“I’m not sure what to do,” muttered Chase as he wandered around the lonely mansion. It wasn’t like Chase to be without an immediate plan of action. Perhaps, it was the shock of having his friends disappear. He wandered the empty halls looking at the portraits of empty faces.

“You. Where are my friends?” asked Chase of a dusty portrait. Its solemn silence echoed a gnawing feeling with himself. That feeling. That feeling was growing. Something had to be done.

Chase released a heavy sigh. “My friends are gone. Will I ever see them again?” he wondered as his eyes drifted to the spiral staircase where he had last seen Anni. “Sweet Anni,” he thought.

It was like a dream when he saw her fade away like a distant vapor as she ascended not only the stairs, but into the open portal to another time and world. He had run after her in a futile attempt. She was gone.

“Anni, sweet Anni.”

Chase rubbed his eyes and fought the tears. His fingers fled through his hair and squeezed his head hard. He lowered his head as he lowered his body to a sitting position on the stairs.

He shook his head slowly as he thought of Hbomb. She was a woman beyond his dreams and imagination. Her sultry presence steamed his very thoughts and heart. Yet, she revealed herself to him. In his heart, remained her words, slowly burning hope each day.

He had watched her grow fainter as her gentle footsteps rounded the pond into the mist. Her fluid movements became part of the fog. His last view of her was as she turned to him and blew him a kiss, her pouting lips glowing red. Those lips.

“I must find my friends again. I have to. They’re my…. They’re my… They’re my friends,” said Chase as he realized his loss. “Friends. It’s so good to have friends.”

His world seemed so empty, as empty as the study where he was now sitting. His hands folded almost in a prayer. He contemplated his situation. Another long sigh.

“It has to be done. This is the time,” he said sadly.

The leather chair had absorbed his body heat and had become soothing. He rocked back and forth a few lonely times. As Chase turned the chair around, he saw a portrait of a Scottish nobleman above the massive oak fireplace. He was dressed in an RAF Officer’s uniform. Regal. Posture perfect. Eloquent and intelligent eyes staring back him.

“Dragon60. A dear friend indeed,” said Chase as he looked upon nobility and the eyes of a gentleman. Chase remembered watching Dragon60 seemly float out of existence into the clouds from the tennis courts. Gone. Just like that.

Chase got up from the warm chair and went to the music room where he saw Meggie in his mind. Instead of playing a piano, she was furiously typing away at her PC. He could see her thoughts become words. He remembered seeing her turn into a puff of smoke and she was gone.

“Oh Meggie, what will I do without you?” wondered Chase as his heart sank to a new low. He remembered the warmth of that evening by the lake when she held him close. Now it was gone. Everyone was gone.

Chase turned around and walked the hallways. Picture after picture. The people in the paintings were now gone. Only memories remained.

“I have to get them back. I have to!” cried Chase.

But there was only one way and Chase knew what it was. He went back to the study and opened his briefcase on the old mahogany desk. He looked inside of it. He saw his trusty Glock 51, it’s barrel shining in the light. Adventure. That’s what he loved.

Slowly, Chase removed everything from the briefcase except what really mattered. The small bombs were laid to the side, his two-way micro-radio was taken out with pride. The tools of the trade left his briefcase until they were line-up neatly in front of him.

“This is all I need to get them back,” thought Chase as he looked in his case.

Inside of the briefcase was a laptop. Nothing fancy, a workhorse Toshiba. He caressed it like a fine woman.

It was a small voice in his head that spoke, “They’re not the ones who are gone Chase. It’s you. You left them. They are all still there. You are the one who left.”

Chase’s jaw became firm in resolve. He knew that the voice was right. He knew what he had to do to get back to the warm fireplace and laughter of his friends.

“I have to finish my book,” he said.

He touched the power button of his laptop and watched the screen come to life.

He was swimming up through the darkness, struggling to reach the surface. As he fought his way through the shadows, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. Cold marble. Damp, stale air. And a sickeningly sweet smell that he was afraid to name. Full consciousness returned in a rush, bringing with it sharp, stabbing pain. He stifled a groan as he opened his eyes.

“Mr. Jackson, so good of you to join us,” said a low voice. Chase slowly pulled himself to a sitting position.

“Yeah, you’re welcome. I was planning on getting a manicure today, but decided hey, why not skip the manicure and see what my old friend Freddie’s been up to?”

“I’m glad to see that your recent encounter with my loyal staff has not damaged your sense of humor. Too bad the same can’t be said for the rest of your pathetic body. And in the future, you will address me as General Kriekill, or General.”

“Yeah, sure. General. You’re moving up in the world, Freddie. The last time we met, you were just a disgusting, rotting zombie. Now look at you. You’re a disgusting, rotting zombie with an army. Very impressive. But you really need to do something about the smell. Have you considered breath mints?”

