THE RITUAL ~ Chapter 2: The Invaders
Part One
Welcome to the Chapter 2!
Got here without reading what led up to this point? Use the landing page here to navigate to where you left off.
The story so far:
You’ve met the Brew Brothers and A.J.
Typical teenage drama.
But their world is about to change…
Chapter 2 The Invaders
Part One
When evil comes to a town, one would expect an unsettling wind from the south to cause unconscious shivers down the inhabitants’ necks … or a storm brewing in the west about to cover the sky with dark, ominous clouds like something out of a cheesy B movie. Instead, the weather on Saturday proved as pleasant as the previous days; in fact, since school had let out only two weeks ago, the sun had not stopped shining a single day—bathing Brook’s End in a warm, cozy aura of comfort and tranquility.
Scott trudged his way through the back woods as he always did, up to the back of the Griffin house. His mind whirled with spiraling thoughts. He had finally gotten an acceptance letter for Northern College today—with the obligatory proviso his grades remained acceptable—and he was flying high. A.J. would be working till five as she did on Saturdays, so he had organized for Alex, Robert and Randy to meet him to tell them the news first. He knew they’d be happy for him, but he also knew they would see it as verification of the end of the Brew Brothers. But maybe that would spur them to some sort of action. Or maybe the time had come for the Brew Brothers to die a quiet death.
So, his mind reeled with the interrelated, racing thoughts.
“What’s the word, Benedict?”
Scott saw the other boys waiting for him at the fruit cellar door.
“Let’s get inside,” Scott answered and Robert yanked the lock open.
Last one up into the kitchen as usual, Scott found himself joining the other boys in a sudden, eerie stupor. The four of them stood, silent, scanning the scene with an unsettling disbelief.
The kitchen sat fully furnished! An assortment of wicked-looking knives now lay lined up on a magnetic holder near the sink. Nearby, a suspended scaffolding held a variety of pots and pans, a hefty hatchet, a mallet, and a few items none of the boys could recognize.
“What the hell…?”
Robert couldn’t really finish his thought. But he didn’t need to. They all thought the same thing:
What the hell?
“Hello?”
They all turned to Randy who had called out. Randy suddenly realized it maybe had not been such a smart idea. He shrugged an apology. The boys waited to hear if they would get a response. Nothing but silence. They were barely even breathing.
BZzzzzzzzzzzz!
They jumped at the sound—even as they realized it came from the refrigerator clicking on. Its hum continued as the boys looked at each other and let out small, helpless, nervous laughter.
“Come on,” Robert said—a burst of courage toughening him up.
He nodded toward the other room. Scott, still the torch bearer, started forward. The other boys followed and they stepped into the parlor.
“Hello?” Scott tried again. He’d figured by now they’d likely infiltrated an empty house and it was probably safe to make noise. But he wanted to be sure.
The boys looked around the room, waiting for an answer they really didn’t want to hear. To their relief, nothing but silence echoed throughout the house. As Alex inhaled through his nose, he noticed it even smelled differently. The dank, stuffy odor had vanished, replaced by something else; a mix of aromas he couldn’t separate and place.
“Well,” Robert decided. “Let’s check it out.”
“That’s called trespassing!” Scott warned.
Robert just looked at him. “Too late. Or are we not already in the house?”
Scott caught Alex’s eye. They both knew he was right. They looked back at Robert.
“All right,” Scott said. “Point taken.”
“So, let’s go,” Robert said, getting a little hint of his famous evil grin.
The boys started forward and moved through the parlor. Every room downstairs now proved as fully furnished as the kitchen. The foursome started up the stairs, which now bore a carpeted runner that softened their usually clunky footsteps—though the stairs retained their familiar creak. But now, as they stepped into the upstairs hall, everything lay quiet. Ghostly quiet.
Robert stopped. So did they all. Had someone heard something? They stood there, creeped out, not even breathing.
“Let’s split up.”
They all turned to Robert, all of them sharing wide-eyed looks, blatantly reading: Are you kidding me? He was grinning—the thrill of it all giving him an emotional boner.
“Why?” quizzed Alex, unbelieving.
“Why not?” Robert challenged.
Scott figured they’d gone this far undetected—it had to mean no one was home. He hoped. “All right,” he said. “You and Randy go left, and Alex and I will check out this end.”
“Cool. Come on, Randy.”
Robert started off with Randy dutifully at his heels. Scott looked at Alex.
“We shouldn’t be here,” Alex reminded him.
“I know. But … we are.” He nodded his head down the hall. “Come on.”
And with that, they started in the opposite direction. The doors to the left and right were both closed. The boys went straight for the far door. Scott wanted to deal with the farthest room first, anyway. Get it over with. Get closer to the exit again. Fast.
