Okay, but what if it’s me? What if the eye is following me? It showed up when I met with the devil and then it showed up after I encountered the kelpie. I was at the failed ritual, after all, and perhaps that means we have some kind of connection. It stared right at me as it was leaving with the traveling river. What if it’s still watching me? And since I’m familiar with the lore, because I know where these things are and how to find them and how to survive them, it just watches and waits and then I lead it straight to its prey.
I guess that wouldn’t be the worst thing. Sure, it’d mean I’m being pursued by the corpses of a bunch of people I used to know, but maybe it’d clean up campus a little bit in the process? It is a weapon, after all. Maybe that makes me its spotter.
I decided to test that theory.
(if you’re new, start here, and if you’re totally lost, this might help)
We’ll get to that in a bit. First, an interesting development with the Rain Chasers. Obviously they aren’t having regular meetings right now, since it’s the summer semester and all. I think I might be the only Rain Chaser left on campus. The discord is sporadically active, as some of the more dedicated members are still looking for weird things in their hometowns. Visiting local cemeteries or talking to great-grandma about family traditions or the likes. Which I guess is neat and all, if it weren’t for the fact that some of them might find out things that can’t be taken back.
Maria has been quiet about it all. I’m kind of hoping she’ll do some reflection over the summer and decide to bail on all of this. I’m in too deep to do that, but she still has a chance.
I was in too deep before I ever got here. My own hometown saw to that.
Anyway, Rain Chasers aren’t having regular meetings. The lack of social interaction is actually a little nice after everything that’s happened. Being on campus during the summer is pretty weird though. I have my own dorm room because there’s few enough of us that we don’t need to share. I’m enjoying the privacy. I’m even staying on top of my studying, because even though I don’t have Cassie around to make me feel like I’m slacking, I have the threat of the devil popping up for another hellish study session looming in the back of my mind.
Summer classes (at least so far) just feel a bit easier as well. Like the professors aren’t wanting to work as hard either. That or only the most dedicated students stay for the summer so they cut out the busy work. My classes have more discussion in them than I was expecting for freshmen level stuff, at least, based on my experiences so far. I’m enjoying it. It’s also been an opportunity to get to know some of the professors, which is weird, but also really neat. Like, I can interact with them as an adult now. The power dynamic is all different.
I’m also getting to know some of the professors that aren’t teaching any of my classes. I ran into my former geology professor on my way back from one of the classes. He recognized me, surprisingly, and since we were walking in the same direction I slowed to match his pace so we could talk. I did have a legitimate question for him, as I wasn’t sure which class I needed to take to finish up my science requirement. Turns out there were a couple options and he recommended the one that was essentially a semester of fossils and dinosaurs which sounds lit.
Then I asked him about the field trip. I was still unnerved by it, I said.
“You could have refused,” he said, suddenly concerned. “I lied about not having another wader. It was hidden in the back of the bus.”
I admit I sputtered a bit at that, making the human equivalent of ‘asdajkl;gh;daskujg.’ But whatever, I can’t be too irate at him for his sexist assumptions when they were correct. (still gonna pissed at my classmates though)
“It was fine,” I said. “It’s just.. there was something in the water. It was too big to be a fish or a snake.”
“Could have been a muskrat, I suppose.”
I floundered for a moment before finally deciding to just go for it. Sort of. In a roundabout way.
“My hometown had a lot of stories,” I said tentatively. “About things that live in the river.”
“Well, they’re just stories,” he laughed. “Don’t let the superstitions of this place get to you. Whatever was in the river didn’t care a bit about you being in there with it.”
But it did care. Very much so. That’s the nature of kelpies.
And now it was dead, its body dragged away into the water by a creature I inadvertently helped create.
“-nevermind the other professors help perpetuate it,” he sighed. I shook myself, realizing he was still talking. “It’s a damn shame they give into the students like that, canceling class and all when it rains.”
“Yeah, I gathered you weren’t a fan of that tradition,” I said.
“That makes you part of the elite few that read my syllabus, then.”
“So - also not a fan of groups like the Rain Chasers?”
I’m not sure why I asked that. I think I was running out of things to say or maybe I was feeling panicky after having my concerns shot down so hard.
“Oh they’re fine, I guess. I mean, it’s harmless, and the local folklore is fun. If you’re interested in that sort of thing, though, you should really talk to their sponsor rather than the students themselves.”