“Enough of your arrogance! I can see that you are as small-minded as ever. You must be curious about the fate of your friends. I assure you, they are safe. Soon they will become part of my undead army. As will you.” Kriekill gave a small chuckle of satisfaction.

“Sorry, Freddie, but I have problems with authority. Besides, I don’t think the world is quite ready to be ruled by you and your decaying army.”

Chase looked around him. The small talk had given him a chance to clear his head. He was in a large vault, obviously the burial place of an extremely wealthy family. A large, white marble sarcophagus dominated one end of the room. Kriekill leaned casually against it, obscuring part of the inscription. Chase could read the words “hero” and “Napoleonic wars” next to Kriekill’s rotting flesh.

“Well, my dear Mr. Jackson, you appear to be at a slight disadvantage. You are surrounded by my faithful minions. And you are alone. I’m afraid that you are defeated.” Kriekill straightened from the sarcophagus. “This has been a delightful conversation, but I really must be going. My army awaits.” He walked stiffly across the room.

“Good-bye, Mr. Jackson. We will meet again – but you will not remember. Zombies never do.” Kriekill turned to leave, nodding to his guards. “Take him.” Two guards lumbered towards Chase.

Chase jumped to his feet as the first one reached for him. He grabbed the zombie’s arm, giving it a sharp twist. There was the sound of tearing flesh, and the arm came off in his hand. Spinning around, he smashed it into the guard’s head, knocking him to the floor. Shards of flesh fell from the arm, exposing the bone. The second guard approached, keeping his arms close to his side. Chase gripped the arm like a baseball bat, waiting for him to come within reach. As he stepped into his swing, his foot came down on a piece of rotted flesh, throwing him off balance. He fell to the floor, dropping the arm. The guard’s black and decayed hand reached for him.

Rolling to the side, Chase came up hard against him. The guard stumbled and Chase grabbed his putrid leg. He fell back, leaving the leg in Chase’s hand. He scrambled to his feet, clutching the leg.

“That’s the problem with undead armies, Kriekill. They fall apart under pressure.”

Kriekill slowly turned to face him. “Yes, that is an unfortunate problem. But there is an advantage. They also never die.” He gestured toward the two guards. The one-armed guard was on his feet, while the other was crawling across the floor towards Chase. “But you have annoyed me, Mr. Jackson. I believe that I shall have to take care of you myself.” Kriekill moved towards Chase.

“But there is one way to stop them, isn’t there Kriekill?” Chase ran to the sarcophagus and pushed aside the heavy lid. With a mumbled “sorry” he grabbed the occupant’s sword, swinging it as he turned. There was a swish, then a dull thud as Kriekill’s head hit the floor.

Chase looked down at the head. “You may not die, but your body can’t do much without a head, can it, Freddie?”

Kriekill’s mouth moved, but no sound emerged.

“Freddie, it’s been fun. I’d love to hang around and chat, but football is on tonight. But hey, enjoy your eternity. And remember to keep your chin up.”

Kriekill continued to mouth soundless obscenities as Chase went in search of his friends.

Chase clutched the weapon to his chest and dove headfirst into the room, tucking and rolling to a crouching position. Evil spirits filled the space. Sensing a fresh soul, they darted towards him, each intent on claiming a piece. He pulled out the Super Soaker and shot them with the holy water. Sizzling noises filled the air as the holy water sprayed its targets.

Chase looked around the room and spotted his friends on the opposite side. They were held immobile by a pair of evil spirits, but at least they were alive. For now. Judging by the variety of knives, candles and ceremonial relics scattered around, the Incan Priestess had big plans for the evening, with his friends as the guests of honor.

Chase threw himself to the side as one of the spirits got too close. He whipped the water pistol around, soaking it with the holy water. It gave a high-pitched cry of pain as the water burned it.

“Ha!” Chase muttered. “That one won’t be back for a while.”

The spirits swirled around him as he moved into the room. He stumbled over an object, almost dropping the Super Soaker. Looking down, he saw a human skull, its empty eye sockets a mute reminder of the Priestess’ macabre plans.

He bent down and picked up the skull, then reached for his extra bottle of holy water. He poured water over the skull until it was dripping wet. Using the eyes as finger grips, he bowled the wet skull across the floor. The spirits scattered before it, clearing a path for him.

Running after the rolling skull, Chase made his way further into the room. The evil spirits, sensing the richness of his soul, grew more agitated. They swirled around him, closer and closer, taking more chances with the burning water. He paused to unleash a powerful stream of water, driving them back.

Motion on the other side of the room caught his eye. Spinning around, he saw the Priestess herding his friends out the other door. If she made it off the mountain, his friends were lost.

