The Cabin Is Always Hungry

DEAD PACIFICA

Part 11

I watched through the security cameras as Emily Jurek cut through the stillness of the infinity pool with steady strokes, her goggles fogging slightly as she reached the edge of the pool on the rooftops of The Ritz-Carlton.

She and Retto had been in Portland for three days now, living the typical curated life of an influencer power couple that would surely make all of their followers salivate with envy, especially those millennial and older Gen-Z women from Utah (who were surprisingly her biggest demographic). It had been the perfect mini-vacation for them, getting in-touch and collaborating on some fun videos with their other non-LA influencer friends who lived in the city (why they didn’t just move to LA, which would be a lot easier for their careers and social life, was lost to her) before they headed off to film for Hell Rock Live.

She paused by the edge of the pool, gripping the sleek tile, and looked out over the city. From twenty stories up, Portland was just waking up. The light rose into a bruised purple across the skies, bleeding into a soft orange behind the silhouette of Mount Hood. There, I delved into the woman’s mind. Emily wished she could stay right here with the saunas, the plethora of amazing restaurants nearby (the food scene on this stretch of the coast was amazing!), and the unlimited spa packages while the others go off traipsing through a haunted forest.

What the hell, Emily? Why did you even agree to that? She thought, and for a second, she wanted to tell Retto and Dylan that she was backing out of the show.

Maybe she should listen to her gut. Like all previous delvers, I let their instinct guide them to the ultimate decision: delve or abandon the dungeon. Even when they didn’t know what I asked of them, the trajectory they pushed themselves in, or knew about the dungeon’s true nature, humans were quite perceptive when it came to sensing danger and when they were the prey. Plenty of would-be delvers had turned around to take a different road, missed a flight, got sick, got too lazy on the weekend, canceled a booking, or took heed of the dreams I sent them.

Who knew that multiple missed snooze alarms could spare a person from joining a delve that ultimately would lead to their friends going missing, never to be seen again?

Or a bout of Covid and a few days of quarantine spared Molly Redding from joining her husband and his friends on a hike into the woods? She was not alone. A handful of would-be delvers also suffered from one illness or another, taking themselves out of the deadly hunt while their friends or families played in their stead at the cost of their lives.

Maybe Emily Jurek and some of the Dead Pacifica crew were going to be spared from such a grisly fate. After all, I created my dungeon not for the faint of heart. So far, all of them were heading straight to me. I was more than grateful for their lack of survival instincts and ignorance.

Well, this meant I was guaranteed a feast, at least, I thought.

Emily blamed Retto Kearns for dragging her to a show in the middle of nowhere, of course. They’d been dating for a long time that he should have known that she hated the outdoors. Wherever Retto went, she’d always be one step behind him and looking over his shoulder. Many of his annoying fans were already calling her awful names that she was some controlling psycho who was just jealous of the more beautiful women throwing themselves at her boyfriend, using cringe terms that punched down at what they believed were her inadequate breast size, her appearance, or just being a woman.

That’s the nature of the terminally online, I guess. You know, they should touch grass more often, or better yet, talk to a real woman, Emily thought bitterly.

She couldn’t care less. Retto was the type of person who trusted everyone and even would befriend a complete stranger. Sometimes that got him into so much trouble over the years that she had to bail him out a dozen times. It explained why he was friends with Dylan—of all people—in all these years. She didn’t tell Retto this, but Dylan Griffin was not one of Emily’s favorite people.

Not by a longshot.

Emily liked to imagine herself as the angel on her boyfriend’s shoulder, pulling him away from doing dumb things that would seriously get him hurt (like purposely being stuck on a rickety raft on an alligator-infested Everglades for twenty-four hours just for a stupid challenge), or get him in trouble from the law (drugging several of his friends with a date-rape drug as a prank at a nightclub). Emily blamed Dylan’s low-brow content influencing him for that. Retto used to be soft-spoken in his older videos, just posting about gym and workout techniques, and the occasional movies and video games he liked that week. Emily would trade that version of him over the one currently sharing her bed in a heartbeat.

She checked her waterproof watch. She’d been doing laps for forty minutes, some meditation meant to drown out the hum of anxiety in her chest. Her followers might not believe her every time she mentioned it—sometimes calling her a fake, performative attention seeker—because she projected this outgoing Queen Bee persona online, but a couple of doctors have treated her for crippling anxiety since the age of twelve. Slipping into Emily Jurek, TikTok star, was just a coping mechanism.

