by A J Rivers
“Okay,” I say. “It shouldn't take too long.”
Xavier is already off on his way across the field toward the corn maze. Dean rushes after him, and I watch them until they've disappeared into the distance before I turn and head to Lilith's house. It's not too far away from the corn maze. Just through a thicket of woods that separates the tracts of property.
This is far from the first time I’ve visited the little house. I've tried to talk to Lilith a few times before, but she has been reclusive, not wanting anything to do with the situation. Everyone says they can't blame her. The idea of living that close to something so gruesome is horrifying. Especially for a single woman living alone in such an isolated area. She doesn't want to be involved.
But I think she already is.
I walk up onto the porch and knock on the door. It takes several seconds before she opens it and looks out at me. Her shoulders droop. She looks less than delighted to find me on her porch. But she doesn't immediately close the door.
“Agent Griffin,” she says. “What are you doing here?”
“I'm sorry to show up without calling, Mrs. Duprey, but I'd really like to talk to you for just a minute. Can I come inside?”
I haven't been inside her house before. Every time I've come to talk to her, she has come outside and stood on the porch or down in her yard with me. But I want to get inside. I want to see what her house is like. I don't know why, but something draws me into it.
She hesitates but eventually steps back and gestures for me to come in. I step through the door and into the tiny cabin. It is nothing more than one large room, a kitchen in an alcove to the back, and a bathroom. For one person, it's everything she needs, but it seems strange.
Especially considering what Lydia told me about her.
“Would you like to sit down?” she asks, gesturing toward a sofa up against one wall.
“Thank you,” I say.
I sit, and she lowers herself into a wooden rocking chair to the side of the couch.
“I've already told you everything I know,” she says. “I don't know what else I can help you with.”
“Lilith, I know I’ve come to talk to you a few times, and other people have, too. We really appreciate your being willing to talk to us. I think you could help more,” I say.
She shakes her head, her eyes wide. There's discomfort in that expression, something close to fear.
“I don't know how,” she sighs. “I'm just a widow on my own. Just out here by myself. I don't know anything about that cornfield or anybody who might have used it. After my husband passed, I decided to come out here to live, and I was told that land isn't a part of my property. I never knew who it belongs to. Anything past those trees is off-limits to me, and I stay away.”
“And you never set foot on it?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “I don't really go far from my house very often. I’m just a poor old widow; I stay around here and keep to myself.”
“But it hasn't always been that way, has it?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“You didn't always live out here. You own that house in Salt Valley,” I point out.
“Yes,” she says. “I lived there with my husband.”
“And before that, you lived in the city,” I say. “Right?”
She shifts a little, seeming uncomfortable with a question. “Yes.”
“So, you're comfortable around people. Used to it.”
“When I lived in the city, I was young. Married. I wasn’t an old widow suddenly by myself. It's a very different thing,” she says. “And it's terrifying to find out I'm so close to a place where so many monstrosities occurred. I don't get anywhere near that place, especially now that I know what happened there. I won't go past the shed.”
I nod and stand up. “Thank you. I really appreciate your taking the time to talk to me again. I'm sorry you're having to deal with all this. I'm sure it's scary. Are you thinking about moving away?”
She shakes her head. “I can't.”
“Well, we are working really hard to resolve all of this, and hopefully, very soon, you'll be able to feel safe,” I tell her.
“Thank you,” she says.
She walks me to the door, and I step out into the deepened darkness. Night comes fast this late in the year, and even in the short time I was in Lilith's house, the light has completely disappeared. When she closes the door behind me, there is nothing but the faint glow of her porch light and the moon overhead to guide me along. Now, there’s only darkness.
I take out my phone and turn on the flashlight, so I have some illumination at my feet to help me through the woods.
There is a creepy feeling at the back of my neck as I walk toward the cornfield. Of eyes on me. Like somebody’s watching.
I have a feeling if I look over my shoulder right now, I will see Lilith’s face in the window. She said almost nothing. And yet so much.
Rather than walking to the corn maze, I cross through the cornfield, say goodnight to the officers who had relieved the ones from before and taken their place protecting the investigation, and get in my car. The drive to the corn maze only takes a couple of minutes down the narrow dirt road. It was only a couple of months ago that Dean and I walked through the rows of corn and saw the beginnings of the maze growing up in the late summer heat.
Now it’s fully grown and surrounded by black fabric to create boundaries and keep people in. Any other year that would just be to elevate the fear. There was already a certain level of unease and fright that comes from being in a maze at night.
Add a barrier that prevents walking through the edge to escape, and the feeling of being chased, and it can quickly turn into terror. But that's why people come. They want the rush of adrenaline. They want the brush with danger their lives never offer them.
They know in the end they'll find their way out.
But the fabric has a more ominous feeling after the events of the last few months. It's not just there to create a more frightening atmosphere or keep people from cheating and leaving the maze through the back or one of the sides. It's there to control their movements and stop anyone from trying to creep to the cornfield.
