“Jesus!” he shouted, as a black tendril flicked out from beneath the tarpaulin and struck his bare arm.
As soon as she opened her eyes, Lizzie knew something was wrong.
In the dark cabin, she stared across her pillow and saw that a patch of moonlight had fallen through the rain-spattered window onto the wall nearby, illuminating the carving that she and the others had noticed earlier:
Lucy + Kate + Sophie + Ally forever.
She stared at the names for a moment, wondering why they filled her with a sense of unutterable dread, before she realized she could hear someone moving in the room. She looked over at Laura's bed and saw that she seemed to be sleeping soundly, and she could hear Kirsty's gentle snores, which meant...
Turning slightly, she looked across the dark cabin and saw that Beth was sitting up on the edge of the other bed, seemingly staring at the wall.
For several minutes, Lizzie waited. She figured she'd just spotted Beth on the verge of heading out to the toilet, or perhaps on her way back, but slowly she began to realize that something else was happening. As her eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, she was able to make out Beth's face: stony and expressionless, staring at the opposite wall as if she'd discovered a new-found fascination for bare wooden surfaces. There was something unusual about her posture, too: she was sitting up completely straight, almost as if she had a rod in her back.
Finally sitting up herself, Lizzie forced a smile.
No response. Beth didn't even turn to her.
“Hey,” Lizzie whispered eventually.
This time Beth's eyes twitched, but there was a noticeable pause before she slowly turned to acknowledge the fact that Lizzie was awake.
“You okay?” Lizzie asked.
Beth stared at her with the same blank expression that had filled her face when she'd been staring at the wall.
“I've got some pain-killers if you're out,” Lizzie whispered, keeping her duvet wrapped around her body. “Don't tell any of my doctors, but I've managed to build up quite a stash. What's your poison?” She paused. “Not actual poison, obviously, although I
do
know a few tricks.”
At this, Beth tilted her head slightly to one side. The movement reminded Lizzie of her family's pet dog Jasper, and the way he'd tilt
his
head when he wasn't sure about something.
“You had us all really worried,” Lizzie continued, hoping to get the conversation moving. “You should have seen me and Laura out there in the forest looking for you, we bunked off toilet-cleaning duty and everything. I was starting to think maybe you'd fallen into the lake or...” She paused, feeling disconcerted by Beth's continued lack of response. “Well, you know, it just seemed odd that you weren't around.”
She waited.
Beth stared and stared.
“So I'm gonna go pee,” Lizzie said finally, getting to her feet and slipping into her trainers before grabbing her coat from the hook. “You'd think we could have
en suite
bathrooms, right? I mean, it's bad enough that we've all got cancer, without making us go outside when we need the toilet at night.” She smiled, hoping that Beth would do the same, but her smile quickly wilted as she realized that Beth was still just staring at her. “So that's what I'm gonna do,” she added after a few agonizing seconds. “I'm gonna go pee. Are you gonna be okay here?”
Beth's eyes seemed to narrow for a moment.
“Back soon,” Lizzie continued, turning and limping over to the door, while trying to work out if she'd seen Beth blink even once during their aborted conversation. Pulling the door open, she was immediately hit by a gust of cold wind that made her reconsider the bathroom trip, but she was up now and her bladder felt full, so she stepped out and pulled the door shut before making her way down the steps and onto the grass. Light rain was falling all around, but not enough to make her turn back.
Above, a full moon hung above the hotchpotch collection of cabins, lighting them with an ethereal blue glow.
“Cold cold cold,” Lizzie muttered to herself as she half-ran across the grass, quickly clearing the last of the cabins and making her way down the faint slope that led to the three portable toilets by the edge of the forest.
Glancing over her shoulder, she looked back at the cabins and found herself wishing she was still in her (relatively) warm bed, but finally she reached the nearest toilet and headed inside, only to find that somehow it was even colder than being outside. Reaching back out, she pulled the plastic door shut.
“Fuck!” she could be heard exclaiming a moment later from inside the cabin. “Cold seat, cold seat...”
For the next minute or so, the three portable toilets stood silently in the moonlight, with the only sound being the occasional bump from the one closest to the cabin as Lizzie maneuvered herself around in the tight space. The rain was falling more steadily now, tapping the toilet's roof and running down the sides.