And I’ll be spending my time in the middle of the goddamn woods, she thought bitterly again. Her anxiety would just kick her on the butt the entire weekend. She was sure of that.

Though Emily hated camping, a part of her was still very excited about the project. It was going to be the biggest collab of her career; an immersive, live-streamed investigation into a stretch of timber that local legends claimed was filled with all kinds of horrible things. And what was so scary about it was that most of the stories about these missing people were true and were on the news a lot (Emily was also a big fan of the podcast and listened to all of the episodes). Retto was already prepping his gear since last night, vibrating with that boyish, rugged energy that usually charmed her. He was the kind of man who looked at any mountain—or anything outdoorsy and dangerously dumb—and saw a challenge; Emily looked at a mountain and saw a lack of reliable Wi-Fi and too many ways to twist an ankle and die slowly from dehydration. She watched plenty of Forensic Files to know many husbands took their wives into the woods for this reason.

This will be good for me, she insisted. So what if I suffer through Dylan’s antics? I’m sure he’s planning on pranking us all. But the show will be good for me. This will be good for my career.

She took a deep breath and swam another lap before she woke her boyfriend at their hotel room for the free breakfast.

Emily and Retto weren’t the only ones staying at the hotel. Dylan shared the same floor as them, just five doors down from theirs. Two floors below, Collette and Megan each had their own rooms, but were next to each other. They came on the same flight with Big Mac and Owen before the latter two drove to Point Hope to set up for the production. Heidi flew a day before with the rest of the technical crew, and made sure all their local guests for the pre-taped interviews signed those pesky legal papers their lawyers drafted weeks ago.

By noon, Dylan drove them down I-5 on a black Range Rover rental with no care for the speed limit while his poor assistant, Billy Swanson, drove from behind with most of their luggage, and trying to catch up to them without alerting any speed traps or a state trooper.

They made a stop at a brand-new brewery and vineyard for brunch, and so that they could have an excuse to buy several bottles of expensive booze for the after-show. Anyway, they were paid to be there by the winery, which was owned by another out-of-touch millionaire A-list celebrity, hoping to capitalize on these influencers being in the area. The group was gold mine for the winery, and given Dylan’s fame, agreed to have their meals compensated, free of charge.

They filmed everything, goofing off throughout while annoying several of the guests in the vineyard. Dylan decided to post some shorts to hype up Hell Rock Live. Megan did a couple of skits with Collette and Retto as a play on Bridgerton as out-of-touch rich jackasses hearing about a spicy scandal while they ate off a charcuterie board and threw glasses of wine and cheese at each other every time the scandal got more ridiculous and outrageous. Emily also filmed for her channel, showing her road-trip makeup tutorials as well as the various candid shots of the others enjoying a nice brunch at the winery.

Then, the group took the Highway 22 exit off Salem, and headed straight for the mountains.

Retto set up a GoPro camera on the dashboard as they made their own version of carpool karaoke, singing at the top of their lungs to several popular songs. I noticed that Collette couldn’t keep her hands off from touching Dylan, who was still the one behind the wheel. The woman knew what she wanted and she wanted to be Dylan’s next girlfriend, or just sleep with him. She’d take either outcome. She had her eyes on Dylan since Owen and Heidi casted her for the show, and it would be funny if one of the most famous people on the internet decided to film their escapades with her for one night in the scariest woods of North America. Dylan already gave her the go-ahead to do some spicy content live during the stream, but she had to use her own equipment, which was fine with her. Dylan wouldn’t go for it anyway (with all the image he had to protect and all, but a sex-tape would surely fucking make him more famous, if Collette was being honest) but the two had been having fun flirting with each other lately since they arrived in Oregon. Why not push her luck a little?

However, as they pulled into a weathered gas station on the edge of Brighton, Collette’s focus shifted to a different kind of prey. She already found the perfect man for the video she promised to her fans yesterday.

“So, how long have you known Billy?” Collette asked Emily in the convenience store while she watched Billy through the window standing by the pumps. The girls were perusing through the aisles while the boys scoured for cheap beer to buy.

Outside, Billy seemed to feel the weight of her gaze. He squinted toward the store, but the glare on the glass turned the windows into an opaque mirror, blinding him to Collette’s slow, predatory wave.

