CH #5 - Seeking Answers (Part 1)

"Hmm… Maybe I should take a look at that house…?" Ryan put a hand to his chin doubtfully.

Speaking only to himself, the Savoia paced around the room, wondering what he could do on that Sunday day with nothing special about it.

He had been genuinely curious about Emily's announcement that there was a house in ruins that could potentially be involved in the series of crimes in the city.

"What if I go there? Will I be able to find something that will help answer my questions?"

Ryan knew that continuing to wonder and think up theories wouldn't do anything positive for his situation, and with that, there was only one thing left to do.

He grabbed his black coat, his house keys, and prepared to go investigate and try to answer every one of her questions.

"Hey, are you going out today, brother? In the middle of Sunday?"

Emerging from the kitchen, Hannah peeked out when startled by the sound of keys. Ryan could see that she was eating a piece of apple pie that had been bought yesterday at the local coffee shop.

"Yeah. I'm thinking about going somewhere. I know it's Sunday, and that's actually just another reason to motivate me to go." Ryan replied. "I won't be long… Or at least that's what I hope!"

"Huh…" Watching Ryan hastily put on his coat, a few theories began to run through the older sister's mind. "Don't tell me it has anything to do with a girl you met or something."

Ryan froze temporarily in pure surprise at hearing that. Hannah's ability to infer about anything was stupendous.

"Well I don't think saying that is a lie." He confirmed, rather briefly, as he didn't want to say much.

But the point was, he knew what kind of context Hannah was talking about, and he also tried to defuse this possible bomb that would be used against him.

"But it's no big deal. We met at the library and talked a thing or two about the city. That's all."

"Alright! I'm going to pretend very faithfully that I believe you, brother!" Hannah didn't miss the opportunity to laugh a little at the situation. "Have fun, but don't overdo it!"

Knowing his sister was such a tease, Ryan just laughed it off, getting ready to leave.

"Will you want me to pick you something at the supermarket on the way back?"

"No, no. You can focus on your date with her!" She answered. "Good luck brother!"

Ryan waved goodbye, and as he walked out of the house, the boy thought as he got the much cooler blast of air in his face.

"There's no date, Hannah. After all…"

He opened the garage door, withdrawing his faithful companion from two routes that would take him where he intended.

"... There won't be two in this one."

He decided he wasn't going to bother Emily on a Sunday day, and most of all, it led to the realization that bringing someone else wouldn't help him.

What Ryan was looking for was the answer to his own personal riddle, namely, nothing for Emily to get involved with.

"The fewer normal people I involve in this…" He got on the bike, starting to pedal. "... Less risks we will have…!"

Cycling down the quiet and rather scenic Highway 93, the boy let his mind race back to Cast and Lira. Those two were the only ones who showed no direct hostility to him.

"They will only take action against me if I become a risk, and I'm not planning on doing that."

He wished he could call them both "allies", but he didn't know how they felt about that. Ryan wanted to believe he could fully rely on both of them, but even sharing a whole little story, such a premise was still a shaky establish.

"And there's still another issue - that there are things I have to sort out myself." He told himself, keeping both eyes on the road.

It was afternoon time, and although the sky was still streaked with gray tones, there was more blue in it. The sun escaped triumphantly through these spaces between the few clouds, shedding its light contentedly on the conifers and deciduous as well as being reflected off the crystalline shield of the peaks in the distance.

The wind that made the leaves rustle was the only sound that cut through the whole environment, guaranteeing the special sensation of realizing oneself as truly alone.

Such an atmosphere helped him to think about his next steps and decisions, which little by little emerged as clearer and clearer images.

"There are things I should just keep to myself. Cast and Lira wouldn't be pleased if they found out I'm acting in my own best interests, but that's still necessary. Sorry, but that's my thing, too."

The connections between all that crazy chain of events seemed increasingly clear to him, and this also brought him closer to discovering the reality behind his memory loss.

