The Traveler (The Great Rift Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Copyright

  Other Works

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  A Few Words About 'The Traveler'

  About The Author

  First Edition

  The Traveler © 2018 by Christopher Motz

  All Rights Reserved

  ISBN-10:172211892X

  ISBN-13:978-1722118921

  Cover design by RDB Interactive, LLC

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  OTHER WORKS

  THE DARKENING - 'THE GREAT RIFT' BOOK ONE (2016)

  THE FARM - A NOVELLA (2016)

  PINE LAKES (2017)

  BROKEN - A NOVELLA (2017)

  THE PIGEON (with Andrew Lennon) (2018)

  ALSO APPEARING IN:

  COLLECTED EASTER HORROR SHORTS (2017)

  COLLECTED HALLOWEEN HORROR SHORTS (2017)

  100 WORD HORRORS: AN ANTHOLOGY OF HORROR DRABBLES (2018)

  To all those who called Elmview home.

  I'm sorry I couldn't leave well enough alone.

  Chapter 1

  Geoff Baker sat at the kitchen table, quietly rolling a joint while humming tunelessly to Grand Funk Railroad. A small color television sat on the counter next to a dozen empty bottles of Genesee Cream Ale. The previous few days had gone by in a blur, reserved for getting drunk, stoned, and wallowing in his own misery. Maxall Paint Supplies - Geoff's place of employment for nearly a decade - had elected to close their doors without a word of warning. He was one of eighteen employees who now had nothing better to do than sit with their thumbs up their asses and wait for the first unemployment check to show up in their mailbox.

  As Grand Funk gave way to Bachman-Turner Overdrive, Geoff switched his attention to a commercial for Long John Silver's. His stomach grumbled loudly as he packed his rolling papers into a small, wooden box, and pushed it aside. The sound on the television was muted, but damn, if those hush puppies didn't look amazing. He licked his lips, lit the joint, and inhaled deeply, listening as the water in the shower splashed hollowly into the tub.

  Stacy Jones, Geoff's girlfriend, opened the bathroom door and exited in a cloud of steam. Her long, red hair hung over shoulders so pale they nearly blended with the white towel she'd wrapped around her upper body. With bare feet slapping on the linoleum of the kitchen floor, Stacy crossed the room and grabbed a beer from the fridge, leaving a trail of water behind her. Geoff watched affectionately as she sipped from the neck of the bottle and sat across the table, absently playing with a lock of dripping hair.

  "Why do you have the TV on if you can't hear it?" she asked.

  "It keeps me company," he replied.

  "You have the stereo on, though."

  "The stereo is for listening, the TV is for watching. I can't see music, can I?"

  "You can if you keep smoking that stuff." Stacy reached across the table and plucked the joint from between Geoff's fingers, casually taking a hit before passing it back. "You going to start looking for a job tomorrow?"

  "Nope," he said. "I'm going to sit back, relax, catch up on Arrow, and get drunk. I might shower... the jury is still out on that one. Besides, tomorrow is Saturday."

  Stacy sipped her beer and nodded. "Okay, so Monday then."

  "Stacy, give me a break, huh? I didn't plan on being unemployed. Give me a chance to wipe the shit from my shoes before I start looking for another dead-end job to replace the one I had."

  Stacy shrugged and changed the subject. They weren't hurting for money, but she knew how Geoff got when he had too much time on his hands: concocting plans for vacations they couldn't afford, devising get-rich-quick schemes for extra cash, and lamenting the good old days when he played in a band and had the world by the balls. They'd been together five years, and she'd seen his highs and lows. When the refrigerator contained more beer than food, it was a sure sign he was headed for a fall.

  "Do you mind if I turn on the sound?" she asked, pointing to the television. Geoff shook his head, reached behind him, and turned off the stereo.

  "What are we watching?" he asked.

  "Dexter Maitland comes on at midnight."

  "Oh, Christ," he scoffed. "That guy must be eighty-years-old by now. He's been doing this crap since I was a kid."

  "Maybe so, but he's entertaining. Did you see it last week? When he played those crazy EVPs from the Waverly Hills Sanatorium in Kentucky?"

  "Nope, didn't care."

  "You need to open your mind."

  "My mind is completely open, I just can't stand the guy. He's always sweaty and in a constant state of surprise, like he got caught jerking off in a public bathroom. He built an entire show based on urban exploration and blurry pictures of ghosts that can easily be explained by his cheap, dirty camera lens."

  Let him rant, Stacy thought. He'll get over it, move on, and hopefully pass out.

  "You know what I mean?" he continued. "What the hell is urban exploration, anyway? Over-privileged millennials walking around abandoned buildings and filming piles of dust with cameras worth more than my car. When I was a kid, we always explored abandoned buildings. We didn't have a name for it, and we sure as hell didn't post it on YouTube so other mindless weasels could comment on how cool we are."

  "We didn't have YouTube when we were kids," Stacy said. "Are you going to tell me if Facebook, YouTube and Twitter were around when we were that age, you wouldn't have exploited them for all they were worth?"

