I’m a High School Janitor. I Watched Bullies Lock a Girl in the Abandoned Gym, But They Didn’t Realize Someone Else Was Already Waiting inside.
PART 1
Chapter 1: The Graveyard Shift
I’ve been the head custodian at Oak Creek High for fifteen years. You learn the rhythm of a building when you work the graveyard shift. You know which pipes groan when the heat kicks on, which floorboards warp in the humidity, and exactly how the wind sounds when it whistles through the cracks in the old varsity gym.
Most people think schools are peaceful at night. They aren’t. They’re heavy. They hold the energy of a thousand anxious, angry, hormonal kids during the day, and at night, that energy settles into the walls like mold.
But tonight, the sounds were wrong.
It was 11:30 PM on a Tuesday. The school should have been empty, save for the hum of my industrial floor buffer. I was working down near the West Annex—the part of the school built in the 70s that they don’t use much anymore. That’s where the old locker rooms are. Since they built the new athletic complex in 2015, the West Annex has just become a graveyard for broken desks, old wrestling mats, darkness, and dust.
I heard them before I saw them. It was the distinct squeak of expensive sneakers on linoleum. Then, the hushed, cruel giggles of teenagers who think they’re invincible.
I killed the power to my buffer. The silence rushed back in, ringing in my ears. I stepped into the shadows of the janitor’s closet, cracking the door just enough to see down the long, dimly lit corridor.
It was a group of four. Three seniors—I recognized the types immediately. Varsity jackets, expensive denim, that specific air of arrogance that comes with being seventeen and ruling the school. And then there was the fourth one. A girl I didn’t recognize.
She was small, drowning in an oversized grey hoodie, her hair messy and covering her face. She wasn’t walking with them; she was being dragged.
Chapter 2: The Dungeon
“Please,” the girl in the hoodie whimpered. It was a wet, desperate sound that made my stomach turn. “I don’t like the dark. Please, Sarah, stop. I want to go home.”
“Shut up, freak,” the blonde girl, presumably Sarah, hissed, yanking the girl’s arm harder. “You wanted to hang out with the crew, right? You wanted to be part of the inner circle? You gotta pay the toll.”
They stopped in front of Locker Room B. The students call it “The Dungeon.” The door to that room is heavy steel, painted a chipped industrial grey. It’s rusted at the hinges and hasn’t been opened for legitimate student use in a decade.
I should have stepped out then. I should have yelled, flashed my Maglite, threatened them with detention or the police. I should have sent them running.
But I froze. Not because of the bullies, but because of what I saw—or thought I saw—through the narrow, wire-mesh window of the locker room door.
Movement. Inside.
A shadow passed across the glass. It wasn’t a rat. It was tall.
The boy, a linebacker named Mike wearing a letterman jacket that was too tight across the shoulders, yanked the heavy door open. It groaned like a dying animal, metal grinding on metal. The air that rushed out of the room was stale, smelling of rot, wet concrete, and something copper-like.
“Get in there,” Mike laughed, shoving the small girl forward.
She dug her heels in, sobbing openly now. “No! It smells bad! Please, Mike!”
“Just ten minutes, Lily,” the third kid, a lanky boy with a cruel smirk, sneered. “Then maybe you can sit at our table at lunch.”
They shoved her. Hard.
Lily stumbled into the pitch-black void of the locker room, tripping over a stack of rotted gym mats. She hit the floor with a thud.
Mike slammed the door shut. He pulled a screwdriver from his pocket and jammed it into the hasp of the handle, bending the metal to lock it tight.
“Let me out!” Lily screamed from the inside, pounding on the metal. The sound echoed through the empty hallway, booming like a drum.
The three bullies were laughing, high-fiving each other. They were so busy congratulating themselves on their cruelty that they didn’t notice the temperature in the hallway drop ten degrees. They didn’t notice the absolute silence that suddenly swallowed the West Annex.
And they definitely didn’t notice that the pounding from the inside had stopped abruptly.
Then, a sound came. Not from the locker room. But from the end of the hall behind them.
It was a low, wet rasp. Like air being sucked through a crushed windpipe.
PART 2
Chapter 3: The Missing Key
The three seniors froze. Their smiles didn’t just fade; they evaporated.