Anything would help - from a small clue, or even the smallest indication that would lead to something concrete. That was about his life, and that's why Ryan would get those results on his own.

"Keith Webb… Just what were you talking about when you said I'm related with all of this…?"

His mind filled with doubts, the boy continued on, turning left at a point on the highway, thus taking in a view of the first clumps of houses.

Elderlog had a somewhat strange organizational structure, even considering it was a small town, since in addition to the center, which corresponded to the largest cluster of homes and businesses, there were also several smaller clusters a little more peripheral around this center.

There was always a large main street that acted as a "bridge" between the center and these other agglomerations, but for some reason they weren't so dense with housing.

"It's as if the town was broken up and divided among the woods." Ryan thought.

If all the houses were together in a single center, Elderlog would be a mid-scale town, even for a country town. The impression of being so small was actually caused by this extensive division of its territory.

And the place Ryan was looking for had that exact same profile, and it was like an island of houses around the city.

"Well, let's see... Looks like I have to take this street here." Ryan said, looking at a sign.

The words on the little green sign read "Pine St." Every street in Elderlog shared that kind of quirk that guaranteed a special air to every corner of the place.

"All the streets seem to be named after trees, huh? This is quite a detail."

The main street of the small town, where the Great Library of Flathead County, cafeteria, and most other establishments were located, is called Oak Street. Thinking about it, Ryan also remembered other streets he came across.

"Cast lives on Cypress Street, and the path I take to get home involves taking Willow Street ...I wouldn't be surprised if there was something like an Elm Street in this place...!"

But then he realized how unfocused he was. He had something to do, and yet he let it be forgotten.

"You know what? Let's just continue cycling..."

***

"Here on my phone it says it's 2:34 pm... I could have arrived a little earlier if I hadn't wasted so much time admiring the landscapes..."

Just the sound of birds singing in the distant pine and fir trees fills this afternoon, and nothing more. I am now in a place with a great hidden story that deserves to be told.

"But am I really to blame if this place is so beautiful that I can't help but keep looking?!" I find myself in a dilemma. "The only problem is that the sunlight won't last long..."

I look up for a moment, noticing that the sky has turned a little grayer than at the beginning of the trip here.

"I better do what I have to do quickly."

I take the liberty of speaking out loud, as no one was actually outside. On my way around the town center, I didn't notice many people outside other than those who had to operate their commercial establishments. Sundays can have a sweet melancholy around here.

"I think I'm going to put a chair outside and observe nothing, just like the others were doing someday. It seems to be relaxing... But well, guess it's better to stop talking and inspect the place before it gets any darker."

This is a simpler sector of the city. As soon as I was guided, I followed the path. I took Pine Street and turned onto the Sawdust Route... The path is quite a bit longer than I imagined, taking a little over seven minutes to cross at full speed on the bike.

That was the road trucks use to haul timber, so the place is littered with sawdust... It's an obvious name, but an efficient one.

As soon as you take Pine Street, the first roofs of houses become visible from a distance because they are in a slightly higher altitude in relation to the center. That cluster of houses doesn't resemble the rest of Elderlog in any way, as the buildings are noticeably simpler and poorer in architecture. People who walk along the worn-out asphalt streets look humbler and even wiser. The glow in their eyes shows a reality that is not seen in the rest of the space.

Asphalt remains in the form of small stones are visible partially buried there. After what happened seven years ago, the place exudes the impression of having been almost completely forgotten.

Nearby are Blue Lagoon Steelworks and Aiken Loggings. The first is located in the mountains visible to the north, still somewhat distant. Apparently, Elderlog's crystalline rock is a reliable source of iron ore, which makes this place perfect in every way for a steel mill, not to mention that all around woods grow green and alive, with good quality logs available to the removal.

I look forward. My vision locks into that building.

"So that's what I've been looking for...I must say you're a little more imposing than I thought you would be, Miss Abandoned House!" I take a breath of air.

