Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

Evil Dead × Task Force 141

Episode 2 - The Book

Morning sunlight spilled through the tall pine trees, painting golden streaks across the windows of the cabin.
For the first time in weeks...
Nobody woke to explosions.
No gunfire.
No helicopters.
Just birdsong.
Soap stretched his arms above his head as he walked into the kitchen.
"Now this is how mornings should start."
Gaz looked up from making coffee.
"Without you talking?"
Soap scoffed dramatically.
"I was thinking breakfast."
Price folded his newspaper and looked over his reading glasses.
"Coffee first."
"You sound old."
"I am old."
"I was hoping you'd deny it."
Price smirked.
"Not wasting the energy."
You laughed quietly as you poured yourself a mug of coffee.
Ghost silently walked through the room with another equipment crate balanced effortlessly on one shoulder.
Price glanced toward him.
"Still unloading?"
Ghost nodded.
"Last few crates."
"Need a hand?"
"I'm good."
Without another word, he disappeared outside toward the parked black SUV.
Soap watched him leave.
"I still don't know if he's secretly a robot."
Gaz shrugged.
"Would explain a lot."
The morning passed peacefully.
Gaz finished calibrating the radio equipment.
Price sat at the dining table reviewing mission reports.
You organized the medical cabinet upstairs.
Outside...
Ghost carried the last storage crate toward the porch.
The forest was unusually calm.
Only the soft breeze moved through the towering pines.
Soap had never been very good at sitting still.
Ten minutes.
That was his limit.
After wandering through nearly every room in the cabin twice, he sighed dramatically.
"I'm bored."
Gaz didn't even look up.
"Congratulations."
Soap rolled his eyes.
"I'm going exploring."
Price raised one finger without lifting his gaze.
"Don't wander outside."
"I meant inside."
"Good."
The old cabin had clearly existed long before the military converted it into a safehouse.
Soap wandered into a narrow storage room beside the staircase.
Dust coated everything.
Broken chairs.
Old shelves.
Rusted tools.
Most of it had probably been sitting there for decades.
He nudged aside a wooden crate with his boot.
Nothing.
Another one.
Still nothing.
Then...
"...Huh."
Behind an old cabinet, partially hidden beneath a torn canvas cloth...
Something large rested against the wall.
Soap crouched.
He pulled the object free.
Dust exploded into the air.
It was...
A book.
No...
Not a normal book.
It was enormous.
Bound in cracked black leather.
Its corners were reinforced with tarnished metal.
The cover was covered in strange symbols carved so deeply into the leather they almost looked burned into it.
Soap frowned.
"That's... weird."
He brushed away years of dust.
The leather felt strangely warm beneath his fingertips.
"Oi!"
His voice echoed through the cabin.
"You lot!"
Footsteps approached.
Gaz leaned into the doorway first.
"What now?"
Soap held up the heavy book with both hands.
"Look what I found."
Price walked over, curiosity replacing his usual calm expression.
You joined them a moment later.
"What is that?"
"No clue."
Soap placed the book carefully onto an old wooden table.
The impact made the table groan beneath its weight.
Gaz whistled.
"That's ridiculously heavy."
"It looks ancient," you murmured.
Price traced one of the strange symbols with his eyes.
"I've never seen writing like this."
Soap grinned.
"Only one way to find out."
He slowly opened the cover.
The pages crackled.
Not from age...
Almost as if they had been waiting to be opened.
Yellowed parchment revealed page after page of horrifying hand-drawn illustrations.
Twisted human figures.
Circles filled with strange symbols.
Creatures with impossible limbs.
Dark rituals.
Blood-red ink.
Some pages contained detailed diagrams.
Others...
Only lines of symbols that resembled no language any of you recognized.
Gaz's smile disappeared.
"...That's disturbing."
You swallowed.
"It looks like some kind of ritual book."
Soap turned another page.