Another bump, causing the entire cubicle to shudder.
“Damn!”
As a couple more bumps sounded from inside, a faint rustle moved through the grass, edging toward the portable toilet until a shadow fell across the door and stopped.
“Oh God this is horrible!” Lizzie could be heard muttering from inside. “Thousands of years of human civilization and this is the best we can manage?”
Seconds later, the toilet could be heard flushing.
“I am
never
doing it like this again,” Lizzie continued, as the lock slid across and she pushed the door open, still pulling her pajamas up properly. “I'd rather squat down in the forest and risk having a squirrel -”
Stopping suddenly, she saw to her shock that Beth was standing just a few feet away, staring straight at her.
Lizzie opened her mouth to ask what she was doing, but the words seemed to hang in her throat.
“So,” she managed to say finally, able to see her own breath in the cold night air, “you... need to go too, huh?”
Beth continued to stare.
“You didn't have to wait for me to get finished,” Lizzie continued, stepping aside and holding the door open. “You could have gone in one of the other two.”
Slowly, Beth turned to look at the other two portable toilets.
“See?” Lizzie added. “There's more than one throne in
this
kingdom.”
“I...” Beth began to say, before turning back to face Lizzie. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Lizzie waited. “Yes what?”
Without replying, Beth stepped past her and made her way into the cubicle, before slowly turning to face Lizzie again. Not really knowing how to respond, Lizzie paused for a moment before slowly swinging the door shut. Taking a deep breath, she felt certain that if she opened the door again she'd find Beth still standing there, still staring.
“Good luck!” she called out finally, taking a couple of steps back.
She waited, but she didn't even hear the sound of the plastic lock being slid across.
“Okay,” she muttered, turning to head back toward the cabin, “I tried being social, I think I'll just -”
Suddenly she heard what sounded like a blast of liquid from inside the cabin. She turned, shocked by the sound, which echoed in her mind even though silence had already fallen again.
“Wh...” she began to say, before the cubicle's plastic door gently swung open and Beth stepped back out into the rain.
“Are you okay?” Lizzie asked.
“I'm okay,” Beth replied, wiping the side of her mouth. “Are
you
okay?”
“I'm very okay,” Lizzie said, unable to keep from frowning. “That was... quick...”
“I saw no reason to be slow.”
“No kidding.”
Lizzie paused, waiting for Beth to say something, before finally realizing that the onus was on her:
“So I'm gonna head back to bed,” she said finally, forcing a smile. “You coming to the cabin?”
With no answer forthcoming, Lizzie turned and began to make her way back across the grass. Her bare feet were already cold and wet thanks to holes in the side of her trainers, so she walked fast, constantly worried about how Beth might react. After daring herself for several paces, she finally glanced over her shoulder and saw that Beth was following, albeit at a very slow pace with calm, almost staccato steps. Forcing herself to look forward, she made her way to the cabin and then stopped. This time, when she looked back, she saw that not only was Beth walking at a normal pace, but she was limping.
On her left foot.
The same foot that had been causing Lizzie to limp since she'd cut it a day earlier.
“Are you copying me?” Lizzie whispered, shocked as Beth reached her.
“Hey,” Beth said as she pushed open the door to the cabin. “Are you okay?”
This time it was Lizzie's turn to stare silently, as she watched Beth limping inside. She told herself she was imagining things, that she was being paranoid, but she couldn't shake the feeling that in the course of their trip to and from the portable toilets, Beth seemed to have copied not only her walk, but even a couple of her mannerisms. Her contemplation of the situation was interrupted suddenly by a cold gust of wind that somehow managed to blow up the back of her coat and into her pajamas, sending a shiver through her body as she hurried into the cabin and pushed the door shut.
When she looked over at the nearest bed, she saw that Beth was already asleep, and that she was softly snoring. Just like Kirsty in the next bed along.
“We have a problem,” Freeman said as he pushed the door open and entered Crystal's office. “A really fucking serious problem.”
“I know,” she replied, looking up from the paperwork that was strewn across her desk. “It's almost midnight and I'm still going through this goddamn documentation. Don't worry, though. I'm sure we can ride out the storm.”
“Not that,” he said, pulling a section of black tendril from his coat pocket and dropping it in front of her. “This.”
“In the name of all that's holy,” she replied, shifting her chair back, “what
is
it?”