My shoes touch the overgrown, abandoned grass, at least tall enough to literally hide my bike entirely, making a constant crunching sound as it rubs against the gravel and dirt on the ground. The smell of wet ground is quite strong, as is the scent from the rotting wood that climbs a good few feet upwards.

"This place really is almost falling apart... I have to be careful because one touch and all this here could end up falling on my head!"

There is a huge area surrounding the house. I take my time to take in the surroundings before making any moves. Upstairs are the dirty glass windows, whose view from the inside is completely obstructed by the dense, brown dust slabs.

There in the corner, however, on the left side, is a broken window, shattered as if a stone had been thrown there. Partial darkness allows me to see too little for anything to be said. Only a small section of the ceiling, also made of wood, appears to please my curiosity.

From the ground, I take in my hands a small object made of metal. Rust takes up a large part of the horizontalized rectangular plate. It's broken, and this is visible when seeing that on the left side of the object a large shaped tear with pointed ends exists.

"Looks like something is written here."

There are words in big letters there. In fact, it's just three letters, which time has deteriorated too far to read. The three characters painted in black ink, in a very harmonious way, are what is definitely a "C", something that can be an "F" or an "H", and a letter "E".

With this object in hand, I look at the house. The blue tint is almost invisible, revealing the raw and decrepit wood. Several holes and broken boards take over the structure, and vine vegetation develops at certain points between those dark spaces, seeking the dim light outside.

That would be the typical setting for a perfect horror movie...

... ... ...

"Boo!"

A little impressed by the sound, I jump a little when I hear that noise, dropping the remnants of a sign in the process as well. In the purest alarming, my reflexes sharpened by the sense of heightened danger force me to look back.

"Haha! You were really scared...! I didn't know you were so easy to scare!"

"Emily...?!"

This girl...! How could she scare me like that?! I mean... It's not like I'm scared... It's just a way of speaking!

She seems to be enjoying my fright, clutching her stomach in a burst of potent laughter. I have to wait for her to stop laughing.

"Wow, I didn't know you were scared before you even walked in!" She says, wiping a tear from her face.

"I am not...! I was just surprised! It was reflexes... That's all!"

"Blah blah blah ...!" She ignores what I say.

"And what the hell are you even doing here? How did you get here?"

She laughs a little, her smile being almost bland now.

"Look at you again... Asking endless questions is the only thing you can do!"

She points with her index finger to a remote area across the street. Underneath a pine tree is an ordinary bicycle leaning against a cut tree stump.

"I saw you cycling through town and figured you were coming here, so I took advantage and arrived a few minutes ahead of you. Your attention was so focused on the signs that you didn't even see me there, just across the street!"

Looks like I was just a little too distracted... Ryan, you're an idiot like everyone says. Don't be surprised if one day a car collides with you for being so inattentive...!

"I was just a little mad that you didn't call like you said you would... I said I'd come with you if you thought of something, and I've been expecting that to happen, you know?"

Unlike her playful mood, Emily looks genuinely disappointed, and the difference between moods becomes even easier to see when the person is as expressive as she is.

"Okay, sorry I didn't call you. I didn't think it would make you feel that way."

Emily looks at me with some mockery of my response, almost as if she knows I'm saying this because I'm literally bound by the circumstances.

"You don't look very sorry to me. Did you really want to come here all by yourself?"

She then assumes a relaxed posture, placing both hands on the back of her head, closing her eyes and smiling.

"Then I'll have you know you won't get rid of me that easily!" She says, laughing. "I would never leave an adventure like this in the hands of just one person!"

In a way, seeing that she didn't take it to heart relieves me a lot.

"It's good to know that..."

"What did you say?" She asks, not having heard what I didn't want her to hear.

"I didn't say anything. But since we're both here, shall we go in?"

"You can go first! The gentleman must lead the way."

"Something tells me that the scared one here isn't me."

