Missing Rachel - Entry VIII: Home

Missing Rachel
Entry VIII: Home
Location: Home
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

I slowly walked down our street towards home. I could barely will my legs to move but I knew I was close now. The questions laid heavily on my mind and made me feel like I was carrying bricks with me. The third gate down the street was our gate. The neighborhood’s local postbox was stuffed full and a letter was sticking out as if someone hadn’t pushed it all the way in. I knew it wasn’t right, but… the envelope was addressed to Norman. There was no return address but the handwriting looked familiar. I took a deep breath and tore open the package.

Norman,

I’m sending this to you in a letter because I’m afraid to tell you this in person. What we did… well, it was wrong. My husband isn’t an easy man to be… with… but he IS my husband and your friend. I need some time to sort this out, away from you both. I’m going away for a while. I’m going to tell him, Norman… so don’t you think you can hold that against me. Maybe we’ll work it out. I’m not sure I even want to, but he deserves at least that much.

Goodbye,
Rachel

I entered our backyard, the rain gave me a terrible sense of foreboding and it chilled me through my clothes. I was expectant, but also… afraid. I held my breath as I approached my… our back door. I was terrified to step inside. The house was painfully quiet, the only sound was my own breathing, ragged and strained. I clicked the light switch by the door; the power was off. In the darkness, I bumped into the kitchen table. I remembered having breakfast here on this very table, was that yesterday? Or some time before? I had lost track of all time. I swung the flashlight back and forth in wide arcs. I could see the door to the basement and it was locked. Where had I put the damned key?

I went to the front door to find a small pile of mail on the floor. How long had I been away? Why hadn’t Rachel picked this up? Most of the contents were bills; there was a credit card bill in there too. I ripped the bill open and read it; to my surprise it said something about cancelling my credit card due to nonpayment. What the hell? I ran upstairs, ignoring the pain in my leg, hoping to find something… anything. There on a cabinet in the hall, I found the last missing piece from my wallet. The old photo of Rachel and I stared back at me, reminding me of better times. It didn’t make me feel terribly comfortable but I replaced the photo in my wallet. I hoped that I would feel like I had gotten a part of my life back but the image just made me feel uneasy. Why had I thrown it away?

In our family room, I saw the large television. I had purchased it before I knew I was going to lose my job. I felt pretty guilty about it afterward, but by then it was too late. I walked down the hallway, the mirror had been smashed to pieces and scattered around the floor. I stepped over the broken glass and went into the bathroom. I stared at the sink, one of the taps always stuck. I promised Rachel I would fix it but I hadn’t gotten around to it yet. There never seemed to be enough time but now I wondered what I had wasted all that time on. My eyes glanced at the bathtub. We were lucky enough to get a house with one of those wonderful old claw-footed tubs. It was something Rachel always enjoyed using and its aesthetic appeal made the average bathroom stand out. I looked in the mirror but didn’t recognize the man staring back at me. In a single night, my entire life had been transformed into something… unimaginable.

I entered our bedroom, hoping to find Rachel sitting there but I was alone. My laptop had been left on and it only had a tiny bit of power left. On the screen was a website about the old water tower. I remembered where I had put the basement key and opened the top drawer of the desk. I pocketed it and continued searching the room. The bookcase was filled with books that were half mine and half Rachel’s. The more closely I looked at the book collection, the more I realized that it looked like the collection in that house; I even had some of the same books as that man. My wife’s… Rachel’s suitcase was sitting on our bed. It was closed but I had a feeling I knew what was in it. I flipped open the latch and saw her suitcase was filled with clothes, toiletries, and a train ticket. Were you leaving just me… or Norman too?

I went downstairs again and unlocked the basement door. Down in the musty room was where we stored our old Christmas decorations. There were also garbage bags stuffed with dry paint cans and supplies. I saw a glint of metal on the ground and picked up a small key, I tried to remember what it went to but I couldn’t. There was also a pile of old boxes filled with clothes, tools, and other things that we obviously hadn’t thrown out yet. I stared at all the unfinished projects like the divider wall I put up last summer. I built it so we could create a separate room in the basement yet I hadn’t finished it yet so the door stuck and the drywall was poorly installed. I might be able to break through it if I found something heavy enough.

I remembered what the key I had found opened and sprinted back to the second floor. There was a small utility closet there and I knew I might be able to find something to break down the divider wall. I placed the key into the keyhole and it unlocked with a click that seemed to echo throughout the empty house. Inside the closet, I found a heavy crowbar, this should work. I went back to the basement and with a heave; I swung the crowbar at the wall. I smashed a hole large enough to step through and as I did, my breath caught in my throat. This was it, I don’t know why, but for some reason I thought Rachel might be down here. Was she okay? She had to be okay.

Behind the divider wall I found a filthy-looking pile of rags that had been dumped in the corner. The stench coming from them was awful and made my eyes water. I was terrified to even touch the pile… to see what laid within… but I knew I had to; I had come this far. After all this searching, after all I had seen… when I looked within the rags… wrapped within the filthy rags, pale and still… was Rachel. She was covered in fading bruises and what appeared to be cuts. Her chest was a horrible mess of blood and dirt, and I couldn’t bear to look at it. The knife in my boot, the gun in my pocket… were they the tools of her murder? I thought about all I had seen and wondered if any of it could help me figure out who had done this to her. Who had done this to my wife, who would do this to Rachel?

When I couldn’t stay there any longer, I stepped away on shaky legs and made my way back upstairs. Reluctantly, exhausted from my journey, I could no longer resist the urge to close my eyes. I don’t know how long I slept, it was more like I was unconscious, but I awoke hoping to wake from this nightmare. When I glanced around the bedroom, I realized that nothing had changed, Rachel was gone forever. I looked at the travel books Rachel liked to read, thinking I may be able to find some place to go. How would I pay for an airplane ticket? My credit card had been cancelled. Then I remembered the wallet and how I had found its contents throughout my journey. Either I dropped that stuff or somebody else did. Maybe I was sleepwalking again, or maybe someone stole it from me. Norman’s store, the wood, the water tower… was I at those places before? I didn’t see how it could have happened any other way. I must have been the one to lose my wallet and its contents, but what does that mean…?

