The Cabin Is Always Hungry (A Dungeon Core Horror Slasher)

FINDERS KEEPERS

Part 8

Leo’s hand twitched, and in a blink of an eye, he pulled out the gun strapped to his belt and fired. Shots rang out into the fog. Eddie jumped behind the door frame and covered his ears. John was too stunned to move as Art pinned him behind the door. Most of the shots hit the Goliath straight on the torso, each bullet sending him a step back until he smashed through the van’s windows, and the Goliath slumped to the ground, seemingly dead.

Silence filled the void.

I floated over to the Goliath.

“Uh, are you okay?” I asked, worried. Did the delvers kill my monster? That was a lot of bullets, and I doubted if his special trait would even carry over—

[Not Quite Dead I is activated. The Goliath is stunned for 1 minute.]

I sighed in relief. “Sorry about the guns,” I said. “Can you handle these guys? I can summon Old Growth as an assist?”

The Goliath shot me a sidelong glance and closed his eyes, pretending to be dead. I reckon that’s a no. He couldn’t move yet.

[Warning: You have one more usage for Not Quite Dead I. Running out of slots will temporarily destroy the monster and trigger a cooldown, which you cannot summon the monster within the given duration.]

Ah. Good to know.

John pushed Art off him and ran to where Scottie lay face-first on the dirt. He turned him over; empty eyes faced the sky. John let out a choked sob. “Scottie…oh, God—”

The others cautiously walk toward John, who cradled Scottie on his lap. His brother’s blood had already soaked his shirt and hands. He tried to brush Scottie’s bloodied hair off the boy’s eyes.

“Is he dead?” Eddie gestured over to the Goliath.

“I shot him twelve times. What do you think?”

“Did you shoot him in the head, at least?” Art asked. “No one can come back from that.”

Leo paused. “I didn’t.”

“Better shoot him in the head then,” Art said. “I learned that in a horror movie once.”

“This ain’t a horror movie, Art.”

Art scoffed. “Yeah, you’re right. We got an axe-wielding maniac. Masked psycho. Cabin in the woods. Creepy forest. Not a horror movie at all, Leo.”

“For Christ’s sake,” Leo hissed and nodded to John. “Scott just died, man.”

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it,” Art said, but John did not respond. Art walked away awkwardly and helped Eddie out of the door.

“Can we get the fuck out of here?” Eddie exclaimed, leaning against the porch’s railings. “I need medical attention!”

“Can you stop complaining?” Art hissed, annoyed.

“Hey, this is all your fault for getting us stuck out here!”

“Oh my god, if you don’t shut up, I’m going to take out your other leg,” Art threatened. “Mercer still wants you dead.”

Eddie glowered but said nothing.

Leo crouched beside John and shook his arm. “John. Come on, man. We must get into the van. We’ll help you carry Scottie inside.”

“My brother’s dead,” John whispered as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

Leo thinned his lips. “I know. I know. But we have to get out. I need to—” he pointed at Scottie’s pockets, “—look for the van’s keys.”

John closed his eyes and, after a beat, nodded his head.

Leo ruffled through Scottie’s pockets but didn’t find the keys anywhere. “Shit. It’s not here—”

He glanced over to the Goliath. Peeking out of his belt was the unmistakable glint of the van’s keys against the beams of his flashlight, dangling like a carrot. Leo stood up and checked the gun’s magazine.

Only one bullet left.

“Give me the gun, Leo. Let me do it,” John said lowly.

“Huh?”

“Let me shoot this motherfucker in the head.”

“John—”

“I brought Scottie here, Leo. This is all my fault.” John raised a hand and got up.

“No, this is not your fault—”

“It is. We’re supposed to move to Chicago, you know. Leave all this behind. Find honest work.” He looked down at Scottie’s body and held in another sob. “Give me the gun.”

Leo hesitated for a moment before he handed it to him.

“Thanks.” John cleared his throat and sauntered over to the Goliath. His hand slightly shaking from the adrenaline.

“Come on, come on,” I muttered anxiously. The Goliath only had a few seconds left before he could move again.

They would take the van and escape my dungeon if they took out the Goliath. I’m still uncomfortable having people who have seen the cabin and the Goliath. Who knows what they would do? Since they probably had a bunch of criminal records, I doubted they’d go to the authorities and report Scottie’s death since Eddie would just accuse them of kidnapping and assault. Then again, they might kill him just to avoid Mercer’s wrath.

Leo’s too aware that the cabin should not exist in the first place. He might start asking questions about who owned it and discover no property records or a paper trail in city hall. Technically, this was still owned by the federal government.

There was still a sliver of a chance they’d call the authorities anyway. People did stupid things during their grief, and John might do just that. He already felt responsible for Scottie’s death. He might have the brightest idea of turning himself to the authorities to make up for it, leading them to me.

Fuck.

I’m not taking any chances. I’m only a day old as a Dungeon Core and already risking my hide to the outside world. I had to nip this in the bud.

The demon was still not in the area to stop them, nor was it aware we had visitors in the dungeon. I couldn’t count on the Siren since she was supposed to prevent anyone from escaping via the lake, and I didn’t think these men would be near the water for some time. The Old Growth would be the next best thing, but his main job was to stop anyone from leaving via the road.

This story originates from NovelFire. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I quickly flew over to where Old Growth was and realized it was only a few paces away behind the tree line, perched on the gnarled trunk and twisted limbs of a tree. It appeared no different from the surrounding forest in the dark mist, camouflaged within the shadows.

Its limbs were long and sinewy, resembling twisted vines. It had four arms, the first two ending in a sharp javelin-like appendage, while the last two were made for grasping. The creature had no mouth, only a pair of eyes glowing a malevolent shade of emerald green, and surveyed the driveway below with curious fascination.

Old Growth unfurled its limbs with a sickening thud, stretching them outward as if ready to pounce, and stood around six feet tall. The tree trembled as its massive weight shifted. Slowly and methodically, its grotesque form slid down the trunk like a serpent on the prowl, its gaze scanning between the Goliath and John’s approaching form.