenient, Daniel thought, while lying in bed. Maybe Henry was concerned and needed answers somewhere, he figured. Maybe he thinks there's a ghost too. After all, Henry seemed like a spiritual man. He spent a lot of time in his garden, peacefully strolling amongst the plants and herbs like a monk Daniel saw in a documentary at school. Most nights, after closing, Henry would rock in his wooden chair, eyes closed, and listening to the wind chimes on his front porch. Wooden crosses lined to the walls of the staircase in Henry's blue shuttered home. Henry might be the only person who'd believe me. Because when he told his family, his, uh, we are being haunted.

by a ghost theory, they thought Daniel was nuts. As if on cue, to prove to Daniel that he was not nuts, the ghost materialized before Daniel's bed moments later. Daniel wasn't scared. He'd spent enough time thinking about a ghost to simply feel vindicated. The aroma of cinnamon helped too. It reminded Daniel of being a small boy and waking up to the smell of pancakes, with cinnamon swirls. They were his father's specialty. A light mist surrounded the ghost girl. She wasn't translucent. She looked real enough. Her appearance was grotesque. The girl looked to have been torn apart and stitched back together. Her dress was ripped down the side and her dark hair was smeared with blood. The ghost's face was a mangled mess. All the thing was a mangled mess. All the

things consistent with a gruesome propeller accident. Daniel assumed a ghost would take its best form, a pristine version of themselves, from before their death, however they died. He was wrong. Daniel immediately felt pity, and he was certain he knew who the ghost was. He'd seen a picture of Henry's daughter once, and what stood before him was a sad, butchered version. version of that photo. Are you Adelaide? The dead girl's mouth clicked open and shut.

She tried to speak, but she couldn't. She lifted her right arm and reached out. Half of her skin was gone. Daniel sat up and slowly reached out to her. He expected to reach through her like people had done in the ghost stories

he'd read, but that didn't happen. Their hands brushed one another. Daniel felt wetness, and he pulled back. His fingers were spotted with her blood. Daniel decided to keep the ghost a secret. She was so peaceful and calm around him. She looked like she needed Daniel for something, and he thought that thing was friendship.

A machine had hurt her before. Daniel wouldn't hurt her, but someone else might. Besides, the ghost girl made Daniel happy. She appeared to him only when Daniel was alone. A black mist would materialize out of thin air, and a few seconds later, the dead girl would be standing before Daniel's very eyes. Daniel talked to her, and she'd just listen. Sometimes she'd sit on Daniel's bed, other times on the floor.

He talked about life at Henry's train yard, his daily chores, his dreams of seeing Yellowstone National Park one day. He took out his scary stories book and pointed at a picture of a ghost. With her one eye, the dead girl gazed absently at the page. When she'd eventually leave, she would leave behind pools of blood on Daniel's sheets or on the carpet. It always disappeared within seconds. That was never in any of Daniel's books, and he found it interesting. Are you, Adelaide? He would ask the girl again and again after she appeared.

She couldn't speak. But there was a twitch in her jaw and a slight nod of her head that Daniel interpreted as understanding. On one occasion after asking her the question, the ghost's left leg quivered, and the lamp in Daniel's room shattered. Caroline rushed in to find Daniel all alone, who lied and said that a yo-yo had flown out of his hands. Daniel eventually decided the question was upsetting the ghost and stopped asking.

The dead don't like to be reminded they were once living. Over the next few days, Daniel sneaked out late at night and on cue the ghost appeared to him. They raced around the dirt track on pedal cars in the darkness. Daniel in the lead, he did know the route by heart and the dead girl following close behind. Daniel wondered what someone else would see if they were here. Would they see Daniel and the girl or Daniel and a car with no driver? Does someone have to believe to see her? He decided he didn't want to find out.

Adelaide belonged to him. They played pinball. She watched him play solid. hair on the carpet in his bedroom in the moonlight. Daniel taught the dead girl the Silas game, and he smiled, fascinated as she managed to repeat a sequence of three colors. This is how you came here. I got 25 in a row, and then you showed up. I think it was a special combination. It was magic. Daniel wondered if he'd ever hit that sequence again, and what would happen if he did. He couldn't even remember the exact combination anyway, and would Silas even present

that sequence ever again? He didn't want to hit it because that meant the ghost might vanish. She was so lonely and lovely that he couldn't let that happen. But others saw a different side of the dead girl. She appeared all bent up and crooked like a pretzel in the freezer in the back of the restaurant. A minimum wage restaurant employee opened the freezer and saw her there. Goo and pus oozed out of the ghost's empty eye socket and the worker nearly passed out in terror. He slammed the freezer shut, ran outside, and locked himself in his car shaking. When Caroline checked the freezer, there was nothing there but frozen. hamburger patties. The employee quit that afternoon. The ghost untied guests' shoelaces when they

ate at their tables, and a few of the patrons tripped while standing up. One guest fell and suffered an elbow contusion. A small girl at the train counter looked down and saw a pair of disfigured, bloody hands untying her laces. She screamed and her barstool toppled over. The girl cried for three minutes before her mother could calm her down. A car with four teenagers was driving by the restaurant in the middle of the night. A figure appeared in the middle of the road, blood dripping down its fingers and onto the pavement. The driver swerved out of the way and slammed on the brakes. The car careened into a ditch, nearly slamming into a tree.

The four teenagers looked back and no one was in the road. A ceiling fan fell. Almost flattening a child, thankfully he dodged it. Two 13-year-olds watched as an arcade machine simply flipped over onto its side. The electric train on the counter picked up speed and careened off the tracks, knocking over two milkshake glasses and a plate of onion rings. An old man nearly had a heart attack when he looked in his rearview mirror in the parking lot of the restaurant and saw a freshly dead face with gaping wounds.

Caroline walked out of her front door and appeared to trip and fall down the three porch steps. She claimed as she felt a pair of hands push her. Daniel watched all of this happen. He knew it was only a matter of time before the dead girl killed someone. This must be what ghosts do. Even the good ones, like... Adelaide, the spooking and haunting turn into rage and terror, even if they can't help it. It will always escalate.

The boy knew what he had to do. As much as it pained him, Daniel tried to hit the 25-move sequence on the Silas machine to send her back. He didn't even know if that would work, but he tried anyway. Daniel couldn't even get to 20 moves before messing up the sequence. and he cursed his poor play. He played Silas so much one night he wore out the batteries and needed new ones. The ghost watched him endlessly tapping the buttons, this time floating up to the corner of Daniel's bedroom and staying there,

perched like a bird of prey. Daniel was horrified. She'd swoop down and kill him. Daniel knew he was playing in vain. He looked to his scary stories book for a... answers, and one thing was clear from the spooky tales within the worn pages. When a ghost settles its unfinished business, it can rest in peace. So, on a hot August afternoon, four days after the ghost first appeared, a sweaty Daniel peddled his bicycle hard into town to retrieve three

gallons of milk and chocolate sauce for the restaurant. He first stopped off at the library and explored the micro-feche newspaper archives. He found an article about the death of Adelaide Sturche and the horrifying accident involving a boat propeller. She'd gone off hiking to a nearby lake and was found dead, mutilated almost beyond recognition. He stared at the picture of a smiling young Adelaide and he ran his finger across the screen, almost disbelieving what she had become. Included in the article was a quote by Henry. It's my fault, he said. I'm the one who suggested she go to the lake.

I'm responsible. I wish I could tell her that. That was what Daniel needed. The ghost's unfinished business was getting an apology from her father of hearing from him that her death was his fault. Daniel knew it in his bones that this was the case. It had to be. Henry was due to come back the following afternoon.

Daniel and everyone else had to make it one more night. All of these years later, a groan Daniel Jacobs thinks about the events of that fateful August afternoon in 1984, often. He sometimes wonders what he thought he knew, what he actually knew, and how he was so stupid. He wrote this in one of the notebooks once. kids can be so stupid I missed a lot of the signs but how was I supposed to know how would an 11 year old kid know

that wind chimes and herbs are used to ward off evil spirits that blue shutters might protect someone from a ghost with a grudge that Henry had created a fortress for himself from the paranormal how was I supposed to know about the other girl when a young Daniel came home from the library that day he braced himself for the worst strangely there were no more

Incidents the rest of the day. It was as if the dead girl knew what Daniel was up to, and she wanted to ratchet up the tension. Daniel didn't sleep at all that night. Every creak and crack in the house was her creeping about. Every tree branch scratching the roof was the girl crawling around above him. She didn't appear to Daniel that night. When Henry's truck pulled into his driveway the next afternoon, things went south in a hurry. Dark clouds rolled in and the wind picked up. It was as if the ghost had been saving up her energy for one monumental showdown. Henry burst out of his car and sprinted inside his home, plugging two jugs of water. He slammed the front door shut.

the wind chimes rang incessantly. Daniel, his mother, and Tim watched the storm brewing from Daniel's bedroom window in the guesthouse. Caroline was just expressing thankfulness that this was the restaurant's off day. Where would all the guests go if there was a tornado? When unseen forces suddenly threw Daniel out of the bedroom, the door slammed shut on its own, locking Caroline and Tim in. Daniel was a little woozy, but he wasn't hurt. He climbed to his feet, and he wasn't totally processing his family banging on the locked bedroom door. Daniel was staring at the

ghost girl who appeared before him in the main room. Her appearance was unchanged since the last time he'd seen her, but Daniel sensed subtle changes in her posture. She seemed angry and vengeful. When she approached Daniel, it seemed with intent to harm. The boy immediately forgot his plans to arrange a cordial reunion with Henry, and instead he decided to run. He didn't know where he was going, but he found himself outside in the swirling winds, and there she was. He turned and ran in another direction, and there she was again.

It wasn't quite obvious to the panicked and friends. frightened boy at the moment, but the ghost girl was leading him somewhere. Daniel found himself in Henry's shed in the back of the property, and the dead girl shoved Daniel into the wall, shattering some old boards and exposing a small, hidden room. It was in that room that Daniel found the body. She had been buried some time ago, but evidently not deep enough. Time and water leakage had exposed enough for a skull and shoulder blade to partially creep out of the ground. There were a few other things, too. A dirty and stained dress. The same one the ghost girl wore when she appeared to Daniel. Pieces of jewelry and a journal. The journal of Becky Mitchell. Someone had written

on the cover. A young woman, Daniel reasoned. It had that young woman type. penmanship, neat and youthful but refined, like his own mother's handwriting had once been, in old letters of hers he'd read. Later, when it was all over, Daniel would know all of the facts. Every single mortifying and horrible fact covered ad nauseum in the newspapers for weeks. But, sitting in the dirt and flipping through the journal pages, Daniel was able to learn enough. He started at the end. He figured that was the most important place to start. Adelaide wasn't alone when she died. This friend, Becky Mitchell, had been with her, and she had accidentally started the boat with Adelaide near the propeller. She was responsible, and she vowed to keep it a secret. It was between

her and the journal. Henry had his suspicions. And he stole Becky's journal not long after his daughter died. But Daniel didn't know that yet. Daniel didn't know that a grieving and vengeful Henry took Becky Mitchell and killed her in the same way that his Adelaide had died. Frontier justice, Henry thought as he did it. Daniel didn't know that Henry had ghost-proofed his house, forever fearful that her spirit would return. But in that moment, Daniel was able to figure out

enough. Two young women were dead. Daniel had simply never known about the second girl, and she was the girl who came back. She had unfinished business. And the very second Daniel realized it, that the spirit visiting him was not Adelaide, that it was this Becky Mitchell out for a revenge, something surged through him. He felt possessed, not able to control his own actions. A tingle moved up his spine, something unnatural. He felt emboldened with an energy he'd never before felt. Daniel felt the spirit of Becky Mitchell rush inside of him. The journal fell from his hands, and the boy mindlessly walked out of the shed. Daniel entered the home of Henry Sturchy, and he killed him.