I willed my body to move and headed down the hall towards the bathroom. When I passed the broken mirror, within the few broken pieces that remained I could see my face had grown pale and weak. I couldn’t bear to look again; it was like I didn’t actually expect a reflection. I felt empty and drained. I stood in front of the sink and saw in the grimy glass the shadow of myself, a whisper. I pulled out something from my pocket, it was the keycard I found in the factory, the one that allowed me to slip through that door. It seemed to me that it was probably Norman’s but if that was true, what was he doing back at the plant? Did I think Norman was going back to the factory? It must have been him; he must have been using the old locker room. Then I pulled out the old photo of that man and his wife. I found it in that house; I recalled those faded remains I had found, deep underneath the house in the tunnels. What had he done there? Well, what did I think? Was that man involved in this whole mess somehow? Definitely… those tunnels, the odd tools in his house, and the remains of his wife… he wasn’t innocent, that’s for sure.

I went to the family room and sat down. I pulled out the letter that I had taken from the postbox. Rachel, were you really having an affair with Norman? But why? I didn’t think things were that bad… in the letter, Rachel seemed concerned, she almost seemed worried of what Norman might do. Did he… did he do that to Rachel? I was sure of it, she wanted to end their affair and that bastard… he killed her for it. A lot of it made sense; Norman was clearly seeing Rachel a lot so he had plenty of time to plan it out. He knew where we lived, obviously. Is that why Rachel looked so scared when I came home that day? What had happened to me? Did Norman knock me out or something? I gazed at the television I had purchased while I was trying to figure out what happened, when it hit me… from now on, I’d have no one to get angry with me for stupid things like buying this TV.

I went to my desk, sat down and, leafed through the notebook I found between the rocks in the wood. In it was a list of female names… and Rachel’s was the last on that list. I recalled the names I saw scratched out on that old desk, deep within those musty tunnels. Was the man in that house really up to something? I noticed my old office safe tucked into the corner of the closet. I used to keep tax records and other important documents in it. It used a digital passcode lock but I didn’t have the code, maybe I left it somewhere. I went downstairs and to the front door. The mail still sat there, heaped on the floor. How long had Rachel been lying in the basement? I moved away from the front door like a spirit aimlessly haunting our house. I entered the kitchen and could only think that there would be no more dinners here. No more chit chat over breakfast… at least not for us.

My eyes found the basement door and all I could do was stare at it until I felt like I had bore holes through it. It seemed like I had seen all there was, maybe, I thought, I was ready to go back into the basement. Maybe there wouldn’t be anything for me to find, but I had to take one last look. I descended the basement steps and stood in the middle of the room like a frozen statue. Before I knew what I was doing, I had the knife held in my hands. If I was guilty, I could take this to a warm, safe place, and do something about it. No, no… there were other means of dealing with this. I pulled out the gun from my pocket and slowly caressed it. If I wanted to end it, I could do it; I could do it with this gun. It felt like I was carrying an anvil but I couldn’t let it go. I realized now that I was in the basement and that I couldn’t go back into that room again. I had already seen too much.

I went back upstairs to the bedroom, the laptop was now dead but I found some notes and loose paper in the desk drawers. There was a yellow sticky note with an eight-digit code on it: ‘4R3UHER3.’ The code was for the safe but what kind of phrase was that? I punched it into the digital safe display and pulled open the small safe door. I peered inside and found a photo of Rachel and I when we first moved to town. In it, we were smiling outside the front of the house, which looked like a real mess, but we looked happy. Odd, I couldn’t remember who took that photo. There was also an envelope in the safe with something written on it: ‘DO NOT OPEN UNTIL I TELL YOU.’ I guess this was as good a time as any to see what was inside. I tore open the envelope and removed the yellow-lined paper inside. I began to read the familiar looking handwriting.

I know this whole event has probably been pretty difficult. You can’t imagine how hard it’s been for me too (well, maybe you can). That isn’t meant to be an excuse, but… well, I hope you can better understand why I’ve done what I’ve done. Moving to this town seemed like such a dream… a quiet place to get established, to live out our lives, and to be together. But you knew as well as I did that things quickly changed. Your drinking was one thing but as you grew more distant, as you retreated into that world of yours… well, it was clear you didn’t need me as much. In fact, maybe you never needed me at all, but it took all this to make you realize. In the end though, you may never forgive me for this… you may never forgive yourself… but this is probably for the best. You’ll be healthier for this. I’m just sorry it had to happen this way.

Rachel

I sat down at the kitchen table and stared at the gun in my hand. It didn’t seem so heavy this time. If I wanted to, I could use the gun to finally end this. The question was… did I think I deserved it? Did I? Was this my fault? Did I deserve to die? Living in this town hadn’t been easy. The plant had helped in some way to keep me grounded. It kept me in line, gave me something to do, and helped me get away from my past. When the factory closed, everything changed. I guess that was when I started sleepwalking, disappearing for hours at a time. I had piles of doctors’ reports but nothing seemed to help, not even drinking, but I swear I had tried to give it up. I know it! The sleepwalking never really went away but I know Rachel had tried… I know she had tried to be there for me, even when everything was falling apart. This night had unearthed terrible truths but I knew it was the final act of a long-standing horror I’d been living.

Waking up in that house tonight was the final cruelty. I wish I had remained unconscious in that room forever. It was obvious to me that the man I had found in that house had something to do with all this. Could he have killed Rachel? It started to seem that there were too many things I had seen to think otherwise. After making it out of those tunnels, I thought those sewers might feel safer, I was wrong. The security tape I had watched showed someone being attacked by what looked like two people. I had found the contents of my wallet scattered throughout town. Why the hell had I been out there? Had my sleepwalking gone to some new extreme? The thought that I couldn’t account for my whereabouts, but knew I had been to the wood and even Norman’s place… well, it was terrifying. Was I out wandering the town while Rachel was home alone getting murdered? I didn’t know what that meant, but at least I had recovered my things… hopefully, I thought, that would cover my tracks so I wouldn’t be blamed for all of this.