With a cry of desperation, Chase sprayed the room with water. He was almost to the door when the Super Soaker ran dry. Pulling out his back-up bottle, he flung it in an arc, scattering its contents. The spirits shriveled under the attack. With a burst of energy, Chase lunged through the door.

He paused to get his bearings. Inside, he could hear the evil spirits shrieking, lamenting the loss of his soul. But out here it was deathly still. The mountain was clothed in darkness, oblivious to the evil it harbored.

A breeze stirred, bringing to Chase the voices of his friends. Breaking into a run, he followed the noises.

“Move faster, vermin!”

Sounds like the Priestess is getting stressed, Case thought. He was close enough to hear their labored breathing as they struggled through the underbrush. There was only one place the Priestess could be taking them – the Cave of the Ancients.

Unlike the Priestess, Chase had grown up on this rugged mountain. To get to the cave, the Priestess would have to cross a mountain stream. He had to get to that stream before her.

Chase waited patiently in the bushes, listening as the Priestess pushed her captives up the trail. Soon he could see their outlines in the dim moonlight.

Come on, Chase thought. Just a little closer.

The small group stopped when it got to the stream.

“Why are you stopping? Cross the stream!” the Priestess shrieked. The others hesitated, until she pulled out a large knife.

“Cross the stream, or you will not live to see the dawn.”

One by one, Chase’s friends waded across the cold mountain stream. Now it was the Priestess’ turn.

Lifting her heavy ornamental robes, she stepped into the water. As the water rose, she was forced to lift the knife above her head. And that was when Chase went into action.

Jumping from the bank, Chase hit the Priestess in her back, knocking the knife from her hand. They struggled silently in the dark night, two shadows of good and evil. The Priestess lost her footing, falling backwards into the rushing water. The weight of her robes pulled her beneath the surface, wrapping her in its cold embrace.

Chase crossed the stream, collapsing on the other side. His friends rushed to his side.

“Chase, are you OK? Chase, say something!”

He looked up into their concerned faces. His friends were safe, and the Priestess would never again play her evil games.

Chase smiled up at them. “Let’s skip Halloween this year.”

Chase stood on the porch in front of the cabin and looked around. Mary’s cross dangled from the chain clenched in his right hand, the only evidence that anyone else was ever there at all.

He called out. “Mary? Stu? Janine?”

The low whistle of the wind was the only reply. Chase shivered. The cold mountain air chilled him to the bone. He was about to step down from the porch when he felt a shadow creep across his back. He spun around, ready to fight, when…

“SURPRISE!”

His friends stood in the doorway of the cabin, silhouetted by the light that shone from within. Mary held a cake in her arms, flanked by Stu and Janine on either side. They all smiled broadly at him.

“What the… Where were you guys? And what’s the occasion? It’s not my birthday!”

Stu smiled even wider. Unnaturally wide.

“No, Chase. It’s your DEATH day!”

Stu’s gave a guttural cry as he revealed the kitchen knife hidden behind his back and lunged at Chase. Chase sidestepped him and tried to grab Stu’s outstretched arm as he tumbled forward, but Janine suddenly came up from behind and wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to his sides. She wasn’t a big girl, but Chase found himself struggling to break free of her grasp.

Stu regained his balance and swung the knife at Chase. Chase screamed as the blade cut a gash across his upper arm. Instinctively, he kicked at Stu, knocking the knife out of his hand. As Stu knelt to retrieve it, Chase brought his hands up to pry Janine’s arms away.

“NOOOOO! IT BURNS! GET IT AWAY!!!”

Janine let go, whimpering. Chase was momentarily stunned until he saw that Mary’s chain was still entwined around his fingers, the cross resting against his wrist. He looked at the cross, and then at Mary, who was still standing in the doorway with a worried look. Chase took a step toward her, waving the cross at her.

“Is that why you’re not wearing this, Mary? Does it hurt to wear it?”

Mary dropped the cake and took a step backward. Chase pondered his next move when he heard a noise behind him. He turned just in time to see Stu leap toward him, once again wielding the kitchen knife. He barely managed to grab hold of Stu’s wrist, keeping the knife from drawing more blood, but Stu’s momentum sent both men falling through the doorway and into the cabin. As Chase hit the wooden floor, the cross flew from his hand, landing in front of the fireplace. Janine was sitting on the floor next to it, curled up in a fetal position and sobbing.

“Chase,” she whimpered. “I’m sorry. So sorry…”

Chase kept his hold on Stu’s wrist and tried to push him away. He realized that whatever had taken hold of Janine was now gone.

“Janine!” he yelled. “The cross! Give me the cross!”

