Silverwood: The Door
Season 1, Episode 4

The Loop
Michelle Garza and Melissa Lason, The Sisters of Slaughter

“There ain’t no fuckin’ way I’m wearing this stupid-lookin’ shit,” Karen whispered while tugging Amber away from the rest of the team.

“Me neither,” Amber said. “I can’t believe Devin thought this was a good idea.”

Karen grinned. “I figured you’d get behind whatever he does . . . just like he gets behind you.”

“Don’t start with that, Karen.”

“Okay, sorry. But look—we’re getting outta here. I think we threw everyone off, playing along at first.”

Amber nodded. “I think so. Everybody ran off after the countdown, so they’re not looking.”

They—Karen, Amber, and Mary—were known around the office as being a wolf pack of sorts. They were constantly teasing one another and sharing their weekend exploits much too loudly around the prudish Debra, purely for laughs. Karen was known to embellish hers just to watch the older woman’s face turn to utter disgust.

“This is kinda like the Christmas party, remember?” Amber asked with a sly smile.

“How can I forget?” Karen giggled.

“Mary groped Santa, the elves, and Mrs. Claus!”

“She was groping everyone that night!”

“That was your fault, though. You snuck in the booze!”

“Don’t blame it all on me, little missy.” Karen smiled.

After working together day in and day out for years in the accounting department, they had reached that comfort zone of friendship where basically no subject was off limits. Amber and Mary stood by Karen’s side when she decided to live as her true self, a woman. In turn, Karen and Amber offered advice to Mary each time she set up online dating profiles, and now the older two looked the other way when young Amber disappeared into the stationery closet with Devin. But they never discussed the affair, or the special treatment it earned Amber. Amber kept it hidden because she was engaged to another man, and Karen usually tiptoed around it because she had the hots for Amber. Mary was their sidekick most of the time, and shared in their shenanigans, but every once in a while she seemed withdrawn and Karen could see through her strained smiles that she was frustrated working her butt off while Amber received accolades from their boss, not for the work she did behind her desk, but under his.

“Where’s Mary?” Amber asked.

“I waved her over earlier, but I think she got caught in the crowd when our fearless leader started passing out these lovely outfits.”

“So, about these?” Amber said, and nodded as Karen started removing her vest and glancing around for any witnesses. “I thought that was the plan.” Amber quickly shed hers as well.

“We’re bustin’ out of this circus,” Karen whispered.

“Let’s hide over by the lake,” Amber suggested.

“That’s why I like you, kiddo. You’re pretty and smart,” Karen teased.

There was a moment of silence between them before Karen grabbed Amber’s wrist and dragged her away.

• • •

Devin watched the employees of Hirsch Capital scatter into the woods with their weapons, head gear, and vests. He also saw Karen lead Amber away. He scowled. He didn’t like Amber’s friendship with the older man (he refused to think of Karen as a woman, even though he’d led the sensitivity seminar when Karen had transitioned). He glanced at Mary, one of the few who hadn’t plunged ahead, and saw her watching the two sneak off as well. He suspected Mary was stalling, holding back so she could run off with them when his back was turned.

Okay, he thought. You bitches think you’re smarter than me? I won’t forget it.

Devin had paid an instructor to show him the ropes a week prior to climbing aboard the bus for the company retreat. He’d been a little apprehensive, especially when he noticed the looks on his employees’ faces, but he didn’t let it show.

Now he donned his usual cool, in-control attitude while glancing around at who was left. In addition to Mary, an older woman—Debra from cubicle seven—stood nearby. He couldn’t remember what she actually did for the company, but whatever. It didn’t matter.

Debra stared off into the forest. She didn’t hide her distaste as well as some of the others had, but she didn’t voice any discontent either. The woman held her mask and safety goggles in her hand, as if unsure what to do with them.

“Better put those on,” Devin said.

Before Debra could respond, her face contorted, and then she turned her head to unleash a hefty sneeze. The mist flew back on Devin’s arm and the side of his cheek, and he could almost feel an internal time clock begin its countdown of when he would end up sick with the office plague.

He offered his best apologetic expression. “You okay?”

Debra nodded. “Allergies.”

“Yes,” Devin agreed, looking up at the haze. “The mask will help with that, hopefully.”

Debra dutifully donned the gear. As she did so, Devin noticed that Mary had now slipped away.

“Where did Mary go?” Debra asked, also noticing the disappearance. Her voice sounded muffled with the protective gear.

Smiling, Devin shrugged. “I guess we’ll just have to hunt her down.”

“But isn’t she on our team?”

Devin’s smile faded.

• • •

Mary hurried in the direction she’d seen her friends go, and heard them ahead, their voices carrying through the forest.

“There’s no way I can risk getting my engagement ring covered in paint,” Amber complained. “The wedding is right around the corner. I can’t have the centerpiece of the entire event destroyed because of Devin trying to impress the bigwigs.”

“A little paint ain’t gonna hurt that stone.” Karen grunted.

“The engagement ring is the symbol of a man’s undying love for his fiancée. How would that look if I came home with my ring splattered with ugly paint?”

Mary hurried after them. She was a bit surprised Amber was willing to ditch Devin for the day. Lately it seemed like she had been glued to their boss’s hip. It didn’t surprise her to see Amber falling for Devin’s charms, though. He was a world-class bullshitter, and Amber wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

“Hey, slackers!” Mary called, catching up to them. “You left me behind! Some friends you are.”