Deep within the wood, was where things became truly awful and finding that notebook only made things worse. Rachel’s name had been on that list, so what terrible plan was she a part of? There was a similar list of names on the desk back in those tunnels as well. What was the connection? It was clear, at least, that Norman had been going back to the old plant. Maybe he was the one who had boarded up the locker room and who had been drinking up there in that secret hiding place. So had he killed that security guard then? He must have; maybe he was found out, or the guard had caught him on patrol. Damnit Norman! Why? After the factory, I thought I might find some solace if I could just get to Norman’s store but all I had found were more horrors… and more questions. Now that I really considered it, that’s when I should have seen it coming. Norman, you were dead and it was damn hard to feel bad about that. It was clear you and Rachel were more than just friends… but obviously whatever had been going on had gone badly. So why did you kill her? Did she want out of whatever you two were getting into? Were you responsible for the other murders? And what of those other horrible things that had gone on in town? I found that I could find no peace that much was certain, but this way, I didn’t have to look you in the eye or sit through some kind of trial and wonder what was going through your head.

When I had marched through the rain towards home, I desperately clung to the hope that this would end and I guess, in a way it did. How could I have known how hopeless it all was? I had started to feel as disoriented as when I sleepwalked. To think of it now… going through the back door and into the kitchen should have tipped me off that something was horribly wrong. There was no sound from the television, radio, even the air was still. But… but seeing Rachel there, lying ruined and discarded in the basement… that was a horror I could never have imagined. That other man I had found was involved in all this somehow, I knew it. Maybe he and Norman were partners, after all, how could one person kill that many people without getting caught. But I knew it was Norman, that traitorous son of a bitch, who had done the deed and killed Rachel. Whatever was going on, he was the one who took Rachel away from me. I hated him for it more than I could possibly express. If he wasn’t already dead, I would have marched to his house and shot him in the head… but that offered me no strength, no solace now. Rachel was gone now, and I was too, forever.

I checked the gun again… it still had a few bullets left. I felt surprisingly calm as I sat there with it in my hand. I could feel its weight and perhaps it was that sense, that presence, that allowed me to understand what had to be done. Rachel was dead and there was nothing I could do about it… nothing but one final act.


~Postscript~
I bought Home for $2.99, which was an extremely high price since it ended up going on sale for $0.99 a few weeks later, but I don’t regret paying the higher price. What I found wrapped up in a very basic game was a really interesting story. I liked how the story tended to implicate different people in the murder of Rachel and the other women depending on how much you explored. I actually played this game through three times. The first, it seemed like Norman was the killer of all of the people. The second, seemed to point towards the man in the house, the first dead body you discover. The third time, well the third time made me feel like I had killed Rachel and Norman out of rage and just happened to uncover another murderer in the house. I really enjoyed how the story evolved as I played through it and while it wasn’t much of a horror game; its dark elements definitely set the tone. As to what I think really happened? My guess is Norman killed Rachel and wanted to frame the playable character, who I personally call Hal, for her murder. Hal somehow finds out and confronts Norman who spills the beans on his partner in crime, the man in the house. Hal kills Norman and then goes on the hunting spree for the mystery man. Hal gets close but is unable to stop the man from killing the security guard and the two campers. Back in the sewer facility, Hal and the sewer worker try to stop the man, but the worker is killed instead. Hall chases the man all the way back to his house and kills him in the bedroom, but not before the man can seriously wound Hal. Hal blacks out and when he wakes up, doesn’t remember a thing. Whether or not that is what really happened, I don’t think we will ever know… there are some questions that can never be answered.

Missing Rachel - Entry VII: Norman

Missing Rachel
Entry VII: Norman
Location: The Store
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

I had been traveling down the paved road for about twenty minutes when I finally reached Norman’s store. The garbage bin next to his store was a disgusting mess of rotten food and slick, black bags. Why did Norman let it get so bad? I saw a thin, greenish corner poking out from one of the bags. As I examined it closely, I saw that it was my driver’s license and it looked damaged. What was it doing here? Was I here before? I cleaned the license off as best I could and tucked it into my wallet next to the credit card. As I entered the back of the store where Norman lived, a light rain began to fall. It was oddly quiet inside except for the faint sound of a television. I went to the front of the store, the entrance was locked from the inside and it looked like I wouldn’t be able to just pop it open; it needed a key. There was a bit of what appeared to be blood on the keyhole too.

I went upstairs to see if I could find Norman, but what I found was more shocking. In Norman’s bedroom, I found one of Rachel’s old autumn coats hanging from a rack. What the hell…? What the hell was going on here?! What was Rachel’s coat doing in Norman’s bedroom?! I couldn’t think, my mind was reeling, why was Rachel here? Why was she with Norman? And where are they now? I searched the room for clues, any sign of where they might be. I found a cabinet filled with a small but impressive collection of hunting rifles, shotguns, and other items I didn’t think were legal here. One of the slots on the rack was empty, the gun I had in my pocket seemed to match the space. Was this handgun Norman’s and what the hell was it doing in that man’s house? Nothing was making sense, nothing!

I moved into a different room where the TV still flickered some indecipherable channel. My eyes searched the room until… oh no… I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Norman, my coworker and one of the few friends I had in this town, lay dead in his armchair. His face and shirt were covered in blood; it looked like he’d been shot trying to get up. His eyes were wide with shock though they were already drying. Norman, what was Rachel doing here? Why did you have her coat?! I wanted to scream at him, grab him by the collar and shake him until he answered… but it was no use. Norman was gone. Maybe he deserved better, he probably did. I closed his eyelids down, shuddering as I did so. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to give him peace or if I just couldn’t stand the thought of his lifeless eyes staring at me. What the hell was going on? I just wanted to wake up from this nightmare and find myself at home with Rachel beside me.

I went into the kitchen, Norman kept it clean enough, but there were water rings from two cups still on the wooden table. The kitchen trash bin was starting to stink; I found a hairpin amongst the rotting food. I hoped that I may be able to pick the front door lock with it. I was about to leave the kitchen when I noticed a chain hanging from the ceiling. I gave it a slight tug and a simple folding ladder to the attic popped down. I slowly climbed up, making sure to shine the flashlight into the darkness until I could finally see. Inside the attic, there was a large cardboard box that hadn’t been sealed. I opened up the old box and wasn’t entirely surprised by what I saw. There were more of Rachel’s things… more of my wife’s clothes! Photos, shoes… and even that old radio I gave her for her birthday. Why, Rachel? What were you doing here with Norman? I climbed back down the ladder, not sure if I even wanted to find out the answer to the questions I was screaming in my head.