Slowly, terrified, they turned around. The hallway behind them, leading back to the main school, was empty. But the lights—the long fluorescent tubes overhead—began to flicker. Buzz. Click. Buzz.
“Who’s there?” Mike called out. His voice cracked. The varsity toughness was gone, replaced by the tremble of a child.
“Probably just the janitor,” Sarah whispered, though she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “Let’s just go. Unlock her and let’s go.”
Mike turned back to the door to retrieve his screwdriver. He reached for the handle.
He stopped.
“Where is it?” Mike whispered.
“Where is what?” Sarah asked, panic rising in her throat.
“The screwdriver,” Mike said, his voice rising to a shout. “I put it right here! I jammed it in the latch!”
The latch was empty. The door wasn’t locked anymore.
But the door wouldn’t open. Mike pulled on the handle, putting his weight into it. It held fast, as if someone on the other side was pulling back with equal force.
“Lily!” Mike shouted, banging on the door. “Quit messing around! Open the door!”
Silence.
Then, the handle slowly turned from the inside.
The three kids stepped back, huddled together. The heavy steel door creaked open, just an inch.
A hand reached out from the darkness.
It wasn’t Lily’s hand.
It was massive. The skin was grey, like wet clay, and covered in sores. The fingernails were long, yellow, and jagged. It gripped the edge of the doorframe with bone-crushing strength.
Chapter 4: The Pale Man
“Run,” the lanky kid whispered.
They didn’t need to be told twice. They spun around to sprint toward the exit, but the double doors at the end of the hall—the ones leading to safety—slammed shut simultaneously.
Boom.
I was still in the closet, peering through the crack, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. I knew the stories. Every school has them. The ghost of the janitor, the student who vanished. But at Oak Creek, we had the legend of the “Pale Man.” They said a squatter had moved into the steam tunnels beneath the school years ago. I thought it was just a story to scare freshmen.
It wasn’t a story.
The thing stepped out of the locker room.
It had to be seven feet tall. It was gaunt, wearing rags that looked like shredded wrestling uniforms woven together. Its face was a nightmare—pale, hairless, with eyes that had adjusted to total darkness. They reflected the flickering hallway lights like a cat’s eyes.
And in its other hand, it held Lily.
She was unconscious, draped over its shoulder like a ragdoll.
Mike, Sarah, and the other boy were backing away, screaming now. Real, primal screams.
“Let us out!” Sarah shrieked, pounding on the exit doors. They were locked. I knew they were locked because I lock them every night at 10 PM. My keys. I needed my keys.
I patted my belt. Empty.
I looked at the floor of the closet. My keychain had fallen when I froze earlier. It was sitting just outside the closet door, gleaming under the fluorescent light.
The Pale Man turned his head. He wasn’t looking at the kids. He was sniffing the air. He smelled me.
Chapter 5: The Intervention
I had a choice. Stay hidden and pray, or do something stupid.
I kicked the closet door open.
“Hey!” I roared, my voice echoing off the lockers. I grabbed the fire extinguisher mounted on the wall. “Get away from them!”
The Pale Man hissed, a sound like steam escaping a pipe. He dropped Lily. She crumpled to the floor, groaning. At least she was alive.
The monster turned fully toward me. Up close, the smell was unbearable—sewage and old blood.
“Mr. Joe!” Mike screamed. “Help us!”
“Get the girl!” I yelled at Mike. “Grab her!”
The Pale Man lunged at me. He moved with unnatural speed, limbs flailing. I pulled the pin on the extinguisher and squeezed the trigger.
A cloud of white chemical powder blasted into the creature’s face. It shrieked, clawing at its eyes.
“Move! Now!” I commanded.
Mike, to his credit, didn’t run away this time. He scooped up Lily. The four of them scrambled behind me.
“The exit is locked!” Sarah cried.
“The boiler room,” I said, pointing to a small door near the floor buffer. “It connects to the outside vents. Go!”
The creature was recovering. It wiped the powder from its face, revealing a mouth full of jagged, brown teeth. It roared, shaking the dust from the ceiling tiles.
Chapter 6: The Boiler Room Maze
I ushered the kids into the boiler room and slammed the door, throwing the deadbolt. It wouldn’t hold that thing for long.
We were in the bowels of the school now. Hissing pipes, intense heat, and red emergency lighting.
“What was that?” the lanky kid was hyperventilating. “What is that?”
