One rainy day, six teenagers (along with some recording equipment) were sent out into the wilds of the Pacific Northwest. Their mission: to combat the paranormal while still making a multi-million dollar grossing feature film. They have yet to return. . . .

Day Three (cont.)

Jean-Pierre had gone too far. Paul crashed through the vent screen, turning in midair to land on his feet. He rushed the taller man, not wanting to risk accidentally wounding Raven should he fire the gun. Jean-Pierre whirled quickly to face Paul, revealing disturbing completely black eyes. His speed and the otherworldly eyes confirmed Paul's suspicion that Jean-Pierre was indeed one of the undead. He did make a very handsome corpse, however.

Paul fired the .357 Magnum, but he missed the heart by several inches. Jean-Pierre howled at the pain of silver ammunition ripping through his chest. Moving quicker than he could see, Jean-Pierre struck the weapon from Paul's hand. It skidded into a corner of the room, far out of Paul's reach. The vampire revealed a sinister grin, complimented by gleaming white fangs. He advanced on the slayer, but Paul knew better than to meet the vamp eye to hypnotic eye. That had been Raven's problem. He suddenly remembered that he had neglected that part of the lesson the other day.

Jean-Pierre seized the advantage of his opponent's momentary distraction and wrapped his long, delicate-looking hands around Paul's throat, pinning him to the wall. "I do despise party crashers," Jean-Pierre drawled, lifting Paul up until his feet dangled helplessly.

Paul gripped the vamp's arms to give himself enough space to breathe. "Raven! Wake up!" He choked a little and his vision blurred as his brain's oxygen supply was running out. He went limp and feigned unconsciousness, hoping Jean-Pierre would loosen his grip. He dropped Paul to the floor and turned to Raven. Jean-Pierre bent down to pick her up when Paul swung a wooden chair into his back. The chair shattered on impact, but Jean-Pierre was startled and angered enough to drop Raven. He advanced on Paul again, seething hatred.

The short fall was enough to jar Raven into consciousness. Her vision cleared in time to see Jean-Pierre about to cut Paul's vampire-hunting career very short. She sat up and removed her dagger carefully concealed in a thigh sheath and hurled it at Jean-Pierre, deliberately missing anything vital. The vamp screeched in pain and staggered backwards, trying to reach for the knife in his back.

"For the record, I still don't need a man to take care of me."

"We can argue feminist politics later." Raven's knife throwing act bought just enough time for Paul to grab one of the broken chair legs. He jumped up just as Jean-Pierre was about to grab him. He ducked under Jean-Pierre's swinging fist and plunged the wood scrap into his heart. Jean-Pierre stiffly fell backwards, landing on the floor with a thud.

"What in Brighid's name did you do?" Considering what she'd just witnessed, Raven was relatively calm. Actually, she was in a quiet form of shock.

"I staked him. That's what I do."

"I thought Elisa was the target. Why did he . . ."

"Apparently rich and dumb weren't absolute requirements."

She was silent for a moment. "How did you know?"

Paul walked over to the couch and brushed her hair back over her shoulder. "I noticed this earlier." He ran a finger over two tiny punctures in the side of her neck surrounded by a faint pink and yellow bruise.

Raven averted her eyes from the body on the floor, although she wouldn't look at Paul, either. "Are you really going to . . ." She could hardly say it. "Cut his head off?"

"I have to." He sounded almost reluctant. It was one of the more gruesome parts of his job description. "Raven, he was going to make you Madame Lucre, mistress of the dark."

She was still unable to look at Paul nor Jean-Pierre's corpse. "I think I should go up to my room now," she said quietly. She rose to her feet, but before she could take a step, her head started spinning and she saw a swirling blackness before her. Her sense of equilibrium failed, and she didn't even realize she was falling until Paul caught her and scooped her up in his arms.

"Maybe I should take you upstairs before finishing up here." He gingerly stepped around the corpse and strode easily towards the door, despite the extra weight.

"I can walk," Raven protested.

"You were put under by a vampire. Most people take hours just to regain consciousness."

"Put me down."

"You're stubborn."

"I'm Irish. Now, put me down."

"I thought that made you lucky, not bull-headed."

She placed her hands firmly on his shoulders. "Let me go!"

Paul smiled. She was almost back to her old caustic self already. For now. "If you say so." He let go--literally--and she dropped. Long before she could hit the ground (relatively speaking) he grabbed her around the waist to stop her descent and lowered her until her feet touched solid ground. Raven resisted the urge to smack his smug face.

"Will you kill me if I see you to your room?"

"Kill you? No." She looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Just don't try anything funny." He hoisted her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and started up the stairs. "I didn't say anything about not maiming you," she growled. It certainly wasn't the most comfortable way to be carried, and she would have much preferred walking.