I went straight to the front door and used the hairpin to pick the lock. It was a skill I had learned as a teenager and thought I’d never have to use again. I was now inside Norman’s actual store, it was small and clean. It had the usual things; postcards, snacks, magazines, and canned goods. I never went there much; Rachel usually stopped by after work if we needed anything. The register was mostly empty and a fat stack of travel magazines sat beside it. Many of the destinations had been places Rachel talked of going to. Paris, Rome, Bali, the usual desirable destinations but we never seemed to have the money or the time to go. The icebox seemed to be unplugged, it must have been off for a while; most of its contents were already melted. There were various postcards from the area, especially from the tourist traps. One of the postcards showed an old black-and-white photo of the water tower; it was in much better shape back then.

The night continued to take horrible turn after horrible turn. It’d been weeks since I’d last seen Norman, but to find him like that… as I thought of him still lying in his armchair upstairs, the gun I carried seemed to be ever-present. Seeing that dusty box of those old clothes was a shock; how long had they been there? And what was Rachel doing at Norman’s place? Then there were the other dead bodies; the man in the house, the sewer worker, the two campers, and the security guard. Who killed them? Who had done such a terrible thing? I was exhausted and wanted this whole ordeal to end. I felt like I had only discovered more questions no answers but I was close to home. It was time to find out the truth… it was time to go home.

Missing Rachel - Entry VI: Down Memory Lane

Missing Rachel
Entry VI: Down Memory Lane
Location: The Auto Parts Factory
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

The light I had seen from the wood was that of an old factory. While it still had power, it didn’t appear like anyone was working there at this late hour. There was a fence enclosing the factory and as I approached, I could hear the metal gate swinging back and forth in the breeze. As I stepped through the gate, I suddenly recognized the auto parts factory where I had worked as a machinist for all those years. The plant had closed, almost three years ago now; times were better then. I thought I could hear a faint rustling behind me; I turned, but saw nothing. Maybe it was just the wind. As I walked through the parking lot, I found the body of a security guard… just doing his job no doubt, his face was covered with blood from some kind of head wound. I reached the back of my head without thinking, feeling the split in my scalp. I looked at the flashlight in my hands. Was this his flashlight? The thought just crossed my mind like lightning; I had no reason to think it was his but for some reason my mind still posed the question. Near the body, I saw metal glinting in the beam of the flashlight. I bent over and picked it up, it was a cracked wristwatch… my wristwatch. First my wallet, then my credit card, and now this… what was happening? The watch was useless but I put it on anyway.

I swung the factory door open, it had been left unlocked. Inside, I found the receptionist’s desk and a row of lockers behind it. One of the lockers hung open; its contents were tossed around like someone had been looking for something. Deeper in the factory, I came across a locked door with a little electronic box under the handle. A sign was pasted to the front that said, ‘DANGER: CLOSED FOR REPAIRS.’ I passed the door and entered another room, inside there was a large power box with five lights on it. Cables burst out of the box, snaking off to other parts of the factory. The metal case had started to show wear and cobwebs had collected in the corners of the box, it wasn’t receiving any power. I thought it might be the power supply for another door that was locked tight nearby. Maybe if I found the power panels, I might be able to unlock it.

I climb the stairs to the second floor of the factory in search of the panels. Every part of this plant smelled old and rotted. I noticed the old bulletin board on the wall. It contained yellowed clippings of newspaper cartoons and notices. There were notes to and from the guys that used to work here. One of them was to Norman, who was one of the older guys on the line. He was also one of the few friends I had when I was working here. I found the first power panel and flicked the red handle, it buzzed to life. I found four other panels nearby and switched all of them on but one panel refused to work. Now, I had to find another way to get out of this factory. I passed the employee locker room and saw that one of the lockers was left open. It had been stuffed with dirty work clothes and old boots. There was a photo of a woman taped to the inside of the locker door, but the face had been scratched out and made unrecognizable.

There was a door next to the lockers that was shut tight and required a keycard to open. The power was now on and the rusty-looking card slot had a yellow glow to it. Our old break table had a thick layer of dust and grime. Remembering the good times I had had with the guys around this table made the sight sting more. I decided to go up to the third floor before trying the door downstairs. There was a door that had been hastily boarded up. I moved past it and into the employee locker room. I saw Norman’s locker, the door was dented, like someone had punched it in. I don’t remember him doing that when we worked here. There was a utility shelf in the corner, crammed with mismatched tools and items. I grabbed the claw hammer off of the shelf and went to pry the boards off of the other door. I noticed that the hammer wasn’t as dusty as the rest of the tools from the shelf but thought nothing of it. Before leaving the room, I saw another locker that I was able to pry open. It was messy but hidden at the bottom was a keycard. I slipped it into my pocket and walked back to the boarded door.

It took some effort but I was eventually able to remove all of the boards. I left the hammer on the floor and entered, it was the secondary locker room, where my locker was located. I found it easily but was shocked at the sight of it. It had trash scattered beside it and more trash inside of it. It stank of booze too. There was a picture of Rachel inside, it had been torn up… I thought I took that picture home with me when the factory closed. There was a mess of empty booze bottles lying on the floor nearby. Did that man from the house have something to do with this? He sure had a lot of alcohol at his place. Maybe it was the same person whose room I found in the sewers, the one with bottles and newspaper clippings scattered about.

I decided I had enough of reminiscing about the past and just wanted to get home as soon as possible. I headed downstairs and used the keycard to open the previously locked door. There was some kind of ventilation hatch in this room and it looked like I could jump to the room below. My leg hurt enough as it was but I couldn’t see another option. I jumped and landed hard. Oh man, my leg hurt like hell. When my vision returned to normal and I was able to stand again, I took the flashlight and looked around the room. I discovered a crumpled up letter on the floor. When I smoothed the paper, I saw that it had been scratched out heavily and it was hard to make out. Most of the letters were violently scratched out with what looked to be a blue ballpoint pen. I could only make out a few lines.

--need to-- just don’t --drinking-- --NEED--

It was signed, ‘Norman.’ Who was Norman writing this to? What did he mean by this? I stepped out of the factory, glad to be rid of its smell and of its memories. I couldn’t stop thinking about that room with the bottles in it. Was that guard I found outside really drinking up there or was it someone else? What about Norman? And who had rooted through all of those lockers? I couldn’t tell where I was as I looked around, but I figured I needed to get to a road and get my bearings. Maybe Norman could help; I didn’t think his store was that far from the turnoff to the factory, if I remembered correctly.

