The Cabin Is Always Hungry - Arc 1 | Nightmare Suburbia (3)

NIGHTMARE SUBURBIA

Part 3

As the beat-up sedan rumbled away from the forest, I realized I was tethered to that cursed gem.

No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t escape its grasp. I was like a hapless kite tied to the sedan’s roof, helplessly watching the world whiz by, mocking my attempts to flee. Each time I dared to venture beyond its boundaries, which was around a mile radius, I found myself back inside the car, forced to endure the excruciating small talk between Alvin and Dave about jobs, sports, and whatever the hell Dave thought would be an excellent conversation to drown out the silence.

I did learn one thing. Apparently, they had been recruited into Hodge’s little demonic cult for a few months now. However, that didn’t tell me how Hodge learned such things in the first place.

We drove past the sign:

WELCOME TO POINT HOPE, OREGON.

POPULATION: 43,556.

Below it (with a couple of bullet holes), read:

HOME OF FINE GRAPES!

DRIVE SLOW!

A few vineyards flitted past my peripheral vision as we delved deeper into the town proper. Though my memories were hazy, I remembered eating with my friends at the old pizzeria and dinner theater every third Thursday of the month like a ritual. Where my family would eat breakfast every Sunday at a mom and pops waffles restaurant with the best french toast in the state near the park. Where my cousin had a beautiful wedding by the gazebo. I remember everyone made a big deal about a family of geese moving into town.

Eerily, there was not a soul in sight. Downtown was always busy, even for a mid-sized town like Point Hope.

Alvin parked the car in front of Dave’s two-story ranch house, nestled at the northeast edge of town. My friends and I called it Green Hill because it was where most of the town’s wealthy residents with daddy issues resided, overlooking most of the city on top of a literal hill.

Dave stepped out of the car, retrieved his bag from the backseat, and attempted a half-hearted display of gratitude. “Thanks, Alvin. I guess I’ll see you around?”

Alvin merely nodded. “Goodnight.”

Dave grinned and replied, “Or should I say, good morning?”

Alvin didn’t laugh. He pushed the button from his side, rolling the window up before driving away, leaving Dave dumbfounded.

Dave dropped his smile. “Asshole.” He walked toward the front door and entered the house.

The first thing Dave did when he entered the house was casually strolling into the bathroom, humming an Eminem song, strip everything he wore, and dumping them inside a black plastic bag. He then hopped into the shower, stayed there for almost an hour scrubbing every inch of his flesh, rinsing his hair and body with shampoo and men’s body wash three times, and even cleaned his fingernails with a toothpick. Despite the circumstances, he displayed no signs of urgency—just another routine he had done many times.

Then, Dave entered the basement and dumped the plastic bag into the incinerator. Only a few houses now have these, but I reckoned that Dave built it for this special occasion. How long had Dave and Hodge sacrificed people for their greed? Hodge mentioned it had been three years.

How many bodies did they go through to get Dave this lovely house? A well-paying job? This prominent reputation in the community, living in the affluent side of town? When I passed by the hallway earlier, I noticed a portrait of Dave’s good-looking family. A beautiful wife. Two kids. One boy. One girl.

I instantly recognized Xavier Yates, a junior from McLaren High who played baseball and mostly kept hanging out with the douche canoe squad. The girl must be Vivian. Sometimes, I’d often see her in the library, and she mainly kept to herself, unlike her brother. I didn’t even know that Dave was their father, and I wondered if Dave’s family knew that all of this money came from the children he killed.

Using my many-eyes, I floated through the walls and headed to the house’s second floor.

The children were sleeping in their respective bedrooms. Xavier was a loud snorer, and Vivian had those whale sounds reverberating from the portable speakers at the end table. Hm. Heavy sleepers, I thought. They never woke up while their father tried to get rid of the evidence of my murder. I couldn’t find his wife anywhere. The master bedroom looked unslept.

Suddenly, I felt Dave fish me out of the backpack, contemplating whether to throw me in the incinerator.

Shit.

In a split second, I snapped back my consciousness into the basement, into the stone.

I desperately tried to find a way out but couldn’t move. I was just a dumb, stupid rock stuck at the mercy of a fucking killer. I couldn’t even shout for help or for him to stop. I tried running through Dave with my floating consciousness. Maybe I could possess him? But it just gave me a fucking massive headache, and I never wanted to do that again.

Dave felt nothing. Not a flutter in the wind or sensed a presence in the basement; the way his hair rose at the nape of his neck when he sensed he was being watched—none of that. Dave strode toward the incinerator, ready to throw me inside.

That’s when I noticed a slight shimmer at the bottom left corner of my vision. I focused on the glow, and everything around me suddenly slowed into a nanosecond crawl.