Karen lifted a finger up to her lips.

“Be quiet,” Amber said.

“Sorry. I didn’t want you two getting away without me. And don’t worry. They all ran off in the other direction.”

“Then we’ll go this way,” Karen replied. “Princess here can’t get shot with paintballs. It might fuck up her ring.”

Ignoring the comment, Amber looked at Mary. “We thought you were going to be a suck-up and participate.”

“You know all about sucking things,” Mary responded.

The three burst into laughter but quickly clapped their hands over their mouths.

“Shut up!” Amber giggled, her face bright red.

“Mary, we all know you’re a total hoebag,” Karen countered. “You shouldn’t talk about Amber like tha—” She sneezed before she could finish.

“Are you getting allergies, too?” Mary asked, changing the subject for a moment.

“I think everyone is,” Amber said.

Karen shrugged. “Welcome to the great outdoors, ladies.”

They quickened their pace and emerged onto a lake trail, indicated by a wooden sign with a yellow arrow painted on it. They followed the path deeper into the tall trees until they reached the bottom of a hilltop that overlooked a placid lake. The trees thickened immediately, barely revealing the view of the water, so they continued farther up the path, seeking a nice place to sit—somewhere they could enjoy the mountain breeze, far enough away that they wouldn’t have to worry about a coworker spotting them.

“I forgot my flask,” Karen complained.

“Did you really bring one?” Mary asked.

Karen stopped for a moment, her mouth hanging open in pretend shock. “Look who you’re talking to. I swear, sometimes it’s like you don’t know me.”

“Of course she brought a flask,” Amber said. “It’s in her suitcase.”

“A lot of good it does there,” Mary teased. “Now we’re forced to enjoy the scenery.”

“I know, I’ve failed us. Maybe later when the others are eating s’mores after the big game we can sneak into my bunk and get wasted.”

“Sounds like the perfect plan,” Mary agreed.

They slogged onward.

“It’s getting dark . . . Hopefully we won’t get eaten by a bear or something,” Karen joked.

“I’d prefer death by bear jaws to getting shot with paintballs by Debra,” Amber said.

“We missed our opportunity to end that old hag,” Karen replied. “We could have said it was an accident.”

“Or we could have just left her out here in the middle of nowhere.” Mary laughed.

“Sounds like a plan,” Amber agreed.

“It’s fun to have some alone time with my girls,” Mary said, “but I’m not really cut out for this outdoor crap. My allergies are making me cranky. This forest is full of pollen. All I want is a cocktail!”

“If you’re going to blame being a bitch on allergies then think again—we know you’re a bitch all the time!” Karen said.

“But you still love me?” Mary mockingly asked.

“Of course, dear!” Amber responded.

“Especially if you brought booze!” Karen said.

Cackling, the three continued deeper into the forest.

• • •

Lydia’s phone chimed. She pushed past a tree branch, her eyes fixed on the screen. She was still getting those strange emails from SEE, and the weird GPS locator continued to flash. She glanced up at her surroundings and found herself standing in a grove of looming, moss-covered oaks. The scenery reminded her of every Bigfoot documentary she’d ever seen.

“Don’t mind me, Sasquatch. I’m just passing through.”

She laughed, and then turned her attention back to her phone. Her eyes watered, and her nose itched. She ventured farther, telling herself that Indiana Jones wouldn’t let a little case of allergies stop him from finding a hidden temple.

No way.

“Shit,” Lydia muttered as she felt a shock of cold seep into her feet. She glanced down and realized she’d stepped in a stream. It was shallow and quiet.

“Indiana Jones, hell,” she muttered. “I’m gonna Ash Williams this place.”

She laughed again as a memory of her grandmother flashed through her mind upon thinking of her favorite horror movie character. Lydia had been watching Evil Dead II all alone when she was only twelve years old. It was late on a Saturday night, a time when her house always seemed far too quiet. She got to the part where Ash, played by Bruce Campbell, is forced to lop off his own hand. Lydia was completely absorbed in the movie and never noticed she wasn’t alone.

“Que cosa! Tiny, how you watch that mierda?”

Lydia screamed. “Abuela!” Then she had to laugh at the absurd look on the old woman’s face. She was half asleep, squinting without her glasses, her hair in old plastic rollers. “It’s no big deal and it’s not shit, Grandma. It’s just a scary movie.”

“I don’t understand these things you like. Why not watch a romance?”

“Now that is shit!”

They both laughed.

It was one of the last conversations she ever had with her grandmother. The older woman never could grasp her granddaughter’s obsession with the macabre, but she was always there and always loved Lydia no matter what.

Tiny. She always called me Tiny.

“As long as I don’t lose a hand during this adventure, I guess everything will be just groovy, Abuela.”

She checked the GPS locator. The mysterious site now appeared to be upstream from where she stood, so she stepped up onto the bank and continued. Her wet shoes sloshed with each step.

As Lydia walked, she felt a sense of isolation creeping up inside. It was a familiar feeling for her; she often roamed secluded places taking photos, and had even visited a handful of famous cemeteries to do some rubbings on the headstones. But here, in this forest, it made her uneasy. Every sound she made was amplified in her own ears, each snapping of twigs beneath her feet sounding like a firecracker. She felt like she was being observed, but she dashed the thought away. This wasn’t her first rodeo, and a little case of nerves wasn’t going to stop her from exploring her way to the dot on the map.