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “No, Collette. Absolutely not.”

“But be honest. He’s handsome, right? He’s tall with a jawline. Twinky like Chalamet. Just my type. Does he have a girlfriend? Do you think he’s got like a massive dick?”

“You’re gonna do it with Billy Swanson?” Emily hissed, glancing toward the back of the store where the boys were deciding over Bud Light, Pabst, or Keystone. “He’s barely old enough to drink legally.”

“So he’s an adult. Gotcha. Is he single or not?”

“No. I mean, I don’t think so?”

“Oh, good! I looked up my followers last night and his name popped up,” Collette said with a satisfied grin cutting across her face. “He’s a fan.”

“I thought you had a scene partner lined up for your private Stream,” Emily reminded her.

“He had surgery for his shoulder so he cancelled at the last minute,” Collette shrugged, as if discussing a missed hair appointment.

“But why him?”

“He’s seen plenty of me already. He’s gotta touch the merchandise at some point.”

“What are we talking about?” Megan rounded the corner, her basket already overflowing with a pile of nutritional nightmare. “Hey, do you guys like mint Oreos? Takis? Can we get these? No?”

“No mint Oreos. No Takis.” Emily turned back to Collette. “Look, Billy’s been working for Dylan and Retto for less than a year. I don’t really know much about him besides he likes Japanese cartoons.”

“It’s called anime, you slut,” Megan corrected cheerfully, tossing a bag of beef jerky into the pile. “Ooh, Red Vines! Everyone loves those. Have you ever dipped them in salsa? I did M&Ms with sriracha and mayo for a sketch once. It sounds awful but spicy candy goes hard.”

“Candy with salsa, Megs? Are you insane? Go buy normal candies, please?” Emily waved her off. “Anyway, leave Billy alone. He’s so sweet and innocent. You can’t do that.”

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Are you trying to fuck the help, Collette?” Megan asked. “You know what? Go for it. Might be the best thing that man ever’s gonna do all weekend crawling after Dylan around. Poor bastard.”

Collette’s face lit up. “See? Megan’s into it.”

Megan put up a peace sign. “I’m all for class and income equality, babes,” Megan said. “No dicks left untouched is my motto in life. I call it…flesh equality. We’re humans. We’re animals. We’re made for fucking.”

“Seriously? That’s the best thing you can come up with?” Emily rolled her eyes. “Gross. But Billy’s sweet.”

“Um, you said that already.”

“He’s more of a romantic, I think.”

Collette arched her brows and leaned forward. “Am I sensing some kind of jealousy here? Do you have a crush on Billy?”

“What? I don’t have a crush on him. I have a boyfriend!” What Emily didn’t like to say was that she was very uncomfortable with how comfortable Collette and Megan were talking about sex. She was no prude, but it’s something that should only be discussed in private and not in a freaking gas station. Maybe that’s why those mormon housewives like me so much, she thought.

“Afraid he’ll say yes?” Collette pressed on.

“What? No! He’s like my kid brother, Collette. Quit being nasty. Billy is his own person, okay? He’s trying to get famous like Dylan and Retto, like everyone in LA. Have you seen the way he looks at them? He’s a lost puppy who wants to dry hump their legs, hoping their luck rubs off on him.” And Emily hated the thought of Collette sleeping with men she knew from day-to-day. She didn’t think she could talk to Billy face-to-face the next morning knowing Collette had done things to him in front of a camera. The vibes were never going to be the same.

“Well, doing porn is an honest job that makes people famous, love,” Collette said. “Sex work is still a legitimate industry and plenty of people get famous from it. I can give him that opportunity.”

Megan showed them her basket filled with junk food and a couple boxes of condoms, and for some reason, half a dozen cans of black beans. “Do you think this is enough?”

Emily shrugged, ignoring the beans. “Looks fine to me. We’re using Retto’s credit card anyway.”

“Oh?” Megan grinned. “Well, in that case, I’m gonna have these then.” She reached out, snagging a pair of hideous, neon-orange-and-blue sunglasses from a rotating rack and sliding them on. “How do I look?”

“You’ll fit right in Florida, Megs,” Emily said. “Let’s just pay, okay? I want to get to Point Hope before sunset. Also, can we get like a box of OB?”

