Page 30 of Immersed
Levi bent double, hands on knees, gulping air into his burning lungs. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto the smooth stones beneath him. The river flowed serenely past, oblivious to his desperation.
When he straightened, his gaze immediately sought the horizon downstream. There—the distant outline of buildings, more visible in daylight than they had been at night. Riverbend waited, perhaps a mile away, its abandoned structures silhouetted against the afternoon sky.
His legs trembled with exhaustion as he forced himself forward, following the riverbank toward the town. Each step sent protests through his overtaxed muscles, but the sight of his destination kept him moving.
Almost there. Almost there.
The sun hung low in the western sky by the time the first buildingsof Riverbend came into clear view. Levi’s pace had slowed to a limping jog, his body running on determination alone. The abandoned town grew larger with each painful step, its empty windows staring like vacant eyes across the landscape.
As he approached the outskirts, Levi’s legs finally gave out. He collapsed onto his knees, chest heaving, vision swimming from exhaustion. The town waited just ahead—a collection of weathered wooden structures arranged along what had once been a main street. A church steeple rose above the other buildings, its cross tilted at an angle from decades of neglect. A general store with faded lettering. What looked like a barber shop, its striped pole rusted but still recognizable. Small cabins scattered around the perimeter.
Relief hit him with such force that tears burned his eyes. He made it. The sun hadn’t quite set—its golden light casting long shadows across the abandoned settlement—but he reached his objective.
I did it. I actually did it.
His legs shook as he pushed himself back to his feet. The last hundred yards felt like miles as he staggered toward the nearest building, his body threatening to collapse with each step. But something drove him forward—the desperate hope that somewhere in this ghost town lay answers. A way out. An end to the nightmare.
The church loomed to his left, its wooden doors hanging askew on rusted hinges. The general store stood ahead, windows shattered, shelves visible through the empty frames. To his right, the barber shop with its faded red and white pole.
Levi paused in the center of the dirt road, darting between structures as his tactical mind assessed each option. The church would be the most obvious choice—the focal point of any small town, likely to contain historical records or clues. But that made it the most obvious trap, too. Ethan always said horror games have like three plot templates: creepy church, abandoned store, or the one building that looks too normal.
The general store offered potential supplies, maybe even weapons. But its broken windows meant anyone—or anything—could have entered over the years. No defensible position.
Think. Where would Ethan go?
“Never pick the obvious choice,”he’d explain while navigating some haunted asylum or abandoned hospital.“But don’t pick the obscure choice either. Find the balance between resources and safety.”
Levi’s gaze settled on the barber shop. Smaller than the church, more intact than the store. A practical choice with a single entrance to defend and windows that, while dusty, remained unbroken.
Smart money’s on the middle option. Thanks, Ethan.
His decision made, Levi limped toward the weathered building. The wooden steps creaked beneath his weight as he mounted the porch, each sound amplified in the eerie silence of the abandoned town. The door handle turned with surprising ease, hinges groaning as he pushed it open.
Dust motes danced in the last rays of sunlight streaming through the grimy windows. Two ancient barber chairs faced a cracked mirror that ran the length of one wall. Shelves lined with rusted tools and empty bottles stood against the opposite wall. A faded calendar hung nearby, frozen on June 1952.
Levi closed the door behind him, relief washing through his exhausted body as he leaned against it. His legs finally gave out entirely, sending him sliding to the floor, back pressed against the solid wood.
I made it. I actually made it.
As his racing heart gradually slowed, his mind kicked back into gear. He needed to secure the space before darkness fell. With the last of his strength, Levi pushed himself to his feet and began a search of the barber shop.
The front room contained little besides the chairs and shelves. A small office occupied the rear of the building—a desk covered in yellowed papers, a filing cabinet with drawers pulled open, and most importantly, no windows. A solid defensive position.
Levi’s gaze darted to the rapidly darkening sky visible through the front windows. Night was falling fast now, shadows lengthening across the abandoned town. His hands shook with renewed urgency as he grabbed one of the barber chairs and dragged it toward the office doorway. The metal feet scraped against the wooden floor, the sound unnervingly loud in the silent building.
Have to secure the space. Have to be ready whenhe comes.
Because the stranger would come. Levi had no doubt about that. The killer found him each time before—had tracked him through the forest with uncanny precision. This time would be no different.
He wedged the chair under the office doorknob, testing it with a firm push. The makeshift barricade held, but it wouldn’t stop a determined attacker for long. Levi scanned the room for anything else he could use to reinforce his position.
The filing cabinet. Heavy steel, probably weighing a hundred pounds or more.
Levi positioned himself behind it, muscles screaming in protest as he pushed with what little strength remained. The cabinet moved inch by painful inch across the floor, its metal base scraping grooves into the wood beneath. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his vision and soaking his shirt anew.
Almost there. Just a little more.
With a final surge of effort, he maneuvered the cabinet in front of the door, positioning it beside the chair to create a more substantial barrier. The scraping sound it made against the floor seemed deafening—like a beacon announcing his presence to anything within earshot.