Most people visiting Northeast Minnesota don't know that Daniel Jacobs killed Henry Sturchy 35 years ago. And when they find out, it's more of a curious thing, just an aberration on an otherwise reclusive but peaceful man who hosts events for children. Really, he killed someone when he was a boy, and the cops said it was in self-defense. Huh. And when they find out that the man Daniel killed was a murderer, well, the act becomes really, really okay. He deserved it. Many, many people have thought over the years.

A lot of people have even spoken the words, good riddance. Daniel ponderes that afternoon frequently. He remembers tussling with the older man, the struggle, the knife entering Henry's side. He remembers the cops finding Becky's body. The policeman with the graying mustache head down covering his mouth with a handkerchief. He can still feel the policeman's soft hand on his shoulder. The officer didn't need to say it. Daniel read the man's eyes.

You did a good thing, and we will make sure nothing happens to you. We will protect you. The police officer's eyes did not lie. they did protect him. Someone did try to get back at Daniel, Henry's sister, the one who gave Henry the jugs of holy water, to fight back and destroy the spirit of Becky Mitchell. She was a believer, too. And when the police determined she knew that Henry murdered Becky many years ago, she went to jail.

Henry's train yard had been willed to her, and when she died in prison of lung, cancer in 1997, she willed the restaurant to Daniel. Enjoy being haunted, you piece of shit. The last line of the will read. But if Daniel is haunted by anything, it's loss. Henry's spirit has not returned to seek vengeance on Daniel. He doesn't think it will. But he is playing with fire by toying with that Silas machine for hours on end.

every day, he desperately wants to see Becky again. Despite her rage and the fact that she nearly killed people at the restaurant in the summer of 84, Daniel continues to try and summon her. He misses her dearly. So, Daniel opens the restaurant to children sporadically, but he won't open it full time. Running a restaurant seems too complicated, he reasons, too time-consumption. Too time-concerned. And he worries. What if she comes back? What will she do? It's enough to keep him from having thousands of customers per week,

but not enough to stop him from bringing joy to pockets of children. Children in need, children who might embody that spirit of wonder and hope that is enough to summon a ghost, to summon Daniel's friend, more hands to play a round or two. of Silas. Daniel writes stories about Becky in his notebooks, often in the style of scary stories he loved as a boy. Short tales, often ghastly with punchy endings. He writes what he knows about ghosts, how to summon them, how they look and smell, how they possess a person. But he's never thought to try and publish the stories. He's never shown them to anyone. It's still too fresh. It's still too fresh.

It will always be fresh. He questions what really happened often. He thinks he knows how the correct Silas combination begins. Yellow, red, yellow, green. But so much time has passed, he isn't sure anymore. And he questions Becky's intentions sometimes. He wonders if he was used. He wonders if all ghosts smell like cinnamon,

or if that was simply Becky manipulating his emotions. But mainly, Daniel wonders, who actually killed Henry. Because while he felt the ghost inside of him that afternoon, he was possessed, he knows he was possessed. He often thinks that he killed Henry all by himself, that he is a murderer when he writes that story in the same way. room where he stuck a knife in Henry decades ago. He usually rips that page out of the notebook, crumples up the sheet of paper, and throws it in the fireplace. Then Daniel takes out the Silas game,

and he tries one more time to bring her back. Wow. That was heartbreaking. Uh, wasn't it? But you know, I can kind of sympathize with Henry in that story. The killer. Really? Yeah, I mean, if someone had done something to my sister, and I was able to find out they'd done it, I'd want revenge, too. Wouldn't you, Robert? Um, I guess. You never know what anyone's done in the past, really, do you? I sure hope not. I mean, any one of us could have skeletons in our closet.

It's part of the thrill of camp for me. You don't know who anyone is or what they've been up to. Hell, there could be someone else lurking around listening in with a dark secret. How's that? Robert, hi. Just finished my rounds of the campsite. Nothing to report. I guess these must be our new batch of counselors.

Fresh meat. Welcome. Ah, ha. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Leslie. She's my assistant. Sure, assistant, yeah. Do you think, perhaps, that, uh, A fresh meat wasn't the most tasteful way of framing it after, uh...

Oh, well, you know. What does he mean by that? It is what it is. Someone roast me up a marshmallow. Let me guess. You're all sitting around out here telling creepy stories. Yeah, you must have a story or two to tell, right? Oh, I don't know.

Come on, Leslie. Get into the spirit of things. Is it really a good idea for me to share some of the horrors? stories I know about this place. Wait, what does that mean? Uh, well, uh, I was thinking maybe, uh, uh, traditional campfire tale. I don't know about that, but I do know about a horrific tragedy that befell some girls when I was a kid.

I could share that. Go for it. I mean, it seems. Okay. So, I knew these people, but I wasn't there. I swear it's true, though. On my honor. I went on my first.

last overnight Girl Scouts trip when I was 10 years old. My mom was a little overprotective when I was growing up. Always worried I would get snatched off the street or killed in some terrible accident. Every bad thing that happened in the world was something that could happen to me. That meant that I didn't get to do the things the other kids did. Naturally, this trip was a big deal for me. She almost didn't let me go. It was early 1983, just a few months after the Tylenol murders, and my mother was tense.

Even though it happened all the way over in Chicago, she couldn't stop worrying that it was a sign of worse things to come for us. I shouldn't let you go, Anna Marie. Something bad is coming. I just know it. But I'd begged and I'd pleaded and finally, finally she gave in. She even bought me a large My Little Pony backpack for the occasion, which I immediately declared my newest prized possession. The day of the trip, I tagged on my sneakers and practically dragged her out the door. I don't see how having a sleepover in a museum of all places is going to help you earn any sort of badge. It's the local lore badge, Mom.

We got to learn about the pioneers and stuff. If I don't go, all the other girls will have, one and I won't. All right, all right, simmer down. I hopped into the front seat and hugged my backpack towards me. She gave me a stern look before she pulled out of the driveway. Listen, honey, if anything happens and you feel unsafe or worried, I want you to tell your Mrs. Baker to bring you straight home. And if you need to call me, the museum should have a telephone. You remember our phone number? Yes, Mom. Good. Don't go anywhere alone, all right? Stay with your troop and don't run off.

I got it, Mom. The ride to my troop leader's house seemed to take forever. And at every moment, I was worried my mom was going to change her mind. Finally, we pulled into Mrs. Baker's drive. I practically leapt out of the car before it even came to a full stop and ran out to meet the others. I watched out of the corner of my eye as my mom spoke with Mrs. Baker, probably to give her some lecture on what I was and was not allowed to do.

I crossed my fingers and hoped she wasn't embarrassing me too badly, while Mrs. Baker's daughter, my best friend, Stephanie, helped me put my bag in the back of their station wagon. All the other girls are already here. We were worried you weren't good to show. I already asked Mom, and she promised we could sit together on the ride-up. Mrs. Baker ushered us all into the car as my mom drove away. A few minutes later, we were on the road to the city.

There were five of us. Me, Stephanie, Jessica, Brittany, and Amanda. Jessica and Amanda sat in the back seat and played Miss Mary Mack for most of the drive. Brittany was squished in next to them, not saying much of anything, no matter how much Mrs. Baker prodded. She was new to the troop and painfully shy. Stephanie and I giggled and conspired together in the cargo space. playing I spy until we reached the edge of the city. We stopped for an early lunch at the local Waffle House

while we planned our museum trip, Jessica twirling her blonde ponytail in her fingers. She was always so bossy and had to have everything her way. We're going to see the dinosaurs and fossils and stuff first. We can't do that. We have to learn about the pioneers first or we won't get our badge. But I want to see the dinosaurs too. Jessica was Amanda's best friend, so everything she said, Amanda had to agree.

We'll have time to see both. But we gotta do the Pioneer stuff first for the match. Then we'll go right after to the dinosaur room, okay? Jessica narrowed her eyes a little, but then she shrugged her shoulders. Fine. Brittany hadn't said anything yet. She was staring down at her food, as though she was too afraid to even look at us. What exhibit do you want to see,

Brittany. Her head jerked up, sending her red curls bouncing. She had the greenest eyes I'd ever seen, and a thick smattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Well, I'd really like to see the Egyptian stuff. I like how they worship cats. I have a cat, too. His name is Bumper. We talked a bit more, but the other girls didn't join in on our conversation. After I noticed Stephanie was giving me a strange look, but I had a... ignored it. Sometimes she could be a little possessive over me, like she wanted to be my only friend. But I was sure she would lighten up once we'd all gotten to know Brittany a little better. After lunch, we headed over to the museum, where we spent an hour with Mrs. Baker, learning about the

pioneers and the Native Americans. I made very careful notes. I took my badges seriously, thank you very much. But I noticed that Stephanie, Amanda and Jessica, or passing a piece of paper back and forth, whispering about something. I felt a little left out but decided to ignore it. Finally, it was time for us to explore on our own. The museum had agreed to close early for the day, and we would have it all to ourselves for the night, plus the security guard, of course.

So, as the doors closed and Mrs. Baker went to speak to the museum staff about our sleeping arrangements, We set off on our adventure. Does anyone remember where the dinosaurs are? We're not going to see the dinosaurs. We want to see the Egyptian exhibit first. I thought you really wanted to see the dinosaurs. We have time for both,

but Brittany made the Egyptian stuff sound really cool, so we should go there first. Is that okay, Brittany? Brittany ducked her head, but I could see a smile on her lips. Sure. I stared at Jessica. She was being awfully nice, and nice isn't exactly the word I'd associate with her. But Amanda and Stephanie didn't seem to think anything was wrong.

They just smiled at Brittany and I should us all forward. Stop worrying. You do this all the time. Don't be such a baby. Ignoring the nagging feeling in my stomach, I followed along as we entered the room devoted to a baby. entirely to ancient Egypt. The walls of the room were painted deep red with gold trim.

Inside were glass cases full of little jars, stone carvings, and stones painted with hieroglyphics. In the center of the room were two large glass cases, laying lengthwise on the ground. I strayed over to the case of jars first, while most of the other girls bounded to the center of the room. Brittany followed after me. I smiled at her as I searched for a plaque that could tell me what the jars were for. That's where they kept the organs. What organs? Of the mummies.

When they mummified someone, they'd pull out the organs and put them in these jars. I stared at the jars. I tried to imagine lungs and a brain and a stomach inside them. Why would they do that? Why not just throw them away? They thought that they had to preserve the body so the person's soul wouldn't be lost. But they didn't keep everything. Guess what they threw away?

What? She grinned at me so wide that I could see the gap in her front teeth. The brain. They didn't think it was important. They pulled it out through the nose with these long hooks, and then they threw it in the trash. Ew! That is so gross. How do you know all this?

We walked over to Stephanie and looked down at the glass cases. To the left was an ornate sarcophagus. The color is still vibrant, though cracked and chipped in a few places. To the right was the mummy. I'd never actually seen a mummy before, not even in pictures. I expected it to look different somehow, with crisp, clean bandages, and maybe two holes for the island. eyes, like in cartoons. That's not what it looked like at all. The fabric on its body was dirty and

yellow with age. In some places, the bandages had unraveled or come off entirely. The dressings on its arms and head had been removed. I could see its blackened skin sunk low on its face and outlining its bones. Its lips had shriveled away from its mouth, leaving it agape. Its nose, too, had shriveled up, giving it the appearance of something less human. Jessica looked down at it and discussed. I couldn't blame her. It's just a mummy. It's harmless.