Missing Rachel - Entry V: Into the Wood

Missing Rachel
Entry V: Into the Wood
Location: The Wood
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

As I walked through the wood, I couldn’t help but realize how alone I felt. There wasn’t even a single hooting from an owl or a chirping from a cricket, everything was silent. I had passed a sign that pointed out various campsites and walking paths within the wood a few yards back. There was also a mention of a river and a washroom, but the details were too faded for me to see clearly. My mind wandered back to that man’s house and the tunnels underneath it. Whoever had used it had scribbled notes on this place, notes I couldn’t make out, but I wondered what someone would be doing poking around in those tunnels, and the sewers, and what that person would be doing here.

I traveled down what I hoped to be the main path out of the wood and into town. I came across a trampled pile of dirt and saw a plastic card of some kind sticking out. When I brushed it off and shined the flashlight on it, I was surprised to see it was my credit card. Was I here before? When was that… and what was I doing here? I pocketed the card, even though I wasn’t sure it still worked, and continued down the trail. I came across a fenced off area and could see a dilapidated outbuilding. I needed to find my way around the fence if I wanted to investigate further. I moved forward, coming across a fire pit which still had a few embers burning at the bottom. I had just missed the people here, maybe they would be able to help me… or maybe it was the same person that wrote those notes. I looked around the campsite and spied two folding chairs near the firepit. One was knocked over and there were beer cans spilled on the ground. There was a cheap dome tent that slept two people, with two bedrolls, two backpacks, and a cooler inside. Why would they leave their backpacks?

I tried to find a clue as to which direction they went, only to find some personal effects shoved behind a rock a few meters away. Wait… there was a notebook here too. Inside the cheap, dollar-store notebook was page after worn page of names and lists. None of it made any sense. The newest page contained several names.

Heather
Olivia
Ashley
Cheryl
Iris
Daphne
Holly
Rose
Rachel

Rachel?! Why was her name on this list?! Her’s was the last name on the list and it had a mark beside it in blue ink. The names ‘Daphne’ and ‘Olivia’ had been crossed out in the same blue ink. ‘Cheryl,’ ‘Heather,’ and ‘Rose’ had also been crossed out but these marks looked much older and faded than the others. No, no, Rachel… please be okay. I had to get out of here and get back home, back to Rachel. What the hell was going on and who was this person?!

I couldn’t run but tried to hobble down the path as quickly as possible. I somehow found myself on the other side of the fence and near the dilapidated outbuilding. There was a large hole in the chain link and I was able to squeeze through it. Inside, I found a grimy sink that had a small clean patch in it. There was no one inside and it looked like the washroom hadn’t been used for some time. A musty wooden plank was propped up against one of the stall doors, I wasn’t sure how it was useful, but I took it outside with me. Near the washroom was an old picnic table sat lonely amongst the trees. It had carvings and marks from years of previous campers. I sat down and as I tried to read the names carved into the table, I idly thumbed the knife I’d found in the sewers. With a few crude strokes, I etched a simple design into the wood of the table:

R+H

I felt like a teenager, defacing the table with my professions of love and eternity. I realized then that I could hear the babbling of water nearby. There was a small river and I could see some kind of clearing on the other side. The plank I found was long enough to form a crude bridge, but I wasn’t sure if it would hold. I quickly and precariously made my way across the plank to the other side of the river, what I found there was nothing I could fathom. Two bodies… two young women… were half-dug into a hasty, shallow grave between the trees. The younger-looking one was still face-up, her dead eyes gleaming against my flashlight. It was sickening, what kind of person could do this to another living being. They both deserved better than to be dumped in the wood like garbage. I tried to cover them up a bit more and I closed the younger woman’s eyes. I fashioned a crude marker from a couple of twigs and placed it near their heads. I wasn’t sure why I did this but I felt like I had to do something.

I rushed across the plank once more and down the path. This time I stopped for nothing, no exploring the other campsites or going down different trails, I needed to get home. I needed Rachel. I found the same sign that was placed at the beginning of the wood, but this time it was marking the opposite entrance. I had finally found my way out. Once I left, I knew I never wanted to return here again. Through the dense trees, I could finally see some light. I must have been at the edge of the wood, though I wasn’t sure where the path ahead of me led. I could almost feel the cryptic notebook in my pocket as I tried to think about what it could mean. And who had killed those campers? Was it the same person who killed the man in that house and the sewer worker? Though the path ahead of me was less dense, I still felt guarded and wary. Who knew what I would find ahead.

Missing Rachel - Entry IV: Moonless Night

Missing Rachel
Entry IV: Moonless Night
Location: The Wood
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

I inhaled deeply, the fresh air washing away the foul stench of the sewers. I had finally made it outside. The sun had already set and a few stars began to twinkle in the night sky. It was surprisingly dark as I saw that no moon shone overhead, luckily my flashlight still had power to illuminate my way. My journey from the house down into the tunnels, and finally through the sewer facility had taken me far from town. I could see an ancient water tower in the distance and knew that I was on the far side of the wood. If I wanted to make it home, I would have to travel through this area. I took a couple more deep breathes and then began to walk towards the water tower. I thought that I might be able to get a good view of the area and get my bearings. The wood was extensive and I didn’t want to get myself lost. Once I reached the water tower, I extended the ladder by popping the latch and began to climb.

The view from the tower was stunning and I couldn’t help but take a few moments to enjoy the sights but soon the thought of Rachel and home crossed my mind. I moved to stand closer to the railing to get a better view when my boot hit a patch of smeared dirt and grass. There was a beat-up old wallet in the dirt. It looked like mine; I picked it up and examined it. The wallet didn’t contain any cards or ID of any kind. I wondered where my credit card and driver’s license went. From the railing, I could see the town in the distance and knew which direction I should head. From the opposite railing, I could see down to the entrance to the sewers. Had I come through here before? If I did, someone definitely could have seen me from here.

With my destination firmly in mind, I climbed down the ladder and headed towards town. I wasn’t far from home now and hoped to find Rachel soon. Maybe this was all some sort of sick joke being played on me and she would laugh at how easily panicked I had become. Then I became aware of the weight in my pocket and the thin metal pressed against my ankle. That video, was that fake too? But then the bodies, they surely were real. I closed my eyes and rubbed them with my dirty hands. I needed to stop thinking and just get home. I came across a fenced in area with a locked metal door and decided to try the odd little key I had fished out of the murky water back in the sewers. It fit perfectly and I heaved open the rusty door.