The shimmer expanded.

CORE

DUNGEONS (inaccessible)

MONSTERS (inaccessible)

TRAPS (inaccessible)

A prompt.

What the hell is this?

There was no doubt about it. A prompt. Like a menu from a video game? I was stunned momentarily, trying to wrap my head around this new development. Yes. It was exactly like a game. What the fuck am I? Am I in a simulation? I tried clawing my eyes and prying the device off my head, but I felt nothing.

Only the core was accessible to me, and it took a moment to learn that if I focused on the word again, I could click it and drop more information about the tab.

[CORE – Mark Castle]

Rank: Z (???)

Power (current: 5/5)

Defenses

Heat Surge I: Heat your body and protect yourself. Perfect opportunity for a distraction or an escape. Duration: 6 seconds.

Offenses

Mind Shock I: Stun your enemies with a static zap. Duration: 6 seconds.

Telekinesis I: Move an object or a creature more than ten feet in a three-dimensional space. Duration: 6 seconds.

Movement

Levitate I: Move your core no more than ten feet off the ground, allowing you to move horizontally or vertically for the duration. Duration: 10 minutes.

I realized these were my abilities exerted through the gem, but I had no idea how to access them.

Come on, come on! Concentrate!

Time around me gradually began to speed up again, and I was running out of time. I focused on [Heat Surge], straining my mind against those two words, compelling them to work, and willing the gem to heat up. I quickly noticed the Power prompt near the upper tab and how I currently had five.

Maybe if I—

Once I drew a mental link between Power and [Heat Surge], Dave suddenly yelped.

“Shit!” I fell to the ground, skidded, and rolled under an old couch.

[Power: 4/5]

Dave clutched his hand, mouth agape, and stared at the couch. “…the fuck?”

I can’t believe that worked! I wanted to holler. I saw my Power go down by one, which meant using one of the abilities would drain it. I had four left.

Dave’s heart raced as he approached the couch, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He bent down, lowering himself to a crouch, and cautiously angled his head to peer into the darkness underneath, which hid me from his line of sight. As his eyes strained to adjust, confusion danced across his face. His brows furrowed, questioning whether what he felt was a figment of his imagination.

Shaking his head, his fingers reached into the darkness, searching for any trace of my presence, desperate to grasp my body. He hesitated briefly as if bracing for the searing heat again. He was getting closer.

I lashed out with [Telekinesis].

Like a phantom gust of wind, it surged from within the gem, rippling through the air with an electric charge. The force collided with Dave’s outstretched hand, propelling him backward with unexpected ferocity. It sent Dave hurtling across the room, his body flailing. The force of the blow jolted him off his feet, his back crashing against the lally column ten feet away from the couch and almost tipped over the industrial storage cabinet behind him.

Dave groaned in pain, struggling to regain his breath. He stood up, wobbling unsteadily on his feet, and stumbled over to an old table where he had left his phone. He cautiously glanced over the couch, making sure not to go near it. Then, he grabbed his cell phone and dialed Hodge’s number.

Hodge didn’t pick up after a few rings, and it went straight to voicemail.

“Hodge, call me back. Something’s fucking wrong with the gem, man. You gotta get to my house. Now. I don’t know what to do.” He ended the voicemail.

His eyes darted from the couch to the stairs. Was I still here? He probably wondered. He had to get closer to the couch to get to the stairs. I was reeling for a way out myself. Obviously, I shouldn’t let him up the stairs. Who knows what he had up there he could use against me? Some demonic spell to contain me? To destroy me? I didn’t know how capable David Yates was of magic, but I didn’t want to find out.

I only got three Powers left.

He slowly walked toward the couch, fearing that if he made any sudden moves, it would trigger my telekinesis. He crept forward, careful not to make a sound, until he was only inches away from the stairs. With a sudden burst of speed, he ran up the steps, heart pounding, taking them two at a time. The basement door was wide open, and he reached out.

The door!

I grasped [Telekinesis] again and slammed the door shut just as Dave reached the upper landing and halfway through the door frame, striking him square in the face. With a strangled yelp, Dave clutched his broken nose and stepped back.

I still had a few seconds left with [Telekinesis], and I pulled his shirt down toward me.

He felt his body tilting dangerously over the edge, and he tried to correct it, but his right foot missed the fist step entirely and slipped.

His arms flailed in a futile attempt to regain control, but it was too late. The world around him became a blur as gravity yanked his stumbling form. Dave tumbled down the stairs, the clash of flesh against wood reverberating through the confined basement.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud!

Then silence, broken only by Dave’s ragged breaths as he lay on his back, crumpled at the bottom of the stairs before passing out.