He couldn't be held responsible. He couldn't even give himself the appearance of being responsible. This wasn't on him.
An eerie chill traced his skin and ran up and down his spine as they made their way back through the pitch-dark words toward the campground. He felt sharply aware of everything around him. Every sound exploded and every rustle of air made the hair stand up on his arms and the back of his neck. The trek to the cavern was long, but it seemed to stretch on far beyond its original length on their way back.
When they got back to the campground, one of the sound crew tried to make the call, but his phone wouldn't work. Finally, Ken looked toward the camera and had Jeremy turn it on.
"Hey, guys. I'm sorry for the shutdown. I appreciate your sticking with me. We've encountered a very unexpected situation and are trying to handle it as best we can. Right now, I'm asking that if any of you are in the area of Hollow River Mountain or its surrounding cities, please call the police for us. Our local intranet is connected to an unmanned truck, so we can broadcast this live to you, but apparently, we cannot make phone calls. Please, tell them who we are and that we are at the Arrow Lake campground. Thank you guys so much for staying with us. This is a really surprising turn of events, and we're going to keep you right here with us as much as we can. Does this mean the curse has come back for another year?"
Vint, a tech member of the team, came up as Jeremy turned to follow Elsie with the camera.
"I got the radio in the little truck to work and got in touch with a ranger. He's going to contact the police who set up the perimeter around the park and get them here," he said.
"Not on camera? Fine. Okay," Ken said, nodding. "Good."
"What do you think's going on?" Vint asked.
"The curse is back," Ken said. "It's the only explanation. And we're here to witness it."
"Ken, Elsie is down at the water and wants to do a Spirit Box session," Jeremy called.
"On my way."
Ken's heart raced as he made his way down toward the dark lake. Water made black by the late hour slid up onto the shore like oil, dragging bits of pebbles and sand back with it. Elsie stood close enough that the water touched the tips of her shoes when it moved.
"There is a belief that water holds onto energy," he said as the camera turned to focus on him. "Places with a lot of water are often hubs of spiritual activity. The water may make it easier for the spirits to manifest, or it could act as a form of transportation, bringing the spirit energy to different areas. When it comes to a place like this, a campground where families spent some of their happiest times, but where people were also tragically lost, could the water be holding onto both? The good and the bad battling to see which has the influence over the land?"
He seemed to feel his voice shaking, but he didn't want to show it. The audience was still watching. The broadcast was live, streaming into homes and onto devices everywhere. It wasn't like one of their regular specials in which he could simply stop filming and edit the pieces together later. He had to keep this going, carry it while they waited to find out what was going on.
But the fear was creeping in. His job was inherently frightening. The locations he went to were creepy and unnerving. He spent his time researching and telling stories about horrific deaths, brutal murders, tragedies, accidents, and plagues. All the things that left dark marks on the world.
He went against popular belief, against science, against what people told him was rational, logical thought, to pursue what he believed. He wanted to find out more about what happened on the other side. There had to be another side. At least, he wanted there to be. He wanted to think his last breath wasn't really a last breath, but rather, a transition.
And that was what he did. He followed what happened after that transition. He tried to communicate with those who are stuck in places, and those who choose to remain. He tried to put himself in between the innocent living and the demonic forces that infected homes and businesses.
But in the end, it was also entertainment. There were viewers he had to keep interested through commercial breaks. Commercials that paid for the equipment and the location fees and the insurance. But he had never faced anything like this. The investigations he did for his specials, and even the private tours, were done in a controlled manner. He always knew at any point he could simply walk away.
It didn't feel like that now. He wasn't just dealing with lingering spirits. Something or someone had left those bones in the cavern, and no matter how much he tried to distract himself and keep the audience engaged by talking, he felt eyes on his back. He felt his skin tingling.
The glow of the police lights washing through the campground was a relief. One car rumbled along the old gravel access road and came to a stop near the crew van. Ken started toward them with Jeremy right behind him.
"Hello," he said, approaching the officer who got out of the car. "I'm Ken Abbott."
The man didn't look at him with any kind of recognition but gave a single nod.
"The monster hunter," the officer said.
The disparaging tone was nothing new for Ken, and now wasn't the time to be offended.
"Paranormal investigator," he clarified. "We're doing an