Chase continued his struggle as Janine slowly came to. Dazed, she reached for the cross, only to be met by a backhanded swipe from Mary. Janine tumbled backward, sprawling into the fire that roared in the fireplace. Her turtleneck sweater began to smolder, but she quickly scrambled out before getting burned, spreading hot cinders all over the floor in the process.

Mary dove on top of her, but Janine still managed to kick the cross toward Chase with the heel of her foot. Chase grabbed it and pressed it against Stu’s face.

Stu recoiled, clutching his face and screaming. Chase scrambled back to his feet and ran toward Mary as flames started to travel across the floor.

He grabbed her arm and pressed the cross into her palm. She screamed wildly and tried to pull away, but Chase held her fast.

“Chase? What’s going on?”

He turned to see Stu staring at him blankly.

“Stu! Grab Janine and get out of here!”

“What?”

“DO IT!”

Stu helped Janine to her feet and half-dragged her out of the cabin. Mary’s screams died down and she fell into Chase’s arms, drained.

“What… happened?”

“I don’t know. But we’ve gotta get out of here.”

He helped her out of the cabin as the flames began to leap onto the furniture. Moments later, everyone stood safely outside the cabin watching as it became engulfed by flame.

Mary shuddered. “Chase? What happened to us?”

“I wish I knew. But it’s over now. Let’s head home.”

The four walked down the dirt trail from the cabin to Chase’s car, unaware that Chase had dropped Mary’s cross when they left the cabin. It lay on the ground until a sudden strong wind blew loose clumps of dirt over it, effectively burying it.

And the sound of the wind gradually turned into laughter.

Turning my head to the side I can see Joe’s hand, tendons trailing from the wrist. I’m covered in blood. But it isn’t my blood. My head aches. My right leg feels like it might be broken. I know the boys are gone, and I know I was next. I’m not the one who killed them. I can’t be. What’s going on? I think back…

It was a clear, cool night. No moon, but plenty of stars in the desert sky. The top was down and I was driving fast. Joe opened a bottle of tequila and T.B. fired up a smoke to pass around. Everyone was laughing and yelling, but I was pretty tired. It was hard to stay awake. The light shimmering up ahead seemed like a beacon. We headed up the mountain.

When we rang at the front door it sounded like a distant mission bell. A young girl with a lovely face answered. She looked us over, lit a candle and said softly, “Follow me.” I don’t know where the guys ended up. I heard voices in the hallway but it didn’t sound like them.

My room was overlooking the courtyard. I doubt I slept more than an hour when I got up for some fresh air. I could hear the same voices I had heard in the hallway earlier. Looking out the window I could see the beautiful young girl who had let us in. She was dancing in the courtyard. There were nearly a dozen young men with her. They were all pretty worked up. I don’t know how long I watched before I lay back down.

I pulled the bell rope by my bed. A pale young man dressed in black appeared at my door. I asked for a bottle of Dom Perignon ‘57 and he told me it wasn’t available; hadn’t been for years. I had finished the bottle that had been waiting in the room, even though I despise pink champagne

When I lay on the bed and stared in the mirror above the bed I looked dead. I must have gone back to sleep. At some point I was running down the hall looking for my room. I bumped into the same pale young man who had come to my room earlier. “Relax,” he said. That’s all I could remember.

Then I was lying on the floor of the hallway. Glen, Joe, Don and T.B. were dead, I knew. But I couldn’t remember how. Why was I so sure? And how did I know I hadn’t killed them?

I lifted myself up on my elbows and looked through the gloom down the hallway. My head pounded. My leg ached. I tried to get up. There was a noise behind me, so quiet it was more like a feeling. Trying to turn around made me dizzy and nauseous. I collapsed and began to vomit. I nearly choked to death. Then I blacked out.

When I came to again I was upright, very dizzy and sore. Someone had tied me to one of the dining room chairs. Dozens of people sat at an enormous table. It was difficult to focus but there seemed to be an enormous banquet spread and some sort of quiet, eerie party was in progress. Slowly I got the picture.

At the center of the table was an enormous black boar. Although he had clearly been boiled and scraped free of hair, he was still alive. Pure evil looked out of those tiny red eyes. The diners all had long knives. They were cutting pieces off the boar for their plates. But still the boar lived. And every once in a while he screamed, an almost human sound of terror and rage and pain that seemed to effect only me. And the eyes. There was something about those eyes.

I felt sick and crazy all of a sudden. Those were T.B.’s eyes. Somehow I knew. And when I looked around the table I saw other things I recognized. Glen’s ring was on the tablecloth next to a platter of meat that seemed to be oozing blood and breathing. I saw more familiar objects. The boys weren’t gone, they were here. And the screaming grew and grew until it filled my head. I was screaming, too…

“Dude! What is the matter with you?” Joe is shaking me by the shoulders and looking me in the face. “Stop screaming, man!” he yells. “You’re freaking us all out.”

