2:45 am, Abandoned Carpenter House

We walked for a while, down quiet roads and empty streets, passing Battery 231. It was a historic, but uncompleted, World War II coastal gun battery sitting on the southwest corner of the calm side of the island. The only witnesses to our march into the deafening quiet of night were the warm orangish-yellow sodium streetlamps that guided our way. We were far from the partygoers who were turning in for the night, by the old Fort Zachary Taylor beach park, where a house stood lined by a black metal spiked fence.

We arrived at the surprise Nick was so excited about: the abandoned Carpenter House. It was a nice house, or at least used to be. White columns climbed up to a triangular roof with two windows on the top floor of a three-story home. The outer layers of paint were ancient and chipped, scabbed and picked over, and a few of the glass windows had been boarded up. It had to be pretty old. The front door’s heavy and sturdy, wormy chestnut wood had faded from its original rich, golden-brown hue. If it wasn’t so dilapidated, the place might have felt warm and cozy, but the years of rot had taken over. What remained was a shabby wooden mausoleum to the past decadence of rich people coming to the island on holiday. The house was alone, isolated, and surrounded by trees and shrubs that made up the southern edge of the state park housing the pre-Civil War fortress. The sparse, dim glow of lamps on the road we’d come down didn’t even reach the porch.

 I felt the tension everywhere. Having to watch Mateo walk with his arm around Grace’s shoulder the entire time only made it that much worse. Most of the rest of the group seemed nonchalant about the rundown house, but Nick was electric.

“We made it. Finders keepers, losers… sleep under the floorboards. This is it! The site of the 2020 Keeper massacre. I’ve been dying to see it,” Nick said as he pulled out his phone and began snapping pictures of the house’s façade.

“I didn’t know you like history,” Grace said.

“I usually don’t, but this place is dope. It’s where a serial killer, called The Keeper, killed a family of six during the pandemic. They didn’t even discover the crime scene until a month after the fact. And the best part?” Nick paused, moving closer for better angles to take more pictures, “I swear I’m not being extra; they never found out who The Keeper was. He is still out there… somewhere… probably ripping someone up in Idaho or something.”

“Why do they call him the Keeper?” I asked, trying to create distance between myself, Mateo, and Grace.

“What?! Becca, you’ve never heard of The Keeper?” Kelcy asked, sounding sobered up from the hike.

“Should I have? Why do they call him that?”

“Because…” Nick began in a low, ominous tone as he held the glow of his phone up to his face, “For the last twenty years, bodies have been found all around the United States. Always in shallow unmarked graves, abandoned lots, or remote forests. According to autopsy reports, most of the victims died by multiple stab wounds, but a few were strangled to death. The killer never leaves any DNA evidence. Every victim is a young woman, and The Keeper always takes a small piece of jewelry from their bodies as a trophy. No one knows who he is, only that if he sees something he likes, well… finders keepers, losers weepers… Ahhh shit! There is no cell service out here. That blows! Would have made a wicked TikTok Live. Oh well… I dare someone to go in.”

“Are you crazy? We are not going inside,” Grace blurted out.

“Shit, this is getting too real. Nah, man, I don’t know about all that. I’ll pass,” Mateo added.

“I’ll go in,” I said, stepping towards the front door.

“Holy shit! Becca the badass!” Kelcy chuckled.

I smirked and turned to face the crew from the porch steps, “What’s wrong, Mateo? You chicken?”

“Yooooo, alright, alright. I wouldn’t want you to go alone,” Mateo replied. He removed his arm from Grace’s shoulder and joined me.

“This is so fucking stupid. This is trespassing!” Grace crossed her arms. “Do you wanna pay a thousand dollars for a first-degree misdemeanor and a year in jail on your permanent record? Hard pass.”

“How do you know—never mind, don’t answer that. Ok, love birds, here is your challenge… I’m going to set a timer for ten minutes. Can you last that long inside the house, all alone, in the dark? Siri, set a timer for ten minutes,” Nick snickered.

“Come on, this’ll be fun,” I said as I grabbed Mateo’s hand and opened the old creaking door.

“Holy shit, it’s unlocked and everything,” Mateo said.

Maybe it was because the liquid courage hadn’t worn off, maybe it was my jealousy, but I knew this might be my last chance to show Mateo how I felt about him.

A thin square of light stretched long into the dark and dusty domicile. I saw the staircase that led upstairs from the entryway hall and pulled Mateo along up the ascent. A stagnant mustiness clung to our bodies, as if we’d broken the seal to a long and forgotten crypt. The staircase was worn, and each step during our climb groaned with a lingering pain the house had steeped in.