The far room was a bedroom. It looked normal enough: a canopy … a dresser … a vanity. Scott and Alex exchanged a look. Scott shrugged and they turned. Another door stood on the same wall as the hall door. The boys moved forward. Scott reached out and opened the door.
A bathroom: a nice, large one, but nothing out of the ordinary. Alex let out a tiny, sigh of relief. He didn’t want to see anything out of the ordinary. And it looked like he would get his wish. Some normal people had moved into Griffin Hall and it would be just another, normal house again. They went through the door on the opposite side of the bathroom and came out into the hallway again.
That left only one door unopened. They stepped across the hall to the closed door. More and more, Scott regretted the whole venture, but he put his fingers around the doorknob, turned it, and opened the door slowly.
Shelves, filled with books, lined every wall, creating a home library. Scott scanned the shelving; it looked brand new as if it had only just been installed a few days ago. Unlike the books on the shelf that caught his eye; they seemed old and worn, like heirlooms passed down through generations.
“Jeeze…”
Scott turned to Alex.
“What?”
“Look at these books.”
Scott came over to where Alex stood a few feet away. He lifted his head to see the spines of the books. Where there should have been words, there were just jumbled strings of odd symbols.
“What language is that?” Scott wondered aloud.
Alex had no clue.
“Arabic?”
Scott shook his head, slowly.
“I don’t think so.”
They looked some more and Alex pointed to a shelf of books in English. But they had strange titles: “Liturgies of Transmigrations”, “Ordaining the Sacrifice”, “Ceremonial Rites”. Are they religious nuts? Scott wondered. But everything else in the house seemed so normal.
Suddenly, Scott had a vague sensation of someone behind him. Couldn’t be, he told himself.
And then he felt the hand on his shoulder.
Scott jerked around, his heart skipping—pins and needles in his chest.
“Whoa!” Robert said. “Chill out, dude!”
“Robert, you fucker!” Scott wasn’t one to cuss much, so when he did, you knew he meant it.
“Sorry, man. I just thought you guys might want to see what we found.”
Randy looked like he felt guilty—even though he’d only been tagging along with Robert like a faithful puppy.
“It’s okay,” Scott said, getting a grip. “Let’s just go. We don’t belong here.”
“Doncha wanna see what we found in the other room?” Robert asked.
“Tell us at Pops,” Scott said and he started out of the room.
“But we’re here already!”
Alex said nothing; he simply bee-lined it after Scott. Robert looked at Randy. Randy shrugged; he was willing, but he’d already seen it. Disgusted, Robert muttered “Come on.”
Scott and Alex descended the stairs and, after a fashion, Robert and Randy did as well.
“Pussies,” Robert muttered soft enough so Scott wouldn’t hear it.
As they all crossed the parlor toward the kitchen, it happened.
Foreign thumping sounds.
The boys froze.
More thumping. Clearer. Closer.
Randy, in the rear, turned his head. “Uh …” he started.
Robert finished for him: “People!”
The boys turned to see the fuzzy silhouettes of two people coming up the front porch steps!
“Come on!” Scott whispered, frantic. The boys all ran for the kitchen. The people climbing the porch steps thumped. The boys skidded across the kitchen floor to the trap door.
“Hurry!” Scott half demanded, half pleaded. Alex went without a thought; first into the dark for the first time in his life. Robert followed.
“Go, go, go!!!” Scott whispered/screamed.
Randy ambled down the stairs. Scott could hear the key in the lock of the front door. He scrambled down, stopping just enough to pull the door closed as he heard the front door open.
The boys charged through the cellar, suddenly keenly aware just how big it really was. The exit seemed a mile away. But they made it and pounded up the stairs, bursting out the cellar door into the light. Scott slammed the door closed and ran for the trees and shrubs of the backwoods.
The boys charged for cover as fast as their legs could go—the adrenaline making them fly in a crazed rush. If the cellar door had seemed far, the woods seemed like they were in another country. If they didn’t make it in time… If those people saw them…
Not soon enough for a single one of them, they lurched into the woods, smashing shrubbery about and sending leaves flying. Finally safe in the shadows of the foliage, they stopped, gasping for air. They all stood, staring at each other, panting with pained faces. Then, almost as one, they turned to look at the Griffin house.
“Shit…” Robert muttered.
Scott agreed. He hadn’t been so freaked out in his life, he thought. And his chest hurt like hell. But he forgot the pain in his chest as his eyes focused on something that made him feel even worse—right in the pit of his stomach. The cellar door had closed all right, but the lock hung open … in plain view … unhinged. Proof someone had been inside!
Scott couldn’t help himself:
“Shit …”
To be continued…
Next up: Chapter 2: The Invaders (continued)
I’ll be adding new installments regularly; you can use the following link to the home page to navigate to the latest chapter: THE RITUAL - Home Page