There's something about the intrigue of death that makes people feel the need to prove themselves. I'll never understand that. There's nothing inherently frightening about a grave or even a body. It's what happened to it, why it exists, that can be chilling. Yet people still want to do things like sit in a grave or touch bones, thinking it gives them some sort of credibility.
It's the damage they can do, the disrespect they show, that causes a problem. They seem to forget these were once people. That should never be forgotten.
In my years in this line of work, I have learned to think of a body as nothing more than a body. I distance myself for as long as I need to in order to investigate and find out what happened. But after that, their humanity returns. I never lose sight of their lives. And what they've left behind.
Chapter Sixteen
I get to the maze, but there’s no one around. The screams and laughter have stopped, and there are only a couple of cars parked toward the back corners of the parking area.
“Dean?” I call, walking up to the entrance.
I hear voices in the distance. It sounds like someone is inside the maze, but they don’t sound as happy about it as the other people did. I take out my phone and call Dean, but he doesn’t answer. The only choice I have is to go in and find him.
I go into the corn maze, trying to follow the voices echoing around the sharp corners. I turn left, then right, left again, then come smack into a dead end. I curse under my breath, heading back to retrace my steps, then take a left where I had previously taken a right. One of the scare actors lunges out and screams, but I just brush by him.
“Not right now,” I tell him, holding up my badge.
The man stops awkwardly, not sure what to do, but I keep my ears perked for familiar voices. I can just make out Dean speaking to someone els
e, but it doesn’t sound like Xavier. Whatever he is saying is rather animated, and I pick up my steps to reach them a bit faster, taking a right, a left, two more rights, getting stuck twice more in dead ends, running past a few more actors, and then finally coming out towards the end of the maze. When I get there, my heart sinks.
It’s only Dean and the man running the maze. Xavier is gone.
“Where is he?” I ask, not bothering with introducing myself or other niceties.
“I don’t know,” Dean begins, shooting a look over at the heavyset man beside him. The man, whose nametag reads “Carl”, looks surly and upset. “One of the scare actors jumped out at him, and he took off. This guy grabbed me as I chased him to tell me they are closing and to get out.”
“We are closed. Your friend will find a way out,” Carl says.
“The hell he will,” I say cutting him off. “He’s not… he’s lost. Trust me. He is lost, and he will stay lost if we don’t go get him.”
“Yeah, well, one of the actors in the maze will guide him out,” Carl grumbles and then picks up his walkie. “Code orange. We have one loose. Adult. Guide him out and close up,” he said into the ancient-looking walkie-talkie.
There is a moment of silence as we wait for a response. Carl pulls the walkie up to his ear and then turns the knob a few times.
“Shit,” he mutters.
“Shit what?” Dean asks.
“Battery must be dead,” Carl says. “Seriously, folks, the best thing is for you to go outside and holler for him to find one of the actors and make his way out. I’ll go get another battery for this thing up at the house.”
With that, he walks away from us, and I turn to look at Dean. I shake my head.
“I’m going in after him,” I say.
“Me too,” Dean nods. “We should probably split up to cover more ground.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter. “Didn’t you suggest that last time?”
“I feel more for the scare actors than Xavier, honestly. Who knows what they will think when he starts telling them all about whatever is on his mind.”
We reach the first fork quickly. I nod to the fork closest to me. “I’ll head this way. If you find him, shout really loud.”
“Will do,” Dean replies. “Keep your eyes open. I don’t think all the actors are gone yet. Don’t break anyone’s arm off, will you?”
I grin a little and take off down the path. Dean’s footsteps fade away, and suddenly, I am alone in the darkening corn. I mentally kick myself for not stopping and getting Xavier a cell phone or GPS or something before bringing him here. Not that I had any reason to predict he’d do something like this.
As I make my way around a corner, the hair on the back of my neck stands up. I blew through this whole maze earlier, but that was before I had to stay and linger in the darkness before I had to take note of every sound, every flash of movement.
Which, unfortunately, makes me a prime target. I prepare myself for the inevitable jump scare. At some point, someone is going to jump out and wave a plastic knife or something at me. I have to remind myself they’re just teenagers and to not punch one of them in the jaw.
I make it a few stalks down before it finally happens. A kid, a good couple of inches shorter than me, jumps out a few feet in front of me, cloaked all in black, with a goofy rubber mask on. He waves a plastic knife at me, swiping close to the stalks rather than at me, and then runs off through the stalks on the other side.
My heart rate jumps a little, and I scold myself. I am an FBI agent who has seen more than my fair share of horrific violence, death, and destruction. There is no reason to be afraid when a sixteen-year-old in a cheap costume yells ‘boo’ in a corn maze. Despite the aggravation at myself, I try to enjoy the spirit of it as I push further into the corn.
A few more actors jump out, but I usually see them coming. Their hiding places are repetitive and obvious to anyone who has a sense of where danger might lie. Once or twice, I think I can hear Dean in the distance calling out for Xavier, but even with both of us calling out, he never responds.
I make the decision that the next scare actor who pops out at me will get explicit instructions from me as to what I need, and maybe a gentle reminder of my job title. The implicit threat of an FBI agent might be enough to end the charade once and for all.