“I have no idea,” he continued, staring at her with barely-concealed anger, “but until about half an hour ago it was alive.” He held up his hand for her to see the thick cut that ran down from the base of his thumb to his elbow. “Nasty little bugger, too. Lashed out at me. I had to cut each tendril off one by one to make sure it was dead. There's plenty more of this thing in my truck.”
“Where did you find it?” she asked, getting to her feet and backing over to the window.
“It was hitching a ride in a deer.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“This thing, whatever it is, was inside a wild deer that I found about halfway down toward the lake. It's like some kind of parasite and it was...” He paused for a moment, trying to find a way to describe what he'd seen without sounding like a complete maniac. “The deer was dead,” he continued finally, “but the parasite was somehow animating the body and keeping it going, like some kind of goddamn zombie.”
Crystal stared at him.
“I'm deadly serious,” he told her. “There's something out there in the forest. This is the first time I've seen it in this kind of state, but I've found dead specimens before. Squirrels, birds, rodents, it doesn't seem very picky, it gets inside them and it kind of... drives them, controls them, wears them like a skin.” He picked up the severed tendril again and held it up for her to see.
“Get it away from me!” she shrieked.
“Don't like it, huh?” he asked, throwing it toward her.
She stepped out of the way.
“That isn't even all of it,” he continued. “The creature in that deer had a kind of control center, like a shiny black mass with dozens of these tentacle things sticking out. Whatever it is, my sister has a sample from a smaller specimen at her lab and she's already started work to analyze it and try to match it to other reports.”
He paused, a little breathless, as he waited for a response.
“Well?” he said finally. “Are you actually going to say anything?”
“Such as?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “You've finally lost your mind, Freeman. I suspected it was coming, but I didn't think it'd manifest like this. I thought you'd turn to drink, or recreational drugs, or perhaps schizophrenia, but this... This is something remarkable. Well done.”
“You don't believe me?”
“I believe
you
believe this fantastic tale, but -”
“You have to close the camp.”
“For God's sake...”
“You have to get everyone out of here,” he continued. “Until we find out what's causing this infestation, we have to take every precaution. There are two dozen people here, plus staff-members, and they could all be at risk!”
“From what? Some kind of oily black octopus that hides in deer?” Unable to stifle a chuckle, she picked up the tendril and examined it for a moment, before tossing it back at him. “You've been watching too many bad movies, Mr. Freeman, and maybe smoking something you shouldn't. Tell me, if I ordered you to take a drug test right now, would I find traces of marijuana in your system? Or has this whole story been concocted out of thin air?” She stepped toward him. “Are you trying to blackmail me?”
“I'm trying to save everyone at this camp,” he said firmly.
“I've seen your social media profiles,” she continued. “You're a conspiracy theorist. I should never have hired you in the first place but, well, with your history you were the cheapest person going. Plus, I like to help the more unfortunate members of our society.”
“I know this land,” he told her.
“And I know the way the world works, and this type of thing is completely impossible.”
“So what's it going to take to make you see the truth?” he asked. “Does someone have to die?”
“Stop being so melodramatic,” she told him. “No-one's going to die. Apart from the ones who eventually succumb to their cancers, of course. But this thing...” She stared at the tendril with an expression of disgust. “This is lunacy. You can't possibly expect me to believe such a wild story.”
Taking out his phone, he brought up the video he'd shot earlier and played it for her. She watched, horrified, as the injured deer staggered into shot, with its flank bulging.
“I have no doubt there are sick animals from time to time,” she said finally, “but -”
“Keep watching,” he said firmly.
As the video continued, a black tendril could be seen bursting out of the animal's side.
“Impressive special effects,” Crystal muttered, regaining her composure, “but this doesn't prove anything except the fact that you've had plenty of time to practice putting your little videos together.” She finally managed a smile as the video ended. “Do you seriously want me to snuff out the dreams of twenty-four cancer sufferers, just because a raving madman bumped into a sick deer and decided he wanted to liven up his life with a hoax? What's next, Mr. Freeman? Are you going to find the Loch Ness Monster down in the lake? Am I going to find Bigfoot sitting on the loo?”
