Page 38 of Things Get Dark

Oct 3 9:06 AM

As I pull outof the newspaper’s parking lot after work, I can’t help but recall the last thirty-six hours. I slept horribly and woke abruptly yesterday, thanks to my home AI device waking me up. Damn thing alerted me to an incoming delivery expected later in the afternoon, so I took the day off work to hide and binge TV. The first thing I did when I woke up was look up the farm’s website on my laptop. I didn’t hesitate to reach out to them via email, and it wasn't long till they responded. Throughout the day, I went back and forth with someone named Drew. He invited me to come out the next evening, and I decided to ask if I could take photos of the property. After I explained I work for the newspaper, I told him I wanted to do a pictorial spread to advertise for them. Drew advised they aren’t opening for a preview tomorrow, but they’llturn on the lights and get into costume, since I’m offering to help advertise.

On my drive over to the farm, my mind drifts back to what happened two nights ago. That was not normal behavior for me. I don’t have hookups. I don’t even date. But that night… that was exhilarating. I can’t remember the last time I did something so wild or reckless. My heart flutters when I remember how he touched me, like I was the most beautiful thing he’d seen.

As I pull onto the farm’s property, the setting sun hides behind a haze of clouds. A weather system moved through today, and while most of the day was rainy, it seems to be moving east rather quickly. The remainder of the clouds leave the sky in a white, cream, and orange watercolor expanse, setting the perfect backdrop for my photoshoot.

Stepping out of my car, I notice a rather handsome and well-put-together man approach through the same event gate we used last night. He doesn’t look like he belongs here on the farm. He’s dressed in navy slacks and a white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up deliciously. As he gets closer, I can start to distinguish tattoos inked into the darker ochre shade of his forearms. The hint of designs pique my curiosity, but I don’t let my eyes wander from his when I meet his approach.

“Hi, I’m Alex Sinclaire,” I say, extending my hand. “I was corresponding with Andrew today, and he told me to meet him here.”

“Yes, I’m Andrew Campbell, but you can call me Drew. It’s nice to meet you, Alex.” His broad, bright smile puts me at ease immediately. Somehow, I’d worked myself up again, just being back here with the cornstalks in eyesight. His deep brown eyes sparkle with mischief as he rakes his gaze over me. “Have you eaten dinner? My brothers—well, friends—and I are currently having pizza, and we’d love for you to join us before taking photos.”

“Oh, I couldn’t. I don’t want to interrupt.” I tilt my head slightly, not wanting the attention he insists on showering over me.

“Nonsense! It’s not an interruption if I’m inviting you. Join us. Please?” The slight quirk of his cheek under his short beard leads me to think this is a game for him, but his eyes seem earnest, so I reluctantly nod my head with a smirk. His grin widens with my acceptance. “This way, then, Alex.”

Instead of walking up the front steps, though, he leads me around to the back of the house. My eyes widen as we approach the back porch. “Oh, forgive me for the informal entrance. We keep the front door locked at all times, so there are no blocked views for our surveillance.” My face flushes as I climb the steps where I fell apart only two nights ago. Drew holds the door open for me, welcoming me inside.

Stepping into the warm kitchen, I find it’s decorated with the typical farmhouse style. While looking around, Drew steps in behind me and calls out to his friends.

“Guys, this is Alex. Alex, these are my brothers. We call ourselves family.” As Drew finishes the brief introduction, I turn to see four other men sitting around the dinner table beside me. The first on my left stands, reaching out his hand.

“Hi, I’m Sawyer Harris,” the tall, muscular guy with shoulder-length blond hair and scruff on his jaw says, standing and offering his hand for me to shake. “Nice to meet you, Alex.” His charming smirk tells me I should likely watch my panties with him. I immediately recognize him as the one who tore my ticket last night; I remember his flirtatious behavior.

The man sitting to Sawyer’s left glances up at me as Sawyer takes his seat again. “This here is Gunnar MacKittrick,” Sawyer continues, referring to the friend beside him. “He doesn’t talk much. This is his family’s farm, and he stays here to care for things while his parents travel. They’ll be gone throughThanksgiving this year, so they didn’t mind that we tried this little experiment.” Nodding my head, I wave politely. The broody man reminds me of a bear, wearing a thick brown beard and a scowl.I bet his beard is soft, though—no, bad Alex!Stop it!

