Beach Day

9: Tiff Lights A Table On Fire

Tiff assesses the door in front of her the way she did the fork in the path. While she knows that this is where she was meant to go, she can't help but wonder what was down the other path— or if choosing even mattered at all. She could always just come back if she needs to. Whatever the case, this door is relevant.

"Okay. A quick plan is in order," she decides, sizing the door up. The wood is set deep into the dirt. Why? Who built this place and then kept using it?

"God, I love a plan," Matt breathes. "I'll stand behind with the gun in case things go wrong."

"Perfect! Kepler, be ready to pounce if something is waiting to attack us. I'll open the door. Otherwise, investigation is the goal here. Does that sound good? Is that— I'm not overstepping, am I? I'm not totally insane for thinking we need a plan?"

"It sounds good to me." Matt prepares himself a few inches from the wall; he raises the gun just in case.

Tiff opens the door like a breath let out.

The room on the other side is in absolute shambles. It's simple, like a makeshift playhouse left to time: a small room carved out of the dirt with a sturdy wooden table in the center. Everything from the burnt-down candle to the floor is covered with a thick layer of dust. Old wrappers and dead bugs pollute the corners.

Unsure about what she's supposed to be seeing, all she can think to do is start looking. You can't piece a puzzle together if you don't have the pieces, and you can't have the pieces if they fall into the cracks. Doing what she knows to be a classic Tiff move, she drops to the floor. On her stomach, she inspects the packed-dirt ground and the old wooden door. It's a hunch and she is going to act on it.

There's something about the door. As Matt steps over her and into the room, she thinks back to the vision she induced. Someone came through the door. Someone. Not something. And the undead girl, still living then, was terrified. This was a human being and it was someone this girl knew. It wasn't shock on her face at being found down here, or shame at being caught doing something she shouldn't have. It was terror.

Tiff can piece together what happened here. This girl knew or did something she shouldn't have, and she paid for it dearly. It had something to do with the book, she knows. Whatever it was that she found out, the girl is back now. Maybe they could ask her. Maybe they could help her find peace. They would just need to find her first.

"Hey, Tiff, come take a look at this," Matt calls from one rounded corner of the room.

She pushes herself up from the ground and scrambles and trips her way over to where Matt is; she steadies herself on the table and tries to play it off. "What are we looking at here?" she asks, even though she can put two and two together.

With his gun like it's an extension of his arm, Matt gestures to the ground in front of them. There is a small patch of hair there, seemingly growing from the ground. Matt holds out one hand because, somehow, he can tell that Tiff fully planned on crouching down and giving it a good yank. After all this time, he still knows that about her.

So she doesn't pull on it. "I mean, it's definitely interesting! I'm assuming that patch of hair is from the girl we're looking for— Oh, shit, did she return to the earth? That's a possibility— it wouldn't be unheard of. Or it could also mean... Maybe she's gone. Maybe she isn't here. Like, she was at one point, but—"

"Do you ever come to a conclusion before you speak?" Matt laughs.

"Absolutely not, not even once."

"You were like this with those theories you had on the Bible, too. Don't think I forgot."