THE RITUAL ~ Chapter 1 (cont.)
New Blood: Part Two
Welcome to the conclusion of Chapter 1. Got here without reading what led up to this point? Use the landing page here to navigate to where you left off.
What happened last:
In the first half of the chapter, we met Scott and his friends Alex, Robert and Randy who gathered at the infamous Griffin House.
We left off as the boys were heading—illegally—into the cellar . . .
Chapter 1: New Blood
Part Two
The surprisingly cavernous fruit cellar stretched out empty, but still had a rank, musty odor. Dust and cobwebs covered the shelves. The Griffins—or one of the owners before them—must have owned a lot of land and done a tremendous amount of harvesting. The cellar spanned most of the underside of the house. The chill of the damp, sun-forsaken space slithered across exposed flesh, giving the boys literal gooseflesh; the shape-shifting shadows from Scott’s flashlight only added to the creep factor.
The boys stayed in a close line as Scott led the way across the room. They came to another set of stairs so steep it was practically a ladder. Scott remained below, holding the light as Robert took the lead, climbing to the top of the stairs and pushing open the trap door at the top. He climbed out into the room above. Alex always wanted to be as close to Scott and/or the light as possible and had given Randy’s “After you” gesture right back at him at this juncture before, so without missing a beat, Randy went next. He disappeared into the near darkness above.
Then Alex started up. He hated this part for so many reasons. What little light made it into the room above did nothing but make monstrous, moving shadows able to hide anything … or be anything. And worse, it was the room. The kitchen. The room where that woman with the knife had—
“Hurry up!” Robert hissed.
Alex swallowed the lump he always got about now and climbed the last of the steps. He looked around the room. The shadows shifted everywhere, like one of those German Expressionist cinematic nightmares Alex had read about in his favorite movie trivia books. He forced himself to look, instead, at Scott and the light—both of which were coming up—never soon enough for Alex.
“Okay” Scott said when they all stood in the kitchen. And with that, he started for the doorway to the right. They all fell into their original line order and proceeded forward.
The boys made their way through the parlor. The contact sounds of their shoes against the wood floors echoed throughout the cavernous house. The musty smell prevailed here, too; it seeped through every room like an invisible fog.
This must be what death smells like, Alex had thought the first time he caught a whiff.
The boys moved silently to the staircase and started up. The stairs always creaked and Randy wondered if they had creaked that night long ago.
Scott led them down the upstairs hall. It was brighter up here since only the broken windows had been boarded up and none of the shades were drawn like they had been downstairs. They made their way to the far end where the trap door to the attic lay open. They didn’t bother to close it anymore. Scott stood aside and the boys repeated their ladder-climbing protocol.
Oddly enough, the attic was the lightest room in the house. A large window with no covering let the sun in all day long. The attic had some empty crates and a few blankets and pillows—things the boys had brought over time to make it a little cozier. Some magazines lay about as well: water sports journals, motocross exposés, and a few girlie reviews.
Scott came up the stairs and the boys settled into their usual spots.
“Okay, here’s the deal.”
The others sat up a bit as Scott started to talk.
“You all know I took those college entrance exams and sent out applications to colleges.” Sure, they knew. Scholastically ahead of them all ever since he had skipped the fifth grade, they all understood Scott was gonna be the one guy to get the heck out of Dodge and really make something of himself. Alex had book smarts, but his high anxiety under pressure made exams his downfall. Robert had street smarts, but they weren’t going to get him very far academically. And no one knew exactly what smarts Randy had. In fact, his apparent lack of smarts only added to his winning charm: like an innocent child, you only loved him even more.
“Well, I got my first acceptance.”
Silence.
“That’s great, Scott,” Alex said with heartfelt sincerity—and a graceful camouflaging of his own sadness at Scott’s impending departure.
“It’s from a college out in California. It’s not Northern.” They all knew Scott had his heart set on Northern.
“It’ll come,” Robert said. Scott looked at him. A tiny moment like this made Robert’s bullshit worth it: when it mattered, he was there for you.
“Hey,” Scott played it off. “It doesn’t really matter…as long as they have a good astronomy department.”
Alex got a little smile. He loved Scott’s fascination with the stars—even if it was from a purely scientific angle. Alex thought, no matter how you looked at it, it was still star gazing. The word “romantic” never really occurred to him, but he knew, looking heavenward and searching the skies had to be about more than just wanting to label things.
“Anyway,” Scott went on. “I was thinking we ought to talk about the future of our little group.”
Randy shifted on his crate. He didn’t like the sound of this. Not one bit.
“I mean, do you guys want to maybe add some new blood…initiate some underclassmen into our secret order…or what?”
“Like who?” Robert said.
“Whoever you want.”
Scott could see the eyes looking at him. He could sense they were not really following. Or maybe, in Robert’s case, didn’t want to.
“I’m just saying it’s something to think about. If there’s somebody you think would be cool to add to the circle. You know: like with the other clubs at school. Maybe have interviews … even a series of tasks for pledges to achieve. I don’t know.”
“Sounds like work.”
Scott looked at Robert. He was definitely going to be the hard sell.
“Like I said: I’m just putting the idea out. We can do whatever you guys want. It’s just that I’m gonna have less and less time to hang out as the school year comes to an end.”
Randy knew it was true. Scott’s availability had already begun to wane.