  "That's not the point," Geoff sighed. "The point is, people like this Dexter Maitland moron are making money by scaring people into believing their crappy stories and grainy footage are absolute facts. The guy wouldn't survive one day if he had to get a real job."

  Stacy stood and un-muted the television. "Do you want something to eat?"

  "No, but you can grab me another beer."

  "A please would be nice."

  "So would a million dollars and a ten-inch cock." Geoff exhaled a plume of pot smoke, regretting the harsh tone of his voice. "I'm sorry. You know how I get when I'm stressed."

  "All too well."

  "How about we just watch your show, catch a buzz, and go to bed? Maybe tomorrow will be a better day."

  Stacy placed Geoff's beer on the table and got another for herself as Geoff playfully reached out and swatted her ass through the wet bath towel. She dodged aside, smiled, and sat next to him as Dexter Maitland's introductory montage played on the TV screen: abandoned buildings, cemeteries draped in morning fog, a quick shot of the famous Patterson-Gimlin Bigfoot video, stock footage of UFOs over the Arizona desert.

  "I don't understand why a show about ghosts and haunted places would start with flying saucers and Bigfoot," Geoff said. "Does he know what the show is about, or does his producer just stick a hand up his ass and play ventriloquist?"

  When Dexter Maitland's pasty face appeared on screen, Geoff rolled his eyes and drank half his beer in two swallows. He couldn't be drunk enough to sit through this nonsense.

  "Welcome to Dexter Maitland's Forgotten Places, a show dedicated to exploring the dark corners of Ameri
ca. Hidden all over this great country are remnants of a bygone age, lost to time, unseen by the general public and left to decay in the grip of Mother Nature's deft, but unrelenting hands. From century-old, crumbling hospitals, to vacant amusement parks and ghost towns, Forgotten Places shows you the best footage from some of today's biggest and brightest urban explorers. Some of what you'll see and hear may shock you, some may amaze you, but one thing's for sure, these are stories you'll never forget. I'm your host, Dexter Maitland. Come join me for the next hour in America's Forgotten Places."

  "How many times do you think he'll say his own name?" Geoff asked. "Fucking narcissist."

  "Would you just be quiet?" Stacy pleaded, irritated.

  "I hate his face," he mumbled. Stacy brushed him aside with a wave of her arm and continued watching.

  ***

  After the commercial break, Dexter Maitland's pudgy face filled the screen as cheap keyboard music played in the background. He seemed out of breath and little beads of sweat had formed on his forehead. Geoff mumbled something under his breath but Stacy no longer paid any attention. They sat quietly and listened to Dexter's monologue.

  "In recent years, urban exploration has been passed down to the next generation of would-be ghost chasers. There are hundreds of channels on YouTube dedicated to abandoned places, and Instagram is inundated with artsy views of moss-covered castles, rusted carousels, and glassless windows of long-forgotten asylums. While technology has changed over the years, the videos and images are just as fascinating, now brought to you in 4k high definition. You may ask yourself, 'What's the big deal? Just another abandoned house, right?' Surely we all have one in our own hometown, but on Forgotten Places, we offer stories behind these images while leaving it up to you to form your own opinions.

  "Tonight we have something very special; an anonymous video submission that has left my crew shaken. I will warn you, this is not for the faint of heart, and if you don't want to give your little ones nightmares, I suggest you tuck them in and kiss them goodnight before you watch the following segment."

  "The little ones?" Geoff interrupted. "Why would kids still be awake at midnight to watch this crap?

  "He's being responsible," Stacy replied. "Maybe you should try it some time." Geoff stuck out his tongue and grabbed the bottle of beer from the table.

  Dexter continued. "A package arrived at our office early yesterday, containing six unedited SD cards that appear to have come from a high definition video camera. After watching, we all agreed to air the footage as soon as possible. A single-sheet, handwritten letter accompanied the video, written by an anonymous fan of our show. Thank you, mystery man, for sending us this strange and terrifying footage."

  Dexter shuffled papers on his desk, grabbed a wrinkled page, and presented it to the camera. "I'll read this so we all have some context on where it was found and how it arrived at our door."

  He cleared his throat and continued.

  "Dexter, I'm a big fan of your show and thought this was right up your alley. While walking my dog outside Elmview, Pennsylvania, I noticed a hidden, dirt road leading into the forest, marked only by a crudely-carved sign that said Two-Penny Lane. I've lived in this area my entire life and have never heard of this before, so I was instantly intrigued. No one goes near Elmview these days, not ever since they put in the detour in the late 80's. I followed the road for some time when my dog stopped, sat in the dirt, and refused to go any further. From there I saw what looked like a house standing deeper in the forest, but before I could check it out, I tripped over a tote bag that had been discarded alongside the road. Inside, I found the SD cards. Curiosity made me watch them, but I wish I hadn't. You'll see what I mean. Do what you will with them, and keep up the good work."

  Dexter stopped reading and gazed into the camera. In one outstretched hand, he held the tiny video cards. "This is what arrived in the mail; hours of footage detailing what appears to be an urban exploration video gone wrong. We have not edited or manipulated the footage in any way other than to make it fit into the allotted time. We apologize in advance for the strong language, but we've decided to leave this as authentic as possible."