“This is all normal,” she said, breaking the silence.

• • •

Karen glanced sideways at Amber as they hiked. Not having to watch her fawn over Devin was refreshing. It plagued Karen: Why would such a beautiful young lady try so hard to catch the eye of a guy like Devin in the first place? Karen’s crush on Amber was often frustrating. Physically, Amber was irresistible, but as soon as she opened her mouth and started to speak, it ruined the mystique. This made Karen terribly confused, but she kept the secret to herself, knowing the feeling was far from mutual.

Mary rubbed her eyes. “Bullshit retreat, right?”

Karen and Amber nodded. “I’d rather stab myself in the eyes with a pencil,” Karen said. The other two snickered faintly, but even to Karen the comment came across a little too dark.

“These damn allergies are going to be the death of me,” Mary whined, fighting off a sneeze. She waved away the haze of gray pollen hanging around her face.

“Don’t be a crybaby,” Amber blurted. “We’re all sneezing.”

“Don’t call me a fucking crybaby,” Mary snapped.

I could kill them both right here, Karen thought. Nobody would ever know. Jesus fucking Christ, what’s wrong with me? Where did that come from? These two have been my closest friends, the only ones who understood the change I needed to make in order to feel whole. Mary brings me soup when I’m sick, her grandmother’s recipe. Amber stuck up for me when those assholes outside the bar started yelling from their truck about me being a man—she told them to fuck off. Once a month we try to coordinate matching outfits for work, for God’s sake . . . But their sniveling is really annoying. I wish they’d just shut the fuck up sometimes.

The path wound on. The view of the forest lake was breathtaking, definitely worth ditching the paintball game to see, but there was nowhere to sit.

“I’m not sitting in the dirt,” Amber said. “Let’s keep going.”

Karen sighed. “I guess the princess is right. Let’s move on.”

• • •

Deep beneath Silverwood, the SAP pulsated and quivered, feeding, growing stronger, connecting to the roots of the forest above, where the pollen grew heavier. The humans walking the surface would become easy prey as the pollen altered their minds, turning them into heartless killing machines. A deep breath, a watering tear duct—the pollen would find its way in and begin its work. They would destroy each other, ruthlessly, and without care for the bonds they held before stepping into Silverwood. It would feed on the psychic energy unleashed by the cycle of violence, giving it enough strength to open the door. Then, once it had the key, it would finally return home.

• • •

Amber wasn’t the first to feel the tendrils of anger winding their way through her mind, but she felt the urge to say so. On any ordinary day, she would have been able to overlook Karen and Mary’s taunts and just roll her eyes at them, but not today.

These bitches don’t remember who brings the coffee and donuts every Wednesday? They don’t care about me keeping a desk full of their favorite chocolates for when they’ve had a bad day. They think I’m the weakest one, the one they can treat like an idiot or a bimbo. NOT TODAY! NOT ANYMORE!

She felt the need to confront them, but Karen beat her to it.

“Amber, aren’t you a little too sweet on Devin, especially since you’re about to be married? And last time I checked, Devin was already married to another woman.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me.”

Amber’s cheeks flushed red. “And just what the hell are you trying to say?”

SILENCE HER.

Amber turned to Mary. “What did you say?”

Mary seemed confused. “I didn’t say shit. I thought it was—”

A breeze swirled around them, sending a sweet-smelling black dusting of particles into their faces.

Amber frowned. “I thought you said something.”

“Well,” Mary replied, “Karen’s right. It’s no secret you’re a little too sweet on him. No one in the office is blind. You follow him around like a bitch in heat, always batting your eyelashes and stuff.”

The sky was nearly choked out by the encroaching trees; they crowded in around the path and almost blocked the view of the lake. The three were forced to stand close together while a static charge built up between them.

“Shut up, Mary,” Karen said. “I can speak for myself. I don’t need you echoing my feelings or butting into my business like you always do with everyone else.”

“What?”

“I said shut your self-righteous, all-knowing mouth the hell up.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Mary snapped. “What? Just because you used to be a man, you suddenly know everything that they’re thinking or something?”

Karen glared at her.

Mary pressed on. “You know what’s on Devin’s mind, and it pisses you off because you want a piece of little Miss Amber?”

SILENCE HER. SPILL HER BLOOD.

“Which one of you said that?” Amber demanded, her eyes wide.

Karen ignored her. “You’d better watch your mouth, Mary. Or I swear to God, I’ll tear your head off!”

• • •

The signal led Lydia along the stream, which had grown deeper and wider—and colder. Her cell service wasn’t the best, yet she kept hitting areas where it seemed supercharged. Each time that happened, she began receiving notifications that more emails had landed in her inbox. Lydia alternated between the map and email to discover a short video clip; snippets showed through static. A middle-aged man spoke to the camera; he was dressed in some sort of biohazard protective gear.

Lydia stopped hiking to watch the garbled video.

The camera jostled about as it turned its focus from the man speaking; the scene was now of the forest floor. A spot in the earth had obviously been dug out and refilled. The voice speaking cut in and out, yet it held the tone of excitement. The only words she could make out were “black box.” The video ended, leaving Lydia all the more confused, yet she knew there was something out there in the forest, possibly right beneath the dirt she walked on.