Of course it's harmless. It's dead. Still looks weird, though. I wonder what happened to him. Hey, have you guys heard of the mummy's curse? We all shook our heads except Brittany. They say that mummies are protected by a curse. And if you disturb a mummy, it'll kill you.

That's not true. Yes, it is. It happened a few years ago when some archaeologist opened a mummy's tomb. All of them died, like, a few days after they opened it. One guy's pet bird even died. None of them died right after the tomb was open. Some of them died a couple months afterward, but most of them lived. And that was all the way back in the 1920s.

The curse isn't real. How would you know? You're not the mummy expert. I wouldn't be so sure if I were you. Maybe you'll make him mad and he'll come after you next. The thought of the mummy crawling out of the glass case and shambling down the hallway had a shiver running up my spine. No mommy is coming after anyone.

I don't want to look at this anymore. I'm going to look at the dinosaurs. I walked out of the room while the others lingered behind. All except Stephanie, her ran to catch up to me. Hey, are you okay? Fine. You don't sound fun. I just...

I sighed. Suddenly, feeling silly for being so afraid. I looked down at my shoes as I spoke. It just freaked me out, I guess. Oh, I'm sorry. Brittany's probably right. It's all just made up. I mean, I wouldn't be in the museum if it was dangerous, right?

Right. Come on. Let's go find the dinosaurs. I'll race you. We found the dinosaur exhibit, and eventually the other girls caught up. We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the museum. That night, Mrs. Baker surprised us with Godfather's pizza and ice cream.

We had spread out our sleeping bags in one of the main hallways, giggling under the dimmed lights while we ate. Around 10 o'clock, Mrs. Baker told us to get in our sleeping bags. Remember, the bathroom is down at the end of the hallway. If you need anything in the night, just wake me up. I expect you girls to behave yourselves. We're guest here. I thought the other girls would want to stay up and chat more once Mrs. Baker had fallen asleep.

Stephanie's house was one of the only places I was allowed to sleep over. And I learned pretty quickly that her mom was a very heavy sleeper. That woman could sleep through a tornado. As soon as she dropped off, we could get back up and goof off. But the other girls seemed tired out and fell asleep immediately. Soon enough, I started to drift off too, dreaming of T-Rexes and pizza and mummies and glass cases. I groaned as I felt someone shaking me. I rubbed my eyes and sat up, squinting in the dim light.

Amanda? What's wrong? Something's wrong with Stephanie. She won't tell us what happened. Get your flashlight and come quick. Alarm flooded my body, and I grabbed my flashlight out of a black. my bag, running down the hallway after Amanda. I heard Stephanie crying before I saw her, causing my anxiety to ratchet up even further. She was sitting in one of the smaller hallways, her knees

drawn up to her chest, crying into her arms. The other girls were standing around her and whispering, clearly uncertain. Stephanie! She looked at me. Her face was streaked with tears and her bottom lip was trembling. Stephanie, what happened? Are you okay? I kneeled down in front of her. She took a deep, trembling breath. I was inside. I heard something in the hallway. She started breathing hard. I put my hand on her arm. Slow down. What did you see? I saw the hallway towards me and it was making this terrible moaning noise. She started crying again, so hard that I couldn't understand what she was saying. I looked at the others, and they all stared back, confused.

I shifted to sit next to Stephanie and pulled her into my arms. She cried into my shoulder. Are you sure you saw a mummy, Stephanie? Maybe it was someone playing a trick on you. Who? His arms were, they were bony, and the skin was all shriveled, and its mouth was hanging open, just like we saw it. Stephanie, mommies aren't real.

I mean, okay, they're real, but they can't walk around and stuff? It was probably just a nightmare. It wasn't a nightmare. It was real. Stephanie was on the verge of hysterics again. As I was trying desperately to calm her down, Jessica spoke up. There's an easy way to figure this out. Let's go to the Egypt exhibit and look to see if the mummy is still there. Are you nuts?

We can't go looking for it. Look, let's go get Mrs. Baker. She can... No, don't get my mom! She'll just get mad at me and we'll get in trouble. We can't tell her. I think Jessica is right. Let's just go and make sure the mummy is in the case,

and then everyone will feel better. Of course you think she's right. I wasn't able to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Her eyes flashed as her temper flared. It's not like you have a better suggestion, Anna Marie. You always complain about everything we do, but face it, you can't come up with anything better. You think you're so much better than all of us, but you... Stop fighting!

Stephanie had managed to calm herself down a little. Her breathing beginning to even out. It's okay. You know what? Jessica's right. What? We do need to look. I'll be okay.

Once we've seen it, we can all go back to bed and forget this ever happened. I wanted to stop her I wanted to tell her that that was the worst idea I'd ever heard I wanted to beg her to come back to bed we could stay up together and keep watch we'd be safe I was sure of it but then she turned to me

her eyes large and wet you know I can't do this without you she was my best friend she needed my help what else was I supposed to do I nodded and took her hand helping her to her feet. Jessica and Amanda looked ready, excited even. Brittany looked a little sick. I could tell she was terrified, maybe even more than I was. We were silent as we made our way over to

the exhibit. Just one little peek, I thought as we neared the door. The lights were turned low and dark shadows were cast all over the walls. We just need to take a real fast look and then we can leave. We all stepped into the room together, walking towards the two glass cases with hesitant faltering steps. It will be there. It has to be there. We stopped in front of the mummy's glass case, and we peered inside it. For a few long, breathless seconds, no one said a word. Someone's playing a trick on us. I couldn't force any words past the golf ball-sized lump in my throat. All I could do was stared down at the dark, empty case and wished for once that I had listened to my mom. We all fell silent. I stood there frozen while the other girls ran out of the room,

scattering in different directions down the hallway. Stephanie grabbed my hand and yanked me after her. We turned right down the hallway, running until we reached the stairs. We ran to the second floor, taking a left down the first hallway we found. We stumbled upon a small alcove, hidden next to a cabinet against the wall. She pulled me inside and we sat, trying desperately to calm our breathing. After several long minutes,

just when I started to feel like it was safe to come out, we heard the footsteps. Heavy, measured, coming down the hallway straight towards us. I was shaking so hard, I had to consciously clench my jaw so my teeth wouldn't chatter. I'm going to throw up. Mommy is going to find us.

I'm going to look. She didn't respond. She leaned out of the alcove, peeking her head around the cabinet. I screwed my eyes shut. My heart pounding so hard in my chest I could barely hear those footsteps over the noise. I sensed her pull back into the alcove. She placed her hand over my eyes. Was it the mummy?

The tears that my adrenaline rush had held at bay were suddenly pouring down my cheeks. A long moment stretched between us as she gathered her courage to answer. Yes. What do we do? Let's just find the others. We'll figure it out together. We rose to our feet and walked down the hall, holding hands, jumping at every stray shadow and noise.

We seemed to walk forever, wandering the hallway, seeing no. No one. What if something happened to them? Stephanie didn't answer. Eventually, we reached the stairs once more. As we stood on the landing, we heard faint whispering coming from below. I looked over the railing and saw Amanda and Jessica standing near the foot of the stairs.

Up here! As soon as they noticed us, they scrambled up the stairs. We moved back into the shadows of the hallway. What happened to you guys? We ran up here to hide from the mummy. It walked right by us. I saw it again. We saw it too.

It almost saw us, but we hit just in time. How is this happening? How could it just get up and walk like that? It's cursed. It has to be. Wait. We all turned towards Jessica. Where is she?

She wasn't with you guys? No, listen. Brittany knows all about Mom. She was showing off earlier, remember? She would know how to bring a mummy back to life. She did this. Nobody said anything for a moment. That's crazy.

Why would she do that? She's jealous. Do you seriously not see that? She's jealous that we're all such good friends, and she's the odd one out. She hates us, so she sent it after us. That's not true. It is. Oh my gosh, it is true.

And she sent it after me first because she wanted you all to herself, Anna Marie. You're all wrong. Brittany is nice. She wouldn't do that. I wouldn't do what? I jumped halfway out of my skin at the soft-spoken words coming from behind me.

I turned around and there Brittany was, trembling from head to toe, tears in her eyes. The moment Jessica saw her, she rounded on her like a wolf on a shone. Sheep. You're the one who brought the mummy to life. What? I don't like this.

I'm going to go get Mrs. Baker. Don't you dare, Anna Marie. You can't just run away when you're scared. You can't leave me here? I'm not leaving you. I'm getting your mom so she can get us out of here and take us home. I'm not going anywhere with Brittany. She tried to kill us.

No, I didn't. Amanda and Jessica had circled around Brittany. She was backing. away from them now, her hand reaching out for the stair railing behind her. Stephanie, shut up! Stephanie gaped at me, like she'd never seen me before. Desperation sunk into my stomach as I realized I'd really and truly yelled at her for the first time in my life. What did you say to me?

Not acting like yourself. You're being crazy. Come on, let's just get out of here. I can't believe you'd do this to me. You're not really my friend. I hate you. I stood there stunned. There was a terrible ripping pain in my chest,

like someone had just stabbed me in the heart. Next to us, the argument raged on, but I didn't hear a word of it. I'm getting Brittany, and I'm taking her downstairs. The anger had left Stephanie as soon as it had come, and she stood there looking stricken and guilty. Anna Marie, I didn't mean it. I just... You're...

Brittany's scream caused us both to look where she was. was facing off against Jessica and Amanda. A dark look overtook Jessica's face. Her lips pulled back in a snarl. I watched her take a step forward and the world around me slowed to a crawl. Jessica, wait. It was too late. Her arms shot out and her hands connected hard with Brittany's chest. Brittany's eyes bulged out of her head as her arms pinwheeled, trying desperately to stay upright. but she lost the battle with gravity. Everything slowed to a syrupy crawl. Brittany tipped backward, losing her footing,

head and neck perfectly positioned to snap on the unforgiving wooden staircase. Next to me, Stephanie inhaled sharply. Her lips parted as her breath caught in her throat, as though reluctant to push past her teeth in the scream I knew was coming. My arms lifted, my hand stretched. stretched out as though to grab her, even though my brain was whispering... Too late! Before the snap, the scream, the end we knew was coming.

The dark shadow exploded up the staircase. For one wild moment, I thought it was death itself, coming to take Brittany away from me. But it didn't take her away. Instead, the shape solidified into that of a thin man. whose arms were wrapped around Brittany, stopping her sudden fall. For a moment, nobody moved. Nobody breathed.

Brittany screamed. She thrashed, fighting hard against the figure holding her tight. She kicked and she shouted until it lost its footing, staggering backward as she lunged for the railing, clinging to it for dear life. She was weeping, her death grip on the railing, never loosening, as the figure fell down the stairs in a parody of what had nearly happened to Brittany.

We heard him grunt as he thudded down on the steps until suddenly he stopped. At the bottom of the stairs, in the dim light, we were able to make out the figure for the first time. I thought we would see a bone-thin corpse, dressed in decaying rags and broke into pieces from the fall. Instead, it was a man. He was wearing a black,

shirt and black pants, a hat on his head, a flashlight on the ground beside him. His eyes were open, unblinking, staring up at us. We stood there, stalk still, waiting for his chest to rise, counting the seconds that it didn't. We were interrupted a few moments later. What is going on here? Mrs. Baker. She was running towards the stairs, glaring up at us furious. She almost didn't see Brittany there on the floor below.