“Well, if your boyfriend’s paying…” Collette walked over to a small section on the shelves filled with mass paperback books and plucked a thick Brandon Sanderson novel from the row. “I’ve been dying to read this ever since it came out.”

“Didn’t you like buy two books from the bin at LAX?” Megan asked.

“So? I finished them yesterday.” Collette paused and went back to shelf to pick up an Octavia Butler. “Thanks for the reminder, Megs. Gotta buy extra just in case. It’s going to be a long weekend.”

Dylan and Retto met up with them at the counter, each with two twelve-pack beers of Pabst Blue Ribbon and Bud Light. Emily asked them why they bothered getting more alcohol when they got champagne and wine from the vineyard, but Retto swore these were for the breaks during filming. They’re saving the expensive stuff for the party.

An old man in his sixties—John on his name tag—stood behind the counter and scanned all the items while Retto also paid for the gas that Billy pumped earlier. Beside John, a kid in his early twenties was leaning against a display of old DVDs, his thumbs flying across a cracked smartphone screen.

“Stock the damn shelves, Ian,” John barked without looking up. “Those box have been sitting in the back for thirty minutes. Move.”

The kid jumped, nearly dropping his phone, and scurried toward the back of the store. John turned his attention back to the influencers, his pale eyes tracking over Dylan’s designer hoodie and Emily’s petite Gucci bag. Ian returned with a box filled with instant ramen.

“So…where are you kids headed?” John asked. “You kids going camping or something?”

“Something like that,” Dylan said, leaning against the counter. “We’re actually pushing up toward Point Hope. Near McLaren Forest.”

The rhythmic beep-beep-beep of the scanner stopped. Ian looked over his shoulder, his eyes wide.

Dylan and the others sensed the change of mood immediately. “I reckon you guys know about McLaren Forest?”

Without a word, Retto slipped his iPhone from his pocket and began filming, keeping the frame tight on John’s weathered face.

“We’re in Brighton, son,” John said, his hands finally moving again, though slower now. “Everyone out here knows them mountains. But we know better than to go looking for what’s inside ‘em.”

“Tell them about the curse,” Ian called out from the aisle. “Tell them about the death curse.”

John’s head snapped toward the boy. “What did I tell you? Stock the shelves!”

As Ian scurried away and vanished back into the storeroom, Dylan leaned in closer. “I’m sorry. A death curse?”

John sighed and tried to play it off. "It’s just local folklore. You grow up around here, you hear all sorts of things just to kill the boredom. Stories you city-folk usually wouldn’t believe anyway.”

“Try us,” Dylan said. “We’re open-minded.”

John stopped again, leaning his calloused palms on the counter. He looked Dylan and Retto dead in the eye, his expression shifting from annoyed to a sincere one. "If you’re as open-minded as you say, then listen to me: get in your car, turn around, and don't look back. Don't go into those woods."

Retto stifled a grin behind the camera. This was gold, he thought. High-tier engagement bait, and he imagined creating a short for it as a teaser for Hell Rock Live tomorrow. Emily, however, felt a cold finger of dread traced her spine. She was tired, she wanted to lay preferably on a bed, and the way the old man was looking at them didn't feel like a performance for the gullible tourists. Still, she had an ear for content, and she knew Retto and Dylan were salivating.

“What’s in those woods?” Dylan asked.

John paused. “Death.”

“Death?”

The old man took a deep breath as if preparing himself. “Some places are just cursed with bad luck, you know. McLaren Forest and North Cedar Lake, and to an extent, Point Hope, suffered from it. Many people go missing in them woods. Some found brutally mutilated without any explanation of how they met their ends. Those trees have witnessed countless deaths over the decades that it is very hard to keep track of that everyone just simply took it as part of life around here. But none can deny that there is a darkness waiting under them woods. It reaches out even here in Brighton, infecting us with its darkness.”

“What kind of stories do you hear?” Dylan pressed on.

“We know of The Goliath.”

“The Goliath?” Collette asked, her interest piqued.

“He’s a serial killer in the late eighties and the early nineties,” Retto said. “We did a two-parter in the pod several episodes ago. Killed like nine hikers across McLaren Forest, including four college kids who were camp counselors for a summer camp.”

Megan laughed. “Isn’t that the plot of Friday the 13^th?”

But John didn’t laugh. “Jason Voorhees is fiction, but The Goliath is very much real to everyone who lives around here.”