The man at the other end of the table nods before standing and leaning over the table to extend his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Colton Shaw, but you can call me Cole.” His apparent mixed-Asian heritage doesn’t hide the hunger in his eyes. His styled black hair is tied back in a bun, showing off the shaved back and sides. After I grip his hand politely, he sinks back into his seat, a smirk crossing his face as if he knows a secret I don’t. I’m not sure what to think of him yet, so I move on to greeting the last man at the table.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Waylon Holmes.” This is the one who distributed the tickets to us that night. He seems like the sweet version of Gunnar. Similarly colored brown hair, Waylon’s is slightly lighter, and he wears no beard. He gives me a shy smile before ducking his head and adjusting his black-rimmed glasses. My smile widens as I respond to his sweet demeanor.

Drew steps up and pulls out a seat for me next to Waylon. As I sit, I peer around at all these guys. They are all attractive in their own way, and sitting here with them makes me a little nervous, but I steel myself and focus on smiling and enjoying dinner. I’ll soon be working with my camera and then saying goodbye to the MacKittrick Family Farm.

Dinner turned out quite pleasant. Most of the guys talked; Gunnar was the only one who didn’t say much. Cole and Waylon mostly chatted with themselves, but Cole chimed in to ourconversation with a couple of witty comments. After I help clear the table, Drew pulls me aside.

“Here is your phone. It’s time for us to go get into costume, so you can photograph us in our element, if that’s okay?”

“That’s perfect,” I say, beaming up at him. “I’ll go grab my camera from my car and get photos of the land since there is still a bit of daylight left, but when you all are ready, I can capture you all as well.”

Heat flashes in Drew’s dark eyes as he returns my grin. “I can’t wait.”

Exiting out of the back, I blush, thinking that one of those guys made me come right here on these very steps.But fuck, I don’t even know which guy it was.None of the men I had dinner with seem like they could’ve been the plague doctor who broke me out of my shell that night. Dispelling those heated thoughts, I quickly retrieve my camera.

I walk around the farm, the artistic shots for my photos presenting themselves like a slideshow. The decor and the setting sun appear to line up for some wonderful autumn photographs. As I’m working my way through the pumpkin patch snapping photos, I hear rustling behind me. Turning, I find that my friend has returned.

“Good evening, Love,” the plague doctor’s robotic voice says as he nears where I’m perched.

“Um, hi,” I say as I stand, warmth flooding my cheeks.

“I had an amazing time that night. I was thrilled to hear you would be returning this evening, even if just to claim your lost property.”

“I had a fun time too," I say, clearing my throat. “I wanted to thank you for showing me what I was capable of when I let go of the worry.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Would you care for another adventure in letting go? The choice is yours.” He extends hishand toward me, inviting me to go with him. Glancing up from his black leather glove, I find his deep red tie lying flat on his chest underneath his vest. It reminds me that he kept his promise that night. He led me to a place where I could be safe and not have to worry. I could be out of control, and yet still enjoy myself. Convincing myself, I stand and walk toward him, taking his hand.

After he escorts me across the farm, he stops just on the other side of the lit bonfire in the fire pit. I freeze, noticing where he is looking. Inside the maze, two characters stand. The same creepy clown I saw that night, and with him, seems to be some sort of… scarecrow. Not the cutesy kind, though. This one has its eyes and mouth sewn with straw stitches. Sweat breaks out across my brow, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Alex,” he begins slowly, “I invite you to an evening that challenges what you know. I don’t expect this to be easy for you, but my friends,” he says, gesturing to the two in the maze, “they’d like to help you get over your fear. Maybe with a reward or two for your bravery.” The clown and scarecrow turn, each walking a different direction into the maze. “Should you take their challenge, they will find you and offer a reward. Think of it like a little game of ‘hide and seek’ where you are automatically the winner.”

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