“Black box? Did a plane crash out here?”

Lydia was becoming more intrigued, yet she had to admit an overwhelming wave of fear was rolling through her. It was a feeling she wasn’t sure she could suppress out here alone in the woods, where everything felt so ancient and foreboding, as if she were trespassing.

“What the hell is going on? What is this, an X-Files episode?”

The forest remained still. The echoes of her voice faded, leaving only the trickling of the water. She was isolated, yet the sense of being watched gripped her. The pollen dancing in the air was palpable. It made her head swim, and confusion threatened to take hold of her. She felt sedated and agitated all at once.

Lydia closed her inbox and switched back to the GPS location, moving faster now, wishing she could find the safety of a building, somewhere she could shut herself inside until the fear subsided. Her head spun, and she felt lethargic. Panic filled her. She couldn’t explain it. Lydia felt as if a sledgehammer of dread had hit her in the gut. She had been on ghost hunts in the past where fellow investigators got a sudden feeling of sorrow before encountering an entity. Lydia never felt anything so strong, but she never discounted their experiences. The skeptical side of her was equal to that of the believer, which balanced out every supernatural run-in she’d ever had. This time was different, and it silenced the gallows humor that usually comforted her.

The smell of smoke filled her nostrils, and then she heard it—a roaring and crackling noise that made her jump.

A wall of flames raged in her direction. A charred deer plunged from the inferno, desperately trying to escape, but its hide was blackened and one of its antlers was broken to a sharp shard protruding from its burnt head. Lydia took two shuffling steps backward and fell against a tree.

Screaming drew her attention. A man and a woman ran through the trees to her left, trying to outpace both a second wave of flames and a monstrous pursuing shadow. From somewhere beyond the wildfire, she heard a young girl cry out.

“Come back, Mommy! Daddy! You can’t leave me! We’re a family now! I know I've been bad, but come back and I’ll be good!”

As Lydia watched, gaping, the fire surrounded them. The flames raced up to the canopy of the trees. Then they were engulfed, the blaze ravenously accepting them. Their hair burned away and their clothes too, leaving them naked until the fire ate into their flesh, turning them sexless and indistinguishable. Their cries baked in their throats as the heat destroyed the soft tissue of their lungs, suffocating them. Their flesh became blackened like charcoal.

The roaring echoed again, and the shadow lunged forward, just outside the flames. Whatever it was, the creature reeked. Lydia crawled backward. She didn’t want to see the beast scary enough to cause two people to run to their deaths in a forest fire.

The little girl's voice filled the forest once more. “Teddy, they’re all burned up! Come back before the fire gets you too!”

There was a thrashing in the brush and indistinguishable words and then the girl spoke again. “I can’t die!” Her voice was insolent and frightened.

There were more screams then, high-pitched and full of agony, and then the wailing of a beast. Lydia couldn’t bring herself to look. In that instant, she knew the child was gone, another victim of the hungry flames.

Lydia lurched to her feet and turned to run, but as she did it all disappeared—the little girl screaming for her parents as they ran away, the wall of fire devouring the trees, the unbearable heat stealing the breath from her lungs, and the guttural growl of the unknown beast.

Lydia nearly collapsed. Her eyes watered and she inhaled deeply. The air was sweet and crisp, the forest alive and green. There was no trace of the choking smoke.

She retreated back to the stream. She bent down and washed her face with handfuls of cold, clear water and blew her nose into its current. It wasn’t exactly ladylike, but she was desperate to rid herself of the allergen-inducing crud floating on the breeze. She felt a bit better, so she scrubbed her face again.

When her head cleared, and the allergy symptoms had abated, she set off again, hell-bent on finding her destination. Her phone chimed. She was getting closer. She repeated in her mind, Almost there, almost there; it became a mantra that kept her imagination from straying once more into creepy territory. Her curiosity and fascination drove her to put one foot before the other and forget every horror novel she’d ever read, every movie she’d ever watched, every real-life encounter with the supernatural she’d ever explored via the internet.

She pushed onward, the odd dizzy feeling creeping back in as she left the stream momentarily and trudged deeper into the forest.

Her mind conjured explanations, from time portals to generational hauntings. Even hallucinations were a reasonable excuse for what she was experiencing. But she hadn’t ingested any magic forest mushrooms, so she was left to wonder. She didn’t know the truth of what was going on, but she’d find it. She only hoped she didn’t die in the process.

Her mind wouldn’t release the vision of a ravenous wildfire, so she navigated to the internet on her smartphone and typed Silverwood in the search bar. She scrolled through pages of history until her eyes located the words forest fire; there had been a bad one not even a decade prior, seven years before Hirsch Capital ever made it the location for their company retreat. It ate a good chunk of the trees, which explained why she’d noticed large patches of the woods with younger growth and smaller trees.

A disaster like that would certainly leave behind imprints of sorrow and fear. When she first got into supernatural research, which led to going on investigations with local ghost hunting groups, she read about how the land itself can be haunted. She wondered if the dirt she stood on, the stream she’d washed her face in, and the rocks jutting out of the soft earth held memories like humans did. It seemed possible, but what about the emails she’d received and the Twitter activity that seemed from a completely different world altogether? The visions of the fire were no trick of her imagination. They were real. A message was being conveyed to her.