I look back at Joe. I look at Glen, Don and T.B. We’re all standing under a gas lamp on the front porch of a building I begin to recognize. The door opens and a lovely young girl is standing there. She looks us over, lights a candle and says softly, “Follow me.”

Amy had turned to him, dark bangs plastered to her forehead, “Of all the vacation spots in the world you had to choose the Evil Dead house,” and that had been it, Chase didn’t remember much after that. The world had taken on a hazy white quality: reality through soft-focus lens, and Chase struggled to push himself onto his hands and knees, his hands slick with something sticky and wet.

His head pounded and Chase cursed under his breath, wavering on shaky arms as he panted to ease his tumbling stomach.

The silence of the room was complete and Chase was rocked with an awful feeling, making him tremble, and he coughed once and swallowed twice before he found his voice. “A-my? Bank? Anyone … “

No answer and blinking rapidly, Chase managed to focus his eyes.

The room was empty, he was alone. The furniture that had once been clean and neat, if not exactly new, was broken and destroyed and scattered about the room, it was as if an angry hand had swept through it, knocking things aside.

Chase teetered a bit more, managed to flop clumsily into a sitting position.

Noises, like angry hissing, only much, much louder; a rush of air, a displacement of … something, a feeling of dread like ice on his spine … That’s what Chase remembered. Chase didn’t think he’d ever forget that feeling for the rest of his bloody life.

Then he had passed out, who knew for how long, and he had woken up – everyone was gone.

Chase looked around the room: one couch was completely flipped over; its cushions ripped open to spill cotton and foam guts. Chase didn’t think the others had gone hiking.

“Who did this?” he managed, his voice sounding a little stronger. It inspired him to stand, stumbling about a bit, flailing like a newborn, and he fumbled with the pocket of his jacket.

His gun, his gun … where the *hell* was his gun?

“WHO DID THIS?!” He panted, screaming it, for some reason, at the ceiling.

Chase thrust a hand into his other pocket and it closed around something cold and steel and Chase’s lips pulled back in a triumphant sneer of a smile as he pulled it out. “TELL ME! COME OUT!”

It didn’t, for some reason, occur to him to leave.

Later he’d reason it was because he never felt alone.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Chase said, pointing his gun, turning around, eyes skidding over broken lamps, upturned tables, and broken glass. There was a stench of hysteria in the air and Chase coughed again. “Not … not afraid … “

The windows rattled and Chase whipped his gun around in that direction, jumped when he found himself face to face with his own, warped reflection. Chase Jackson – transparent and pale – the trees and forest visible through his frightened visage.

Not that Chase was frightened.

“BRING THEM BACK!” Chase yelled. “I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!”

Chase Jackson finally got his reply.

It happened quickly, so quickly that Chase didn’t have a chance to take another breath, for his heart to take another beat. It hit him, like a wave, like a gush, like a cold burst of fury blown from the mouth of an angry, invisible giant. It hit him and he flew, his feet leaving the ground and crashing him into a wall and into the single untouched picture that hung there.

Chase imagined that this must have been very much what a bug felt when it hit a windshield.

He crumpled to the floor, hitting it with a thump and the picture and the shards of glass from its frame landed on top of him.

Chase had managed to hold onto his gun but he didn’t know what good it would do him.

“I don’t believe in you,” he mumbled, his eyes shut, the stars of pain in his head thumping at his skull. “Don’t believe in you … “

He managed to get to his feet again, although this time it took significantly longer. His friends, what had this thing done with his friends? At first it had seemed so harmless, moved jars in the cupboards, missing chairs, broken coffee mugs …

“I don’t believe in you,” Chase said again.

Then he felt it, something cold, something icy spreading across his shoulders, through his clothes, and his feet lifted off the floor.

*But I believe in you… *

The bullets ripped down the hall as Chase jumped in the closing elevator doors. Not waiting to catch his breath, he quickly pushes the button for the lobby. The elevator jerked into motion.

The quick squelch of his radio reminded him to check in.

“Tree House, this is Squirrel, come in.” Normally, he would have rolled his eyes at using such childish code names. But this was anything but normal. He waited a few seconds and repeated the call. “Tree House, this is Squirrel, come in!”

“ssshhhssskkkk…report…ssshhssskkk…status…sssshhhhsskkkk” Obviously the connection to Tree House was tenuous at best.

“Tree House, I can barely read you.” Chase yelled into the two-way radio. “Abort the mission. Repeat, abort the mission. My team is missing or dead. I need extraction, now! Do you copy? Over.”

“ssshhhsskkk…team. Stay wh….sssshhhssskkk…answers. Over.”