But when she reached the stairs, she stopped short. Her hands pressed to her mouth. And then she started to scream. It was hours later, sitting in the police station, an officer on one side and my mother on the other, that I realized the truth. What are you saying? My mother took a deep breath and she started again.

Stephanie, Jessica, and Amanda planned all this. Has a mean trick to play on Brittany. I digested that for a moment. No. Anna Marie. No. It's not possible. It was there.

The mummy. Sweetheart, did you actually see the mummy? No. But Stephanie did And the other girls I heard its footsteps It locked right by us That was the night security guard

He heard you all scream and he came to see what had happened We screamed because the mummy pushed something over We heard the crash It wasn't a mummy baby It was a shelf that hadn't been attached properly It came down at the wall worst possible time. You have to understand. Where did the mummy go? It wasn't in the case. It wasn't. They moved the mummy last night because it's being sent to another museum. Yesterday was the last

day it was on display. Stephanie knew that all along. Her mother told her several days ago. But why? My mother looked at the officer desperately for a moment. The other girls didn't. Like Brittany. They wanted to play a trick on her, to scare her. That's why they decided to pretend the mummy came to life. Everything got out of hand from there. Stephanie wouldn't do that. She wouldn't scare me like that just because she didn't like Brittany.

She would have told me. She... Oh, baby. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear any more lies. Is the security guard going to be okay? For the first time in my life, I saw my mother completely speechless.

She couldn't find a way to say what she knew. What I must have known on some level. But it didn't matter. Just then I saw a woman walking by with another officer. Her face was etched in a permanent soul. the kind that leaves lines of grief behind long after the weeping stops. And I knew. I wouldn't find out until later that she was the security guard's daughter, coming to identify his body.

It took me six years to fully accept what the girls had done. Jessica went away. That's what they said around town. In those exact words, she went away. I never found out what happened to her. I never bothered to ask, and I don't think I ever will. Stephanie moved away shortly after. I remember begging her to tell me it was a lie,

that it was all some kind of misunderstanding, but she wouldn't say a word. We never spoke again. Amanda still lived in town. I saw her from time to time, but we weren't friends anymore. We barely acknowledged each other. She disappeared when she was 18.

A runaway, they decided. I wonder if she found peace. I'm not entirely sure she deserves it. As for Brittany. Brittany was different after that. Her eyes lost their bright spark. Her lips lost their smile. Even her hair seemed washed out in gray.

She retreated into herself. She rarely spout. She barely did much of anything. People whispered about her behind her back, that she'd murdered someone. I wanted to tell everyone that it wasn't her fault, that it was an accident. But nobody seemed to care, least of all, Brittany. When Brittany turned 22, she hung herself from her bedroom window. I wanted to go to the funeral, but I didn't.

Sometimes late into the night I wake up from dreams of mummies and little girls and snapping necks and I'm sure for a moment for just a moment that I can see Brittany's lifeless eyes staring down at me asking accusing

What did you do to me What did you make me do Maybe one day I'll have the courage to answer. Bleak. Kids, can be so cruel. But you gotta love a mummy. I mean, sure, if that's your takeaway. Well, I'm done here.

Catch you all tomorrow. Bright and early. Ready for some hard work. Let's hope you're used to it. And didn't she just head back deeper into the forest? Oh, yeah. Leslie will be patrolling the grounds all night. It's what she does.

Sure. Okay. Totally normal. Wait, patrolling the grounds for what? Ooh, who knows? Ghosts, goolies, mutated, and terrifying wildlife? There's all sorts of critters in them there woods. No, there isn't. We do get a bit of wildlife around here. It's true.

Are there bears? Sometimes. What about mooses? I don't think there are moose. No. What about sinister crawling furry things that bite and nip and chew and sneak up through the toilet or hide in your bed? Well, yes, there's the odd mouse or rat. It makes you think, though, doesn't it? What does?

Well, what if nature decided it doesn't like us being here? If all the animals in the forest suddenly decided to attack, we'd be screwed. I'm starting to like you. Thanks. But seriously, they see. say you're never more than six feet away from a bear out here. I don't think that's the statistic. Whatever.

I have a story about this, though. About a time when nature did decide to fight back. And why you should always watch out for. Vermin. In 1986, Mike Vanderhoff Jr. was 30 years old. And already on the fast track becoming one of New York's richest property developers. I was 23. and working as a golf caddy.

Try not to feel too sorry for me, though. I was lucky enough to be spending my summer with Mike Vanderhoff Jr. In a rotating selection of his douchebag friends. My duties included handing them their clubs, cleaning their balls, letting them borrow my sunscreen, and telling them they were much better at the sport than they actually were. The only benefits were that the job paid above minimum wage, and that whenever I went out with Mike on a solo game,

I got to hear all the gossip and shit talk he couldn't share when his friends were around. Dave was supposed to come out on the green with me today. I handed over his five iron. He leaned over and lined up the shot. He says he got food poisoning from some bad oysters. But I know it's really because him and Serena are fucking. Serena was Mike's fiancé. This was probably the...

fourth time that month he'd brought up the topic of her potential infidelity. I nodded and made a noise to make it seem like I cared. Mike whacked the ball and it rolled down past the hole. He grunted and threw his club down to the ground like the petulant bratty was. It bounced feebly on the green. You hit that one a little too hard. Maybe you should have used the nine iron. Oh, I'm sorry, Arnold Palmer.

I didn't realize you were the expert. He stomped down the hill in a two-year-old who'd missed his nap mode again, leaving me to pick up the five-iron and chase after him. I handed him back his club. He pointed forcefully. See, Frank? The ball rolled over this mole hill, and that's why I missed. I didn't overshoot it at all.

I teed up the ball so he could take another shot. Fucking mole hill. I thought this was a nice golf course. Can't even keep the moles out. I might as well play in the fucking woods. Mike tapped the ball, much gentler this time, and it went in. He hollered obnoxiously and pumped his arms in the air, holding his club like King Kong brandishing a piece of skyscraper. I took out Mike's scorecard and wrote four in the space next to Hole 3.

Are you shitting me right now? I looked up when I heard Mike yell. The ball was back out of the hole. What's up, Mike? Mike slicked back his well-oiled hair and clenched his teeth. Tell your boss to fire the fucking landscaping people. First that molehill makes me miss a shot, then whatever little fucker made it,

tosses my ball right out of the hole. He gripped his club and stomped over to the hole. It's fine, Mike. I saw you get it in. I won't count... Well, obviously, dipshit. I'm just doing this out of principle. He tapped the ball back into the hole. Whatever was inside pushed it right back out again.

I could see the veins in Mike's neck tighten and bulge, tendons shoelace thick. Hey, fuck off! Touch my ball again, and I'll reach down there and strangle you with my bare hands. He hit the ball again. It popped back out. I snorted, trying not to crack up laughing. Mike threw down his claw, and, shrieking with blind rage, dropped to his knees and thrust his spray-tanned hand into the hole.

Come here, you little shit. Don't try and get away from me. I know you're in there. At this point, it was impossible to contain my laughter. I'd endured a few of Mike's temper tantrums before. He'd bent his clubs, tossed balls into sewer grates, even punched the cart a few times. But nothing could have prepared me for seeing him try to fight the golf course itself.

I watched Mike grope around inside the hole, and stop and laugh triumphantly. when he finally grabbed whatever creature had been messing up his game. Mike pulled hard. I expected him to draw his arm back out with a frightened little mole in his grasp. That didn't happen. Whatever Mike had grabbed somehow turned around and grabbed him back. Mike's arm was yanked back down into the earth.

He tried to pull it out again, but whatever had gotten hold of him just pulled him back down. Mike screamed out in agony, like an alligator had bitten him instead of a mole. You're stout, fuck shit, freak! You got to... Before he could finish his sentence, the creature in the hole pulled so hard that Mike's shoulder popped out of its joint. It didn't stop then. It kept Yankeying harder and harder, causing more and more of him to disappear down into the soil. I started running over to try and grab Mike by the... the legs and pull him out. But as soon as I got close, I saw that the force of being pulled down

had bent Mike's neck at a perfect 90-degree angle. I got a good look at his glassy dead eyes before his neck bent even further, and his head completely disappeared underground, down a hole that was way too small for him. When I stumbled back, my mind reeling. Blood started to bubble up like oil from the soil around Mike's disappearing body. With one final crunch, his feet slipped under the ground, and for a few moments I was standing in silence as the green turned the deep crimson red. I picked up his five iron and held it up defensively. The mole hill next to the hole started moving.

I bolted back to the golf cart part to the top of the hill, the grass behind me being upturned as whatever had killed Mike. started tunneling across the green towards me. I leapt into the driver's side of the car and sped back to the clubhouse. While I drove, I could hear screams coming from the other holes. I turned my head for a second and saw another golfer being messily sucked down into the ground while his caddy tried and fain to pull him back up. Something bumped to the bottom of the golf cart.

I slipped and lost my grip on the wheel. The golf cart bumped again, and I tumbled out into the grass, along with all of Mike's golf equipment. I scrambled up onto my feet, but before I could get back to the cart, it was completely overturned. A pair of grasping claws rose up from a patch of upturned soil. I leapt for Mike's golf bag and took his nine iron, gripping it like a sword as a mole the size of a dog dragged itself up out of the ground. Its fur grew in dark. Parches, through which I could see large, oozing sores in its skin. It sniffed the air and turned in my direction.

It hissed at me, bearing a mouthful of needle-like teeth and spitting black gunk all over the grass. The mole skittered towards me, but I swung at it, embedding the nine iron in its skull. Once the mole was dead, I picked up Mike's clubs and ran toward the clubhouse, past dozens of other holes where people were getting sucked down into the soil. At the door of the clubhouse, I nearly ran into Gina, one of the maids, who was carrying a cart of fresh towels back to the pool from the laundry room. She was tall, skinny, and a little older than me, his long brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

I stumbled, gripping the edge of the laundry cart for balance, panting heavily. Jesus, Frank, you look like you've seen a goat. You wouldn't believe the shit I've seen. You have to get inside. Right now. We have to get Wilbur to call the cops. I gotta get these towels to the pool for them. Fuck that.

This is an emergency. I grabbed Gina by the arm and dragged her into the clubhouse after me. We ran down the hallway, past tournament trophies and photos of staff members shaking hands with celebrities. Frank, you gotta tell me what's going on. Mike Fanderhoff is dead. And about ten more people, too. at least. We have to call the cops and warn everyone that the course isn't safe. What the hell are you talking about?

I stopped in front of the owner's office, pulling the handle once. And when I saw it wasn't locked, I shoved it open. Wilbur Henderson, my boss, was sitting at his desk on the phone when Gina and I barged in. Wilbur looked up at me, the sweat on his bald head shining under the fluorescent lights. He scowled at us, putting his hand over the phone receiver. Gina, what the fuck are you doing here? He took his hand off the phone. Hey, sorry, Phil.

Some of my employees just stormed in here like a couple of assholes. Give me ten seconds to deal with him. He pressed the hold button and stood up, folding his arms. What the fuck is your problem? Do you know who I was just on the phone with? Listen, Wilbur, I don't care. There's a serious safety issue on the golf course right now. People are dying.