“Move,” I ordered, ignoring him. “Keep moving.”
We navigated the maze of pipes. I could hear the steel door behind us buckling. BANG. BANG. BANG. Metal tearing.
Lily began to stir in Mike’s arms. “Cold…” she murmured. “So cold.”
“We’re almost out, Lily,” Mike choked out. I could see tears streaming down his face. The bully was gone. He was just a terrified kid now.
We reached the access hatch that led to the athletic field. It was a vertical ladder, twenty feet up.
“Ladies first,” I said. “Sarah, climb. Then help Mike with Lily.”
Sarah scrambled up the ladder. Mike passed Lily up to her.
Behind us, the boiler room door exploded inward.
The Pale Man was inside. And he wasn’t alone.
From the shadows of the pipes, other shapes emerged. Smaller. Pale. There was a whole nest of them down here. We had disturbed the hive.
Chapter 7: The Sacrifice
“Go!” I screamed, shoving the lanky kid toward the ladder.
The Pale Man was charging. There was no way all of us were getting up that ladder in time. The geometry didn’t work. The speed didn’t work.
I looked at the kids. They were the ones who started this. They were the ones who bullied a girl. They were the reason we were here.
But they were kids. And I was the adult.
I grabbed a heavy wrench from a workbench.
“Mr. Joe, come on!” Mike yelled from halfway up the ladder.
“Get out of here, Mike,” I said, turning to face the darkness. “Tell the police. Tell them everything.”
I ran toward the monsters.
I swung the wrench, connecting with the Pale Man’s knee. Bone crunched. He went down, howling, tripping the ones behind him. It created a bottleneck in the narrow aisle between the boilers.
I heard the hatch above open. Fresh, cool night air drifted down.
“He’s not coming!” I heard Sarah scream.
“Go!” Mike’s voice echoed one last time.
The hatch slammed shut. They were safe.
I was alone.
I backed up against the furnace, swinging the wrench. The Pale Man stood up, his leg bent at a sickening angle. He didn’t look angry anymore. He looked… hungry.
Chapter 8: The Aftermath
I woke up in the hospital three days later.
Police found me in the boiler room. Or what was left of me. I had a concussion, three broken ribs, and bite marks on my arms that the doctors couldn’t identify. They said I was lucky to be alive. They said I must have fought off a pack of wild dogs or a transient on bath salts.
They swept the school. They found the nest in the tunnels. They found stolen food, sleeping bags, and piles of animal bones. But they didn’t find the Pale Man.
Mike, Sarah, and the other kid confessed. They told the police everything about the bullying, about locking Lily in the room. They didn’t mention the monster to the cops—they knew no one would believe them. They just said a “crazy man” attacked them.
I kept my job, but I don’t work nights anymore. I work the day shift now.
Sometimes, walking the halls during passing period, I see Mike and Lily. They sit at the same lunch table now. They don’t talk much, but they sit together. Mike carries her books.
They look at me when I walk by. We share a nod. A silent acknowledgment of the thing that lives in the dark.
But yesterday, I found something in my locker.
It was my old keychain. The one I left on the floor by the closet that night.
It was clean. Polished. And attached to it was a note, written in a jagged, frantic scrawl on a piece of dirty cardboard.
You taste bad. But the little ones will be tender.
I looked at the vents in the ceiling. I listened.
And beneath the noise of the students, beneath the bells and the laughter, I heard it.
A low, wet rasp.
They didn’t leave. They’re just waiting for the lights to go out again.
PART 3: THE ECHOES
Chapter 9: The Daywalker
The note in my locker burned a hole in my sanity. You taste bad. But the little ones will be tender.
I slammed the locker shut, the metallic clang echoing too loudly in the faculty breakroom. My hands were shaking. I had convinced myself that the sunlight was a shield. I had told myself that monsters, real monsters, followed the rules of ghost stories—they stayed in the dark, they stayed under the bed, they stayed in the boiler rooms of the world.
But this note… it was placed during the day. During my shift.
I looked around the breakroom. It was empty, save for a half-drunk pot of coffee stewing on the burner. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. 10:15 AM. Second period was in full swing.
I couldn’t just go back to mopping the cafeteria. I had to know.