My interest perked up at that. I hadn’t heard of a sponsor. He elaborated, explaining that every campus club has to have a professor sponsor it. They don’t do anything other than sign some paperwork every year to maintain the club’s legitimacy, but it’s the administration’s way of passing the management burden onto the faculty. He said this with no small trace of resentment. If a club gets out of hand, the professor just stops sponsoring it, and they have to shut down.
“It’s why the club that exists just to eat pizza using their university funded budget exists,” he grumbled. “Someone over in the math department thought that was a hilarious way to protest the administration not bothering to hire some folks to manage the clubs themselves.”
“It is kind of funny,” I ventured.
His lips thinned and he didn’t say anything. I guess he doesn’t have a sense of humor. He did tell me who the Rain Chaser’s sponsor is, at least. She’s a folklore professor with the popular culture department. I swung by her office the other day and found out her office hours, so I’m going to drop by when they next open. It’s a narrow window, on account of it being the summer and all.
In the meantime, I had plenty else to do. It was time to test a couple theories at once.
Theory 1: the eyeball beast is following me and killing any inhuman I come into contact with.
Theory 2: the pencil works by stabbing something with it.
I decided to test this theory on the “possum” at the coffee place. You know - the thing with the freckles that were actually mouths? I felt pretty confident in my logic for going after this thing. The laundry lady was already my nemesis and I didn’t want to piss her off any worse than I already had. Plus, I didn’t know how to easily find her. The steam tunnel ghost was erratic and I wasn’t sure how to stab a creature made of literal water vapor with a pencil. The library ghost seemed like it could be tangible if it wanted to, but it also seemed helpful, and I didn’t want to do away with it for that reason. The swimmers moved as a group and everything else was too big or dangerous.
And if anything went wrong, I could go running to the manager for help again.
Cause I sure as hell figured out her schedule. If I was going to do something dangerous, I wanted a solid backup plan. I spent a lot of time camped out at the coffee shop in the corner, making a single latte last as long as I can. It helps that all the other small dining places on campus have shut down for the summer and this is the only place to sit and have a coffee left. There was nothing unusual about spending a few hours a day there. Bonus: dedicated study time.
I won’t say how much of that time I actually spent browsing the internet.
After nearly a week of this, I finally got what I wanted. Except, the possum didn’t go after me. I watched as he walked in, a smug grin on his freckled face. He walked right past where I sat near the door and instead sat down at a table with two other students on it. I panicked a little. I’d picked that spot expecting that he’d go straight for me, being the closest person sitting alone, but instead he’d picked a table with two people? I didn’t know what to do, so I watched instead, fiddling with the pencil case sitting on the table.
They talked briefly and then one of them got up. He walked past me and out the door. I turned my gaze back towards the table, expecting to find the possum still there - but it was only the other student.
I hadn’t seen the possum leave. But perhaps that was its trick? I hesitated, torn between staying here and making sure it wasn’t still lurking at the table somehow - or chasing after the other student. It was only when the man at the table opened his laptop up did I decide that he was in no further danger. I grabbed my own belongings and bolted out the door.
I glanced wildly up and down the sidewalk, searching for the other student. Nothing. He couldn’t have gotten that far and there weren’t many convenient alleyways to duck into on this campus.
Unless he was behind the building.
I broke into a run, skidding around the corner and the back of the coffee shop unfolded before me. The garbage bin, the back door. And a crumpled pile of a human, his clothing ripped into shreds and his skin glistening red, with a freckled man crouching over him.
It wasn’t too late, I thought wildly. Surely it wasn’t too late.
I fumbled with the pencil case. It took a couple tries to pop it open and my shaking hands dropped it once I extracted the pencil. In front of me, the possum kept eating, his head making little bobbing motions in time to the smacking and slurping noises coming off his skin in a chorus.
I told myself that I could do this. That there was still time if I just acted. I envisioned myself running forward, bringing the pencil down in a sweep towards his back, and then I took that first step.
That’s all it took. One step to break through the fear and then the dam collapsed, letting all of that terror loose and it coursed through my blood and set my heart to pumping. I was afraid every step I took, running towards the possum, but my body was turning that fear into adrenaline and it became an icy grip on my lungs and the fire powering my muscles. My only thought was forward. Forward towards my target.
He turned at the last second. I saw his face, blood-streaked, his mouths still chewing and a thin sliver of meat dangling from one cheek.