What the fuck do you mean people are dying? This is going to sound insane. But the place is crawling with giant man-eating moles. Wilbur exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. If you're taking drugs on my time, I will fucking fire you. Go out and look at the golf course. It's torn up to shit and people are fucking dead. Get out of my office, Frank.

He looked at Gina. What do you want, huh? You with him? Gina looked at Wilbur. Then at me, her mouth hanging open. You're both fired. Get the fuck out. Gina shot me a glare before heading back out, down the hallway towards the back door.

Wait, Gina. Thanks a lot, Frank. If this is a joke, it's not fucking funny. I swear to Christ, Gina. I'm telling the truth. You have to help me warn him. Everyone! We reached the back door and Gina shoved it open.

She returned to where she'd left her laundry cart and silently started pushing it towards the pool. I grabbed a seven iron out of Mike's golf bat just in case. Gina, come on! Don't you have a job to do? A middle-aged woman in a floral bathing suit came barreling down the path, shoving us out of the way. Gina and I looked at each other. When we got to the pool, it was swarming with snapping turtles. Like the mole I killed on the green, they were huge with white sores on their bodies, cracks in their shells and black slime dripping from their flat noses.

There were about nine of them, and they were all crowded around the prone body of an old man in a speedo, who screamed with an agony as they shredded his arms and legs with their jaws. I handed Gina a golf club, even though I didn't really know how useful the clubs would be against something as sturdy as a turtle. One of them looked up at us, snapping its bloody jaws and hissing. The other turtles looked up and followed suit, plodding toward us with steely determination. At least they're still slow. Gina sidestepped a turtle as it lunged towards her. She looked at me, then over at the pool maintenance room.

I've got an idea. Come with me. I ran after her, past the turtles, towards the door. Gina tried to open it, and when it wouldn't budge, she whacked the handle with her club until it broke, and the door opened. Gina ran into the small room and started looking through the shelves, reading the labels of every bottle. She tossed me a bottle of chlorine, and took one for herself. Open the cap, cover your mouth, and run. I did what she said. I pulled my shirt up over my nose and held it in place with my left hand,

and holding the open bottle on my right hand, tip the bottle to the side and ran. Gina did the same, making sure to get just close enough to the turtles without getting in snapping distance. I could tell from the way my eyes watered that her plan was working. The turtles were big, but they were still only a couple feet off the ground, meaning they couldn't get away from the chlorine fuels. One by one, they started to collapse, wheezing and sputtering,

spraying more of that black slime everywhere. Gina and I closed the pool gate behind us and stopped to catch our breath. When we both looked up, we saw Larry, a big guy with a mustache who worked maintenance running towards us with his toolbox. Hey, Frank, Gina, what's going on here? I heard some shit was going down at the pool. They sent me to check it out. It's not a problem you could have fixed, dude.

Larry went to the gate and peered over the top. He immediately jumped back. Oh, shit. What the fuck? Are those turtles? They're bigger than my kids. There's malls, too. On the golf course.

Wilbur didn't want to take his hands off his dick to do anything about it, as usual. You know, Frank, if you'd have told him there was a chemical, Still, a bomb thread or something. Maybe he would have. Well, excuse me. I just watched a coked-up yuppie get sucked down a golf hole like bugs fucking bunny, Gina. I wasn't exactly in my right mind. Whatever, whatever.

The people who left the pool can convince Wilbur. They're all inside getting patched up. What are we going to do? We need to see if anyone's still out on the golf course. And we ought to get some better weapons. Do either of you have guns? I shook my head So did Larry

There's stuff we can use in the gardening shed Plus we ought to go see if Joe's okay The three of us hopped into one of the golf carts And headed back onto the course We drove around the whole green And didn't see a living soul Every hole we passed Was surrounded by upturned blood-stained grass

When we got to the gardener shed The door was open and hanging loose on its hinges Joe, the gardener, was nowhere to be found. All of the equipment appeared to be in their proper places, and there was a weird smell hanging in the air, coming from the dozens of yellow bottles on the shelves and knocked onto the floor, spilling noxious chemicals. It didn't smell like any weed killer or fertilizer I'd smelled before.

It smelled harsh and sour, with an almost organic edge to it. I picked up one of the bottles and read the label. Axiom Nature Green Ultra, the perfect all-in-one fertilizer and pesticide. All-new formula. I wrinkled my nose and put the bottle back down. We picked up a couple of weeding tools, a pair of shears, and an electric hedge trimmer. Let's get out of here. We piled back into the cart with all our weapons and Larry started it up.

On the way back to the clubhouse, Larry stopped and pointed into the trees on the edge of the course. It looks pretty fucked up. My gaze followed Larry's finger until it found a figure, hunched over, with Joe's distinctive ponytail, wearing the green uniform of the club's gardening staff. It looked like Joe, but I still wasn't quite sure. Something about the person was off. Larry jumped out of the card and cupped his hand. around his mouth. Hey Joe!

Are you okay? Joe turned his head, and that's when I realized what was wrong about him. Even at a distance, I could see that Joe's head looked too big for his body, and his arms looked too long. Joe stared at us for a while. Then he started running towards us, black slime dripping from his mouth. The foliage behind him rustled, and his swarm of. of three-foot-long black and white shapes rushed out after him.

I caught a whiff of that sour chemical smell from the shed as Joe and the creatures got closer. Oh, Jesus! Larry ran back to the golf cart and we peeled away while Joe bolted after us, a small army of abnormally large skunks in tow. It's that new shit they're putting on the grass. It's got to be. Joe spends more time breathing it in than anyone else who works here. Joe managed to catch up to the cart

He grabbed onto the back of it With an unnaturally stretched out hand Covered and bleeding sores It was snarling like a madman Spitting black slime Gina whipped around with the hedge trimmer And drove it down into Joe's wrist Severing the hand in a spray of chunky red blood

Joe howled and fell back Stumbling onto the ground We saw him crouched on his knees holding his stump arm close to his chest. The skunks kept running, even though he'd stopped. In fact, they ran straight into him, climbing over his back. The chemical smell got stronger, and even as we drove away, we could hear a sizzling sound coming from Joe's back underneath the skunk's feet.

We got to the clubhouse and ran to the door, waving through a few people who had just shown up to the club and didn't know what was going on. We bolted the door shut and headed into the lobby where everyone was waiting. Wilbur was shouting down the phone to the local police, while other employees helped shell-shocked club members bandaged their various bites and scrapes. He slammed the phone down and turned to me, Larry and Gina. You, you started this. I know it. Everything was going fine today until you two came into my office yammering about killer vermin.

What did you do? Spike the water with LSD? Rig the course with explosives. I'm on to you, shitters. You're both fired. You already fired us about 40 minutes ago. You keep your mouth shut, you little whore. Just sit down and shut up until I can turn you into the authorities. Larry put a hand on Gina's shoulder reassuringly.

Let me talk to him. You guys go rest. Larry cleared his throat to get Wilbur's attention. Joe's dead. The head gardener. He was all fucked up, just like the moles and the turtles. And there's skunks, too. It's something in that new Atsium weed killer. It makes people and animals go psycho if they breathe too much of it in.

Oh, you too, Larry? God, why am I not surprised? Axiom Nature Green Ultra is the best goddamn product we've ever used on that golf course. As the proprietor of this establishment, I think I would know if it gave animals rabies. That talk is only going to get our guests even more panic than they already are. You want to get fired too? I'll do it. Fine, Wilbur. You could literally go over to the balcony and look at that pile of dead mutant turtles lying by the pool.

But I guess you're too busy to do that right now. Wilbur's face somehow got even redder, and he stepped out from behind the concierge's desk. He stormed over to Larry and shoved him. Don't you talk to me like that. Do you think I was joking about firing you? Larry grabbed the shoulder of Wilbur's shirt and shoved him away. Even when Wilbur stood up straight and tried to look intimidating, Larry was still a good three inches taller than him.

I fought at K-San, buddy. You don't scare me. Wilbur backed off, indignantly straightenedly. his shirt. Fine. All right. Oh, okay. Maybe it wasn't the kid's fault.

Maybe this is an attack from the Russians or something. Still doesn't mean I believe you're horseshit about zombie animals. I've had enough of this. We turned to see another club member, a polo shirt wearing yuppie who was functionally identical to Mike Vanderhoff, who had just stood up from his place on one of the leather couches. He pulled a set of keys out of his pocket. I'm sick of listening to you arguing.

I'm getting out of here. If there are dangerous animals out there, I've got a gun in my car, and if there aren't, I'm going to fucking drive home. Buddy, I would... I'm not your buddy, pal. Move the bookcase that had served as a barricade away from the front door

and strolled out into the parking lot. Everyone watched the door for a few moments. Then we all heard a scream, and the yuppie ran back into view. He threw the door open and scrambled back inside, pushing the bookcase back where it had been. The yuppie leaned up against it panting. What do you see out there? Porcupine.

Larry shot Wilbur a look. The yuppie turned around to face the rest of the room, and he looked like he was about to say something. The next thing we knew, the yuppie was spluttering and coughing blood with a giant porcupine quill in his neck. He collapsed to the little. the ground, spitting blood, and a barrage of quills started flying through the glass door, completely shattering it. Everyone down to the basement, now! Through the broken glass and over the bookcase came dozens upon dozens of mutated animals.

The first way through were the porcupines who had broken the door. They swarmed the room, firing quills in all directions. Some of them hit their targets, but most of them just embedded in the door. the walls and furniture. Then after them, came the skunks, who radiated the same strong chemical smell as the ones on the golf course.

The few people who had been shot down by the porcupines but still survived weren't so lucky when it came to the skunks. Just like they'd done with Joe, the skunks converged on whoever was low enough to the ground for them to walk over. They overpowered one woman who had a quill in her leg

and was trying to crawl away. She screamed as about ten skunks marched up her legs and over her back. Once they'd moved on, I could see the woman's bones through melted holes in her skin and clothing. The third wave were the moles, all scrambling and swarming together, running into and over each other as they sniffed around for us. By the time they'd shown up,

I was already down the hall, helping Larry and Gina lead people towards the basement doors. Behind the moles, I could hear the slow, plodding footsteps and gnashing jaws of another round of snapping turtles. The last creature I saw turning down the hall before Larry and I joined everyone in the basement was a single fox, elongated to proportions more like those of a deer or racing greyhound. Like all the animals, it had black slime dripping from its mouth. and its patchy red fur was darkened with blood. I was too distracted by the sudden appearance of the fox

to notice that one of the porcupines had spotted me. It shot a volley of quills in my direction, and as fast as I moved to get behind the door, quills still landed in my chest. We closed the door and stumbled down the stairs. Gina rushed to help me. He says, Frank. I'm fine.

Don't talk. Touch, that quill. It looks like it landed in your lung. If you try to take it out, his lung will completely collapse. A grimaced and limped after Gina. Larry, Gina and I took our weapons and parked ourselves in Larry's office, while the rest of the staff stayed in the laundry room, watching after the club members.

We all stood around Larry's desk, looking at a large copy of the clubhouse's blueprints that Larry had laid out in front of us. So, let's list everything we know about these little sons of bitches. The moles are fast, but they're blind and they're easy to kill. The snappers are tough, but slow. They're easy to avoid, but I don't think any of our garden tools would take them out. And the skunks produce some kind of corrosive juices. It seems like they can burn through skin and clothing,

but it didn't seem to have an effect on the bookcase or the floor tiles. Orcupines will probably be easy to kill if you can avoid the spikes. Then there's the fox. We don't know what his deal is, but there's only one as far as I can tell. Larry scratched his chin thoughtfully. All right, here's our plan. When the police come, we get everyone upstairs. We make sure their priority is helping people escape.

