CHAPTER 2
The flickering matchlight caught the edge of Elias's mouth as it tightened. For a long minute, he remained frozen, his gaze fixed on the dark square of the television screen as if he expected the film to start playing again on its own.
"Okay," Elias said, his voice coming out as a thin, brittle rasp. "Ren is right. We remake it. We finish the reveal. We show everyone it's just a story."
Mark let out a sharp, jagged bark of a laugh that had no humor in it. He leaned back into the shadows of the armchair, a sarcastic, twisted smile pulling at his lips.
"Brilliant," Mark drawled, his tone dripping with irony. "The power is out, we're trapped in a forest with a dead landline and the ghost of a guy named Noel, so your big plan is to put the mask back on? Why stop there? Let's go down to the cellar and see if the 'strawberry syrup' from five years ago is still wet on the floor."
"Mark, shut up," Sarah snapped, her nerves frayed to the breaking point.
"I'm serious!" Mark stood up, pacing the small circle of light. He gestured wildly at the darkened corners of the room. "We're literally acting out the first ten minutes of every slasher flick ever made. 'Oh, let's go play with the murder mask in the dark!' It's a great way to ensure none of us make it to breakfast."
Despite his sarcasm, he didn't head for the door. He knew as well as the others did that the woods outside were a black abyss, and the house—no matter how suffocating—was the only thing with walls.
"I'm not putting that mask on," Rhodes muttered, glancing toward the top of the stairs where they had heard that soft, wet thud.
"You don't have to," Elias whispered, standing up slowly. His eyes were vacant, his face still drained of color. "I know where the prop is. I'll go get it. But if we're doing this, we do it right. We start exactly where the footage cut off."
As Elias turned toward the stairs, the landline in the hallway suddenly let out a sharp, piercing ring. The sound sliced through the room like a blade, making everyone jump. In the silence that followed the first ring, they all stared at the dark corridor. Nobody moved. The phone rang again, a lonely, mechanical scream in the dead of night.
The imagined ring of the phone turned out to be nothing more than the wind rattling a loose shutter, a phantom sound born from their frayed nerves. Without another word, and desperate to break the paralyzing tension, the group moved with a frantic, sudden energy. They scoured the house for any equipment they could find—old flashlights with dying batteries, a handheld stabilizer, and an old digital camera that miraculously still had a charge.
Elias returned from the attic a few minutes later. In his hand, he gripped the porcelain mask. In the dim light, the white face looked even more gaunt than it had on screen, the painted-on cracks appearing like real veins.
"Let's go," Elias said, his voice flat. "Before we lose our nerve."
They tumbled out onto the porch, the night air hitting them like an ice bath. The woods were an impenetrable wall of black spruce and pine, the only light coming from the weak beams of their flashlights cutting through the mist. The silence of the forest was absolute; even the insects seemed to have stopped their chirping to watch.
Mark stayed near the back, his sarcastic smile now a rigid grimace. He kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, refusing to touch any of the "props."
"Position yourselves by the old shed," Ren commanded, trying to sound like a professional director to hide the tremor in her hands. "Rhodes, you're the lead. Sarah, you're behind him. We're going to recreate the 'Final Chase' through the trees."
As they moved toward the tree line, the light from the house windows grew faint behind them. They reached the clearing where the original film had ended. The ground was thick with rotting leaves that muffled their footsteps.
"Okay, places," Ren whispered. "Elias, put it on."
Elias stood apart from them, his back turned. Slowly, he raised the porcelain mask to his face. As he tightened the elastic strap, he seemed to change—his posture stiffened, his shoulders broadened, and he stood perfectly still, a white-faced specter among the dark trunks.
"Action!" Ren hissed.
Rhodes and Sarah began to stumble through the undergrowth, their breath hitching in genuine fear. Behind them, Elias—the killer—began to follow. He didn't run; he moved with that same fluid, predatory grace they had seen in the video.
The scene was going perfectly until they reached the spot where the film was supposed to end: the reveal.
"Stop!" Ren shouted, her voice echoing through the trees. "This is it. Rhodes, cornered. Killer, move in for the unmasking."
Elias stepped into the center of the flashlight beams. He reached up, his fingers hooking under the chin of the mask, just as the mysterious figure had done in the footage years ago.
"Do it, Elias," Sarah whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs. "Take it off so we can go back inside."
Elias's hand trembled. He began to peel the porcelain away from his skin. But as the mask moved, a low, guttural sound—a wet, wheezing breath—drifted through the trees. It didn't come from Elias.
It came from the darkness directly behind him