I find myself deep in the corn, in a place that almost seems as if it’s no longer part of the maze. As if whoever designed it figured no one would actually end up here. The darkness is already fully set in, and the string lights hanging among the stalks are far away, pitching me into near blackness. This area is still and silent, and I can barely see a few feet in front of me.
A rustling in the bushes behind me is immediately followed by a body running full force into me. I nearly grab it and toss it to the ground out of instinct, my brain stopping me mere seconds before my hands are full of their shirt and my hip thrusting out to throw them to the ground. I want to do it anyway to teach the kid that the ‘no touching’ rule is important for just this reason, but in a lucky flash of light, I catch a glimpse of familiar eyes.
“Xavier?” I ask, grabbing tight to the wiggling form in front of me. The eyes search my face and recognition dawns.
“Emma,” he gasps with a hoarse whisper. “Emma, the boogaloos. The boogaloos are here.”
“It’s just actors, Xavier. For Halloween. For fun,” I say, but he wiggles hard, and I lose my grip.
“Not the boys. The men. The reaper man,” he says.
“Xavier, wait,” I cry out in vain as his legs tangle with mine and I trip trying to catch him. He takes off and barrels through the stalks beside me. “Run, Emma! The reaper does not listen to the harvest!”
I scramble to my feet and take off after him, trying to keep him in my sight. As I crash into the next row, I can hear his feet, but it’s too dark to see him. There’s a fork in the road ahead, and the echo of his footsteps doesn’t come clearly from either direction. I can’t tell where he’s gone.
Taking a few steps forward, I feel the prickling on the back of my neck again and turn. A shadow dips into the stalks behind me.
I shake my head, making a note to give the owner a talking to. It’s one thing to scare people for Halloween fun and games, and another entirely to stalk them when they are clearly chasing someone who’s distressed.
A crashing of more stalks to one side gives me a clue, and I take off after it. The lights in this area are non-existent, and I am quickly running out of any visual aids. I call out for Xavier, but he doesn’t answer. I stop to listen for something, anything.
There—a rustle behind me. I whip my head around in that direction only to see the shadow dip back into the cornstalks. For a brief second, I catch the glint of light off metal high in the air. It looks like a scythe.
“Whoever you are, get out of here! The maze is closed. Tell the other actors to help me find my friend,” I shout toward the place the shadow disappeared, but my only answer is silence.
“I don’t have time for this,” I mutter and take off toward the crashing sound.
As my feet pound the dirt, I hear steps behind me. Someone is running after me. Chasing me. I look back and see only the glimmer of light off metal again. Fear grips me, and I turn up the speed. I call out for Xavier. For Dean. There is no answer.
I chance a look over my shoulder and see nothing, and then turn back to the direction I am running. Suddenly, a searing pain rips through my arm, and I cry out and tumble forward.
I hit the ground hard and roll, catching only a glimpse of a hooded man, the scythe, dripping with my blood, barely visible above the stalks as he dives back in.
Chapter Seventeen
“What the hell?” I cry out as I clamp one hand down over the wound.
I get to my feet and take back off, rounding a corner in the direction the hooded man went and nearly run face-first into Dean.
“Jesus,” he exclaims as we grab each other, so we don’t body check each other to t
he ground. “I heard you scream. Are you okay?”
“One of these sons of bitches cut me!” I say, realizing I am yelling. “It was a real scythe. The idiot had a real scythe!”
“What?” Dean stammers, completely confused.
“It doesn’t matter. I saw Xavier. He was going this way,” I say, chancing one last look down the direction the blade disappeared. Everything that way is silent and still.
“We need to get you bandaged,” Dean says.
“We need to find Xavier,” I tell him forcefully. “There’s someone running around in this maze with a real weapon. I don’t think it’s part of the show.”
Dean’s face hardens, and he nods.
We take off in the direction I saw Xavier running. We round a corner and come to a skidding stop. Xavier is lying on the ground, in the middle of another fork.
“Xavier!”
I rush toward him and drop to my knees on the ground beside him.
“What’s going on?” Xavier asks as I yank open his jacket looking for wounds. “I’m fine.”
“What?” I ask. “You’re not hurt?”
“No,” he says, a confused, almost sour look on his face. “Emma, look,” he says. I try to follow his gaze. He points up, into the inky black sky, littered with distant white lights. “Find the belt. It can guide you.”
“Orion’s belt,” Dean says. “He’s looking at the stars.”
“That’s right,” I say, setting my forehead onto his chest for a moment to catch my breath and compose myself. “You can find your way out by the stars, Xavier.”
As I look up again, he grins at me, and I help him to his feet.
“I know how to get out from here,” Dean says. “Let’s just stay together, okay?”
“I am—I am never splitting up with you again, Dean,” I manage a chuckle. The chase left me exhausted.
Xavier nods, and we begin to jog, following Dean. When we get into the light, Xavier grabs me by the arm and pulls me to him.
“Dean,” he calls out, alarmed. “Dean, she’s hurt!”
“I know. We need to get her bandaged up,” Dean says, jogging back to us. “Oh.”
