Game 8

[Tweek]

A group of people with torches and lanterns gathers near the edge of the Black Hills forest. It is a chilly night in March 1886. Robin Weaver is lost out here somewhere, and this search party is determined to find her. The woods are dangerous these days. Wild animals, Indians, and who knows what else is out here. The sooner we find her and get out of this place the better.

[Marco]

Marco rubs his hands. "Where are the others? I thought we all wanted to meet at 4pm."

[Marco]

Marco gets impatient. If they ain't here in 10 minutes I leave without them. This kid should not spend another day in this damn chilly woods. And, apart from this, I don't trust these woods. Who knows what's out there. However, are you coming with me or are you going to look for them in town and I'll begin the search on my own?

[Tweek]

Old Man Jenkins, slow and decrepit as always, shambles forward into the light. The oldest man in the county by at least a decade, he can always be counted on to volunteer. He carries a rusty lantern that throws out a weak and sickly amber light into the forest. His thick glasses catch the light and sparkle whenever he moves his head. A thin mess of silver and grey hair blows about this head with the wind. Though his face bears a permanent look of confusion, his blue eyes are crystal clear and alert. The body may be old, but the mind and spirit are far from dim.

"There are others on the way, I hear. There better be more than just us. Two men could stay out here for a month and not search the whole woods. Too much area to check. How have you been, Marco?"

[Marco]

"Thanks, I'm fine. Yeah. Maybe you're right. This whole area is too big for us. But I don't think Robin is far from here. I mean she's lost since morning."

Marco looks up the hill next to him. The woods are dark and silent, yet you can feel a harassment.

[Tweek]

Something plonks Jenkins on top of the head, and he collapses to the ground as if shot. He lies perfectly still except for his eyes which dart every direction looking for his attacker.

"It's an attack, Marco! And me out here without my shotgun! Get down here or you'll be next!"

Beside Jenkins, on the ground, is the weapon of his unseen enemy. A large acorn, which fell from the tree above and landed on his head. The old man hasn't seen it yet; he's busy checking his body for bullet wounds. He sticks his finger through a hole in his overcoat.

"Right there! Sneaky buggers nearly got me with that one!"

[Marco]

Marco begins to laugh.

"I thinks it's going to be funny out there. With you on my side I'll always have something to laugh"

[Bad Cat Girl]

Blind Charles came up behind him.
"Yeah, you know those squirrels are under HER power, they're all out to get us." he said in his usual sarcastic tone, feeling the forest floor in front of him with his cane.
The problem with Charles Morner wasn't that he was blind, it was that his usual tone was sarcaastic, so one could never quite tell if he was being serious or sarcastic.

[Tweek]

Sick of waiting for the others to arrive, the search party enters the woods and begins calling out the child's name. Jenkins keeps mispronouncing it -- it comes out sounding like Rowing! Rowing!. He moves very slowly, as a man of his advanced age often does. They barely cover a quarter of a mile in the next hour.

[Bad Cat Girl]

Morner was finding it hard to listen for the girl. With the old man wheezing and yelling "Rowing!"He doubted he'd be able to hear her footfalls, which was why he'd been brought along.
They were also moving slowly. This unnerved him somehow, he wanted to get this over with, he didn't like the woods... too many sounds, and not all of them natural. he could hear the giggling and crying of children, the whispering of a low, feminine voice, the groaning of the trees, the clacking of stones, even the sound of horses and the creaking of cart wheels. If he listened closely enough when Jenkins stopped for a breath, he could almost hear sobs, soft and resigned.

[Tweek]

Jenkins spots an object up ahead.

"Charles! You see that? Oh right... I guess you don't see it, do you? Sorry 'bout that. Marco! What's that white thing there? Near the big rock?"

[Bad Cat Girl]

Charles swung his head around, trying to "see" what Jenkins was talking about, but there wasn't any new sound... in fact, there was no sound.

[Tweek]

The object Jenkins found was a large scrap of white paper, stuck to a bush along the trail. It looks to be a bit of newspaper. He nearly dismissed it as nothing, but then something about it caught his attention. Something he had never seen before. A color photograph on the page.

"What paper is this? I didn't think they did these things with colors! Must not be a local paper..."

It is a page from the Frederick News-Post, dated 08/02/99. The headline reads Moviegoers mob 'Blair Witch' opening. The paper looks brand new, as if just printed. It smells strongly of ink.

"Take a look at this thing! Must be a joke. It's dated 13 years in the future! What's a movie?"

[Bad Cat Girl]

"Perhaps they're talking about about one of those "wheels of life". I hear they put those things in side shows. It's probably one of HER jokes."

[Tweek]

Jenkins crumples the paper and throws it down.

"Bah. Useless trash. Let's keep moving..."

[Bad Cat Girl]

"Jenkins, could you not crumple the paper so loudly?"

[Tweek]

Jenkins does not hear (or pretends that he doesn't) and resumes his slow walking. After about ten steps he stops and sits down on a large tree stump.

"I sure am hungry. Got any food with you, Marco? I'd kill for a pork sandwich right about now..."

There is a light breeze in the forest tonight. A small white owl lands in a nearby tree and watches the trio with great interest.

[Marco]

"I'm sorry Jenkins. Just got dried meat and beans. That'll keep fresh for weeks. The sandwich would go to seed tomorrow."

I think we should built up our tents

...

[Bad Cat Girl]

"In the middle of the woods? We've barely begun!"Charles stamedhis foot angrily. He did not want to sleep in these woods. The sound of crying children whisping over thebreeze had ow mingled with the sound of someone whispering his name, which was rather disturbing.

[Tweek]

"Tents? Who brought tents to this thing? I'm not sleeping out here!"

Jenkins tries to stand but can't quite make it. He plops back down on the tree stump and lets loose a loud fart. The stench is powerful and sickening.

"I'll take some of that beef jerky you got there. I don't need any beans, believe you me! Whew!"

[Marco]

"Uhhhh....Sh*t man. With you we won't have any problems with the Witch. But it will be harder finding Robin."

And so the group goes on

....

[Bad Cat Girl]

Charles couldn't notice that it wasgetting darker, but he knew it was night. He heard owls, and the air smelled slightly different from daytime, when the sun rested on the leaves. behind him, he could hear the cruching of footsteps... eventhough he was walking in the rear...
"Hey, wait!" Charles stopped cold. "Do you hear that?"

[Tweek]

Jenkins has stopped walking and is looking down at a spot on the front of his coat.

"I think one of those owls crapped on me..."

[Tweek]

There's that sound again. Footsteps. And what could be a child's faint voice. But where is it coming from? The sound seems to come from a different direction each time.

Jenkins shivers. He pulls a wool cap from inside his coat and tugs it down over his head. His glasses slide to the end of his nose and he pushes them back with a bony finger that trembles slightly.

"I'm getting the creeps out here. We should have waited until more men arrived. We'll never find her. Let's go back..."

[Marco]

"Yeah, right. Lets go back."

As Marco turns he suddenly stops.

"Er... Was that stuff in the trees here before?"