The cops have guns, but we don't know how many more animals might show up, and it might not be enough. so to make things easier, we set up a trap. Gina and I nodded and listened. We go to the kitchen. There are some metal storage lockers in the other room. I can take the doors off of them and we can use those as shields. Once we're in the kitchen, we get all the food out of the fridge,

then we get some of these electric fans. He pointed to some unplugged oscillating fans in a box in the corner. And we turn them on so the smell sprang. around the whole clubhouse. The animals get lured in by the smell, and then we turn on the stove and torch the fuckers. Someone would have to stay behind to light the fire. I'll do it.

Larry, you've got your family waiting for you. And Gina, well, I don't really know you that well, but I'd feel like an asshole making you do it. Gina looked kind of upset by this, but didn't say anything to dispute me. No, I don't have to be. have a huge chance of survival anyway. This fucking thing in my lung. It's fine. Outside of Larry's office, a very faint, distant voice echoed out from behind the basement door at the top of the

stairs. Gina went to the door and peered out. I think the cops might be here. I hear someone up there. Wilbur stuck his head out of the laundry room. We listened. The sound came again. From the other side of the door, there was no mistaking it now. That was very clearly a man's voice. We didn't hear sirens. No sirens, no gunshots. Wilbur started running up the stairs. We're 15 feet underground. Of course we didn't.

I'm the owner, so I'm going to go up there and tell them what's what. Wilbur opened the door, then closed it behind him. Officers, I'm the one who called you, and I've totally had. handled the situation. Yes, I'm in here. In the hallway, idiot. Wilbur flung the door open, trying so fast to get down the stairs

that he tripped and fell the rest of the way down. Through the open door came the fox. Its long body bounding down after Wilbur. It leapt on his back and dug its teeth into his neck. Larry, Gina and I, plus the handful of people that had come out to see what had happened, stared in shock as the thing ripped out Wilbur's throat.

He screamed, then with limped, blood oozing into the concrete floor. The fox took a step forward, jumping down from on top of Wilbur's back. He raised its head to look at us all with its bloodshot eyes, black goo and fresh blood dripping from its muscle. It opened its mouth, and in a pitch-perfect imitation of an adult man, voice, it said. Hello! On the stairs behind the fox in Wilbur, a torrent of moles stumbled through the still open door,

climbing over each other and running down the stairs in an uncoordinated wave. A few fell over the sides, but just rolled over, got back up, and kept running. At least 20 snouted, needle-toed, eyeless little heads were all coming towards us. The people who had been in the laundry room before all quickly retreated, slamming the door behind them. More moles started pouring in. Gina mowed her way through a chunk with her edge trimmer, making a path for Larry to run up to the basement door. Stumbling over the waves of moles as he hacked at them with his own weaving tool, Larry finally made it up to the door and slammed it shut. The fox, which had been dodging Gina's swings up to this point, turned and bounded up after Larry.

It grabbed him by the ankle and pulled him, making him fall into his back and slide back down the stairs. Larry drove the bladed end of the weeding tool into the side of the fox's skull with a satisfying crack. He threw its body down to the floor and stood up and walked down the rest of the staircase. The police, we're here for real now. We're down here. A police officer opened the door. He looked down at the dead fox in Wilbur's body, and the piles of bifurcated moles and shook his head.

Mother of God. Are you, Wilbur Henderson? Lance Corporal Larry Kusack. I work maintenance. The officer saluted. Larry returned the gesture, then nodded to Wilbur's body. That is Wilbur Henderson. Jesus. How many are down here?

About 18, give or take. Kill many of those things? Not nearly enough, no. Listen, we've been formulating a plan down here and we need some help. Our priority is to get these people to safety. We figure we can distract the creatures and lure them into the kitchen, where we'll turn on the gas and firebomb the bastards. I'm going to light the flame. The cop saw the quill in my chest and immediately understood.

All right. The Lance Corporal QSack. Larry's fine. We'll work on getting everyone out and shooting as many of those beasts as we can manage. The cop turned to head back out the door. He saluted once more. Good luck, fellas. You too.

Larry successfully unscrewed three of the locker doors and armed himself, Gina and me. We all went up the stairs Gina first with her hedge trimmer Then me Then Larry at the back with the box of fans The animals seemed sufficiently distracted by the police arriving And shooting at them

So we didn't have any problems getting to the kitchen Sit tight kid Larry rubbed my shoulder As Gina grabbed armfuls of meat And vegetables out of the fridge And threw them on the ground Larry started plugging in the fans and turning them on.

He and Gina went to all the stoves and ovens, turning on the gas for all of them, and opening up the oven doors. She pressed a matchbook into my hand before leaving the room. I heard the gunfire stop outside. I saw the cops come back in and escort everyone out of the basement.

I knew the gas was starting to get to me when I realized that I'd stopped feeling anything. The animals started running in, porcupines first. then moles, then skunks, then finally turtles. The animals started feasting on the food we put out, not noticing or caring about the gas. A skunk walked over my leg to get some strawberries.

My skin started to blister and fall off, but I barely felt it. I looked down to the quill in my chest and laugh. This was such a stupid situation. My parents would think the cops were making it up. I pulled out a match and lit it. I could go for a round of golf. Any golf going around here, Bobby? Actually, we do have mini-golf.

We've got a crazy golf course, new this season. Not quite what you're after, but, you know... Crazy golf. It's perfect. And where is that on the campgrounds? Oh, it's just up from the lake. between the forest and the... Oh, really, the old archery course. You landscaped over that, did you?

I think you know we did. Yeah, I imagine you wouldn't want the old archery course standing. Not after what happened. What's wrong with the archery course? What happened? That really doesn't matter. It's just... It's right.

It doesn't matter. The past is in the past, and everyone got closure, and there's nothing more to worry about, Scott, if you have something to say, don't you think it's better if you just come out and say it? Whoa, the Ice Queen speaks. Screw off, Chad. My name's not.

Again, can we all try and get on? Splendid idea. In fact, why don't we let me tell a story? It's about the time there was a big foot sighting in these very woods. No. No? No. I have a story.

All of you. All of this. It makes me sick. Everyone's sitting around, pretending to get on, pretending to be friends. You don't know what friendship is. We're strangers. Hey, we're trying to become friends. Well, tell me this, Kimberly.

Would you die for him? Me? Well, no, but... And you, Ben. Would you throw your life on the line for Robert here? Of course not, but... In Dakota, would you take a bullet for me? Yes.

Maybe. Where would I get shot? And even you, Scott. Would you sacrifice your own life for the sister you keep making clumsy, foreshadowing references about? Hey, that's too far. That's... I don't know. I don't know. I'd like to think I would, but... None of you know the true meaning of friendship and bonding.

But I do. So I'm going to tell a story. So shut up and listen. Or better yet, close your eyes, sleep. All is other people, then what is heaven? I'm exploring this concept when mom knocks at the door. She enters without waiting for my response. What a beautiful day.

Mom strides across my room, giving a barely noticeable, disapproving glance at the laundry discarded on my floor. She flings open the curtains and bright, warm sunlight streams in. I guess my peace is shattered then. Shielding my eyes from the glare, I frown at Mom. Jesus, Mother, what's the point of knocking if you're not going to wait for the answer? I could have been, well, anything. Changing?

Oh, honey, you came out of my womb. I've seen it all before, many times. I wince at the image. That's not entirely what I meant, but okay. Mom swans over to my closet, tossing her crimson shawl over her shoulder in a gesture meant for nothing but style. Besides, it's my house.

She pulls my closet open and begins removing outfits. I come and go as I please. There she is again, reminding me of what a colossal face I am for moving back home. She doesn't mean it like that, though. She's reassured me many, many times that coming back to live with her and Andrew is nothing to be ashamed of.

And besides, all my friends are home, too. Let's just not mention that most of them are home for a planned vacation slash meetup and have lives outside of our tiny nothing happens hometown. This is the one. Mom waves a pineapple print blouse in my friend. face. Hmm? The one you should wear tonight?

To the sleepover? You look great in this one. I stare at the garish garment. She's right. It is a good one. And these jeans? I nod. No point in arguing, even if I did disagree, which I don't.

Oh, it's going to be exciting to see all the girls together again. Mom's talking like she's going to be there. I know she wishes that were the case. Back in our high school days, the girls and I usually hung out at my house. We were one of the first families in our town to get a pool, and we had cable and the big TV. Plus, mom was... Mom.

I never even minded when she pretended to be one of the girls. And in truth, I'm a little disappointed we're not having to sleep over here. But the whole thing is Vanessa. show, so Vanessa's house it is. Vanessa's new house, anyway. While we were all away at college, her family had moved to a mansion in the Halley Hills. The closest thing Hyades rise has to the Beverly equivalent. Not going to lie, I'm fairly excited to check it out. After what Vanessa's been through, she deserves to be the center of attention tonight. It'll be the first time I've seen her in a year. But we all heard about it.

the accident. In a small town like Hyatties arise, news travels fast. She was lucky to have escaped the car with no visible damage, they said. There'd been a wreck's half as bad that left no survivors, they said. But Vanessa is, and always was, a survivor. Anyway, up and out of bed, Millie. Mom pulls my quilt away, leaving me lying there in my pajamas. She gives me a once over and sniffs disapprovingly. You're not wearing those ruddy old things tonight, are you? I roll out of bed and regard self-same pajamas in the mirror. Pants too short. Teddy Rucks pin design faded.

A hole in the armpit that comes dangerously close to being a wardrobe malfunction. Pure comfort wear. I gesture to a Victoria's secret bag on the chair by my bureau. Nah. I bought a hole. whole pair just for tonight. Egyptian cotton. You should be proud.

Mom snatches the bag up like a thirsty man grabbing at Evian. She whipped the pajamas out, gives them an appraising glance, then holds them up to my body. Oh, yes. You'll be the bell of the ball in these. Oh, Lord, an adult sleepover. Whatever next. That reminds me of the sleepovers you girls used to have back in.

I mean, yeah, that's kind of the point. A nostalgia trip. Listen to you. 22 when talking about nostalgia. She tosses the pajamas down on the chair and pinches my cheek. You always were older than your years, Millie. There's a strange melancholy in mom's voice, and I'm not sure I like it. Anyway, Andrew and I are off into the city now.

We'll be back after the weekend. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Oh, and tell Charlotte I said hi. Ciao. And with that, the whirlwind that is my mother exits the room, leaving me just that little bit dizzier than when she entered. I'm not prepared for just how spectacular the house in Halle Hills is. The place stands squat, yet somehow majestic as I climb out of my car,

backpack over my shoulder. It's an architectural wonder. all glass and wood, nestled in a crooks in the hills. There are sprawling grounds, and as I walk up the drive, I see a luxury outdoor pool peeking around from one side. There's a sign on the open front door. Come on in. Someone has scrawled my name, Millie, in different handwriting above the words.

This must mean I'm the last to arrive. I make my way into the open plan hall, marveling at the huge staircase leading upstairs. There's another set of stairs, too, underneath them, leading down to what I assume is a basement. At the other end of the hall, an archway leads to a kitchen diner. All modcons. The best the 80s has to offer from the looks of things.

I follow the sound of laughing voices through a den and into a room at the back. It's very large, with glass doors that open onto. to the terrace, where loungers sit around the pool I saw. There's a massive cabinet against one wall containing a huge, huge TV, bigger than I've ever seen. Roes and rows of VHS cases frame the device, and I can tell this is the cinema room of Vanessa often dreamed of. There are couches dotted around the outskirts of the room, and various beanbag chairs in the center around a glass coffee table. Tasteful art prints decorate the walls. And a bookshelf holds Vanessa's various trophies.