Location: The Train Station
Date: June 19th, 2015

It took me a moment to realize where I was, the old train station. The wind was picking up a bit and the night air had become strangely chilly. The old station was quiet as a tomb except for the increasing sound of the wind howling through the empty building. I entered the structure hoping to find a working telephone but instead was greeted to the sight of an old map encased in glass that was hung on the wall. It was a map of the train routes connecting to the station, as I looked at it, something seemed familiar… of course! The map I found in the tunnels had similar locations marked, and the notes I found had mentioned the water tower and even this train station. What was he doing here?

I walked out of the train station and onto the platform. I could see an old train that was on its side and ripped open. I gingerly hopped off of the platform, being careful not to land on my bad leg, and moved closer to inspect the train. I could see something hanging from a shred of metal on the train as well as on the broken fence. They were dark-stained patches of cloth, some kind of synthetic like the kind used for outerwear. Inside the train’s shell, I could see a few faint impacts, like wounds. Could they have been bullet marks? Was somebody shot here? The ground was well-worn and I couldn’t make out any kind of tracks or other clues as to what happened here. Then I realized that I had been touching the gun in my pocket as I examined the train. I shakily pulled my hand out of my pocket and headed back inside the train station.

I checked the old map again and noticed that there was an entrance to the wood on the other side of the train station. I headed in that direction and came across the old ticket booth. It appeared to be fairly ruined and I was able to easily bust the rusted lock. Inside, there were sheets of paper strewn about and… wait, what were these? I shuffled through the dusty papers and grabbed what looked like train receipts. I thought the receipt I had picked up in the sewers might match these, but of course not, this station had been closed for years. The ticket must have been for the newer station that opened up on the other side of town. However, I did find a series of fresher-looking papers, covered in tiny notes and diagrams. I couldn’t make any sense of it so I left the papers and exited the train station.

When I reached the cold fresh air once again I couldn’t help but reflect on everything that had happened to me so far. I must have looked like death itself, my head had stopped bleeding by my hair was matted with dried blood and there was a red streak down my shirt. My leg was more numb now than anything but if I put too much weight on it, a sharp pain would shoot through my muscles. My boots were filthy, covered in everything from dirt and mud, and whatever I had walked through in the sewers. I still had the photo I had taken of the couple from the house in my front pocket. I don’t know why I carried it but it felt like some kind of proof of what I had found in that house. How would I explain what I saw to Rachel? Would she even understand? Then there was the reassuring weight of the gun in my side pocket and the knife tucked into my boot. They made me feel safe, not only as a way of protecting myself from whatever monster was out there but it also comforted me to know that they weren’t in someone else’s hands. Now I had the daunting task of navigating through the wood in the dark and finding my way home. Home… the word floated around in my head like some utopia, almost too good to be true that I feared it didn’t exist at all.

Missing Rachel - Entry III: The Lonely Escape

Missing Rachel
Entry III: The Lonely Escape
Location: The Sewer Facility
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

I could still feel the faint burning sensation of the rope in my hands as I pressed against the heavy metal door. It was probably best that I hadn’t jumped down; the ache in my leg was bad enough as it was. If I could have, I would have run straight out of those awful tunnels. Who would keep such a place? At least I had found that old handgun; it seemed to work and from the smell of it, it had been used already. I fingered the gun in my pocket; it seemed like a familiar weight there. The grinding of the metal door pulled me out of my thoughts and back to reality. I needed to focus on finding a way out of here and back to Rachel. As I entered the sewers, I noticed an exposed ventilation shaft high above me. The grate looked like it had been kicked out and laid bent before my feet. Maybe someone crawled through there, but it was so high up, that must have been a sore landing. I also saw wet dirt and grass smeared on the ground. At least now I knew there was a way out of this place.

I climbed a ladder as I searched for an exit but I only found a mess of filthy garbage bags. There were rips in most of the bags and the smell wafting from them was disgusting. I found an old VHS tape sticking out from one of the bags, I wasn’t sure what I hoped to discover with the tape, but I took it anyway. I found another ladder leading to a lower level. Once I had descended to the bottom, I could hear the faint trickling of water. I didn’t know where it was originating from so I continued on until I reached a door with a sign above it that read: ‘EXIT.’ I opened it hastily, thinking I had reached freedom when I was hit with rancid air. A rusty ladder lay halfway sunk in murky water. There was no way I was getting out that way but maybe I could find a way to drain the water.

I went back the way I came and found a door I had not tried before. In the room was a kitchen knife, covered in drying blood. Thinking about it made me sick; I didn’t even want to touch it but I thought I could use it to pry open whatever door or panel I may run into. I slipped the knife in my boot since I still had the gun in my pocket. Did I really need all of this? Then I remembered the dead body in the house and the bones buried in the tunnels… I kept them both and moved on. I came across another door but it was locked and there was a musty smell permeating from the inside. I entered a much larger room next, with four valves like features sitting in each corner. I thought turning these may shut off the flow of water. I struggled with the large metal wheels until each one had been turned. I should have felt exhausted by the physical exertion but instead, I felt revived. I had the hope of finally escaping this place and going home.

I hobbled back to the exit door to find that the water had indeed been drained. I carefully climbed down the ladder, since it was still covered in a thick slime. When I reached the bottom, I could see a metal grate in the wall, it looked like the water had been siphoned through there. When I looked closer, I could see a small metal key floating in the shallow pool of rancid water. I pocketed the small key, it was an odd-shape and I had no idea what it might open, but it may prove useful nonetheless. Next, I reached what looked like a break room. There was a safety poster on the wall that had definitely seen better days. Just how old was this facility? I past another locked door, this time I could see a faint light illuminating the room from within. I banged on the door and called for someone to open up but it seemed like there was no one inside.