  "Let me get this straight," Geoff said. "Some douchebag sends this video anonymously so an even bigger douchebag can cloak it in an air of mystery and goad a bunch of teenagers into trying to find the place. Does that about cover it?"

  "Maybe if you watch it, you'll find out. Are you scared of what might happen if someone rattles the bars of your cage and makes you think outside the box for once?"

  "No, I'm not scared of anything this guy has to say. I'm scared of how easily people are led to believe this nonsense. This is a setup for some cheesy B-Movie; a found footage B-Movie no less. Shit gives me vertigo. Hold the camera steady for Christ's sake." Geoff grabbed another beer from the fridge, clearly frustrated.

  "If you're going to complain the entire time, could you please do it quietly so I can listen? You might not believe this stuff, but I do."

  Geoff put his hands up in surrender and bit his lip. No point starting a fight over something so petty; better to let her have her way and salvage what was left of the night. After five years together, he knew when to quietly concede. She was already clearly irritated. Pushing any further could put him in the doghouse where dinner and sex were withheld until the imminent apology was offered in earnest.

  "I'll give the guy points for mentioning Elmview, though. That's a sure-fire way to get people's attention. My brother was friends with a few boys who lived there until all that craziness started."

  "What are you talking about? Do you forget I'm not from around here?" Stacy asked, annoyed.

  Geoff hadn't forgotten, but it had been so long he often overlooked the fact that Pennsylvania was still mostly new to her. Stacy's family had moved here from Cleveland a little over six years ago and Geoff had met her soon after. She didn't know anything about local legend unless she heard it secondhand or saw it on shows like Forgotten Places. Maybe it was one of the reasons why she enjoyed this stuff so much; it helped her get a better understanding of her surroundings, made her feel like less of an outsider.

  "Elmview was a small coal town about an hour or so from here. One summer - probably 1986 or '87 - some really weird stories started trickling out about people going missing, things seen in the forest, unexplained phenomena. This was long before cell phones and digital cameras, so there wasn't any proof that something strange was happening, only what people were passing around. There was a serious accident at the main intersection and a bunch of people died. The newspapers blamed a drunk trucker, but others said there was more to it than that. A few weeks later, part of the roof on the Elmview Mall collapsed and killed a bunch more.

  "The gas explosion was the icing on the cake. An entire section of town was leveled, and officials blamed it on hidden gas lines beneath the street that had been forgotten for decades. Within weeks, people were being evacuated for fear that it could happen again. That was the end of Elmview. People were scared and confused and had conflicting stories about what had actually happened, but the media blamed it on the gas leak and said it was likely that people had been hallucinating for weeks before the blast. Conspiracy theories were formed overnight, and if memory serves me right, Dexter Maitland was one of the first to build a career out of the aftermath."

  "Now that's interesting," Stacy said. "Why didn't you ever tell me about this before?"

  "I'd forgotten all about it. No one talks about Elmview anymore. They turned off the lights, blocked all the entrances, and that was it. No one goes there, not even these urban explorer assholes. From what I've heard, the place just feels wrong. In the 90's, there was a guy who had a local radio show, kind of like this Dexter dick, but not as cheap. I used to listen to it at night when my parents thought I was sleeping, and I'm not going to lie, it was pretty creepy. He had a name for this area - The Great Rift. Kind of cheesy, but he was convinced it was real, and used it to explain the high number of strange occurrences in
Pennsylvania."

  "You know," Stacy said, "for a guy who doesn't believe in this stuff, you certainly have a lot to say about it."

  "I never said I don't believe it, I said I don't believe Dexter Maitland."

  Stacy laughed and sipped her beer while squeezing water from her wet hair. "Maybe we should go there and see what all the fuss is about."

  "Yeah, maybe," Geoff lied. He had no intention of wandering around Elmview. The place was a dead zone, but for now, it couldn't hurt placating her. With any luck, she'd forget all about it by morning.

  "Oh, shush, it's coming back on."

  And now back to your regularly scheduled bullshit.

  ***

  After a few minutes of trying to sell his viewers some poorly-made merchandise, Maitland introduced the video with an exaggerated wave of his hands. The sign for Two-Penny Lane swam into view, looking exactly as it had been described in the anonymous letter. It had been nailed to a tree along a seldom-used road on the way to Elmview-that-was. In the video there were four people: two guys who appeared to be in their early twenties, a cute blond who couldn't have been much over eighteen, and an unseen female behind the camera. She could be heard fumbling with the video settings while her friends giggled in the background.

  "Well, we made it," the camera girl said, laughing nervously.

  "Last video ever," one of the guys shouted. His jaw was covered in thin hair masquerading as a beard. "If you never see us again, remember this sign. Send your condolences to my house on Fremont Street, Lancaster, Pennsylvania."

  "You're an idiot," the cute blond giggled.

  "You love it," he replied as the blond loudly kissed his cheek.

  "We've been on the road for a couple hours," the other guy interrupted. His hair was a spiky nightmare, and he wore trendy hipster glasses that made him look like Harry Potter's long-lost brother. "We heard about this place online and decided to check it out. So far, we've found this road, and here our story begins."