Lacrosse, softball, gymnastics, public speaking, creative writing, from across her high school career. The side of them makes me smile. Some of them were hard-fought battles. Some of them against me. It's the commotion at the center of the room that draws my attention, though. Millie! Oh my God, Mills, you look great.

Babe, so awesome to see you. I regard my friends with a wide, beaming smile, and then time seems to slow as they all charge towards me, sweeping me up in a group hug. With the initial greetings over, I drop my bag in the corner with the others and collapse onto the couch. I can't believe we're having a sleepover. So cool.

That's Lottie, short, blonde, sweet. the wholesome girl next door of the group and my cousin, currently an English-lit post-grad. I know. Remember the time we had one at Millie's house in high school, and Marcus, Robin, and Chet tried to climb in the window? That's Ash, Sveld, athletic, badass. Champion track runner, currently working as a manager at her mother's events planning company. Oh, geez, don't remind me.

about probin? Flashback to prom night? Beer breath? Ugh. That's Megan. Ditsy, lovable, voracious. A cheerleader in every sense of the word. Currently works for a high-class hair salon in L.A. Man, prom seems like just yesterday. Hardly seems like any time's past at all since we all said goodbye to Hiades High. That, of course, is me. Weird, cynical, jaded, mom's words. The Veronica to their heathers. Currently working at Walmart. Oh, but college makes it seem like forever ago.

I swear high school felt like a bad dream by the time I got my degree. Millie didn't go to college. Remember, Megan? I did. I just didn't stay at college. Oh, crap, that's right. So I guess you're still clinging on to our high school glories then, huh? I know Megan doesn't mean it cruelly, but her words sting.

Jeez, Meg's. It's okay, Ash. I'm a dropout, and I own it. No shame here. Who's a shameful dropout? And that is Vanessa. While the rest of us, present company, perhaps excluded, may have success stories in our own rights. Vanessa is the success story. Her father's insistence that everyone would have computers in their homes by the 90s was looking to pay off,

and a piece of software he'd developed had been bought by some big-shot computing company for a crazy amount of money. So there's that. But Vanessa's own personal achievements are vast. In school, everything she did, she won, even when it wasn't a competition. Everything she attempted, she achieved. She was the smartest of us, the most beautiful. And, as if the universe were laughing at the rest of us, she was also the nicest. Was, is.

I assume she still is. As I turned to look at her, standing in the door to our sleepover room, I can see she's still the most beautiful. She's breathtaking. If the accident caused her any harm at all, I can't see it. Her long, dark hair hanging down her back, her tan skin shimmering beneath the silk robe she wears. She has a bathing suit on underneath,

black with gold bows, and it looks expensive. Her eyes meet mine. She walks over, gently, hesitantly, as if she's holding back from something. I brace myself for a hug, but it never comes.

Instead, two kisses on either side of my face, so brief that I'm not even sure I feel her lips against my skin. Millie, so cool to see you. Vanessa avoids making eye contact and strides over to the large glass doors, throwing them open. So, I hope you ladies brought your bathing suits, because, if not, well, I guess it's skinny dipping time. We sit around the edge of the fluorescent-lit pool as the sun begins to set. A large patio heater takes the chill out of the air. We've spent the last couple hours sunbathing, playing volleyball in the water, and just generally having fun, reminiscing about good times. The kind of fluffy, superfluous chat that reminds you why you're friends with the people in the first place.

There's something wrong with Vanessa, though, and I've been trying all night to catch her at attention or get her alone. It's beginning to feel like she's avoiding me. Right now, Megan is regaling us with a story about a guy who had the hots for her in college. So I hear a tapping on my window, and I look out. And there he is down on the quad in his underwear, tossing little stones up at the glass. I open the window and go to call out, but he doesn't notice and hurls another stone, and it catches me right in the eye. Yeah, well, it really hurt. I had to go to the emergency room and get my eyeball bathed.

Ah, geez. So, like, did he come? Not that night. My eye hurt. I meant to the hospital. Oh, Lottie, you have such a filthy mind. Hey, I didn't mean it like that. Hey, Vanessa.

I'm trying to get her attention on me so I can signal her that I want to talk. Hmm? What about that guy you told us about last summer? What happened to him? Ooh, the moneyed one. You could have been set up there, babe. Look around, Ash. Vanessa hardly needs money. It's my parents, not mine. That's right. It's all ours. His voice makes me jump. Vanessa's father, Mr. Audrey, leaning on the gate between the pool area and the garden, peering at us over his glass.

glasses. Hi, Mr. Audrey. Oh, please. You girls can call me Tom. Really? As long as I've known Vanessa, we've called her dad Mr. Audrey, and he's never corrected us before. How's tricks, girls? I notice his shirt's undone, showing off a tuft of chest hair. It looks like Mr. Audrey's been working out. This is not the shy, pasty nerd dad I remember from my youth. Mr. Audrey flashes us a wide smile, and there's something in it I dislike. Oh, you know, not bad, not bad. How's your mother, Ashley?

Things going well at work. Ash answers him while I try and grab Vanessa's attention. She'd always acted a little ashamed of her dad, at least to me and behind his back. And how about you, Charlotte? Still reading and writing? Oh, yes. I'm... Um... Well, I've sent a couple short stories into magazines. I haven't heard back yet, but... You'll get there.

Say, I'd love to read one some time. When you get published, you'll have to bring a copy by. Finally, Vanessa makes eye contact. I try and tilt my head towards the house, repeatedly in the hope she'll take my hint and come inside with me. It must look like I have a nervous tick. Vanessa just smiles, looking slightly confused as if she has no idea what I mean. But I know she does.

And Meggy, I hear you're in the business of beauty these days. No better person for it if you ask me. He's flirting with Megan. He's actually flirting with her. Mr. Audrey rocks back on his heels, his feet lifting slightly from his open-toed sandals. Suddenly, I'm all too aware that we're sitting here in revealing bathing suits, and it's cold. It feels like someone's turned the patio heater off, or maybe it's just me. Goose flesh prickles my skin.

I feel like a kid again, experiencing that slight sense of unease you get when you're around a friend's parent. Only it's different now. We're adults. We're all adults, and there's nothing wrong with Vanessa's dad talking to us as such. And yet somehow there is. Something is wrong. Something is unexplainably, inexplicably wrong. I've known it since the moment I first saw Vanessa this evening.

I don't know what it is, but I know that it is. Finally, Mr. Audrey turns to me. Millie. Millie, Millie, Millie, Millie, Millie, Millie, Millie. Girl, you know it's true. Wow. That record only just came out. Mr. Audrey is not the kind of man I'd have ever expected to be up on current pop music.

Hi, Mr. Audrey. Tom, please. I recoil slightly at the sound of his voice. It's scolding almost, insistent. Like, it really matters if I call him Tom and not Mr. Audrey. Mr. Audrey's eyes widened slightly as if his own reaction has startled him. Then he shrugs and gives me another wide, beaming smile. So, how's life, Millie?

Before I can even answer, he's stripping off his shirt. He lets it drop to the pool side and reclines his shoulders. back, stretching, limbering up his arms. Perfect weather for a late night swim. He looks back at me and does finger guns. He actually does finger guns. Then he turns on the spot and dives into the pool. It's not a graceful movement.

It's the awkward, stumbling gate of the man I used to know, the man with the punch, who wore cardigans. Mr. Audrey hits the water with a smack, a belly flop that must have hurt, but he immediately breaks into a front crawl as if nothing's amiss. The splashes sound frantic, exaggerated, like he's swimming away from something rather than doing laps in his expensive outdoor pool. I look around at the others, hoping against hope that they too feel the same unease I do. But they're talking, laughing.

smiling. I feel a hand on my bare thigh and I flinch, almost falling off my lounger. Let's go inside. The others are already heading into the house. When did they get up? I scramble to my feet. Vanessa looks back at me over her shoulder coily, coquettishly.

She puts a finger to her lips. Then she giggles and skips inside. I turn back to the pool. suddenly aware that Mr. Audrey is no longer swimming. For a moment, I don't see him, and a spike of worry flares up because there's no way he got out of the water. But then I do see him. He's in the water, but he's as close to me as he could be. He's mostly underwater.

Only the bridge of his nose upwards juts out from the surface. He's almost pressed against the lip of the pool. He's staring at me over the tiled rim, and in the darkness his eyes look black, so black. His body shimmers and distorts in the underwater lighting. I think he's saying something, but in his mouth is underwater. I snatch up my towel and scurry into the house. I'm Megan, you've got popcorn everywhere. This shit is so hokey.

How the hell is it scary? you. Hey, it's not just me. Megan gestures at me. I sit on the corner of a couch in the corner of the room, knees pulled up high, blanket tucked under my chin. I'm shivering and they can see it. I'm just cold. Cold? It's super warm. Megan tugs at the neck of her pajamas, showing off her ample cleavage. I feel uncomfortable in my fancy Victoria's secret pair. They have that new starched sensation. I long to be home in my old torn ruckspin pajamas, the sound of my mother singing in the next room.

I've been keeping watch on the pool, but I haven't seen Mr. Audrey climb out. But surely he's no longer out there. Over an hour has passed. All the outdoor lights have been. shut off. We're surrounded by an impenetrable, inky blackness, which is only pierced by the distant lights of Hyades rise down in the valley below. I still haven't spoken to Vanessa, not properly. The night's been filled with nostalgia, tales of drunken exploits and college clubs

and more heterosexual smut encounters than I can stomach. Age has only caused Megan to become more unflinching in her explicit honesty, and Ash isn't far behind. Even Lottie shared a couple stories that would have made her blush and giggle and try to hide back in school. Maybe this is what growing up is. My friends all seem so much older than me, and yet they seem so young, vulnerable. All but Vanessa, who now comes striding back into the room, clutching a full bottle. And yet, of vodka. She places it on the coffee table and snatches up its now empty twin, drained by the girls over the course of the evening. Truth or dare? Vanessa places the empty vodka bottle on the floor and spins it. It stops, pointing at me. Isn't this a bit high school? No. It's only a bit

of fun, Millie. Fine. Truth. Have you drink anything at all the night? Is that my question? Yes, no. I try to laugh. Too late. No, I haven't. Vanessa rolls her eyes at me. She spins the bottle again.

Oh, crap. I can see blood start to trickle from Vanessa's palm. It's all I can do not to leap up and rush to her. Her pain causes me pain. Shit. What's going on here? What was that breaking? Mrs. Audrey stands in the doorway, and I stifle a gasp. It's the first time we've seen her tonight.

If Mr. Audrey has changed in the few years since I saw them last, then Mrs. Audrey's changed tenfold. She always used to look like an older version of Vanessa, I thought. And she still does, but the years have not been kind to her. Her skin, once firm and young looking, hangs wrinkled off her face like she's spent time in lower gravity. Her breast sag, her cleavage looking mottled in the gap in her blouse. She sways unsteadily on her feet as if she's drunk. Maybe she is.

Although her voice sounds firm, the one part of her that hasn't changed. Oh, Vanessa, look what you've done! Blood has dripped from Vanessa's palm onto the cream rug. Now I do spring up. I know how to deal with things like this. Dish detergent in cold water. But Mrs. Audrey holds up a warning hand. Doesn't matter.