I went back to the West Annex. The administration had “sealed” the locker room after the incident, welding the door shut and putting up “Asbestos Abatement” signs to keep curious kids away. But I knew the building. You don’t work a place for fifteen years without knowing its secrets.
There was a maintenance chase behind the water fountains near the library. It dropped down into the sub-basement, bypassing the sealed doors.
I squeezed through the panel, clicking on my heavy-duty flashlight. The beam cut through the dust, illuminating cobwebs that were thick as cotton.
It was quiet down here. Too quiet.
I moved toward the area where the boiler room fight had happened. The police had cleaned it up, mostly. The blood was gone, bleached away. But the smell remained. That copper, sewage smell.
I shined my light on the floor. In the dust, there were tracks. Not boot prints. Not shoes.
Bare feet. Long, elongated toes.
And they were fresh.
They led away from the boiler room, deeper into the foundation of the school. Toward the old fallout shelter that had been bricked up in the 80s.
I followed them. My heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I shouldn’t be here. I was a janitor, not a monster hunter. I was fifty-four years old with a bad back and a terrified soul.
But those kids… Mike and Lily. The note said “the little ones.”
I reached the brick wall of the fallout shelter. Except it wasn’t a solid wall anymore.
Someone—or something—had picked away the mortar. A hole, just big enough for a man (or a creature) to squeeze through, gaped in the darkness.
I leaned in to listen.
Voices.
Not the rasping hiss of the Pale Man. Human voices.
“…supply is running low,” a voice said. It sounded cultured, smooth. Familiar.
“We need more meat,” a second voice replied. This one was rougher, guttural. “He is getting restless.”
“Patience,” the smooth voice said. “The Homecoming dance is next week. The gym will be packed. Loud music. Confusion. It will be a feast.”
My blood ran cold. The Homecoming dance. Hundreds of kids. Packed into the dark gym.
I shifted my weight, and my boot crunched on a piece of loose gravel.
The voices stopped instantly.
“Did you hear that?” the rough voice hissed.
I turned off my light and backed away, holding my breath. I heard scrambling in the dark behind the wall.
I didn’t wait to see who it was. I ran. I scrambled back up the maintenance chase, scraping my knuckles, tearing my uniform. I burst back into the hallway near the library, gasping for air, sweating profusely under the fluorescent lights.
Students were changing classes. They walked around me, giving me weird looks. The crazy janitor, sweating and panting in the hallway.
I looked up. Standing at the end of the hall, watching me, was Principal Henderson.
He was smiling. It was a tight, polite smile.
“Everything alright, Joe?” he called out. His voice was smooth. Cultured.
It was the voice from behind the wall.
Chapter 10: The Conspiracy
I mumbled an excuse about a burst pipe and retreated to my closet. I locked the door and slid down to the floor, burying my head in my hands.
Principal Henderson. The man who signed my paychecks. The man who gave speeches about “student safety” and “community values.” He was feeding them. He was working with the things in the dark.
Why?
I needed proof. If I went to the police now, Henderson would spin it. He’d say I was having a breakdown, suffering from PTSD after the “attack.” He’d have me committed, and then… well, then I’d probably disappear.
I needed help.
I waited until lunch. I found Mike and Lily at their table. They were eating quietly. When they saw me approach, Mike stiffened. Lily looked down at her tray.
“We need to talk,” I whispered, leaning in close.
“We can’t,” Mike said, his eyes darting around the cafeteria. “My dad said if I talk about it again, he’s sending me to military school. They think I made it up. A ‘trauma response,’ they called it.”
“It’s not over,” I said grimly. “I found a way in. I heard them talking. Henderson is involved.”
Mike’s eyes went wide. ” The Principal?”
“He’s planning something for Homecoming,” I said. “Next Friday.”
Lily looked up. Her eyes were haunted, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. “I believe you,” she whispered. “I see him watching me. Henderson. He looks at me like… like I’m food.”
“We have to stop it,” I said.
“How?” Mike asked. “We’re just kids. You’re just…” He stopped himself.
“Just a janitor,” I finished for him. “Exactly. I have keys to everything. I know every vent, every tunnel, every crawlspace. Henderson thinks he owns this school? I am this school.”
We formed a plan. It was dangerous. It was stupid. But it was all we had.
We needed to get into Henderson’s office. We needed to find out what he knew, and how he was controlling them.
