Chapter 9 - IT

Since entering the forest, James had felt an unsettling presence lingering nearby, watching his every move. His daughter's voice teased and urged him forward, the whisper curling around his mind like a phantom touch. James tightened his grip on his gun, his senses razor-sharp as he scanned his surroundings for anything out of place.

James kept murmuring his daughter's and wife's names under his breath, and each time, an unnatural chill crept down his spine. The weight of his weapon in his hands was his only anchor to reality. Then, through the still air, he heard Captain Brooks' voice—but it sounded distant, almost faded, unlike his daughter's voice, which felt uncomfortably close, pressing against his thoughts.

A primal urge rose inside James—to run, to leave everyone behind. But even as the instinct clawed at his mind, James recognized the unnatural pull, the eerie wrongness of it. Something was trying to manipulate him, to lure him into a trap. And then, cutting through the oppressive silence, came a voice—clear, crisp, and laced with something sinister.

"Welcome to the woods. Let the game begin."

James choked, his airway suddenly constricted as an overwhelming frustration and fury surged through him. The voice burrowed under his skin, urging him to scream, to demand answers. His jaw tightened, his lips parting, ready to hurl defiance into the night—

But then he heard something from the other researchers, their words baffled James and wanted him to question their sanity as whole. Even the voice urging him forward disappeared, if only for a second—before it appeared, stronger, more insistent and his rationality got pressed down. 

This made James shouts at the woods and Demanded for answers just as the voice desired.

Daniel's voice cut through the madness, sharp and commanding, backing up James' growing rage. The moment Daniel spoke, James felt a jolt of clarity. His mind cleared just enough for him to see it—the wrongness of his surroundings, the shadows rising from the tress, the way his emotions were being twisted, heightened beyond control. It was manipulating them.

And then James felt giddiness and excitement coursing through his body, before he could process it further, Daniel was gone.

Not a scream. Not a struggle. Just… gone. One second, he was there. The next, he wasn't.

James stumbled backward, breath coming in ragged gasps. The emotions he felt disappears as if it never happened. The void where Daniel had stood moments ago sent a deep, gnawing horror through his chest. Reality itself seemed to unravel around him. The others panicked and scattered, and suddenly, he was alone.

The trees loomed taller, their twisted branches whispering against each other like conspirators. His flashlight flickered, its weak beam barely cutting through the mist. And then, in the thick silence, a voice called out.

Soft. Familiar.

"James."

His breath hitched. He knew that voice better than his own.

James turned slowly, dread curling deep in his gut.

"Laura." James whispered under his breath. 

She stood a few feet away, bathed in pale moonlight that barely filtered through the tangled canopy. She was just as breathtaking as he remembered—dressed in a flowing, ankle-length white dress, her long hair cascading over her shoulders.

But something was terribly wrong.

Her face was devoid of emotion. Those once-bright eyes, so full of life, then grief—now empty, like a doll's glass eyes, cold and unseeing. They bore into him, accusing, condemning. Her hands hung loosely at her sides, her posture unnaturally still, as if she had forgotten how to breathe.

"James," she repeated, her lips barely moving. Yet the sound was crisp, cutting through the air as if she were whispering directly into his ear. "Come play with us."

His pulse pounded. The words felt off, hollow, mechanical. Then, as he looked down at himself, dread coiled tighter in his chest. His clothes—his gear, his weapons—were gone. The very things that grounded him to reality had vanished.

In their place were tattered rags, barely clinging to his skin. His feet were bare against the damp earth.

"What… What is this?" His voice cracked as he ran shaking fingers over the rough fabric. "What's happening?"

Laura—or what wore her face—tilted her head, the movement jerky, unnatural, as if pulled by invisible strings.

"The game is Tag."

Her lips curved into a strange, wrong smile as her voice took on an unnatural lilt.

"The rules are simple: You hide from 'it.' If 'it' finds you, you die. Or… you kill 'it' and take its place. Then you hunt the others...if not you die"

A sickening wave of nausea rolled through James. He took an unsteady step back, shaking his head.

"No… No, this isn't real."

"Oh… it's real...very much so" the voice whispered, suddenly at his ear.

James flinched, but there was nothing there.

"Run, James. run...The game has already begun."

And then Laura—no, it—was gone with a lingering laughter near his ears.

A bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence, followed by a sickening crunch.

James whirled around just in time to see one of the reporters lifted into the air, impaled through the chest by something unseen. His body convulsed, mouth opening in a silent, pleading scream before he was yanked into the darkness. A wet, tearing sound echoed, followed by a dull thud as his camera hit the ground.

James didn't think.

He ran.

Branches clawed at his arms, thorns tore at his legs, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. His mind was screaming, urging him forward, the horror of what he'd just seen too overwhelming to process.

He ran blindly, deeper into the suffocating darkness.

He didn't know how long he ran. The forest stretched endlessly in every direction, the trees merging into a blur of shadow and mist. His breath came in ragged gasps, his throat raw, his limbs growing heavier with each step. His muscles screamed in protest, exhaustion sinking into his bones like lead.

Then—his foot caught on an exposed root.

James crashed to the ground, hard. Pain exploded through his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs. He tried to push himself up, but his body refused. He was too tired. Too thirsty.

Somewhere in the distance, gunfire rang out. Shouts. Screams.

They were getting closer.

James' vision blurred. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Maybe… maybe if he just lay there…

A shadow shifted at the edge of his failing vision.

A small figure.

James barely had the strength to move, but he saw it—a child. Or something shaped like one. Small, thin, barely more than a silhouette in the mist.

It raised a hand and gestured.

"Get up."

James' breath hitched. The figure didn't move closer, didn't speak—except for a whisper that curled around his mind like smoke.

"He is coming. Hide."

The words sent an electric jolt through his veins. Panic shattered his exhaustion and cleared his mind.

James pushed himself forward, dragging his shaking body through the underbrush. The childlike figure didn't follow—just watched, silent and still.

Then, through the haze of his mind, he saw it.

A cave. Small. Hidden beneath a tangle of brambles.

A place to disappear.

He didn't hesitate. He crawled inside, darkness swallowing him whole. His trembling fingers pressed against the damp stone, his breaths ragged as he curled into himself.

Outside, something moved.

A slow, deliberate step.

James squeezed his eyes shut.

And then—blackness took him.