“Look,” Scott said. “This is our place … and I feel like it should be ours to decide who follows in our footsteps. ’Cause one day none of us will be coming here anymore and you know somebody else will. Somebody’s gonna try that lock, just like we did.”
“Hasn’t happened yet,” Robert said.
“But it will,” Scott returned. “It’s bound to. And I’d rather have it be people we chose as opposed to strangers.”
“We could just put our own lock on the cellar door.”
All eyes turned to Alex. He swallowed, already uncomfortable from the conversation. He almost felt like he was betraying Scott. He tried to soften his previous comment.
“I mean … we could … Couldn’t we?”
Scott considered it.
“Sure. We could. But it still comes down to the same thing: Are the Brew Brothers over when we go … or do we pass the torch and keep the party going?”
Another uncomfortable silence hung over the group.
Randy shrugged and said, “Whatever you want, Scott.”
Scott smiled at Randy. Randy was always a trooper.
“Thanks, Randy. But, no: it’s whatever the group wants. We’re brothers.”
The others mumbled, half-heartedly “Brothers”.
A.J. slipped into the booth across from Scott.
“Okay. Quick. Before the Dragon Lady notices. How’d it go over?”
A.J. Tyler’s brown eyes, framed by the soft curls of her dark bangs, focused on Scott. He sighed and shook his head.
“It didn’t,” he said.
She sighed. Then reached out to lightly lay her hand on his forearm.
“I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault.”
I know,” A.J. said. She sat back in the booth and just looked for a moment at Scott. She loved looking at him; somehow, she found him even cuter with the uncharacteristic expression of disappointment. But that didn’t stop her from getting a sly smirk.
“It’s your fault,” she teased.
Scott’s jaw dropped an inch.
“My fault!?!”
A.J. grinned wider.
“Yeah,” she replied. “If you weren’t so smart, you wouldn’t be planning for the future. Like with college and everything. Then you’d be like everybody else: living day-to-day and never rocking the boat or trying to steer it. But that’s what makes you special.”
Scott looked at A.J. while she spoke. He always had liked her. He loved her outspoken and straightforward manner. No bullshit. No pretense. No make up to cover up the perfect mocha skin. What you saw is what you got. It’s what made her so attractive to him.
“So,” she went on. “If it’s not always smooth sailing, it’s okay. You’re still on course.”
She sat back and a sudden hint of confusion flashed on her brow.
“I think I overdid it with the ship metaphor.”
They shared a smile. Scott thought: And she’s so damned smart.
Then, Scott’s smile faded. A.J. saw it and hers dimmed as well. She knew where he went.
“What about us?” he asked.
Us. The word sounded odd coming out of his mouth. He and A.J. never really referred to themselves as a couple. They were, of course. They probably always had been—even before they had figured it out for themselves. But it had been on such easy terms. They spent time together, but not too much. In a small town, things always had to look clean. Besides, A.J. was saving herself for marriage: her one conformist attribute and, as such, Scott respected it. Scott was saving himself, too, in a way. He’d had a few passable sessions in the back of his car with few other girls before he realized A.J. liked him that way. Then, sexual advances seemed almost inappropriate. He masturbated like crazy on his own, but with A.J., he knew they’d get married one day and the wait would all be worth it.
“What about us?” A.J. returned. She had known for some time that, when Scott went to college, the likelihood of his meeting another girl loomed large, and his visits back to Brook’s End (and her) would come less and less frequently. She had realized this and accepted it for the most part. But she also still hung on to the romantic notion that, maybe, just maybe, they shared an unbreakable bond; a bona fide, storybook true love. And that beautiful possibility gave her something to hold onto. It gave her hope.
“Well, if I get accepted to a college that’s across the country—”
“You’ll go and we’ll see what happens.” Her heart pounded in her chest, but she wasn’t going to let herself fall apart. “If we’re meant to be together, it’ll work out, eventually. Right?”
Scott looked into her eyes. She met his gaze, keeping a carefree mask on her face. She felt wrong, hiding her true feelings—an utterly alien behavior for her. But it worked. Scott nodded.
“Right.”
“Miss Tyler?” bellowed the voice of the soda shop’s hefty owner Mrs. Curson. Scott gave A.J. a slightly sheepish look as the gorgon continued:
“You do work here, don’t you?”
A.J. tried to hide a look of annoyance with one of compliance as she rose from her seat in the booth and smoothed out her apron.
“Yes, Mrs. Curson. Sorry.” Then, softer, to Scott: “We’ll talk later.”
Scott watched her go. Then, he finished his milkshake, left some money on the table, and walked off, waving and calling out a casual “Later.”
A.J. waved, forgoing any verbal reply so as not to further upset the gorgon. When Scott slipped out of sight, A.J. came out from behind the counter to clear his table. She looked at the money he’d left. She shook her head, getting a smile.
Stupid jerk always over tips.
Next up: Chapter 2: The Invaders
I’ll be adding new installments every Saturday; you can use the following link to the home page to navigate to the latest chapter: THE RITUAL - Home Page
This is shaping up, Gregory! I'm glad we're taking some time to get to know the gang 👌🏻
I don't think that's a good idea, Scott. 😔
Still loving the group dynamics. Scott is likeable.
This was really engaging. Good pacing so far. I haven't read horror that keeps pulling me in like this story since...it's been a while. Excellent work! Glad to have found it!