But what was the message?

She was desperate to decipher it.. And after it was all revealed, she hoped to document it on her blog. A thought raced through her mind: If this turned out to be some kind of conspiracy or an opportunity to document her own supernatural experience, then she could start her own paranormal investigative team. If it helped her escape being a corporate zombie and leave Hirsch Capital behind her, she was going for it.

Obviously, something is off in this forest, she thought. Something weird is going on here. The kids in school didn’t nickname me Spooky only for my fixation on Fox Mulder. It’s because I’ve got a nose for this shit.

• • •

The argument raged on as Karen, Mary, and Amber continued down the path, leaving far behind them the memories of sharing pizza slices and secrets, of sisterly embraces when life got too hard. They trod forward into the pollen-laden trees, voicing petty jealousy and spouting hurtful garbage they never would have dared speak before today. The farther into the forest they walked, the more the fight between them took on an ugly, violent tone. Pollen drifted into their faces, and they wiped the sticky substance away.

“Your engagement ring has been online more than Devin’s dick,” Karen raged. “It’s got its own Facebook page. The way you flash that thing around is ridiculous.”

“That page is for planning my wedding,” Amber said. “For friends and family out of state.”

“You’re so full of yourself and your perfect fucking wedding.” Mary folded her arms. Her face was smeared with pollen like a clown’s face paint. “You could always call your guests instead of broadcasting everything on social media. Like we all give a fuck what kind of toilet paper you’re going to have at the reception.”

“Shut your goddamn mouth,” Amber warned.

They stumbled through the cloud of pollen and emerged into a small clearing; before any of them could speak, they glimpsed three women passing on the trail on the other side, making their way into the forest. They too were arguing amid a cloud of pollen. The scene was very familiar—yet unbelievable.

The three other women were them.

“What the . . . ?” Karen gaped.

Their watering eyes were wide with disbelief as they looked at each other and then back in the direction of the three identical women wearing the exact same clothes, continuing an argument that Amber, Mary, and Karen had just been in the middle of. Then the women disappeared into an impenetrable cloud of swirling pollen.

They crept forward, not talking, until they reached the area where their doubles were last seen. The cloud dissipated, revealing two corpses sprawled on the forest floor, the third hanging from a tree.

“Oh my God,” Mary whispered.

Amber vomited when she looked down at her dead self. The puke splattered her feet, but she barely noticed. The face on this other version of her was destroyed, completely caved in.

The other Karen had a large shard of a tree branch jutting from her gut, and a steaming pool of blood was starting to coagulate around her.

Mary hung from a tree, her head forced between two branches, crushing her throat. Her face was ashen.

They all bore signs of struggle. Gashes and cuts decorated their visible flesh. Pollen gathered in the blood seeping from their wounds.

Amber turned to run. Mary and Karen followed. The miasma of pollen churned toward them. They fled the path and ran into the surrounding forest, swiping at their faces and hair as if they were being attacked by a swarm of bees.

• • •

 

The evening light, a dull, dirty yellow haze, filtered through the leaves of the forest. Carl bent down to the edge of the stream. His truck was barely visible over his shoulder through the trees, but he didn’t worry at all. The girl wasn’t going to go anywhere—except to hell. He put his hands in the cool, trickling water and watched as a cloud of blood dirtied the current. He had washed his hands clean in that same stream countless times after burying other women in the dark earth of the forest. Déjà vu brought to mind the others he had cleansed, like a machine going through the motions, completing a task. His hands, like pistons of destruction, wore the remnants of those who’d been foolish enough to accept a ride from a warrior of God.

He would wait until dark to finish off Allison. Then he would bury her, like all the others. For now, he wanted the serenity of God’s majesty, the stillness of the creek, the muted silence of solitude. He loved this place. He often wished he could share its beauty with his wife and daughters.

Thinking of them, Carl shivered. Then he said, “God instructed Abraham to take his son, Isaac, his only beloved son, to Moriah.” His voice echoed through the woods. “Being obedient to the Lord, he did as he was told, and led his boy up to place him upon the altar, to prove his loyalty to God. But before he could sacrifice his only son, a voice spoke to Abraham, saying, ‘For now I know you fear God.’ And there appeared a ram. Abraham proved his loyalty to God, and so the angels sent the ram to sacrifice instead of his son.”

Grunting, he clambered to his feet and returned to the truck. Allison whimpered and mewled as he swung the door open. She didn’t say anything. He doubted she could, after what he’d done to her tongue.

“You are the latest ram,” he told her, climbing inside the trailer. “Sent to me by the Lord to sacrifice instead of my family.”

Allison’s one remaining eye widened. Her muffled protestations grew frenzied.

Smiling, Carl closed the door behind him. “And now I know you fear God.”

• • •

Willie shuffled along, guided by the voices of the trees. Night was coming, and hunting would be plentiful. He couldn’t think about anything but drawing blood.

He paused at the sound of a voice in the distance. His body turned in the direction of a feminine groan, followed by complaining. Willie crept slowly through the brush.

A woman spoke to herself and the trees. “I don’t know what I’m doing out here. I don’t even like this job or anyone I work with.”

She wore a colored vest and held a protective mask in her hands. She shook her head and began shedding her vest.

