Halloween Night

Chapter 2

Branches and sticks cracked under his feet and against his body as he ran, breath ragged and rough, his heart pounding in his chest. Greg hurtled through the darkened woods along a thin trail, the duster flying out behind him and flapping as his legs pumped. Where? The clearing, he'd felt something coming, felt afraid, never been so scared in his life, and then something. And he ran, was running. He was running uphill, towards the top of the ridge. Adrenaline roared through his veins and his body still shrieked at him to run, to escape. But from what? There was nothing there. Calm down; he was panicking. Don't panic, remember the guide.

He slowed down to a jog, his breathing growing rougher. God, his chest hurt. How long had he been running? He jogged into a brisk walk and then stopped, gasping for breath, looking around him as best he could. "Damn...it's...fucking dark...in here," he said, more to have some sound than for any other reason. Where were the others? He turned to face the way he'd come and cupped his hands to his mouth, "Sheena! Sarah, Ally! Regina, can you hear me?" His calls faded away as though swallowed up by the blackness around him and there were no answers. "God, girls, please be okay."

He looked back over his shoulder and started, turning fully around. Up ahead a way, it looked like past the edge of the forest, at the ridge's top, there was light. It shone bright and clear, cutting through the darkness. Light. Light meant people and people meant help. Or cannibalistic hillmen. But probably help. Grunting, he forced himself into a jog up the inclined path again, his legs burning under him as he moved with purpose up the trail. Moonlight started to break through here and there and then he could see ahead where the blackness gave way and silvery illumination returned and through it all that gleaming golden light, no, lights, beckoned.

Greg jogged on for another ten minutes before he came out of the woods. The top of the ridge had once been forested as well, but whether by natural means or the hands of men it was clear, a strip perhaps forty yards across running down the back of the rise. Looking down the strip, he could see the clear space went on for miles; small trees here and there as well as standing poles from which a few cables were strung up towards the peak. Standing there, nestled up against the utmost last upward thrust of earth and stone, was a house. It was an older style and solidly made; two stories of brick solidity. There was a chimney, though no smoke came from it, and there were gables over the upper outmost windows. It had painted shutters and though most of them were closed, a few on the first floor were open and it was through these that light streamed. Brick steps let up to a wide porch made of fieldstone and a large and solid looking front door with a deadbolt above the handle.

A house up here? Who would live all the way out here? Greg stared for a few moments before he started for it, trying to get his breathing under control. It didn't matter; it looked like they had electricity, even a phone. Hell, up here, his phone might get signal. And in any event, they could help him. Greg approached the house and seeing no doorbell, reached up to knock on the door hard; once, twice, again, and then let his hand drop. He stepped back from the door, pushing his glasses back up his nose with one hand.

There was a heavy click as the deadbolt withdrew, and then another softer one as the lock did the same. Greg drew himself up, squaring his shoulders, ready to meet whatever hermit or mountain man resided up here so far from civilization. The door swung inwards, and he blinked in shock, his mouth opening a moment before he shut it. Standing in the door was a girl about his age, shorter than him by a good eight inches, with golden red hair pulled back into a ponytail at the back of her head. Her skin was fair, almost alabaster pale, smooth and flawless. Her face was elegantly beautiful with delicate features, soft eyes of a deep brown that was almost black and startlingly bright red, luscious lips. She was wearing a tank top and a pair of pyjama pants that were red with bats and pumpkins on them and her feet were bare. She was slender and had a petite figure, though her tank top showed more cleavage than he'd have expected from her build, the swell of her bust filling it enticingly. Her waist was very narrow, and she had a round, pert little ass. "Good evening." Her voice was warm and smoky, and it sent a thrill down his spine. Her eyes wandered over him and lingered here and there a good bit, her lips curving in a slight smile before she looked up at him with a concerned expression, "Are you alright?"