I walk, followed by her, to the entrance door that leans to the side, already broken. The stairs themselves make access quite difficult, as any heavier step is capable of breaking the decaying wood of the steps. We walk carefully to the rustic-made door, carved with concave circular details that count by nine, positioned next to each other in rows of three by three.

Without further ado, I put my hand on the cold brass doorknob, the only thing there that doesn't look rotten, and push the movable wall back. The upper metal hinge is completely destroyed, rusted to the last atom, and with that, the entire door is supported only by the one below, which also threatens to see the same fate in a short time.

A large echo as well as the thud of outside light runs through the house. Dust particles fly, with sawdust and powder that mix in a visceral waltz in the air, driven by the wind generated when opening the door. The creaking of the hitting wood propagates widely, increasing in intensity as it reverberates through the structure.

A single step coming from me, and the whole place sounds like loose wood being twisted. If it is crudely compared, this house feels like a complete living organism in itself, with the grotesque metabolic sounds and all the rest.

I feel something lightly touching both sides of my ribcage.

"Hehe! Did I scare you?" Emily asks, laughing.

I turn back, using the best of my mental ability to hide the fact that I'm shivering like a leaf in the wind.

"Do it again and I'll lock you in one of these rooms!"

I can't go on like this...! I need to convince my mind that any fear is just something coming from my head and nothing else... This is it... It's just things in my head.

"So you were really scared!" She says, following me.

"I wasn't. This whole thing of haunted places doesn't exist." I say in reply. "It's just a pure psychological and instinctive effect."

"Who knows? What if there really is something really ugly in here?"

I look back. Time for retribution.

"Something ugly besides you?"

Emily's face twists into an angry expression, and pressing her nails into the palms of each hand, she flashes her teeth at me like a rottweiler dog with murderous intent.

"You even seem like someone normal and balanced, but that's just an appearance... Have you never been taught that all women are beautiful and that it's absolutely forbidden for a man to say otherwise?"

"No. They taught me to respect all women, not to hide the obvious." I keep pressing with my retribution.

Several seconds of heavy silence follow. After a while without any words, I lead myself to look at Emily's face, and I realize she seems to have taken this to an extremely personal level.

I raise my hands in the air. Maybe I'm feeling a little guilty for playing with her like this?

"I was lying about that, you know? You are not ugly."

She then folds her arms and assumes a comical defensive posture.

"Of course you were lying, after all my supreme beauty is unquestionable!"

She uses her left hand to smooth her short hair, sending it back in a gesture I can only classify as "fabulous".

Anyway, after this little and frustrated attempt at humor on my part, it's time to move on. I must admit that my sense of humor is way too insecure... And that's why my attempts to be funny never work.

Well maybe I'm just not fit to be a joker? It's not like I'll keep trying anyway.

Walking through all that space, I can't find anything very interesting. The daylight is still strong enough to illuminate everything, but in time, it will be impossible to navigate this house.

"But this is too weird… Why was all this furniture left to rot in here? Why does the family seem to have left this place in a hurry?" I question myself, inspecting the layout of objects in the house.

Walking through the large living room, I notice cupboards for dishes and tea ornaments, an old sofa, still in possible use, a few broken chandeliers, and a bookcase with some moldy titles lying there, being devoured by fungus.

Most of the furniture has been looted over time or left there. Only in the living room and in the nearest corridor it is possible to see, scattered on the wall, various ornaments and holes the size of an ordinary nail, which makes one think that there were pictures or family memorabilia around here, and that they were lost, taken, or simply stolen.

Using the light of my phone, I illuminate a nearby bathroom. The wallpaper covering the sides of everything is torn and rotted, faded with age, leaving the wood exposed. The toilet is broken and there is no shower. The floor of the room is flooded with a thin trickle of water that drips from the broken pipe on the wall, drop by drop.

The drain is clogged with seems to be earth and wood chips, which prevents the shallow pool from being drained.

I hear the sound of something metallic colliding with another object in the kitchen located at the end of that hallway. I walk over there, since the only available door, painted white, is already open.