Willie waited until she was completely distracted with the task before advancing through the bushes.

“Come on, Zoe. I think it’s time to put in our two-week notice,” she said to herself, throwing her mask on the forest floor. “I’d better not get lost out here, fuckin’ dirt and bugs everywhere, probably bears or wolves. Why did I come on this trip! I’ll never survive this shit,” she muttered, holding her manicured nails up before her face in the fading light, apparently to make sure none of them were chipped.

Willie was right behind her when she spun around, her mouth falling open, and she stumbled back. It was clear by the insane look burning in Willie’s eyes and his lack of care for personal space that he meant to do her harm. He was dirty and bloody, and leaves stuck out of his hair. He lifted his hands to grab her, but Zoe turned and ran.

Zoe Garber was a tad on the overweight side, but she was young and scared out of her mind, so she likely didn’t feel the exertion of bursting into a sprint. What slowed her down was rolling her ankle on the root of a tree. It sent her falling over and a shock of burning pain erupted in her ankle. Zoe turned over, crying out as the agony intensified.

Willie would be on her soon. She tried to push herself up onto her good foot to hobble along, but slipped and fell again. This time there was a snapping at her ankle.

“No!” she screamed as Willie loomed over her.

“Hush now,” he said, a grimy finger up to his lips. “You’re gonna be a part of something special.”

He bent over and picked up a rock beside the root that had ended Zoe’s escape. He held it above his head and watched her terrified expression as he hesitated. He listened closely and nodded, returning his focus to her.

“The trees say I should do this!” Willie let the rock fall on Zoe. It landed on her stomach and forced the wind from her lungs. She could no longer scream, couldn’t catch her breath. Tears streamed from her eyes as he lifted the rock again, and it impacted the side of her face.

Willie watched in satisfaction as the jagged rock tore the woman’s cheek open all the way up to her lower eyelid on the right side of her face. Then blood, beautiful and crimson, replaced the pale skin, and in the pollen-choked breeze he heard the voices again, singing his praises and urging him to continue.

Willie sat on Zoe’s chest and lifted the bloodied stone over his head. He watched pain and terror in her eyes for a second before bashing her face into nothing but red pulp.

• • •

Lydia trudged along, her shoes muddy and wet, her legs aching from the long trek. She was in good shape and did a lot of running back home, but she knew if she didn’t find the location on the map soon she’d need to take a break—and that meant sitting in the silent forest alone. She walked alongside the stream and occasionally stopped to wash the pollen from her face. The cell signal was strong, and she was still interrupted occasionally by the weird SEE emails.

She paused for a moment as the terrain grew rocky, and she was forced to contemplate how she would make her way around or over three great boulders blocking the path. Lydia secured her cell phone in her pocket and scaled the smallest one. Then she jumped over to the edge of the second boulder.

She climbed on top of it and got a good look around at her surroundings. Her focus was drawn to a cliff not far from where she stood. Then, startled, she realized a figure was standing atop it, a dark shadow silhouetted against the greenery.

The figure moved forward into the dimming sunlight, and Lydia gasped.

A Native American man in what appeared to be full traditional regalia stood at the edge of the cliff, his head hanging low, his face obscured. Her heartbeat fluttered in her chest, and she knew in her mind exactly what he meant to do, yet her voice was stolen from her. Lydia brought a hand up to her mouth as tears ran from her eyes. She felt a sense of letting go, of giving up. She watched him walk right off the edge. His fall was painfully slow. She held her breath as he plummeted toward an outcropping of rocks—and then, in the blink of her teary eyes, he vanished into thin air before ever colliding with them.

It was almost too much for her. She sat on the boulder for a minute, shaking. “Am I crazy, wandering off alone? I know better than that. What the fuck was I thinking?”

She thumbed her phone and dialed 911. The call refused to connect. “Oh, sure. Now there’s no service.”

She suddenly felt cold, despite the heat. It occurred to her that if anything else happened—be it the ghosts of suicidal Native Americans or the ghosts of forest fire victims—she could record it on her phone. But she worried that that would drain the battery. Her ghost-hunting friends would have loved to be involved in something like this, but she was no longer having fun. She felt scared and claustrophobic. The trees, their trunks smeared with some sort of black sap, seemed to press in on her. She wanted out, and she couldn’t find a way.

No one is going to believe this. I have zero witnesses, zero proof, and my phone won’t even let me online.

Sighing, she tapped her phone screen to be certain there was no other way she could contact anyone. There was nothing now, except the GPS locator. Even the weird messages had stopped.

“Fuck.”

Lydia rested a few minutes more, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of the forest swallowing her whole. Her feet ached, and she became acutely aware that there were at least a few blisters bubbling on her heels. A wet, muddy pair of Converse All Stars weren’t choice hiking footwear, but when she’d gotten dressed that morning, she’d had no idea she’d be hiking for miles into rough terrain and getting her feet soaked in a mountain stream.

Everywhere she looked, trees protruded from the ground like daggers, watching over her and dropping copious amounts of pollen into the fading light. Desperation filled her, an urgency that kept her forehead and armpits slick with cold sweat. She wished she’d stayed and participated in the stupid paintball game. The monsters she knew were better than those she didn’t, after all.

“I’m an idiot.”

She got to her feet and continued her trek, quickening her pace. That expectant feeling crept up on her again.

