The Wandering.

Chapter 11

I have become
Comfortably numb

- Pink Floyd

1

Prue jumped into the passenger seat of Gia's Volvo, the car started into a soft purr as she slid her pistol into the waist of her jeans. The car moved off at a rapid pace; Gia seemed to be on a mission, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery that had been haunting Sachem Bay for decades.

"So what do we know?" Prue asked, rolling down the window to let in a small breeze.

Gia kept her eyes on the road. "There was a cult, led by a crazy guy called Mr Chilton. They killed children, believing that exterminating the next generation will keep their ideologies dominant, of course they were mad. When they were discovered, they committed mass suicide, in the honour of Mr Garrett Chilton. And I guess now they're spirits, trying to claw their sorry asses back to this world."

Prue nodded, overwhelmed with information.

"So what lead do we have?"

Gia smiled. "I did some research of my own when Scott told me about the Chilton Cult... not every single member killed themselves. They needed someone to stay alive, direct whatever motive they needed from this side of the wall."

"So there's a cult member out there?" Prue said, jaw dropping.

"You've got that right. He was ten years old when the mass suicide happened. Now, we go get answers." Said Gia.

After a good ten minutes, Gia pulled up to an old shabby house, the paint peeling and the garden overgrown.

"Let's go." Prue muttered, and the two women got out of the car.

The walked through the gap where the gate used to be - it was now rotting in the overgrown grass - and approached the front door.

"You wonder if he'll let us in?" Prue asked as Gia knocked loudly.

"Yea, sure," Gia replied sarcastically. "Hey we know you're involved in a cult and are to blame for these child murders, mind if you let us in to chat?"

Prue rolled her eyes. "I guess we'll get in our own way."

A second later, the door swung open to reveal a man, aged around 70 years old. He had thin grey hair in some patches, but he was mostly bald. He was average sized, quite tall for a man so old and only a few teeth remained.

"What is it?" He spat unpleasantly.

Gia held back her wretch, as the smell of his sour milky breathe reached her nostrils.

"Um, we need to ask you a few questions." Prue said quickly.

The old man seemed to realise and closed the door a little. "Not today, I'm busy."

As he closed the door, Gia's boot blocked it in the doorway from closing.

She held up her gun. "We're not asking, we're telling you. We need to ask you some questions." Gia then stepped forward. "Now fucking let us in, or your cult loving ass will meet it's grave."