That night, I stayed late again. “Overtime,” I told the night shift supervisor.
At 8:00 PM, the school was quiet. I met Mike and Lily at the side door. They were dressed in black, looking like burglars from a bad movie.
“Ready?” I asked.
“No,” Mike admitted. He was shaking.
“Me neither,” I said. “Let’s go.”
We crept to the administrative wing. Henderson’s office was locked, but my master key worked smoothly. We slipped inside.
The office smelled of expensive mahogany and lemon polish. On the surface, it was the office of a dedicated educator. Awards on the wall, photos of graduating classes.
“Check the computer,” I told Mike. “Lily, check the filing cabinets. I’ll watch the door.”
Mike sat at the desk. “It’s password protected.”
“Try ‘Education’,” I suggested.
“No go.”
“Try ‘Legacy’,” Lily said. She was looking at a plaque on the wall. The Henderson Legacy – Founders of Oak Creek.
Mike typed it in. The screen flashed. Unlocked.
“Bingo,” Mike whispered. He started clicking through folders. “Budget… Staffing… Curriculum… wait. What is ‘Project Moloch’?”
He opened the folder.
His face went pale in the glow of the monitor. “Oh my god.”
“What is it?” I asked, stepping away from the door.
“It’s not just a monster,” Mike whispered, reading the documents. “It’s… it’s a pact. The Henderson family. They’ve been doing this since the school was built. The school is the feeding ground. Every ten years, they sacrifice… they sacrifice the ‘strays’. The kids no one will miss.”
“Lily,” I said, my voice trembling. “You’re a foster kid, right?”
Lily nodded slowly.
“The list,” Mike said, scrolling down. “It’s a list of names. For Homecoming.”
He turned the screen toward us.
There were twelve names. Lily’s was at the top. But the other names… they were the football team. The cheerleaders.
“The taste has changed,” Mike read from a digital journal entry on the screen. “The Guardian grows stronger. He demands better meat. The strays are no longer enough. He wants the prime stock.“
“He’s going to eat the popular kids,” I realized. “The Homecoming Court.”
Suddenly, the lights in the office went out.
The door clicked lock.
From the corner of the room, a bookshelf slowly swung open, revealing a hidden passage.
Principal Henderson stepped out. He was holding a lantern in one hand and a silenced pistol in the other.
“You’re a very good janitor, Joe,” Henderson said softly. “You clean up messes. But I’m afraid you’ve just made a very big one.”
Chapter 11: The Hive
He didn’t shoot us. Gunshots are loud. They leave evidence.
Instead, he whistled. A sharp, piercing sound.
From the darkness of the hidden passage behind him, they emerged. Not just the Pale Man. Three of them. Smaller, faster, scuttling on all fours like spiders.
“Take them to the nest,” Henderson commanded. “The Guardian is hungry tonight.”
The creatures swarmed us. I tried to swing my flashlight, but one of them caught my arm with a grip like a vice. I heard Mike scream as he was tackled. Lily didn’t scream; she just went limp.
They dragged us into the passage. Down. Down into the earth.
The air grew hot and thick. The smell became overpowering. We were dragged through tunnels that weren’t on any blueprint—rough-hewn rock passages that looked like they had been chewed out of the earth.
They dumped us in a large, cavernous chamber. It was directly beneath the gymnasium. I could see the steel support beams of the gym floor high above us.
The floor of the cave was littered with bones. Old bones. New bones.
And in the center of the room sat something that made the Pale Man look like a toy.
It was massive. A bloat of flesh and teeth, fused into the rock itself. It had no legs, just massive arms that pulled prey into a maw that looked like a woodchipper. This was the Guardian. The Queen. The Hive Mother.
Henderson stood on a ledge above us, looking down like a Roman emperor.
“The town of Oak Creek has flourished for fifty years,” Henderson shouted, his voice echoing in the cave. “Lowest crime rate in the state. Highest property values. Perfect weather. Do you know why? Because we pay the toll! We keep It fed, and It keeps the darkness away from the rest of us!”
“You’re insane!” I screamed. I was nursing a dislocated shoulder, sitting in the muck.
“I am a pragmatist!” Henderson retorted. “Three lives tonight. Twelve next week. And thousands of people live in peace. It is the math of survival!”
He signaled to the creatures. “Feed the girl first. She has caused enough trouble.”