“I'll call the authorities,” he replied, taking a step back. “I'll call Environmental Services and get them involved. I'm sure they'll be very interested, especially when they find out about those sacks of illegally dumped medical waste. I wouldn't be surprised if there's some kind of connection. In fact, I'd stake my reputation on it.”
“What reputation?” she asked with a smile.
“You've gone too far,” he told her. “I see right through you, Crystal Wallace. All this talk of caring about sick kids is just a cover.”
“So this
is
blackmail?” she asked. “I should have known. How much do you want in order to keep your grubby mouth shut?”
“I don't want your money,” he told her. “I want this camp evacuated.”
“That is
never
going to happen. There's simply nothing wrong here, apart from an over-excited man wearing too much khaki.”
“Come out to my truck,” he replied. “I'll show you the rest of the body.”
“In this rain? Heavens, no. Listen, Mr. Freeman, I'm sure you've done a very good job here tonight, so why don't you go home?” Stepping toward him, she took her wallet from her pocket and pulled out a bundle of notes. “Relax. Unwind. I'm sure you're just stressed.” Slipping the money into his top pocket, she smiled. “I'm convinced that an evening off will do you the world of good.”
He pulled the money straight back out and pressed it into her hand.
“You can save the blackmail money for the authorities when they get here,” he told her. “Who knows? Maybe they'll take it, but I figure there's at least a small chance that they'll do their job and shut this place down. And if they don't, I've got enough to go to the media. With the video and my experience, plus what I already know, I'm pretty sure I'll be able to work with a journalist to expose the truth about Camp Everbee. And that's one conspiracy theory you'd better take seriously.”
“And there's nothing else I can offer you?” she asked, stepping closer and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Perhaps something other than money?”
“As if,” he replied, pulling away and heading for the door. “You'd better find yourself another landsman, Crystal, 'cause I quit.”
“But Mr. Freeman -” she began, as he stormed out of the office and made his way back out into the rain. Sighing, she watched the empty doorway for a moment, staring at the rain that continued to fall outside and listening to the sound of his truck pulling away, before reaching into her pocket and taking out Freeman's phone, which she'd managed to lift from his coat during the final attempted hug.
Bringing up the video of the infected deer, she watched it one more time before swiping to delete, and then she grabbed her own phone and brought up Marlowe's number.
“It's me,” she said as soon as he answered. “Listen, I know it's late and the weather's lousy, but I need you to do something for me. Don't worry, though. I'll give you your usual reward as soon as you get back.”
***
“Jesus H. Christ,” Freeman muttered a few minutes later, as he drove his truck slowly through a large muddy puddle that had accumulated on the only road leading away from the camp. His headlights shone through the driving rain, but the dirt road was already becoming impassable, and he knew he couldn't risk going any faster than walking pace.
Reaching into his pocket, he searched for his phone. Not finding it in its usual spot, he checked his other pockets, before checking them all again until finally he stopped the truck for a moment and thought back to the moment when Crystal had tried to put her arms around him.
“Oh that's good,” he said finally, unable to stifle a faint smile. “I knew you had a few tricks about you, but pickpocketing... That's a pretty specific skill. I wonder where you learned it.”
Putting the truck into reverse, he began to back along the muddy road until he reached a spot where he was able to turn. His wheels spun for a moment in the mud, struggling to gain traction on a surface that was rapidly turning into a river, and despite his attempts to put the truck into a forward gear he felt the vehicle slowly sinking back into a ditch. Cursing, he revved the engine for a moment and pushed the pedal all the way down, but now the wheels spun hopelessly, spraying mud through the driving rain.
“Damn it!” he shouted finally, slamming his hand against the wheel.
He paused for a moment, trying to decide what to do next as he leaned back in his seat. The thought of going back up to Camp Everbee filled him with dread, but at the same time he didn't like the idea of trying to walk all the way to his apartment down by the main road. After one final attempt to rev the engine and get his truck out of the ditch, he cut the power and climbed out. In the process, his boots sank deep into the mud, some of which bubbled over the top and ran down to soak his socks.
“Lovely,” he muttered.
As he headed round to the back of the truck, he paused for a moment, worried that the deer carcass under the tarpaulin might yet pose a threat. Lifting the edge of the tarpaulin, he saw a patch of blooded fur with a black tendril on the side, but there seemed to be no sign of life. Finally, as the rain seemed to intensify, he got to work trying to push his truck out of the mud.