Then a new scream sent her running. This one was distinctly feminine—a short, high-pitched cry, silenced before it could become anything more. Lydia tripped over a rock and landed on her stomach. The fall knocked the wind from her, but she pushed herself onto her knees. She gasped for breath, realizing too late that she’d sucked in a lungful of pollen.

HELLO, TINY.

The voice boomed through the forest, speaking the nickname that only a dead woman used.

YOU ARE LOST. I CAN LEAD YOU BACK TO THE OTHERS. THEN YOU CAN KILL THEM.

Panic filled Lydia. This was not in her imagination. The voice was real. She couldn’t tell herself otherwise. Though it appeared that she was alone out here . . . she wasn’t.

“Fuck you! Leave me alone!”

YES. MORE ANGER. RAGE AGAINST IT ALL.

“What do you want?”

TO OPEN THE DOOR, TINY.

“How dare you use her voice!”

The disembodied speaker didn’t answer. The forest fell silent again.

“Are you still there, you fucker?”

Through the undergrowth, Lydia caught a flash of movement. Another hazy figure—much like the doomed Native American and the couple fleeing the fire—stood over three corpses. His hands were bloody, and his clothes were stained red. Judging by his attire, he was either cosplaying—dressed up in a costume of a miner from the eighteen hundreds—or was actually from another time period.

He spoke as a second man joined him, seemingly walking out of thin air. “God told me, with a voice so pure and beautiful and full of light, to strike the first blow.”

The man beside him shook his head and mumbled, “I didn’t hear anything, Dimitri.”

The first man—Dimitri—opened his mouth to respond, but then both figures vanished, along with the corpses.

“Son of a bitch,” Lydia whispered.

Once again, she got to her feet. The voice had vanished, too, and she heard the trickling stream not far away. She hurried in its direction, seeking to wash the blood from her palms and the pollen from her face, and pull herself together.

She splashed in the water. The cold brought her focus and clarity. She refused to give up, refused to be the girl in the horror movie who sits and cries and waits for death to come, and she refused to let this thing mock her by speaking in the voice of her dear departed grandmother.

These were glimpses from the past replaying for her—it was hard to believe, but it was right there in front of her face, as real as the cold hard stone beneath her. She wiped her eyes and attempted to gather her courage to continue. She climbed down the other side of the boulder and ran up the stream.

The cell phone chimed in her pocket again. It seemed louder than usual. She wasn’t sure if the volume button had been pressed while it was in her pocket, but it filled her with an urgency she couldn’t shake. Lydia pulled it from her pocket, her hands trembling.

“You’ve come this far,” she whispered, unlocking the phone and locating the map. “You have to keep going.”

• • •

Choking and gagging, Amber, Karen, and Mary couldn’t help but inhale the pollen. It squirmed up their noses, leaving an itching, sneezing, violent irritation behind. They coughed, but the black powder sat in their lungs like cement. It clung to them and crawled over them and into them to the point of near suffocation, and then, just as quickly, it fell away. They stood in a semicircle, gasping, looking at one another, their heads swimming and their noses running.

KILL, a voice boomed. KILL, KILL!

Karen grinned.

She lunged forward and launched a heavy fist upward, with an uppercut that sent Mary stumbling backward. Amber ran at Karen with all her might and knocked her over. They both thudded to the stone-littered ground. Fists flew, flesh bruised, and blood splattered in a primal fury. Amber was too slender to dominate Karen for long, and was soon tossed aside.

Mary regained her composure and leaped into the fray, nails slashing, ready to shred the skin off anyone she could get a hold of—but before she could, she was elbowed in the nose. She got to her feet, licking the warm blood running down to her chin. Her knee had been gouged open by a jagged rock. She noticed a pile of stones and chose one that fit perfectly in her palm.

Mary fell upon the prone Amber, lifting the rock above her head and bringing it down with all the strength in her arms, feeling the built-up anger toward the younger, more beautiful woman as she battered open Amber’s skull in a series of quick bashes. Amber’s once radiant face became a bloody mass of splintered bone and exposed, broken teeth. She jittered, voiding her bowels, and then lay still as her brain function ceased. Mary felt proud. Years of bottled-up anger and jealousy were gone.

But her pride was short-lived. She had raised her head to whoop with joy when Karen attacked her from behind.

They struggled and fought like rabid animals. Mary threw her head back while Karen locked her in a bear hug. She felt Karen’s lip and nose pulp beneath the attack. The blood pouring out of her face fueled the struggle, and though Mary squirmed, Karen managed to pick the smaller woman up off the ground. Mary kicked, catching Karen in the kneecap. Karen dropped her and stumbled, crouching in pain.

“You fucking Asian bitch! I’m gonna—”

Mary silenced the rest of Karen’s threat by smashing her in the face with a broken tree branch.

The older, larger woman wasn’t giving in so easily, however. She spat teeth and lunged forward, sending a fist flying into the side of Mary’s face. Mary recoiled, falling onto her tailbone on a flat rock. Karen came for her, ready to bash Mary’s head in with only her fists, but Mary jabbed her in the chest with the splintered end of the broken tree limb. A second thrust knocked Karen back a step, and then Mary held her at bay. Karen stared down at the pollen-coated spear as Mary stabbed it into her gut.

“Ohhh . . .” Karen groaned.

