By: Aithne
The jovial atmosphere inside the private jet, carrying Columtreal University’s cheerleaders and their boosters toward sunny Orlando, was abruptly ended. Not by turbulence, but by a jagged spear of lightning that ripped through the wing with savage force. What began as a journey to a Disney cheerleading competition became a plummeting descent into the suffocating darkness of a nameless forest, somewhere along the Gulf Coast. This fiery descent wasn’t just a crash; it was the violent collision point of three separate tragedies, their individual tolls yet uncounted: the disaster itself, the chilling domain of a serial killer, and the desperate flight of a young woman escaping an island of depravity.
Amidst the twisted metal and terrified screams, Ulric Merlin found himself surprisingly lucid, the impact leaving him with only a throbbing bump on his head. A student at Columtreal, member of Lambda Obscura, and part-time employee at Comiquities comics, Ulric channeled adrenaline into action, pulling two other survivors from the smoldering wreckage. Injuries ranged from cuts and bruises to severe trauma. The able tended to the wounded near the crash site, a grim tableau under the whispering canopy. Driven by the urgent need for real shelter, Ulric pushed into the oppressive woods. He found it: a cabin. But relief curdled into dread. This was no hunter’s haven. Grotesque figures, human bodies, were strung from the surrounding trees like nightmarish ornaments – trophies of the cabin’s absent owner. Yet, shelter was shelter. They moved the injured inside, trading the elements for an atmosphere thick with unseen menace.
Inside, Eliana Noë – a Columtreal sophomore, squad supporter, and Blue Wag Bistro employee – recounted a bizarre episode. Seeking warmth, they’d fed ancient-looking books found in the cabin into a makeshift fire. Instead of just heat, the flames seemed to summon a writhing, croaking tide of poisonous frogs, forcing a frantic battle for space until the amphibious wave finally receded.
Their crucible, however, was far from over. Another narrative strand was weaving its way toward them through the darkness. Jessica Marie Hansen, stolen from her Des Moines home eleven years prior and warped by a shadowy organization, had been escaping that very night. Fleeing an attack on her captors’ hidden island complex with one of her ‘Masters’ by boat, the storm that downed the plane also claimed her captor, capsizing their vessel. Jessica washed ashore, drawn by the glow of the plane fire. She followed the survivors’ trail to the cabin, an unknown figure emerging from the woods. Fear breeds suspicion; finding bodies hanging near their refuge made the survivors wary of this stranger. They caught her, Eliana bound her to a tree, and two sets of terrified eyes scrutinizing each other across an abyss of trauma.
Jessica possessed little more than the clothes on her back and a diary – a standard issue for the girls stolen by the group. Its pages contained a harrowing chronicle of eleven years of methodical degradation: innocence stolen, psyche fractured, body surgically altered with massive breast implants. She detailed a world where submission to repeated rape was the only path to meager comforts, a chilling testament to depravity. Now, after more than a decade, she found herself among people not actively seeking her violation, though her captors were understandably frayed and suspicious. Slowly, precariously, a fragile trust formed. Jessica was unbound and eventually allowed to join the desperate hunting parties venturing into the woods.
Survival demanded resilience, tested brutally when Ayumi, one of the cheerleaders, went into labor within the grim cabin walls. Eliana later described the delivery, aided by two other cheerleaders, Buffy and Jessika (possessing some medical training), with harrowing bluntness: “a woman shoving her hand up another’s uterus to pull a baby out.” Miraculously, twins were born, alive and seemingly well, mewling defiance against the encircling dread.
The forest continued its strange assaults. During one hunt, a wild wolf burst past the party. In a baffling display, a cheerleader named Shilo leaped onto its back, vanishing into the trees like a scene from a myth before Ulric managed to track her down and retrieve her from her feral ride. Danger lurked closer too. Bear traps, hidden with lethal intent, ringed the cabin. Buffy, one of the impromptu midwives, screamed as steel jaws clamped onto her leg. Again, Ulric was central to the frantic effort to free her. Chastened, the group scoured the immediate area, disabling every trap they could find. But hunger gnawed relentlessly. Rations dwindled, forcing more frequent, riskier hunts.
Then, the owner returned. The serial killer, finding his sanctuary invaded, his traps sprung, stalked back towards his cabin. He spotted Ulric, still searching the perimeter. An arrow hissed past Ulric’s head, slicing his cheek. Whirling, Ulric faced the maniac, who lunged, raving about the cheerleaders, snarling that Ulric was in his way. A brutal fight erupted. The killer’s blade slashed Ulric’s arm and leg, then plunged twice into his abdomen. Fueled by desperation, Ulric slammed his forehead into the attacker’s face. A sickening crack echoed – the killer’s nose breaking – sending the man staggering back into the forest’s embrace.
For Ulric, darkness swallowed everything. His next conscious memory was the sterile white of an HGH hospital room. Jessica, returning from a separate hunt, found the cabin swarming with police lights and uniforms, suggesting the killer’s reign, while perhaps not over, was now the subject of a major investigation.
How long were they trapped in that horrific intersection? Over a week, certainly, perhaps longer. Seven days or more suspended between a fiery crash, a killer’s lair, and the victim of unspeakable crimes. Columtreal welcomes back its survivors with profound relief, while mourning those claimed by the disaster and the darkness that followed.