Outside her door, he put her down again. Raven motioned for him to come closer. He bent down slightly and she whispered in his ear: "Watch your back, slayer." Paul felt something cold pressed to the back of his neck. Raven removed her arm from his shoulder to display her jeweled dagger. As he stood there wondering where she'd gotten the knife from, she slipped inside the door and locked it behind her.

Day Four 9:00 a.m.

"We're leaving today." M's statement was met by various gasps and questions from the assembled group. "Our mission here is complete. The deviant vampire has been executed, thanks to Paul and Raven."

As if on cue, Elisa started gushing over Paul. Whether it was genuine or for the camera only, no one knew. "Oh, was it scary? You're just so brave to save us all from that icky vampire . . . ."

The group was starting to develop an amazing ability to tune out Elisa after awhile. Paul was trying to be modest, and Raven thought she was going to be sick. She glared across the table at Elisa, who suddenly tipped her bowl of cereal into her lap. She shrieked and started to complain more, but M hushed her.

Grant raised his hand. "Where are we going, M?"

"More importantly," Raven interrupted, "what are we looking for?"

"We will be traveling on foot into the woods searching for a witch."

"You mean we have to walk?" Elisa complained.

"What kind of witch?" Paul asked. "Voodoo, Wicca, Shamanism. . ."

"The government does not distinguish between forms of witchcraft, but this woman raises the dead."

"Is that possible?" Grant asked.

"Necromancer." Five heads turned to look at Raven. "Some vaudun priests can raise the dead although some people just have a natural ability for it."

"You mean like mummies and stuff?" Elisa asked with a shudder.

"Generally they're zombies. It would take a lot of power to raise a corpse as old as a genuine mummy."

"Paul's right. The newly dead are much easier to raise, mostly because they're not as decayed." Elisa blanched at Raven's explanation. "In theory, with enough power, a necromancer could raise a vampire during the daytime." Paul looked skeptical, but he decided against saying anything.

"Apparently this witch requires sacrifice to raise the dead, and it is believed that she has used human sacrifice on more than one occasion." M's face was grim. "We must stop her and the zombies from causing further deaths. Blair will lead us to her abode."

"But what is she doing with the zombies that require such a big death?" Raven asked.

"Big death?" Grant echoed.

"The amount of blood is proportional to the amount of power, although human sacrifice is as powerful as it gets." Raven leaned forward on the table to look at M. "Let me get this straight. We are supposed to walk into the middle of the forest hoping to just happen upon a Vaudun priestess with a motherlode of zombies?" M nodded.

"How exactly are we supposed to do that?" Paul inquired.

"Very carefully," whispered Grant.

2:39 p.m.

"Are we there yet?"

Raven gave Elisa the patented glare-of-death™ and kept following Blair as she walked through the woods. Soon Elisa started to whistle--badly--then hum, and eventually she started to sing some bubble-gum pop song. It really, really grated on Raven's nerves. Elisa noticed and sang louder; soon she started dancing along as well.

"Hey, Britney Spears, cool," Grant laughed as he joined in. Very suddenly, for no apparent reason, they simultaneously tripped and fell flat on their faces in the leaf-strewn ground. Raven snickered as she waltzed by as delicately as possible laden down with a heavy pack and the movie camera. The forest was beginning to get darker as they traveled, although sunset was still a few hours away. The forest canopy was so thick with various evergreen, redwood, maple, and birch trees that sunlight struggled to reach the ground. Soft green and brown moss covered rocks and tree trunks alike. The abundant shade made walking pleasant except for the bulky equipment everyone carried.

Raven swung the camera to and fro out of boredom until M chastised her. "Stop. You'll give the audience motion sickness."

Elisa seized the opportunity to mock Raven, laughing until her eyes widened in shock as she started to run out of oxygen. She stopped, paled, and slowly returned to normal. M and Paul exchanged concerned looks. Strange things were going on today.

5:04 p.m.

"We've been walking for hours!" Raven shouted in frustration. "I haven't seen any sign of Blair's witch!"

Blair turned to quietly stare. "We're getting close," Grant tried to assure them. "Blair says it's just another hour away."

The day was becoming very, very long. "You said that an hour ago," Elisa cried.

Even Paul looked skeptical. "You have a habit of saying 'Blair says' though I have yet to hear anything helpful."

"Uh, guys," Raven spoke softly-for her. "Please tell me this is serious déjà vu, but haven't we passed this creek already today?"

"How could we?" Paul scoffed. "We've taken a fairly straight route."

"She's right!" Elisa was near hysterics. "It is the same. We've been walking in circles! We're lost in the middle of nowhere, miles from civilization, and we don't even have a map."

"No," Paul said gently, trying to comfort her. "You're just tired and your mind is playing a cruel trick. We're almost there; we must be."

Raven gave him a look. He was the delusional one. After hours of filming, she knew that creek looked way too familiar. They were isolated in the forest and dusk was approaching. The trees already blocked all but the last faint rays of sun, and they weren't going to travel any further this evening. "Blair, enough!" Blair looked at her curiously. "I don't know where we are. I don't think you really do either, so just give it up for today. It's getting late."