“What’s his name?” Collette asked.

“John Doe.”

“Isn’t that a placeholder?”

John shrugged. “Eh, no one really knows his real name. Not even the feds. People say he was a drifter just passing by, that he was ex-military, and was some secret special operator for those big three-letter agencies. Some say he snapped because of some trauma overseas, started killing all of those people, but my pops always told me that the death curse has infected him.”

I was surprised that even my [ Rumor ] for Goliath has surpassed the boundaries of Point Hope and had reached as far as Brighton. I wondered if it also extended out to Groveland (the next town over), or even as far as Portland. I never heard of this curse though, but I chucked it as The System doing its thing warping reality for humans to interpret the [ Rumor ] I presented to the world. In this case, John, and the people of Brighton, believed his murder spree that gave him his name to be the effects of some witchy forest curse.

“What happened to him?” Collette asked, stepping closer.

“Died like an animal,” John said. “State police and the feds hunted him into a corner in the woods, some old shack he used as a shrine out of the body parts of his victims. They gunned him down Bonny and Clyde-style. At least, that’s the official story.”

Dylan’s eyes lit up. “But they never actually found a body, right?”

“So they say,” John grunted. He narrowed his eyes, looking at the two men properly for the first time. “You kids know a lot about this stuff. Who are you?”

“We’re podcasters,” Retto said. “But I like to consider ourselves independent investigative journalists.”

“Holy shit!” Ian exclaimed. “They’re Dead Pacifica! I knew I recognized you two from somewhere!”

“The who?” John asked, confused.

“Dead Pacifica, John. That show about the murders near North Cedar Lake from last year? The devil cult?”

“Ah. I see.” John was nodding, but it was clear he had no idea what a podcast even was. But he could clearly tell that Dylan and Retto were supposed to be famous.

Ian asked for their autograph, which the boys were more than happy to do. They even took a couple of selfies with him. John quietly finished scanning all of their groceries and packed their stuff in brown paper bags. He passed the pack of Pabst to Dylan.

“If I were you, boy, I wouldn’t go stirring up the spirits living in those woods. Else, they will curse you, too,” John said.

“Don’t worry about us, man,” Dylan said. “I’ve got plenty of people around me.”

“Hm. I don’t think that will help at all. But good luck, kid. You’re gonna need it.”

Once they walked out of the gas station, Dylan and Retto were giddy with excitement. They loaded up all of their groceries into the back of the Range Rover.

“Dude, did you get all of that in film?” Dylan asked.

“The entire thing,” Retto said. “First episode material?”

Dylan nodded. “I think so, too.”

“I think we just met our first harbinger,” Emily said.

Dylan scrunched up his brows. “Um, harbinger?” But the way Dylan said it sounded like he already knew what it meant. He turned to look at Retto, and the other boy froze for a moment.

“I was telling Emily my own theories, alright? She’s my girlfriend. I tell her everything. And like, I thought if I don’t verbalize it, I’m gonna go fucking crazy.”

“They’re good theories, Dylan. Very creepy, which you’ll know the audience will love. You two should seriously put it in the show,” Emily said, loading in the last bag.

Dylan sighed. “But you’re not getting it. Yes, we are a horror show, but we’re a grounded horror show. There’s a difference. We talk about the crime, but we don’t talk about literal ghosts.”

“We’ve talked about supernatural stuff a lot in the show. Just saying,” Retto said.

“We do, but in the context of the crime, Retty. That’s the schtick. I’m the skeptic, you’re the weirdo.”

“Who’s the harbinger?” Megan asked. “And who’s the weirdo?”

Emily smiled. “Oh, you’re gonna love this. So, you listen to the podcast right?”

“Not all of the episodes. I just listen to the highlights on my reels,” Megan admitted.

“Not a problem.” Emily looped her arm into Megan’s. “Well, Retto believes that the forest is a literal entity filled with all kinds of supernatural stuff.”

“Babe, you’re making me sound crazy,” Retto said.

Emily laughed. “I’m not even getting to the best part yet. So, do you remember those people who almost went to the mountains, right? And saw all of their friends going missing or murdered, or died from tragic accidents?”

Megan nodded. “They interviewed them on the show.”

“Yup. A couple of them remembered talking to people warning them about going into the mountains, but Retto asked the other survivors if they’ve also experienced the same thing. Turns out they’ve encountered someone warning them from entering the woods.”