Mary grinned up at her, slightly twisting the branch to emphasize that she had the upper hand. Then her eyes widened in surprise as Karen forced herself forward. The splintered shaft slid further into her flesh.

Mary shook her head in disbelief. “But—”

Karen’s split lips pulled back in what might have been a smile, flashing shattered, bloodstained teeth.

“Fuck you . . .”

Mary tightened her grip on the bloody implement, but Karen reached down and wrapped her fist in Mary’s dark hair. She pulled it with a rough jerk, yanking out a clump, and waved it over her head like a trophy. Mary screamed. Karen had just begun to cheer when the weight of her body snapped the branch. She paused for a second and then realized that she was free.

Mary tried to scurry away, but Karen grabbed her by the hair again and dragged her to her feet. Mary’s shriek was silenced as Karen punched her in the nose, breaking it. Then she spun her dazed coworker around by the hair and picked her up. Mary flailed as Karen ground her face into the rough bark of a nearby tree, showering them both with another hefty dose of pollen.

Mary went limp, slipping from Karen’s grasp, but the big woman didn’t relent.

Enraged, she picked Mary up under her armpits. “This . . .” Karen panted. “This is . . . what you get . . . bitch.”

Mary kicked feebly as Karen shoved her forward, thrusting her head between two tree branches. The tree’s limbs danced momentarily in time with Mary’s own shaking limbs as she struggled weakly to free herself, but her airway was smashed, and she didn’t have the strength to break loose. Mary stopped struggling and went limp. The tree ceased moving as well.

Karen fell to her knees, looking down at the branch sticking out of the puncture wound in her stomach.

She tumbled forward, rolled over on her back, and lay still. Her chest rose and fell a few more times, and then ceased.

• • •

Stumbling through the deepening creek, which was now waist-high, Lydia glanced at her phone one last time as the GPS location on the map synced up with her position.

“Almost there,” she panted.

She stopped midstream and stood still, scanning the vicinity until she spotted a building choked with foliage. Vines grew up its concrete-block walls. It looked like a bunker of sorts. It had probably been abandoned, judging by the state of its exterior. She began to recall the emails she’d received—they were no coincidence, she was sure—and she worried that her curiosity was about to get her killed, if she had intercepted some kind of secret signal that was only leading her to be tied up, murdered, and buried beneath the forest of Silverwood. Just maybe, her ghost would someday present itself to another foolish girl roaming around alone.

She waded through the water, barely registering its chill. Her mind was filled with scenes from every old horror movie so dear to her heart that had provided an escape as a young girl, a girl who was confused by her feelings for other women. But this was real life—it was no movie, and death was the absolute end.

Lydia felt the current gliding around her legs. She stared at the building. Then she slowly waded to the shore and slopped through the mud, pausing only to shove her phone in her pocket, heedless of the possibility of water damage.

She cautiously approached the closed door. It would have been a great opening scene to one of those 1970s slasher flicks, a close-up of her tight wet pants, her toned rear end, as she approached it. She reminded herself this was no midnight fright flick, and no matter how nice those girls’ butts were, they all ended up dead, hanging from meat hooks or dismembered and frozen in a stained freezer by some backwoods tow truck driver.

Lydia kept her hands balled into fists, unwilling to go down easy if shit went sideways. Her moment to flee had already passed; she was in too deep, and wouldn’t turn back. She put a shaking hand on the door handle and gave it a push. The door didn’t give at all. She noticed the crown symbol on it—the same as the ones on their bungalows back at the campsite.

“S-E-fucking-E.”

She tried the door again, this time with a little more strength. It gave way, and a sudden bright light blinded her.

A man stood silhouetted in the glow. Lydia fell back with a scream and scrambled in the dirt as he reached for her.

“Hey,” he said, “get a hold of yourself. Take it easy. I’m not going to hurt you!”

Lydia was about to scream again until she realized that a second person was standing beside the stranger—a young girl.

“Who is she, Dad?”

The man ignored the question and focused on Lydia. “Calm down. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“More ghosts,” Lydia wheezed. “You’re both more ghosts.”

“What’s she talking about, Dad? Are there ghosts out there?”

“No, honey.” The man gave his daughter a quick hug. Then he stuck out his hand to Lydia. “Please, calm down. You’re scaring my daughter.”

Lydia breathed deeply. A mixture of confusion and embarrassment passed through her, though she had to admit she was grateful to not be alone in the forest anymore.

“It’ll be dark soon,” the girl said. “Come inside with us. Something bad could happen to you if you don’t.”

“Something . . . bad?” Lydia swallowed.

The girl nodded. “The Creeper. It’s stronger in this forest. Stronger than I’ve ever felt.”

The man put his hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “Gwen . . . nothing bad is going to happen. There’s no sense getting worked up.”

Lydia stared at them.

The man thrust his hand out again. “Are you in or out?”

Lydia grabbed his hand and allowed him to help her to her feet. She glanced over her shoulder at the forest and then back to the man and his daughter. They didn’t look like the phantoms from earlier. They weren’t hazy like Dimitri or the Native American or the couple in the forest fire.

“In or out,” the man repeated. “If I keep this door open any longer, the mosquitoes are going to get in.”

“Mister,” Lydia replied, “mosquitoes are the last thing you need to be worried about.”

Then she followed them through the door, and the light engulfed her.