"Did you find anything?" I ask, right after taking my first steps there.

"Nothing very important. Just some rusty pans... Ah, here are some stainless steel ladles and some ceramic and glass plates, which for convenience seem to be the only things that are still functional here." Emily speaks, using a metal spoon as a small pointer.

She bends down for a second, picking something up off the floor. Surprisingly, there is a food can.

"... And there are some of these here, too..."

It's an ordinary can, red and a little bigger than a hand. On the front, the can has a round logo with white letters, highlighted in black. The saying on the tin is "Marvelli's Spicy Bean Soup ".

"Can I take a look at this?"

"Oh, sure. Here."

I get the can from Emily. It's open, but other than that, it's just a normal can... Looking inside, however, I notice something that makes me think and doubt a little. Inside the aluminum packaging, there are remains of a dark and already dry liquid, which possibly corresponds to the bean soup stored there naturally.

This shouldn't be here... At least not after seven years.

I turn the can over. Manufacturing, expiration dates, and lot code are still visible on the uncolored metal base. When it comes to this one, the date it was manufactured is September 17, 2024.

"This is too weird to believe…" I say more to myself than to Emily. "Emily, look at this..."

I show my new discovery to Emily, who also happens to be as surprised and thoughtful as I am myself, and holding the can, she questions.

"This shouldn't have been here at the time of the murder... Why is this thing here, Ryan?"

"That's what I want to know too."

I look up at the ceiling. A strong feeling says I have to find out what's going on in this place.

"Where are you going?" Emily asks, still with the can of bean soup in her hands.

"I'll investigate upstairs and see if I can find anything else."

Before leaving the kitchen, I look back one last time.

"I'm not saying this in a bad sense, so don't get me wrong, but I think you should go home now, Emily." I try to be as serious as I can about my words.

Everything here screams "bizarre" in my ears, and in bizarre territory, only equally bizarre people are allowed to step on. You can call it "intuition" or whatever, but something tells me this place is not suitable for "normal" people.

"Please listen to what I say."

As I walk away from the kitchen, I hear her following me with quick steps, almost running.

"I... I will accompany you..."

I turn back. We are already close to the ruined staircase that will lead to the second floor.

"You don't need to follow me if you're scared, Emily. I really appreciate the fact that you came this far, but look at you. Go home, yes?"

"But I'm not scared…! I can go...!"

I look at the can she holds up to her breasts. Her hands shake, and they make the object move too. Breathing is rapid and eyes bulging. It's obvious she's terrified of what's happening.

"I will go up. As for you, don't follow me. I can see you can't stand being here anymore. Go back home. I was the one who had the idea to come here, so I have to take responsibility if something dangerous is to happen. I came here for my own reasons, and none of them concern you, Emily. You followed me here because you wanted to, and now I have to take responsibility for letting this slip happen." I try to communicate my intentions in a way that leaves as little room as possible for any debate or argument.

Not to mention that I can't let the same thing that occurred last time happen once again. It's my fault those students lost their lives, and that's why I need to be more responsible. It's not just about my own life.

I put my right foot on the first step, and the sound of wood creaking and crackling echoes throughout the place.

I walk further up the stairs, and hear those footsteps following, trying to blend in with mine. I look back.

"As you said yourself, I came here of my own free will... You won't stop me from accompanying you."

This girl is stubborn... Unfortunately, there's not much I can do about it. I don't believe in this ghost story or anything like that, and I might sound hypocritical, since I'm literally a supernatural being. But the thought that there is someone who occupies this place... It is indeed capable of haunting me enormously, even more so when taking into account what has been happening in this town in the last few years.

"So it just had to be me, huh, Keith...?" I speak, just for myself. Keith Webb's voice still haunts me, as does the rotten feeling that always comes with remembering it all.

"Did you say something?" Emily questions, forcing seriousness into her face.

"I'm just talking to myself. It's no big deal." I give a ready answer.