I stabbed him with the pencil. It went into his shoulder.
That was all that happened. For a moment, we stood there face-to-face, he staring up at me, me staring down in anticipation and mounting horror as the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Then his gaze shifted to the pencil and he lifted a bloody hand to gently pull the tip out of his shoulder.
Then he turned his back to me and started eating again.
I stumbled back, aghast. No. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I glanced around in desperation. Where was the traveling river? The devil, laughing at my futile attempt? I’d even accept campus security.
But there was nothing. Nothing but me and…
My backup plan.
I burst in through the back door, which thankfully was not locked. I stood in the narrow hallway between the supply closet and the kitchen, looking wildly up and down it in an attempt to find help. I didn’t see anyone - but did I need to find them first? This wasn’t a big store.
“The possum is back!” I shrieked. “Out back! It’s eating someone!”
A heartbeat passed. Another. Then an office door I hadn’t noticed yet opened and the manager stepped out.
“Possum!” I croaked.
“I heard you,” she replied.
W-was she not going to do anything? She had to. There was still time to save him. He couldn’t be entirely eaten yet, he could be saved. I made for the supply closet and threw open the door, fumbling for the lights. Behind me, the manager stared at me passively, watching me frantically flail about in the hallway.
“Broom! I need a broom!” I cried.
My panicked screeching finally spurred her into movement. It wasn’t very fast, though. She moved at a leisurely pace, disdainful of my own panic. When she opened a hallway door and pulled a broom from it, I couldn’t take it any longer. I snatched it out of her hands and left her standing there in bemusement. I ran back outside.
This time, I screamed something as I was charging at the possum. I’m not sure what. Honestly, it was probably more of a gurgle. My chest was still tight with fear and I wasn’t sure I was actually breathing during any of that. I’d abandoned rational thought long behind me and I ran at the possum in timid, terrified steps.
He raised his head and this time, his face was creased with annoyance. I only had time to register what was poised between his teeth. An eyeball. Then he squeezed his jaw tight, it popped in two like a grape, and he swallowed.
I closed my eyes and started swinging in reflexive panic. The broom contacted something hard and so I kept swinging, flailing wildly in long sweeps. I only stopped when I realized that the thing I was hitting was no longer moving. Tentatively, I opened my eyes. I’d at least started breathing again, albeit in short, hiccuping gasps.
The possum was gone. Apparently after the first few blows it’d decided it’d had enough and slunk off. For the past minute or so I’d been bludgeoning the half-eaten remains of the student. Blood was splattered about in a pool around his corpse, liberally coating both the broom, my shirt, and my forearms.
I threw up behind the dumpster.
Then, because I didn’t know what to do - I certainly couldn’t walk to my dorm covered in blood - I went back inside. The manager gestured for me to follow her into her office. She sat down heavily in her chair and I stood there, clutching the broom and watching it drip blood onto her office floor.
“Too late, were you?” she asked impassively.
I nodded, silent tears running down my cheeks.
“It’s usually best to just let the possums get rid of all the scraps. Less to clean up afterwards.”
She rummaged in her desk drawer and produced a container of alcohol wipes. I tentatively leaned the broom in the corner and started scrubbing at my arms and blotting at my shirt, for all the good that did. I’d probably have to throw the shirt away, some distant part of my brain reasoned.
“I keep telling the administration to do something about them,” she sighed. “They keep telling me that it’ll look strange if campus security loiters around here. Might spook the students. So I’m stuck dealing with the possums all by myself.”
Wait.
“Possums?” I ventured. “Plural?”
“Plural.”
Well that’s just poggers, isn’t it? I burst into tears properly at that point, overwhelmed by just how bad the situation was. My pencil hadn’t worked. The traveling river hadn’t shown up to smite the thing. And now she was telling me that there were more of them and all she could do was chase them off with a broom and mop up the remains.
But wasn’t that how it was at the campground? I just didn’t see the worst of it because I was working at a cash register in the barn all day.
“You did good, though,” she said. “Most of my staff are too timid to chase off a regular sized possum, much less one of these big ones.”
“I’ve had some prior experience,” I sniveled, which was the best I could manage at the time for an explanation.
It must have worked though, because then she offered me a job.
I said yes. If nothing else, it’ll be a way to see if the possum returns… or if the eyeball beast takes him out.[x]