M stepped in and addressed the group. "We will stop here and set up camp. Tomorrow we will continue the journey."

As soon as Paul and Raven began assembling the large tent, they heard bickering wafting from the trees where Elisa and Grant were collecting firewood.

"This is all your fault. You're always saying 'Blair said this' and 'Blair thinks that' but she doesn't even say a word to me! Maybe she doesn't know anything at all and you're the one leading us into the woods to die!" With that, she started pummeling him with a small fist.

Grant looked at her like she'd sprouted a tail or something equally ludicrous. "Why would I do that?" He grabbed her arms and held her safely away from him. "You just need to relax."

"Relax? Relax?!" she squeaked, going progressively higher. "I am, like, stuck in the middle of absolutely nowhere with five people I hardly know, at least one of whom hates me, okay? And do I have to mention the vampires, witches, and zombies, too?"

"That girl's voice could break glass," Raven muttered. "All right, can the squawking paranoia." She advanced toward the voices with Paul in tow. They found Elisa slumped against a tree sobbing.

Grant stood facing her, looking utterly bewildered. "I didn't even do anything." He tried to help her up, but she swatted at his hand.

Paul knelt down and spoke to her so quietly that the others couldn't hear a word. After a minute or two, she allowed him to help her up. They started walking back to the camp when they heard a low squeaking sound, like the moan of a hinge in desperate need of oil. It was not an indigenous sound. All four exchanged wide-eyed glances and started to run.

Back at the camp, a warm, bright fire was soon glowing in front of an olive-green hexagonal tent. It smelled of new polychloride, or some sort of plastic. Sleeping bags along with the equipment and supplies were heaped inside. The group was huddled around the fire. It wasn't exactly a cold evening, but the fire was comforting, nonetheless. Dinner was simple, and with no sort of entertainment, the general consensus was sleep. The tent was less than about 18 feet across, so the sleeping bags were laid out in two rows and were practically toe to toe.

Raven insisted on getting the corner spot nearest the semi-circular door. The fewer people she had to be near, the better. Paul took the spot across from her to help guard the door. Everyone hoped there wouldn't be a reason to have to guard it. After awhile, everyone started to drift off. Well, everyone except Raven. Grant had a tendency to snore softly, but since he was next to her, it was too loud. She couldn't fall asleep if there was noise. However, her wakefulness allowed her to almost sense rather than hear something out in the woods. She ignored it as animals or her overactive imagination. You're just freaked out about vampires, she rationalized. Then she heard it again. Definitely heard it this time. It sounded almost like whispering. Wishful thinking dictated it was someone in the tent, but the sound originated in the opposite direction. Other campers? Not likely, given how far they were from anything. Most people camped in parks or some other designated place.

When she heard it a third time, there was no denying it as a figment of her imagination made hyperactive by the absolute darkness. She kicked Paul awake--not a difficult task considering his feet were practically touching hers.

"What is it?" he asked groggily.

"Listen." The silence was marred only by a few crickets.

"I don't hear anything."

"I heard voices. Whispering."

There was another moment of silence. Paul was about to fall back asleep when he heard it: a cross between the wind and human voices. He couldn't discern any actual words. The sound caused him to bolt upright. He stared across at Raven in the darkness, or at least where she should be. He couldn't see a thing. "What was that?"

"I don't know, and I don't like it."

Paul started to unzip his sleeping bag.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go look." He reached for the flashlight he kept in the corner of the tent.

"Are you crazy?"

He unzipped the door of the tent and switched on the flashlight. The beam created an eerie column of light and way to many shadows for Raven's comfort. She climbed out of her sleeping bag, slipped on her shoes, and stepped outside the tent, next to Paul. A shadow moved out of the corner of her eye and she jumped. It was just an illusion of the flashlight, but her heart was pounding furiously. She was so wound up that she started to wonder if it was all her imagination. Somehow, going crazy just seemed more comfortable than confronting the bogeyman.

Paul started to move away from the tent, leaves crunching underneath his feet. Raven followed close behind, a silent shadow. There was nothing in sight, although the numerous trees and the darkness obscured their visibility. The whispering noise started again, but this time it came from a different direction. Raven shuddered and grabbed Paul's arm to make sure he was still really there.

"I don't think this is such a great idea," Raven whispered, shivering violently. "Why don't we look again in the morning." Paul hesitated. She could tell he was drawn by curiosity, but frankly, people die from curiosity. Raven preferred to make it to the ripe old age of twenty. "Come on." She tugged him in the direction of the tent. He followed reluctantly. Then they heard it again--the eerie mumbling was behind them and closer than it had ever been. Paul switched off the flashlight, took Raven's hand, and ran full speed back to the tent.