The Pale Man—the one I had fought before, limping on his crooked leg—grabbed Lily. He dragged her toward the gaping maw of the Guardian.
“No!” Mike yelled. He scrambled up, grabbing a sharp rock from the ground. He threw it. It bounced harmlessly off the Pale Man’s back.
I looked around. I needed a weapon. I needed an exit.
I saw it.
High above, attached to the steel beams of the gym floor, were the gas lines. The main intake for the gym’s heating system. A yellow pipe, six inches thick, running right over the Guardian’s head.
“Mike!” I shouted. “The pipe! The yellow pipe!”
Mike looked up. He didn’t understand.
“Distract them!” I yelled.
I scrambled toward the wall of the cave. The creatures were focused on Lily. They ignored the old man.
I started to climb. The rock was slick with slime, but adrenaline gave me the strength of a man half my age. I clawed my way up the wall, toward the pipes.
Lily was screaming now. She was feet away from the monster’s mouth.
“Hey! Over here! You ugly freak!” Mike was jumping up and down, waving his arms.
The Pale Man paused. He looked at Mike.
I reached the pipe. I didn’t have my wrench. I didn’t have any tools.
But I had my belt buckle. It was solid brass.
I wrapped my belt around the valve wheel of the gas line. It was rusted stuck.
“Come on,” I grunted, pulling with everything I had. “Come on!”
Below me, the Pale Man swatted Mike aside like a fly. Mike hit the wall and didn’t move.
The creature turned back to Lily.
I braced my feet against the rock. I pulled until I felt the muscles in my back tear.
SCREECH.
The valve turned.
A hiss started. Then a roar. High-pressure natural gas blasted out of the release valve, directly downward.
It hit the torches that illuminated the cave.
Chapter 12: The Cleansing
The explosion wasn’t like in the movies. It wasn’t a fireball.
It was a concussion. A hammer of air that slammed me into the ceiling.
Then came the fire.
A jet of blue flame engulfed the Guardian. The massive creature shrieked—a sound that shattered the glass in my watch. It thrashed, pulling at the rocks, bringing the cave down around itself.
The shockwave knocked Henderson off his ledge. He fell screaming into the pit, directly into the path of the thrashing beast.
“Mike! Lily!” I screamed.
The cave was filling with smoke and fire. The smaller creatures were burning, running in circles, shrieking.
I dropped from the pipe, landing hard on a pile of rubble. I found Mike. He was groggy, blood running from his nose.
“Get Lily,” I coughed.
We scrambled through the chaos. Lily was curled in a ball near the Guardian’s dying form. The heat was blistering.
I grabbed her jacket. “Up! We have to go up!”
The explosion had blown a hole in the ceiling of the cave—directly through the floor of the gym above. I could see the wooden planks of the basketball court splintering.
We climbed the pile of debris that the Guardian had created in its death throes. We climbed over the burning body of the thing that had haunted the school for decades.
We pulled ourselves up through the jagged hole in the gym floor.
We collapsed on the center court logo of Oak Creek High.
The fire alarm was blaring. Sprinklers kicked on, drenching us in cold, clean water.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling of the gym. I watched the smoke curl around the championship banners.
Police burst through the doors. Firefighters. Paramedics.
They found three people lying on the gym floor, covered in soot and slime. They found a hole in the floor that led to hell.
This time, there was no hiding it. The fire exposed the tunnels. They found the bones. They found Henderson’s body. They found the “Project Moloch” files on his computer, which had survived the fire in the office upstairs.
It was the biggest scandal in the state’s history. The “Town of Peace” was built on a foundation of blood.
Epilogue
The school was condemned. They tore it down six months later.
Mike and Lily moved away. They were adopted by a family in Oregon. I get postcards from them. Mike is playing football again. Lily is painting. They’re healing.
I retired. I live in a small cabin a few towns over. I have a dog now. A big German Shepherd. I sleep with the lights on.
They say the fire killed everything down there. They say the Guardian is dead. They say the lineage is broken.
But sometimes, when I’m walking my dog in the woods at night, I hear things.
I hear a twig snap. I hear a rustle in the leaves.
And I remember that there were three smaller creatures in that cave. We only saw two bodies burn.
The third one?
It’s out there.
And it remembers me.
[END OF FULL STORY]