I continued my search and found another ladder, this time it lead upwards. This facility was an absolute maze and I was starting to get tired now, I just wanted to go home and see Rachel, to know that she was safe. I came across another door, the handle turned but there seemed to be something blocking it. I pushed all of my weight against it and forced it opened only to discover that it was a dead body that had hindered me from opening it. Another body?! What the hell was wrong with this place? The clothes looked like that of a sewer facility worker and by the wounds all over his face and body; I figured he’d been stabbed repeatedly. Stabbed? My hand bolted down to my boot but then coiled back in revulsion. Was it the same knife? I shook my head and came back to my senses; I needed to get out of this place. I examined the body and found a keyring sticking out of the man’s pocket. I carefully picked the keys from his pocket, I was almost worried he was going to grab me but the sewer worker remained still. I looked around the room before leaving, noting a security camera in the corner. Maybe that VHS tape I had found in the garbage was from the security camera and may be useful, if only I could play it.

I went back to the locked door with the light still on and tried one of the keys on the keyring. The sound of the lock clicking back into place was like music to my ears and I hurriedly entered the room. There was a shelf full of security tapes that was strictly organized, though covered in dust. I examined the tapes and noted that one was missing, so the tape I had found was from the security cameras. There was a dusty VCR on the desk next to the shelf. I had to know what was on the VHS tape so I flicked the monitor on and it came to life with a low hum. The VCR worked too, so I put in the tape and sat down to watch it with the hopes that what I saw would give me answers. The image was grainy but I could make out the outline of a man… a man right there, in the same room where I found the dead facility worker… being attacked. I pulled out the tape and examined it; the tape had been stretched like someone had tampered with it. I put it back in the VCR and played it again, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, I just couldn’t. I watched again as the man was attacked… wait, was he attacked by one person or two? I couldn’t do anything about the picture quality but I knew now that a killer was on the loose. I had recently stumbled upon two dead bodies, but to see the act of murder with my very own eyes had made their killings a reality. I couldn’t help it when my hand slipped into my pocket and caressed the old handgun.

I exited the security room so quickly it was like I was fleeing, fleeing everything I had just witnessed. I came across another locked door and tried a bunch of keys on the keyring until finally it opened. I paused for a moment, steeling myself for what I might find. Inside, there was a collection of stale liquor bottles littering the floor; it almost looked like the kitchen in the dead man’s house. The wall was covered with dozens of old and faded papers. Whoever did this was obsessed with local murders. According to some of the clippings, bodies had been found in ravines, in the wood, and in one case… even dumped in the back of an abandoned truck. I couldn’t be sure but I thought some of these same articles had also been pasted on the walls in the tunnels. I spied a faded receipt that was half-trampled on the floor. It was from the local train station, and it was for two tickets. I didn’t know what use it could be but I neatly folded the soiled receipt and slipped it into my front pocket.

Another ladder led me up, hopefully towards an exit. As I traveled down the narrow hall, I saw what must have been the other end of the ventilation shaft. It was low enough that I could have climbed into it without much difficulty. Whoever used it could have gotten past the flooded room with this. I reached another ladder and began to climb. I couldn’t help but think about all the events that had happened to me so far. Would I need that gun, or that knife before the end? Both weighed me down and aggravated my leg as I climbed the old ladder. The thought of the VHS tape still gave me chills. Who was it that didn’t want to be seen? Was it the same person that hid all those clippings away in that locked room? Suddenly, the awful smell of the sewer gave way to a pine-scented blast of fresh air.

Missing Rachel - Entry II: The Descent into Madness

Missing Rachel
Entry II: The Descent into Madness
Location: The Tunnels
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

I pulled out the photo I had taken from the house; the couple looked distant, like they didn’t want to be in the same picture. I wondered where the wife was. I was suddenly aware of the throbbing in my leg; I was in terrible shape and needed to find a way out of here. I shined the flashlight around me, looking for an exit when I noticed footprints in the dirt. It looked like there were more than one set of tracks, this tunnel had seen a lot of traffic. There was an old map of town pinned to the wall. Landmarks were circled from the industrial area near the river, various houses, and even the water tower near the old rail station. There were newspaper clippings from the local paper as well. All were about murders in town that happened over the last few years. Wait… there were photos… photos of our house! What the hell was that about?! Maybe I should have investigated the house more before I left but it was too late now. When I descended down the ladder, a trap door closed above me, locking in place. Rachel… where are you… please be safe.

I wanted to bolt out of there and straight home but I needed to find more information, to see what else was down here. I came across a work table covered in papers and dirt, and… a handgun. I hated guns… but I tucked the small handgun into my pocket anyway. There was a murderer on the loose and I needed to protect myself. The handgun’s weight was somehow reassuring. There was another ladder and when I climbed down, I was hit with the smell of stale and putrid air. When my eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, I couldn’t believe what I saw. What is this place? There was an old desk caked with grime and on it, stacks of washed out paper. Scrawled on the paper were faded names written in blue ink, scratched out with illegible notes written beside them. I could only make out a few letters.

hea----
--iv--
----ey
-he--l
-r--
-aph--
-ol--
Ro--

None of it made any sense so I continued investigating the tunnels. A few feet away was a pile of… bones. They were half-dug into the ground and the remains looked very old. There was faded clothing in the pile that was buried partially under dirt. A few shirts looked familiar; they looked like the clothes the woman in the photo was wearing. Was this where that man’s wife was buried? Did he do this to her? Did that man murder his own wife?! I shuddered and moved on, wanting to erase the pile of bones from my sight. Next I found a homemade rack, slung together with poorly cut wood and rope; it was covered in dried blood. Somebody didn’t actually use that… did they? There were rusted hooks hanging from the cave’s ceiling nearby. The hooks were pitted and worn from heavy use, they looked like the kind you would find in an old-fashioned butcher’s shop. That man upstairs… did he do this?

On the walls near the rack were crudely made shelves that were holding cans of some kind of corrosive. The labels were worn and slick, but I could still read the warnings. Across from the rack was what looked like a cage, it was small but there was something coating the bottom, something wet. I didn't want to look closely at the cage but I couldn't help but notice the red hue of the wetness and the metallic smell of drying blood. This place kept getting worse and worse as I explored it. There was another ladder that descended deeper in the underground tunnels. My leg protested with pain but I forced myself to climb down, constantly thinking of Rachel and home to will my legs to move. Beneath me, there were some old boxes that looked like they had been untouched for years. Upon closer inspection, I saw that they were filled with old clothes… wait, I recognize these! These boxes had old clothes that I remembered throwing out after Rachel and I moved to town. What the hell are they doing here?