“I call it checkpoints,” Retto said.

Dylan rolled his eyes as he closed the hatch. “Oh, here we go again.”

“Here’s my theory: three days before we enter the mountains, we receive what I call the three checkpoints. These are chances to turn back and leave. And then, you’re safe. The harbinger’s obviously the first because, oh! Look at the time, Dylan? It’s three days away from the livestream.”

“Fuck off,” Dylan huffed.

“But what’s the harbinger exactly?” Megan asked.

“They’re the ones who literally tell you to leave. Like that old man,” Retto explained. “Very consistent and they always show up in all of the survivors’ testimonies.”

“Are you saying that John guy is a ghost?”

“No, not a ghost, Megs. Are you even listening?” Retto hissed. “ The forest projects some sort of psychic field across its vicinity, and I thought Point Hope might be affected, but it looks like this town is, too.”

“A psychic field?”

“I know. Sounds crazy, right?” Emily wiggled her eyebrows.

“Because it fucking is,” Dylan said under his breath. “Can we please just get into the car? Wait, where’s Collette?”

They searched around for her only to find her talking to a red-cheeked Billy by his car. She then told them that she’d be riding with Billy on the way to Point Hope, which Billy was more than happy to do. Megan gave her a thumbs up while Emily was not pleased that Collette was going to go for it, and Billy seemed receptive. Dylan also found it strange that Collette was suddenly talking to one of his assistants, but he was too preoccupied with Retto’s can of worms that he ushered them into the car so that they could leave.

“Why are you calling them survivors when they’re not even part of it?” Megan asked.

“Retto thinks they survived McLaren Forest’s influence and escaped, so they’re a survivor in his books,” Emily explained.

“You said there were three checkpoints. What are the other two?” Megan asked.

“Please, don’t humor him,” Dylan said as he started driving out of the gas station. Retto was more than happy to share the theory he had been cooking for months that Dylan refused to put on the podcast.

“The second checkpoint are the dreams.”

“More like nightmares, babe,” Emily corrected.

Retto continued. “All of the friends and family members of those who went missing remembered having these odd and weird dreams prior to the disappearances. Only a few remembered seeing a mountain. Do you know what mountain that is?”

Megan smiled. “Mount Selene?”

“Bingo! They all consistently dream of the forest and the lake, too. Sometimes a cabin, but that’s rare. One of the missing wrote dream journals and two nights before she went into the forest, she wrote about a dream where she was trapped inside a cabin in the woods. Sound familiar?”

Megan visibly shudder, which only made Emily laugh. “Okay…yeah. That’s fucking creepy and weird alright. What’s the third checkpoint?”

“Sightings,” Emily said. “The survivors saw some weird stuff before or the day of their trip into the forest.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Weird shit,” Retto said. “They couldn’t explain it, but it felt like they were being watched. Things moving around. Hearing voices that aren’t here. People spying on them. That kind of stuff.”

“These are actually pretty good. I’m actually creeped out right now. Why aren’t these in your pod, Dylan?” Megan asked.

Dylan heaved another sigh. He’s heard of Retto’s theories before. “Because, Megs, they’re bullshit. And we’re not a ghost hunters podcast.”

“We’re literally doing a livestream trying to stay in a haunted forest until dawn, Dylan,” Retto said.

“Well yeah, that’s just called entertainment, dude. And we’re making money off of it by literally standing in the middle of the woods at night. It’s the easiest money we've done.”

Retto clapped him on the shoulder. “Nah, man. I think you’re just scared of all that stuff.”

“Fuck you. I’m not scared.Do I look like I’m scared?”

Emily joined in with the ribbing. “Sounds like you are, Dylan.”

“Alright, I’m fucking done with this.” Dylan quickly turned back on the music to change the subject, and dialed the volume up.

Retto was smart, and I was impressed that he figured part of my Act I routine. But he forgot a fourth checkpoint that I presented to the delvers. Probably because those would-be delvers he interviewed behind Dylan’s back had never encountered it before.

The Selection Chamber.

Open it or ignore and leave.

But once opened, it was already too late to stop what was coming.

Retto, Retto, Retto. I wonder who your hunter is going to be?

Well, at least I knew now who to give the first nightmare.

Dylan Griffin.