“Tree House, I cannot read you. I…” Chase stopped as soon as he noticed the floor buttons lighting up in random order. 10 – 21- 8 – 33 – L. “What the…” This was extremely baffling as he was in a two story secluded mountain hideaway

“Ding” rang the elevator as the doors began to open. Chase hit the floor, a Glock-31 in one hand, a Beretta 9mm in the other. He almost dropped both weapons when he saw where he was. The floor read 22. It would have been right if there were 22 floors. He was at least 200 feet above the lodge – floating.

“Ding” rang the elevator as the doors began to close. Chase sat on the floor and leaned back against the wall. For the first time in his life, he had no idea what to do. He reached up and pressed “Lobby” once more.

He felt the elevator start to descend. “First, Smith disappears only seconds after that weird howling noise started.” Chase said to himself. “Then Ford walks through a solid steel wall like it wasn’t there. Finally, Kowalski freezes in his tracks, screams once and disappears into thin air.” Chase closed his eyes and placed his head between his knees. “Then the bullets start flying out of nowhere. If it weren’t for this elevator…” he looked up at the buttons randomly flashing once more. “I don’t know what the he11 to think anymore. I must be going crazy.”

The elevator stopped once more and the doors began to open. Chase rolled onto his stomach, both guns in the ready. Nothing. The hallway was empty. He stood up and took a step forward. That’s when he heard the ticking. He slowly turned around as saw the timer on the bomb making its way closer to zero.

Chase ran down the hall as quickly as he could. The explosion rocked the building and threw Chase into a wall. Blackness crept over him.

----------------------------------

“He’s out, sir.” The technician turned from his monitor to the man in the lab coat standing behind him. “I don’t know what happened. There were some really weird things happening in there. The failsafe is supposed to keep that from happening.”

“Get him out of the chair and get a medic to look him over.” Replied the man in the coat. “And bring me a programmer! Our stockholders will eat us alive if something happens to him. Hell, if this guy loses consciousness, what happens when all these fat teenage kids plug in to “Chase Jackson and the Haunted Manor” VR BioGame? The lawsuits will kill us!”

Chase felt the cold draft envelope him and it sent shivers down his spine. Before him was a small pile where Edward had been only minutes ago. Chase reached down and examined the small pile. His eyebrows furrowed into a concerned expression as he scrutinized the three objects. A small candle, a match, and a thin red ribbon. Underneath the items was a small note.

The note said,
“I have him now.
I had him then.
Your time will come.
You don’t know when.”

“This can’t be true. Not another one,” he said as his breath rose before him in the dark mansion. Another one of his friends had disappeared without a trace, except for the small pile. It was just like when Martha went into the garage and didn’t come out. She vanished into thin air.

Chase had watched her enter the old carriage house holding her flashlight. It flickered, and she was gone. Chase was there within seconds. She had evaporated into nothing. Just like with Edward, there was a small pile on top of a note. The note taunted him…

“I have her now.
I had her then.
Your time will come.
You don’t know when.

“Three objects pointing to what?” he wondered. When she disappeared, the objects appeared. A blindfold, a pin, and a piece of candy.

Chase called out to Dan, his closest friend, “Dan! Ed’s gone! I need you here ASAP!”

Chase listened in vain for Dan’s reply.

“Dan!”

No answer from the dark room. The mansion seemed to take on a life of its own. There were sounds creeping through the floors and eerie noises all around him. He felt eyes staring at him the whole time. Shudders and shivers ran through him like ice water down the back of his neck.

“Dan! Where are you?!”

A muffled sound came from the den. Chase turned and ran like a madman. He burst into the den just in time to see Dan’s face contorted in pain.

“Dan!”

He ran to Dan and grabbed his neck and back as Dan fell to the ground. Sweat was streaming down his face. Dan weakly held up his hand and pointed to the library.

He barely said, “In there. He’s got Martha. Save her. In there…” his voice trailed off.

Chase jumped and ran to the library, his flashlight streaming yellow haze over the dusty books. Nothing! And then a loud, “Crash!” from the den. He spun around and ran back to the den…nothing. Dan was gone. Only a small pile remained behind, lying on top of another note.

Three objects gathered themselves together as an omen. A tiny piece of brightly colored paper, a small piece of cake, and another piece of paper with the number ‘40’ written on it. The note was ominous.

“I have all three.
You have none.
The night is young
And just begun.

Do you think
That you can find
The dark cellar welcome
When it is time?”

“The cellar!” Chase yelled. “It must be Dr. Mundocophilus! I’ll get him if it’s the last thing I do!”

Chase burst through the door and ran down the wooden floors without care for his own safety. Through the kitchen and past the pantry to the back door. Out the back door to the side of the house, next to the carriage house where Martha had disappeared.