We went up the stairs. The upper part of the house has wider and more open corridors, as well as a greater number of rooms. The ceiling chandeliers look strangely more intact, but cracks in the wooden ceiling indicate that the structure is indeed at an advanced level of decomposition.

All the while, the smell of rotting wet wood fills my nostrils, the difference being that it seems to be several times stronger around here. The foul odor becomes so acidic and violent that with every sniff I feel my nose about to bleed. The reason for this is there, everywhere we look.

Unlike the lower floor, this one has a remarkably large number of windows, which in complete opposition to the lower floor are completely closed. Visibility is rather low, and light that enters through sporadic holes in the ceiling is the only source of illumination.

"Let's open some of these windows! This place is too stuffy." She says, briskly walking up to the first one, almost as if she's forgotten her fear.

I watch as Emily tries to open the window, only to confirm that the wooden shutters don't budge at all. I approach to observe.

"Ugh…! These things won't open!" Frustrated, she folds her arms.

After a little observation, I can conclude something quite strange with these windows.

"They are held in place by nails..."

Large iron nails prevent windows from being opened. Why is that?

"Weird..." Emily says, bringing her index finger straight to her lips.

Apparently, we'll have to continue in complete darkness... The lights on our phones should be enough to allow for some vision. Given the circumstances we split around the house, just like we did downstairs. While we check things out, we talk at a distance.

"Hey Ryan..."

"Yes?"

"Why do you want to know about the town's history?"

I unfortunately cannot provide an honest answer to this question.

"Not any great reason besides pure curiosity. Why?"

"Because I think you're lying."

After a second of silence, I answer.

"Oh, am I? And why would I be?"

This time, it's her turn to take her time without saying anything.

"You know that saying these things only makes me doubt your motives more... And besides, you said yourself that you have personal reasons for being here."

"That's good reasoning."

"Oh, and you don't look like you're here for fun, unlike me."

"I don't…? And what kind of face do I have?"

After my answer, I can hear Emily's laugh in the far room.

"This is the first time we're talking normally… See? It is not so difficult!"

"And you still haven't said what I look like...!"

... ... ...

"Hey Ryan..."

"Yes? Anything else? Is the smell getting you?"

"No, I mean… Well, kind of. But anyway… Are you part of any club yet?"

"A club, huh...? I have to say I haven't even thought about it so far."

"So what do you think of literature?"

"A literature club? Are you part of a club about books and poetry and that kind of stuff?"

"Yeah, so what about it? It's my literature club! I'm the president, after all."

"The president? Well, on second thought, it's not hard to associate your image with books, considering I met you in a library, but... I have to say I have no plans to join any clubs this year."

"Wow, how lazy! Would you even bother to take a look? I can ask the members to give you a nice welcome! How do tea and biscuits sound to you?"

"I've never had tea, and biscuits are something you can kind of find anywhere, so I don't know how I would feel about it."

This time there was no response.

"Emily...?"

No answer comes, and as a result, I peek inside the room in which she finds herself.

"Emily, I-"

... And as soon as my eyes come into contact with the interior of the environment, I see something that makes everything in me tremble...

... ... ...

Emily's eyes plead for help as she struggles futilely, trying to escape the grip of what appears to be a huge living, pulsing mass made up of the shadows of the place itself.

The cold black springs to life, taking shape and gripping her, and covering her mouth to keep the screams from escaping. That entity – or whatever it is – holds the girl about three feet above the ground as she kicks aimlessly, unable to free herself.

"Emily...!"

I point the phone light in an entirely instinctive movement towards it. Luckily, the lighting seems to have an effect on the mass, which lets her body fall to the ground before disappearing back into the shadows.

Emily's mind is left in a traumatized state on the bedroom floor as mine goes to great lengths to set priorities. Should I help her first, or worry about that thing?

But at the moment it's clear to me...

"There's something bizarre going on here, and for real…" I say under my breath.