Beneath The Dirt | Ryden | Short Story Completed

Bene T Dir

Interestingly enough, no one questioned as to why Spencer had some - half naked, now, as the coat helped but couldn't cover everything - man on his shoulder as the three approached the edge of the woods. No one questioned him, but two specific men definitely complained. And not only about the additional body, but Dallon had the nerve to complain about his own backpack straps digging into his shoulders, although the three men all knew that his backpack was the newest of the three. He was lucky, whether or not he has the most food shoved into his newish backpack.

Ryan didn't speak much, as he usually does, until they reached the porch of the vacant cabin. "Maybe we should go somewhere else?" He asks, scratching the back of his head, casually, adjusting the straps of his backpack on his shoulders. "Maybe," Spencer snaps back, "we should go inside so I can set down this actual, breathing, living, heavy as fuck, human, that I have on my shoulders?"

Reluctantly, and not without rolling his eyes, Ryan enters into the cabin, after both Dallon and Spencer. The wooden floorboards creak loudly, as the dust unsettles beneath their feet, gently, of course, without a sound. "What are out scared of, Ryan? The dust?" Dallon chuckled, but was cut short by his own high-pitched scream when a bat had loudly made itself known by flying overhead Dallon, making its brisk exit through the open front door.

"God damn- Just move!" Spencer sighed and moved past the two worst partners in crime he'd ever had so he could set down Brendon.

Spencer laid Brendon on the couch carefully, his more important parts covered by Spencer's coat, which Spencer did not want back anymore. Ryan and Dallon moved in closer, both staring at Brendon to examine him further. "What should we name him?" Ryan asked curiously, while Dallon only shrugged.

"He looks like a Jake," Dallon suggests.

"He does, fucking, not," Ryan rejects.

"Yeah, he does."

"No, he's like a Trayvon."

"What the fuck?"

"Yeah." Ryan said, nodding his head, gaining momentum as he believes himself the more he thinks on it. "Yeah, he does!"

"You guys," Spencer cut in, "don't fucking name him."

"No. No, he doesn't," Dallon mocked Ryan, his hands on his hips, with a whiny voice that Spencer could barely hear as he fled the scene, walking through the halls in search of the bedrooms he knew were there from the last time. There were only two, and usually Dallon would sleep on the floor in someone's room, which he would only complain about, which obviously led to him sleeping on the floor, or sometimes the couch, even more often.

Everything in the bedrooms was as they left it last summer, except it had gained more dust, reckoned Spencer, as he headed back to the living room. He was just in time to see Brendon wake up.

"He does not! How can you even believe you're rig-" Dallon was unfortunately cut off by Ryan.

"Shut the fuck up, he's waking up."

Brendon's eyes slowly lifted open, and upon seeing the three men staring at him, he remembered his predicament and his hands immediately thrust down between his legs to cover himself, although Spencer's jacket did the job of covering his lower half.

"Morning. You wait here, just a moment," Spencer said to Brendon as he turned, dragging both Ryan and Dallon with him. "And I wouldn't run if I were you. We've all killed before." Spencer winks, and walks out of the living room. Brendon gasps audibly, and remains where he is. The trio moves into the hallway to discuss further.

"Alright," Spencer starts, "lets not be stupid. We can use this to our advantage, for sure. Hell, we could sell the kid if we wanted to, alright? But for now, you two have one job. Do not let him get away, and do not scare him too bad." Both Ryan and Dallon nod, and Spencer dismisses them with a wave of his hand, as he returns to the front door to grab the backpacks his friends discarded there earlier. He drags all three into the bedroom, to keep them together.

The cabin is an interesting hideaway. It was written in the plans, long ago, for the city to have the cabin and the surrounding forestry destroyed, but due to some technical difficulty or another, maybe a lack of communication, the cabin and the slightly surrounding woods still exist. Thus spread the rumor of the small area of woods, that was near the ever so quiet neighborhoods, was haunted beyond belief. By numerous spirits, and at night the ghosts of another past would rise from beneath the dirt and feast upon the living. Spencer has been living here and running from his problems for about four years now, and he can assure just about anyone, that no skeleton has feasted upon him. No, not yet.