CHAPTER 10

Tristen AND THE girls walked on quietly. The lights from their phone's torch light cast a dim glow that moved about in an arch in their front.

Tristen turned to look at the road they had come from, it felt like the other group was lost. He sighed and moved on ahead, leading the way.

"What is that?" Emma suddenly whispered in his ear. They both crept behind him, letting him walk in front. He was the one with the torch.

"Where?" He asked.

"Flash it on the right." She said.

Tristen flashed the torch to the right. The light illuminated the washed wall of an old stone house with open windows.

"I could have sworn I saw someone looking from that window," Emma said. "Like a child."

"Go check it out, Tristen," Sophie said, poking him in the ribs.

"What? Why me?" Tristen asked.

"Because you're the man amongst us," Sophie said. "Now, Go. We'll be well clear behind you."

Tristen scoffed and walked forward.

"I have a bad feeling about this," He gulped and tiptoed forward slowly. "We should just turn back and get the hell out of here–" He said, but received a sharp jab in his back.

He picked up a twig of stick as he approached the window. First, he plastered himself flat against the wall and slid towards the window. He took a deep breath and shone the torch through the window. The room was…

Empty!

Just stale, dry air. Tristen heaved in relief.

"What is in there?!" Sohpie breathed in his ear, startling him. He shrieked and brought up his arm to shield himself. The twig of stick whipped across Emma's face and she shrieked in reply. Sophie shrieked too, just to join in.

After almost a minute of the blending of 3 yelling voices, they calmed down.

"Why would you scare me like that?" Tristen yelled in a hoarse voice.

"I didn't mean to," Emma said. "You can keep quiet now, Sophie. We are safe," She said to Sophie who was still yelling even though the others had stopped.

"Safe," Tristen scoffed, flashing the torch across the room and looking in again. It was an empty, bare room.

"What can you see?" Emma asked Tristen.

"Oh, my God!" Sophie yelled.

"We are done shouting Sophie," Emma snapped. But Sophie kept on yelling and urgently patting Sophie on her arm.

They both turned to look at her and their gazes followed where she was pointing at.

Standing half behind a thick tree was a pale almost translucent little kid sucking on his finger and watching them intently.

LUCAS AND GRACE remained silent for the major part of their search. Lucas had tried to hit on Grace when they were alone, but Grace was not having any of it. She was not feeling Lucas at all, knowing that it was because of him that they had been sent away from the previous village.

So Lucas sighed and accepted his fate. They scrambled through the tall weeds, keeping a sharp watch for any sign of human activity.

"Hey," Grace said. "What is that?"

Lucas looked at where she pointed at. "Let's go check it out."

It was a small thin wrought iron fence and gate. Lucas tried the gate, it had been bound shut by creeping weeds and plants. He tore them away and kicked the gate open, it swung on its hinges stiffly.

"Shall we?" Lucas asked with mock humor, stepping aside for Grace to walk past.

Grace rolled her eyes and walked through the gate. She stopped and gasped. "It's a grave yard," she muttered.

"What?" Lucas asked, coming up to stand beside her. He took a look around and nodded. "I think you are right. It is a grave yard… an old and forgotten graveyard."

Grace walked ahead, "We should not be in here," she said. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Easy, Grace," Lucas laughed, walking easily, not caring if he stepped on graves.

"Watch where you are walking," Grace cautioned. "I know it is bad luck to step on people's graves."

"Bullshit," Lucas laughed again, intentionally walking on graves and tombstones.

Grace ignored him.

The graveyard was overgrown with tall weeds that covered many of the tombstones and made it hard to find a path to walk.

Grace crouched near a grave with the tombstone of a cherub. She ran her hand along the delicate wings of the statue. "A child was buried here," she muttered.

"What?" Lucas called. He was standing on the edge of a large headstone.

"Get down from there!" Grace snapped.

He leaped down easily and crouched beside Grace. "Jacob Baskins…" He said.

Grace looked at the inscriptions on the headstone underneath the cherub statue. It read, "Jacob Baskins. November 26, 1926 to March 7, 1934. The child had been dead for almost 100 years, so much longer than he'd been alive."

"Yeah, no shit," Lucas said, moving on. "Kids die every day."

"What do you reckon killed him?" Grace asked.

Lucas scoffed and didn't attempt to answer the question.

Grace answered the question herself, "In those days, they did not have such advanced medicines. It could just be an illness that is treatable now that killed him at that time," she said. She was speaking more to herself than to Lucas, who paid her no heed.

"Let's get the gel out of here," Lucas said. He brought out his phone and checked the screen for the time. "We have just 5 minutes to get back to the meeting point. Hopefully, the others would have found help for us."

"Yeah," Grace nodded. "Let's go." She rubbed her hands together to fight the sudden chill that she felt.

A gentle breeze sighed through the stalks of tall weed. It was the loneliest sound Grace had ever heard, almost as lonely as a ghost who had been lying in the dark for close to a century

* * *

"WHAT? CULPRIT?" I try to defend myself and explain that it was an animal that did this.

Two fat men advance into the barn. Their faces twist in disgust and anger as they see the mutilated girl near my feet. Then their arms stretch across and grip me tightly.

"It was not me," I try to defend myself, but it's no use.

"Someone should clear this up," one of the men says as they pull me out. "Chief should not see his daughter defiled in this way. Clean her up and change the dress before calling the chief."

A woman outside nods and hurries away.

"I said it was not me," I yell and buck again against their grip, but it was no use. They had an iron grip on the collar of my shirt and wrists. "It was an animal!"

The man holding my right hand snorted. "It was an animal, alright. You are the animal."

"You are not listening to me," I snap. "Where are you taking me to?" They drag me roughly down the street.

I turn and see the bartender standing near his door. Carmen was looking at me too, she was out of the trance and her eyes were normal.

I am half-expecting the bartender to come up and solidify my alibi because I was with him when the girl screamed, but instead, he stands in the shadows, watching me being dragged away. Carmen is standing beside him. She has regained her consciousness and is staring at me wide-eyed too.

"Where are you taking me?" I have given up struggling.

The man on my left kicks open a door and we go down the stairs. The room is musty and dark. After going down almost 20 stairs, they toss me into a small cell roughly and slam the gates.

"The chief will come to see you soon to determine your punishment," one of the men says to me.

"What?" I gather myself from the floor. "That wasn't me. It wasn't–"

"It won't be nice though," He interrupts me. "That was his daughter you killed."

These men are not listening to me. I grip the steel iron bars and rattle them loudly. "Let me out!" I yell.

They suck their teeth and one spits at a corner before they ascend the stairs and close the doors.

I slide down forlornly and hang my head between my knees.

We shouldn't have come back here. I close my eyes tight, wanting to stop the tears from falling, and also to stop myself from seeing the thick darkness that enveloped me.

In the thick heavy sikence, I hear the sound of water dropping at intervals.

Drip... Drip... Drip...