I never really wanted to explore a decommissioned crime scene, but I wanted to be with Mateo. My heart wasn’t beating, it felt more like a deep rattling inside my ribcage. The anxiety was exhilarating, and the thrill of danger only added to that excitement. I wanted to make out, and I knew Mateo wanted to as well, but I didn’t want to get bitten by a spider or fall and injure myself in a decaying tropical mini-mansion. By the time we got to the top of the staircase, my palms were sweating. I saw one of the windows and pulled Mateo along next to it so we had the dim light from the streetlamps to partially illuminate the upstairs game room. And cause I secretly hoped Grace would see us.

“You scared?” Mateo asked.

“I know you are, but what am I?” I replied as I threw my arms over his massive shoulders.

“Damn, is it weird that this is really-hot?”

I bit my bottom lip, “Is it weird if I think so too?”

I lingered my stare on his eyes, ever so often looking at his lips to signal I was ready. The tension of the moment was intoxicating. He moved closer, his hands gripping the sides of my waist and resting on the tops of my hips. In a smooth motion, he moved his head in for the kiss. We locked lips, and I felt sparks move through my body. The kiss was full of passion. My hands moved to touch his face before gripping the back of his head. I lost myself as our tongues danced and swirled in each other’s mouths, until I heard a flurry of footsteps racing up the steps towards us.

“FOUND YOU!” A voice screamed, making us both jump.

We turned our heads towards the sound and held onto one another for dear life. Nick’s stupid face was twisted into a malicious smile, illuminated by his phone’s screen at the top of the stairs. He broke character and let out a series of howls and laughs.

“Vibe check, how we feeling, love birds?” He strained to wheeze out the question between his fits of self-amusement.

 “NOT FUCKING FUNNY, NICK!” I yelled back at him. Mateo let me go and stepped back from me.

“I got it all on video! You’re gonna go viral.”

“You are such a douche!” I huffed back as I shoved him aside and descended the staircase.

“Becca, wait,” Mateo chased after me.

“Later, Belligerent Becca. I gotta make more reels anyway,” Nick shouted.

I stomped out of the house, my mood a sour blend of sexual frustration and humiliation. Nick was such a fucking jerk.

Outside, Kelcy was in the street laughing next to a lamppost. Grace stood further back, turned away from the house, looking out towards the ocean.

“Did he get you?” Kelcy asked, holding back more giggles.

“What the fuck do you even see in that asshole?”

I looked back at the house, seeing the dim blue glow of Nick’s phone from the window of what looked like the master bedroom in the far left second-story window. Something moving caught my eye. The silhouette of a large and intimidating figure passed the same game room window where Mateo and I were. A sense of dread filled my gut.

“Hey, Becca, can we talk?” Mateo asked.

I looked at Kelcy, to Grace, and back at him. Who else was inside the fucking house? “Ummm, say that again?”

“We need to talk,” Mateo replied. “I’m sorry Nick was a dick—”

“—Did you see that? Someone’s in the house. I swear I saw someone else at the window right there!” I pointed.

Mateo turned to investigate, responding after a brief pause, “I don’t see anything, Becca.”

“Oh my god, someone was right fucking there! Why would I make that up?” I asked, looking back at the empty window. I waved my hands and called out, “Nick, get out of there! Someone’s inside!”

He turned to the window and pressed his face against the glass, kissing it. Great, he was mocking me. I didn’t care if—before I could finish my thought, the glass broke. Nick came crashing out of the second-story window of the run-down crime scene. I watched in horror as he fell too quickly to let out a scream. I hoped he’d land on the soft grass, but his mouth was open wide in shock; an iron fence spike pierced the roof of his mouth before he could hit the ground and poked out of his left eye. His head was impaled. His body twitched as it dangled, barely keeping his feet above the pavement of the sidewalk.

Kelcy let out a terrifying screech. The rest of us froze. We were in shock. I looked back up at the window, only to catch a glimpse of the shadowy figure moving back towards the stairs.

Mateo’s words barely stumbled out of his trembling lips, “What the fuck?”

“Oh my god, I’ll call 911,” Grace reached for her phone.

“We need to go, right now. We need to run, right now,” I pleaded.

My breath got heavy as my heart pounded in my chest. That man from Duval. He had been following—no, stalking us the entire time.

“We need to help him,” Mateo pleaded.

“He is fucking coming,” I said as I tugged on his shirt, dragging him with me in the opposite direction.

“I can’t get a fucking signal out here,” Grace cried, continuing to fumble with her phone. 

That’s when I saw him standing still in the front door’s frame. He had on what looked like a tattered black hoodie and camo green cargo pants. His face was covered in shadow. His gloved hand reached behind him and withdrew the huge, glinting silver blade of a tactical combat knife. He swiftly dashed out the front door and violently stabbed Nick’s dangling body in a flurry of swift movements. Blood splattered everywhere as Nick gagged on the blood leaking out of his pincushion body.

A single word slipped from my lips: “Run.”