Doesn't matter. As you were, Millie, I was planning to toss out this old thing anyway. It doesn't look like an old thing to me. It looks like a brand new cream rug. Vanessa's just sitting there on it, cross-legged, cradling her wrist. There's a faint, vacant smile on her face. Vanessa? Is everything okay?

It takes me a moment to realize it's not Vanessa laughing, but her mother. Is everything okay? Is everything okay? Is it? Is it okay? Is it okay? Vanessa! I recoil at Mrs. Audrey's frantic outburst.

Ash, Lottie, and Megan stare at her. Megan, who's very drunk now, begins to cry quietly. Vanessa is still still. sitting on the rug, smiling. So, uh, um, what about those pizzas, yeah? Maybe it's time to cook them up. Ash, always trying to diffuse a situation. Mrs. Audrey sways against the doorframe, but doesn't turn to leave.

Ash gets up and I join her. Yeah, we'll, uh, we'll handle the cooking, Mrs. Audrey. Don't worry about that. I'm sure we can work out how to use your new oven. Y'all, I'm feeling a little sick. We all ignore Megan, but Lottie edges away from her on the couch. Hey, yeah. So if Millie and Ash want to go deal with the pizzas, I'll help you get cleaned up.

Yeah, Vanessa? Vanessa doesn't turn, doesn't react. Mrs. Audrey has rested her forehead against the doorframe. Her shoulders are shaking, only I can't tell if she's laughing. We're crying. Hey, girls. Mr. Audrey stands there in just his shorts. He's dripping wet, and his skin is wrinkled and pale.

It looks like he really has been in the water this whole time. His hair slicked down over his eyes so far. I'm surprised he can see. Did I hear someone mention pizza? He twitches intermittently, like something's broken inside him. His smile looks like more of a grimace now. You're dripping all over the floor! This causes me to look back at Vanessa. There are blood spots all over the rug now, and I can see she's moving her hand back and forth, trailing them in a line. Lottie glances at Mrs. Audrey,

then Mr. Audrey, then me. There's a worried look on her face. She mouths words at me. How much did she have to drink? I shake my head. I don't know. Vanessa, hon, we really need to get you cleaned out. Leaning forward, Lottie puts her hand on Vanessa's shoulder. Quick as a flash, Vanessa's bloody hand darts out. For a moment, I think she's going to slap Lottie.

But there's no sound of palm on cheek. There's a thin line of blood across Lottie's throat. And at first I assume it's come from Vanessa's hand as she swiped. But then the line begins to blossom, growing bigger. Lottie's eyes widened in surprise. She lets out a gurgle. The line across her throat expands, and then I'm too stunned to scream. Arterial spray gushes from Lottie's throat, drenching the room in an arc as she falls back against the couch.

I'm covered. blood red. So is Ash. Megan squirming on the seat, clutching her belly. I see the shard of glass drop from Vanessa's hand, coated with her blood and lotties. It's Ash who screams. Not me. Not just at the side of what's happened, but because Vanessa is now scuttling along the floor,

grabbing at Ash, pulling her down to the ground. Mrs. Audrey is banging her forehead against the doorframe over and over and over like she's trying to knock the events playing out in front of her out of her mind. Let's have a pillow fight. Vanessa pins ash to the ground by her throat. Her other hands holding a cushion.

I don't see where she got it from or why it's so heavy or why it makes a dull, cracking thud as she brings it down on Ash's face. a little fight. Well, that was fun. What next? Vanessa's gaze falls on me.

Her face is covered in blood. From herself, from Lottie, from Ash. I'm too numb to scream, too scared to run. But something familiar appears in Vanessa's expression for a fleeting second. Something approaching the tenderness, the passion that only I got to experience. Back when we were still in high school, on those few nights we spent alone together. Perhaps this is what saves me and causes her to turn to Megan instead. Oh, you need the bathroom, Missy.

Vanessa swoops down and snatches Megan up, right over her shoulder like she weighs nothing. Then she turns on her heel and strides towards the door. She barrels into her mother as she goes, sending Mrs. Audrey's. flying out into the next room, landing with a thud. Their Audrey's voices right in my ear, and I jump, whirl around, the sound breaking me out of my trance. I haven't even thought to consider an explanation until this point. She didn't come back from the accident.

Something else came back. It looked like her, but she changed. And now she gives us things. She gives us everything. He gestures around at the room, the house, himself. But she wants things in return to just things. This time she wanted a night with the girls. Her old friends, a sleepover.

Did you know? Did you know what she planned to do? Mr. Audrey's. says nothing, but his expression says it all. I think, I think it's broken us. This price, the things that she... Mr. Audrey turns, and I watch in silence as he walks out the way he came. Well, I'm done with the rest.

Hey, Millie, let's play doctors and nurses like we used to in high school. Vanessa cradles a bulge at her stomach, straining against her pajama time. I think I'm in a family way. She reaches under her top and pulls out Megan's severed head. Oh, it's a girl. Ugly little critter, ain't she? I don't think she can be mine, hasn't got the jeans. I stumble backwards until my legs hit the couch, and I fall into a sitting position.

Vanessa tosses Megan's head aside and approaches. Her gait twitchy and unnatural. thoughts of my mother flash into my mind, singing along to the radio as she prepares breakfast, blustering through my room like a whirling dervish, stroking my hair when I'm sick. Vanessa stops just short of me. Her bloodied face falls, and I see genuine sadness in her expression. I don't think Mr. Audrey was correct. I don't think something else. came back. I think Vanessa came back and something else came with her. But now, as I look into her eyes, surrounded by dried blood as they are, I see the Vanessa I know and love, the survivor,

the champion, the center of our lives. This allows me to keep going, you know. Just a few things like this here and there. I wanted it to be all of you this time. My best friends. Maybe you'll live on as a part of me. I don't know. And I wanted you to be last, Millie. Because, you know.

I do know. And I close my eyes because I can live with giving myself up. For the last few moments I've got left to live. If it allows Vanessa to go on, I can live with it, just don't want to see it coming. Millie was my mom's cousin. All this really happened. What the crap?

What? What happened to Vanessa? She clearly didn't get away with it. She went on, had kids, became successful. If she did anything like that again, I never heard about it. Maybe that night was enough. Maybe Millie's sacrifice was enough. How did your mother know then?

Hmm? How did your mother know what happened that Millie chose to give her life for Vanessa? She wasn't there? Wasn't she? Oh, man, Lottie, Charlotte? That's right. Lottie didn't die from her injury. She heard everything.

She saw Millie's sacrifice and helped Vanessa, the Audrey's, to carry out Millie's last wishes to cover everything up so Vanessa could go on. It was the least she could do for her cousin. Ridiculous, all the other people that would have put at risk. And there you go. That's what loyalty is. That's what friendship is. Isn't it, Robert?

Robert? Uh, um... Do you want to tell them what my story has to do with this place? Or should I? What? What does it have to do with the camp? Someone tell me. Oh, fine.

I know, Vanessa. That's not her. real name, of course. Her kids, a boy and a girl, came to camp. First as campers, then later as counselors. Her daughter, Virginia, was here two years ago. When my sister went missing, when the tragedy happened. What tragedy?

Someone killed a bunch of counselors. Out on the archery range. We've no idea how. I was inside, working with Leslie. And when I came out, Oh, Christ, it was horrible. Carnage, limbs and body parts everywhere. And blood.

So much blood. It was like they'd all just been eviscerated. And? It was ruled an animal attack. Oh, Christ, what kind of animal could do that? But some of the counselors were missing, weren't they? Yes. Virginia was gone, and a guy called Chris and Saskia.

Your sister, Scott. So, how did you find out about Vanessa? Effie came to me this morning. She told me everything about Vanessa, about what she'd done. Virginia going missing and her mother being a killer, claiming to be possessed or something. It's suspicious. I hoped you'd have answers.

There's always been gossip that my sister was involved. I know she wouldn't have been. So we're saying Virginia, Vanessa's daughter. killed a bunch of counselors, then disappeared? What about the others? And where are they now? Where's Virginia now? I know where she is.

What? Wait, what? Oh, yeah, sure. So whatever had latched onto Vanessa, passed on to Virginia. She tried to fight the urges, but it became too much, and she eventually broke down,

spectacularly. Hence the carnage at Camp Shady Pines. Naturally, she had to go into hiding. She wanted to escape capture, of course. It's pretty easy to change your appearance. A bit of plastic surgery here, some hair dye there. Lonely, though. And when she, I, heard that pretty much everyone who wouldn't let the events go

were going to be in one place this summer. Well, I had to come out of hiding and do something about it, didn't I? Oh, my God. Huh? What about Saskia and Chris? Oh, them? I'd forgotten about them. Well, when I ran, I had to take something to keep me entertained, didn't I?

They're long gone, though. Sorry. Butchered. Cut into tiny little pieces, never to be found. Heck, I think I even ate part of them. Sorry. Ben, are you okay? My stomach, it's burning it. Oh, that'll be the smores.

I like to get up close and personal, but I can't take all of you at once. Just Effie, Scott, and Robert left. I'm sure Leslie's fertilizing the forest somewhere. If the poison didn't get her, then the bear traps I set last night sure will. My mom might have helped your mom cover things up, but I have no such plans. I'm going to... Boring, boring. Now for you, Scott.

No, no, not the fire, not the fire, no. Toasty. And, oh, Robert, no need to run away. Not when I've just found this axe for us to play with. Get away from me. Get away from me, you psycho luda! Oh, dear. Always watch where you're going.

Now open wide and say, uh. No, no, don't stop. No, no. All done. Man, camping's hard work. But hey, I'm free. Nobody looking for me. Nobody coming after me.

Free to do whatever I want. I quite enjoyed this, though. Might make a habit of it. And hey, it's all wrapped up in time for me to finally go back home, kick back, relax, and check out American Horror Story 1984. Premier September 18th at 10 p.m. on FX. I do love a bit of campsite murder.

This episode of the No Sleep Podcast has been brought to you by American Horror Story 1984. Premiers September 18th at 10 p.m. on FX. Camp Redwood is waiting for you. The graduation was written by Dee Williams and performed by Nicole Goodnight, Atticus Jackson, Jessica McAvoy, Matthew Bradford, Addison Peacock, McWingert, and Kyle Akers. Are You Adelaide was written by Jimmy Giuliano and performed by Peter Lewis, Kyle Akers, and Aaron Lillis.

On Your Honor, was written by Rona Fasilar, and performed by Nicole Doolin, Sarah Thomas, Nicole Goodnight, Jessica McAvoy, Erica Sanderson, Addison Peacock, and Mary Murphy. Vermin was written by Meg Maloy and performed by Atticus Jackson, Graham Rowett, Jessica McAvoy, David Cummings, Dan Zapula, David Alt, Jesse Cornett, and Ellie Hirschman. Close Your Eyes, Sleep, was written by Olivia White and performed by Jessica McAvoy, Addison Peacock, Mary Murphy, Aaron Lillis, Nicole Goodnight, Mick Wingert, Nicole Doolin, and Sarah Thomas. But There's No Sleep at Camp, was written by Olivia White, and performed by David Cummings,

Peter Lewis, Addison Peacock, Nicole Goodnight, Atticus Jackson, Jessica McAvoy, David Alt, and Nicole Doolin. This episode was produced for the No Sleep podcast by Philmon. Mikulski, Jesse Cornett, and Jeff Clement. Musical score by Brandon Boone. Please visit the no-sleeppodcast.com for show notes, hundreds of hours of audio stories in our archives, and more details about the people who bring you this show.

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