The doors to the cellar were closed and locked. There was a note on top of the where Chase knew the stairs would descend into utter darkness. He picked it up slowly.

“You can not escape.
No matter what you do.
You can not run.
Your running in through.”

Chase beat upon the lock until it broke. He threw back the ancient doors and peered down into the darkness. Fear slipped into his soul. He began to back up. Then he faintly heard Martha’s voice.

“Chase… Chase… Help me.”

Without thought, Chase burst down the stairs into absolute darkness. His flashlight lit up the cellar with an unearthly glow. Chase noticed a pleasant smell. “What the…” he started and they all jumped out.

“Surprise! Happy Birthday Chase! Happy Birthday!” The lights came on and there were all of his friends laughing at him and pointing at the scared look on his face.

Chase swung his head like a pendulum that couldn’t make up its mind.

“My birthday. My 40th birthday!”

Martha and Edward were laughing hard when Martha looked up with genuine concern.

“Where’s Dan? He was here just a minute ago.”

Without warning, the lights went out and the cellar doors slammed shut. A slow scraping was heard crawling over the doors.

“Uh oh, this wasn’t part of the plan,” said Ed.

Chase tried to looked around in the dark, “It never is. It never is.”

Jackson staggered into the large chamber. His finest dress-shirt was torn, his shoes were scuffed and his left hand was bleeding profusely from that last razor-blade trap. The scowl on his face communicated to anyone who might have been watching that he was definitely not amused.

He ran a hand through his hair, sifting out splinters of the fragmentation grenade which had made short work of that last solid oak door. Standing in the middle of his nemesis’s underground headquarters, he instinctively checked the Smith and Wesson Midnight Special.
Not his weapon of choice. Just the only bloody weapon he was able to acquire on short notice.

Damn. No more bullets. Taking out that two-headed Doberman-mutation in the tunnel had cost him the last of his cartridges. Well, no reason to let a potential opponent in on that little secret, he thought, snapping back the loading mechanism.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.”
Jackson’s head snapped up, bringing up the revolver’s barrel to bear on the figure sitting at the other end of the chamber. Slowly his eyes adapted to the gloom, and he was able to make out the sinister visage of Dr. Sicpegi.

“You villainous criminal, I should blow you away,” snarled Jackson.
“Tut, tut, Mr. Jackson. You vouldn’t vant anytheeng to happen to your dear friends, now vould you?”

Sicpegi gestured languidly to the trussed-up figures on the floor. They were bound and gagged and fought ineffectively against their bonds.
“There they are, all safe and sound. Eeny, Meeny, Miny, and Moe. And besides, Mr. Jackson… I do believe that you are out of bullets.”
“Try me, you bag of subhuman scum!”

Chase started advancing slowly.
“Hey, stay vhere you are!”
Sicpegi stumbled in the hurry to get out of his chair. Searching hastily through the pockets of his lab coat, he triumphantly held up a small, radio-operated detonator.
“If you don’t stop, vee vill all die! I have mined the ceiling!”
Jackson froze.

“What do you want? Why did you break up our little party? For the first time in months I have been able to get away from it all! Finally I get the chance to catch up with a couple of old friends, take a well-earned vacation! And what happens?”
Chase advanced a single step.

“Some complete loony starts terrorizing our little group, stalking through the corridors, snatching away my friends! I am sick of it!”
Jackson scooted closer, closing the distance to the flustered Doctor.

“I want a vacation! No more running around, blowing things up, fighting everyone!”
Chase threw up his hands in disgust, screaming loudly.
“I want some peace and quiet! Is that too much to ask?”
Dropping his revolver, Chase looks down as the gun clatters to the stone floor.
“Oops.”

Dr. Sicpegi throws a fleeting glance at the revolver.
Using the momentary distraction, Chase lunges toward the Doctor. Grabbing the hand holding the detonator, he throws his entire weight into his enemy's torso. Both tumble to the ground, and the detonator spins into a corner of the chamber.
Within the blink of an eye, both are on their feet, circling each other warily.

“Leesten to me, Chase…”
Jackson feints, then jumps, both arms extended toward Sicpegi’s throat. At the last instance, the Doctor brings up his arms to block the attack, smashing Jackson’s arms to the side. With a quick combination, he punches Chase in the face with both fists.
Falling to the ground, Chase howls in pain, holding his nose.

“Leesten, Chase, I just vant …”
Growling fiercely, Chase lunges for Sicpegi’s legs. Gripping tightly beneath the knees, he pulls the legs backwards while pushing forwards with his shoulders. The surprisingly light body of the Doctor topples backwards, his head slamming onto the stone floor.

