#subplot 2

Bored kids.

Arkney is littered with them. Even the streets of Bellmore have their fair share. Loitering outside of the movie theatre, puffing smoke at the starry night sky, leaving a trail down the quiet suburbs as they sneak back home past bedtime.

The more daring ones strain against the suffocating sameness of their lives, against the endless cornfields and small town humdrum. They crave bigger things, stranger things. They are the bad kids, the nuisances, the ones perpetually in trouble. But in truth, they are only searching for a way to pass the time, to make the day a little different than the one that came before.

Almost ten years ago, eight of them were driving around the blackened back-roads, stuffed too tightly into two trucks, when a dangerous idea was tossed around.

Fueled by illegally purchased liquor and the sweet lingering smoke of butts of joints, they started a game of dare.

Parked on the empty fields that led up to the Stretch, they asked themselves: what was Morphos hiding? What business did this shadowy corporation have, coming in and tethering off more and more of their town?

They had heard rumors of terrifying beasts and bizarre, unexplainable injuries befalling the bodies of those who ventured out on expeditions. But that night, with the alcohol thumping in their ears, they decided to get answers —

They would do an expedition of their own.

With their trucks shielded by overgrown bushes, far enough out of the reach of Genesis’ lights, they made their way along the rise of barbed-wire fence. Their laughter cut through the stillness there, punctuated by hushing whenever someone glimpsed movement in the moving fog.

Cell phones kept the ground covered in patches of shaking light, offering barely enough glow to see a large tear in the fence. A growing vine, green and gnarled, pulled the chain link apart – almost like an entrance. Almost like a mouth.

The murky world inside appeared normal – at first. Almost a disappointment for the effort taken to sneak inside. But then the fog truly began to set in, opaque and thick, seeming to want to pull them apart. They gathered closer, one asking to turn back as another said “just a little further”.

Distance seemed to eat itself, swallowing their sense of direction until it was only them and the fog-clad wild. A bison appeared, staring at them like it knew their fears, secrets and innermost thoughts. Its back was sheathed in a shell, past a mane of moss and fluttering flowers.

It stood silent for minutes, hours? Time felt like it was running and standing still all at once. The bison was gone soon enough, leaving them peering into the dark with horror and curiosity.

An hour turned to two, and they came to sit down at a clearing. They all fought to be heard, throwing blame around over how they ended up where they were. Attempts at reassurances were met with bitter responses. And no one saw the tracks of blood on the trees.

In the dark, clamoring voices could be heard. Then a blood curdling scream. A boy in agony.

Movements came fast and bounding through the trees. A bear, someone yelled. But the creature was more than a bear; with a cry as desperate as the boy it had sunk teeth into and dragged away.

The teens ran, screaming in terror, led to safety by the girl at the helm. All of them came rushing back through the broken fence.

All but one.

Ten years have passed. Now adults, the group grapples with the disappearance of their friend, a fifteen year old boy, and their own fractured memories of the night they felt unbridled fear.