Page 289 of Primal

But her hand is ice around mine.

We move fast, ducking branches and crunching leaves like we’re trying not to bleed noise.

Kristy seems to remember the map with her bones. Left past the toppled log. Right by the tree with the burl carved into a permanent scream. I swear it’s watching us stumble past. The faint orange shimmer ahead could be a fire, or lanterns strung up, or just my brain making shit up.

“Almost there,” she says. Not to me. To herself.

The air shifts as we cross some invisible threshold.

Base camp.

We made it.

Beyond a chain-link fence wrapped around the compound is freedom. Our cars. Civilization. The sweet promise of ugly-crying into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s while pretending this was simply an immersive haunted-forest experience.

Except the gate’s closed.

And the whole security building’s dark. Only the floodlights are working.

“Fuck,” Kristy breathes. “Where is everyone?”

I scan for movement, sound, anything.

Something’s pinned to the bulletin board by the stage.

I inch closer.

A torn scrap of paper. Stabbed into the cork with a long, curved blade. No doubt one of the Ghostfaces’ knives. Words scrawled in Sharpie.

“Fucking psycho,” Kristy mutters over my shoulder. Then she makes a sound like a stepped-on bird. “Is that …?”

Blood.

A perfect teardrop under the smiley face.

Kristy’s flashlight slices through the dark. The beam trembles. “We’re breaking the gate.”

“With what?”

We stare at each other. She’s got her phone. I’ve got the pepper spray. Unless that fanny pack of hers doubles as a SWAT kit, we’re screwed.

“Then we’re climbing it.”

“It’s ten feet tall and probably electrified,” I mutter.

“It’s fucking pitch-black. Which means the power’s out.”

“Yeah, but what if it isn’t all the way out?”

Kristy laughs—short, frayed. She glances back at the board. “Then what? We can’t just wait around for his ‘finale,’ whatever the hell that is.”

I nod at the security building. “Maybe there’s someone in there.”

“Yeah. Your Mr. Ghostface-Next-Door.”

“He was in the trailer. He couldn’t have gotten here before us.”

“Maybe he’s already gutted the staff. I’m not walking into a trap.”