“Breag my fogging nose, ey?”
Turning the dazed Doctor’s body over onto his belly, Chase grabs the arms and levers them into a painful contortion of sinews and muscles.
Doctor Sicpegi yelps.
“Chase, I…”

“Shaddap! I’m doin’ the talking! Who are you? Why do you keep terrorizing me and my buddies… hey, what’s this?”

A puzzled look passes over Jackson’s face. With his free hand, he explores the neckline of Doctor Sicpegi where he has discovered a rippled line. Working his finger under a fold of what appears to be a synthetic layer of skin-plastic, he starts pulling.

“What the…! It’s a mask!”
Jackson pulls of the mask completely, exposing the face of a beautiful woman who is on the verge of tears.

“Sarah!”

“Oh, Chase, I am so sorry. But this is the only way that I could get you to spend some time with me! Not gallivanting of on another one of your adventures, with your boozing buddies! I thought if I got rid of them you and I could spend some time together.”

“What did you say?” Chase turned around and found nothing but empty space. The woods came alive with nightlife. He did his best to dismiss the sounds as small mammals foraging for food. Shivering, -it’s the cold he told himself, nothing else - he turned forward slowly, not sure what he would face. The path ahead was clear.

“Who’s bright idea was it to go for a walk??” He couldn’t help the nervousness that overcame him. Several miles from the cabin and alone, his four buddies now missing. His only choice to make it back to the cabin and start a search from there, with the proper equipment.

“So nice of you guys to go missing with the flashlights!?” He couldn’t help yelling at the mountain and hearing the dying echo as it came back to him.

Chase got his bearings and started up the path. A noise on his left made him jump. A fleeting shadow darted between tree’s. “Who’s there? Jeff? Mark? Lou? John? That you?” A whistling sound and suddenly a rock the size of Chase’s fist landed at his feet. “What the.. Alright that’s it, whoever you are, get out here right now!”

There was a sound behind Chase and he spun around to face it. A dark form loomed on the path before him. Stooping, he scooped up the rock and sailed it through the air before he even fully straightened.

THUD.

“Ugh!”

Chase started towards the slumped figure when he heard a sound behind him. Spinning around he saw a dark figure running up the path. Chase gave chase, puffing and sweating, Chase was gaining on the figure until he tripped on a root. Falling hard on his belly, his hands brushing the dirt trail and pebbles cutting into his palms, he quickly jumped to his feet and continued the chase.

Ahead he heard the long cry and scrambling sounds of someone rolling unchecked down a rocky incline. “Two down”, he thought as he continued to run and came across a sharp turn in the path. His feet slipping and trying to find purchase in the loose soil. Chase slid face first into a tree. Dazed, he shook his head to clear it and strained to hear if anyone else approached.

Further ahead he heard a twig snap and a muffled curse. Running again, he could make out a thin wisp of white.

“Hey! YOU! Stop!” Chase screamed at the oddly glowing figure.

The figure turned and seeing Chase, it darted through the trees and headed in the direction of the cabin.

Chase Jackson was hot on his trail. His night vision improving, he jumped stumps and exposed roots with the skill of a seasoned ninja warrior. Pumping his legs and arms, Chase was about to overtake the figure when he heard a noise behind him. He brought his elbow up and tucking it close to his chest, he waited a few seconds, listening for the advancing figure. When he could hear the figure behind him puffing in his ear and gargling as if trying to speak and unable, Chase jabbed hard backwards with his elbow. He felt the connection, the jolt that swung up his arm and into his shoulder didn’t even disrupt his running. He heard the thump and whoosh of air as the figure toppled behind him. “Plenty of time to come back and check who that is, after catching this one up ahead”, he thought. “One of them has to know where my buddies are.” he panted out as he ran.

As Chase took the next turn in the path he saw the cabin loom ahead. All it’s lights blazing and dark silhouettes in front of it. “No time to figure out those hulking monstrosities, gotta catch this one!” Chase pounded the path and continued to gain on the figure in white.

The figure darted through the doorway, Chase grabbed his collar and the two tumbled through the entrance and into the couch. Chase landed heavily on top and whipped the white hood from his captives head. Jeff’s horrified eyes stared back at him. Huffing for breath, Jeff wiggled out of Chase’s grasp and grunted, “Surprise! Happy Birthday!” A chorus of perplexed voices mixed with Jeff’s.

Chase looked up and saw the banner across the cabin’s small kitchen entrance and heard the whispered question directed at Jeff, that soon followed, “Where’s Mark, Lou, and John? Weren’t they suppose to help you get Chase here in time for his party?”

Narrator:Tune in for Chase’s next adventure. Will there be a next adventure? Will his friends let Chase off the mountain alive? Will Chase even stick around to find out if his buddies make it? These questions and more answered after Chase’s recovery from his nasty spill down the mountain.