I passed a broken ladder as I entered the next section of the tunnels. There was a rope hanging in the middle of the alcove, it had been tied into a noose. I wondered who the noose was for, maybe that man planned on using it on himself or maybe it was used to bound someone's hands. I shuddered at the thought of being tied down here in these tunnels. I pushed that from my mind and focused on finding a way out. I wasn’t sure how sturdy the rope was but I decided to use it to descend down the broken ladder. I quickly removed it from the ceiling and re-tied it to the ladder. With the flashlight placed firmly between my teeth, I slid down the rope and as I did, I could feel the rope burning into my hands. When I reached the bottom, I could hear a faint hum and the smell of rusted metal. There were a bunch of old newspapers, wheat-pasted together, with a hastily written message: ‘KEEP OUT; DANGER DUE TO CAVE-IN!’

Missing Rachel - Entry I: Waking Into the Nightmare

Missing Rachel
Entry I: Waking Into the Nightmare
Location: The House
Date: Friday, June 19th, 2015

Ughh… I let out a long groan. My head, oh my head, it feels like someone tried to bash it in. And why is it so dark? I groped around in the darkness trying to get my bearings when I felt something by my feet. My hands slipped over a metal tube and depressed a button. A beam of light illuminated from one end of the metal cylinder. I moved the flashlight back and forth, sweeping the area with light, trying to find out where I was. I didn’t recognize the house I found myself in. As my eyes scanned the room for clues, I saw a crumpled mass lying in the corner of the room. I kept staring and staring until I realized what it was… a person… covered in blood. I scrambled to my feet, revolted by the sight of the dead body and almost dropped the flashlight. That was when I saw that my hands were covered in blood. Was it my blood or his?

I needed to get out of the room, out of this house, and figure out what the hell was going on. As I reached the door, I came across a desk tucked into the corner opposite of the body. I wanted to leave but I also had to find out what was going on and who that man is… was. I didn’t want to snoop but I opened the desk drawers anyway, finding pens and receipts. Then, in the back I found a blurry photo that showed a store of some kind. I don’t know why but it looked so familiar. I scurried out of the room and into the hall. I was hit with the smell of fresh blood and it was sickening. I shined the flashlight down the hallway and saw the red liquid smeared across the right side wall. There was a trail of blood leading into the room I had just left and as I followed the trail with my eyes, I glanced down at myself, my boots and pants were stained with blood. Oh man, I had to get out of there.

I didn’t notice until I was running down the stairs that I was limping. How I hurt my leg, I didn’t know, but the searing pain told me that it was a new injury. What the hell was going on?! The last thing I could recall was coming home and seeing Rachel. I was angry, she looked afraid. A sharp pain flashed across my eyes, argh my head. I shook it to try and clear the pain away but to no avail. I didn’t know what was going on but I knew I had to find a way out of here. Downstairs looked just like the upstairs, average sans the blood and dead body. I heard a strange scratching sound and tried to locate the source. What I found was a thin, grey mouse who was struck in a trap. It looked frantic but exhausted, just like how I felt. I carefully freed the mouse and it scampered away. Why was I wasting energy on a mouse? Maybe I thought he was like me and could use a little help right about now.

I headed down another hall and came across a collection of rusty tools. Shovels, pickaxes, all of them looked like they had seen a lot of use and were caked in damp-smelling dirt. Why weren’t these in a shed? I moved farther down the hall and found a picture of a couple hanging crookedly on the wall. I went to grab it so I could take a closer look but I knocked the frame off the wall and it crashed to the floor. The sound startled me and I whipped around to see if the din had caused anything to stir in the house. When I realized I was alone, I looked back at the wall where the picture had hung and saw what could only be described as a button. Strange, why would someone have something like this hidden behind a picture? I couldn’t resist the temptation and slowly pushed the button. At first, I didn’t think anything had happened until I heard a faraway metal click.

I limped down the hallway towards where I thought the sound had originated. I passed a bookcase filled with books on hunting and local history, it seemed like the owner of the house really knew the area. I entered the dining room and saw an old table covered in dirty dishes for two. Two? There was only one body. Dozens of beer cans and other liquor bottles were intermingled amongst the dishes and lying on the floor. The smell of rotting food was turning my stomach and I quickly moved away from the dining room table. There was a black-and-white photo of a man and woman set on a serving cart. It looked like the man upstairs and his wife, maybe? If she was his wife, where is she now? There was no reason for me to keep the photo but I took it anyway, folding it neatly and placing it into my pocket. I hoped the photo might help me find some answers.

I went into the bathroom and got the first real glimpse of my current state. I looked like hell, my clothes were dirty and torn, my boots were covered in mud and blood, and there was a trail of blood running from the back of my head down my shirt. After I absorbed the shock of my appearance, I noticed how spotless the bathroom was. I wondered if the man’s wife was the one that did the cleaning or was it him. There was a photo developing tray lying on the floor near the bathtub. There were leftover negatives sticking out but they were pretty blurry. I saw what looked like treetops in one photo. I exited the bathroom and headed towards the front door. I thought I had finally reached freedom from the nightmare house but only found it blocked by a wall of stacked furniture. In my current state, there was no way I could move the blockage myself so I turned around and tried to pry open a window. They had all been sealed shut by nails, both from the inside and outside. With no other option, I walked towards the kitchen.

There I found sheets of paper strewn across the small kitchen table. It looked like there were a series of names written down in blue ink but the paper was too smudged to read. The only thing I could make out was a few scattered notes.

--keycard-- --ocker--
--last one-- I promise--

It didn’t make much sense to me at the time. I spotted a door that led to the downstairs basement. It was damp and smelled like mildew. I spied a box lying in the middle of the room, it looked heavy but there were marks on the floor, like it had been moved before. I heaved the box forward, and it finally gave way. Underneath where the box used to sit, was a ladder that led to an underground chamber. The dank smell that rose from the passage was even worse now. I didn’t want to climb down the ladder into the unknown darkness but I couldn’t stay in this house any longer either. I had no choice, the front door was barricaded shut and I was unable to pry any of the windows open. If I wanted to escape and figure out what had happened to me, I’d have to go down that ladder. More importantly, it was the only chance I had of seeing Rachel again. I took a deep breath and began to descend into the darkness.