"There are words."
Price leaned closer.
"Can you read them?"
Soap squinted.
"Sort of..."
"They're... phonetic?"
He sounded out the first line.
"...Kunda..."
Outside...
Ghost lifted another crate from the SUV.
A breeze brushed across the clearing.
He paused.
The forest had been completely still seconds earlier.
Now...
The pine branches rustled.
Only once.
Ghost looked toward the trees.
Nothing.
Just shadows.
He continued walking.
Inside...
Soap laughed.
"Nothing happened."
Gaz folded his arms.
"Keep reading."
Price gave him a warning look.
"We don't even know what language that is."
Soap shrugged.
"It's probably from some old fantasy novel."
He looked back down.
"...Estrada..."
Outside...
Ghost stopped again.
The wind returned.
Colder this time.
It circled him instead of passing through.
His grip tightened slightly on the crate.
He slowly turned.
The forest remained empty.
No movement.
No animals.
Nothing.
His instincts prickled.
Inside the cabin...
Soap was having far too much fun.
"Listen to this one."
He cleared his throat dramatically.
"...Montose..."
The moment the final syllable left his mouth...
Every window in the cabin rattled.
Not violently.
Just once.
Everyone froze.
Gaz frowned.
"...Wind?"
Price looked toward the windows.
"Probably."
You weren't so sure.
The room suddenly felt...
Colder.
Outside...
The wind rushed through the trees.
Leaves spiraled around Ghost's boots.
He narrowed his eyes.
The forest had gone silent.
No birds.
No insects.
Not even the sound of the breeze remained.
Only...
Stillness.
Complete stillness.
Back inside...
Soap laughed nervously.
"Bit dramatic."
Gaz forced a smile.
"Keep your day job."
Soap looked down at the next line.
"Last one."
Price frowned.
"That's enough."
"Relax, Captain."
Soap grinned.
"What could possibly happen?"
He looked at the page one last time.
"...Kanda."
Everything stopped.
The wind.
The rain.
The creaking cabin.
Silence swallowed the forest whole.
Ghost stood motionless beside the SUV.
The heavy crate still balanced in his hands.
His breathing slowed.
Something...
Was wrong.
Very wrong.
The silence stretched.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Then-
A voice.
Soft.
Female.
Right beside his ear.
As if someone stood behind his shoulder.
"Siiiiiiimooooonnnn..."
It wasn't human.
It hissed like a serpent dragging its tongue across every syllable.
Ghost spun around instantly.
No one.
The crate slipped from his grasp.
CRASH!
Wood splintered as it hit the ground.
His rifle was already in his hands.
The clearing was empty.
Nothing moved.
Nothing breathed.
Only endless rows of pine trees stared back at him.
Inside the cabin...
Soap looked around with a grin.
"See?"
He closed the book.
"Nothing happened."
Gaz rolled his eyes.
"Told you it was nonsense."
Price wasn't convinced.
"Put it back where you found it."
Soap sighed.
"Fine."
You glanced toward the window.
For some reason...
The forest suddenly looked darker.
Even though it was still midday.
Outside...
Ghost searched the perimeter.
Every tree.
Every shadow.
Every inch of the clearing.
Nothing.
No footprints.
No radio interference.
No movement.
He keyed his radio.
"...Price."
Only static answered.
Ghost frowned.
He tried again.
"...Captain."
Silence.
He looked back toward the cabin.
It was only fifty meters away.
Yet...
For reasons he couldn't explain...
It suddenly felt much farther.
Inside...
Two hours passed.
Lunch came and went.
The book had been returned to the storage room.
Everyone resumed their normal routine.
Until you looked around the living room.
"...Where's Ghost?"
Soap looked up.
"He was unloading crates."
Gaz checked his watch.
"He should've been back ages ago."
Price slowly stood.
His expression hardened.
"He never leaves his post without reporting."
The smile faded from Soap's face.
"...Captain..."
Price reached for his rifle.
"Everyone gear up."
The forest outside had become unnaturally quiet once again.
And somewhere...
Beyond the trees...
Something whispered Simon Riley's name once more.