Maddison Winchester: Journal 8 {Supernatural} (Editing)

4 Run to the Hills: Part 4

We pulled up in front of a small yellow house. Nate put the car in park.

"Number 84, this is the one." Garth pointed to the house.

I opened the door and stepped out. Garth and Nate followed me up the walkway and to the front door of the house.

Nate walked up and knocked on the door.

We waited for a moment and could hear someone shuffling things around frantically.

"I'm busy. Go away!" a voice demanded from behind the door.

"We just want to talk for a second," I said and waited for his response.

We heard a heavy sigh. "I don't have time."

Garth stepped forward and knocked on the door a bit harder than Nate did. "Sir, this is the FBI. We need to ask you a few questions regarding your fellow CU students' deaths, Damon Frazier and Naomi Clarke. This is a serious matter, and I suggest you open the door."

The door slowly creaked open. Just inside the door was a stack of duffel bags almost overflowing with clothes and other items. A young man stood next to the bags waiting for us to come in.

He sluggishly moved a box out from the doorway and looked up at us. He looked exhausted. He was slouching heavily, his hair was disheveled, and he had large bags under his eyes.

We all flashed our badges. "Henry Gibbs?" I asked.

The man nodded.

"We have been following the deaths of your fellow students closely, and we have reason to believe that you may also be in danger. Can we come in?" Nate asked.

Henry's hands started to shake, and he stepped to the side. "Of course." His voice cracked.

We all walked in, and Henry led us into the living room. We all sat down. Henry leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together.

"Henry, we have reason to believe someone is going to come here tonight. Is there anything you can tell us about your friends? Was there anyone who held a grudge against you guys?" Garth asked.

Henry started shaking his head. "You don't understand. This is all my fault. I knew we shouldn't have messed with that box."

"What box? What happened, Henry?" I looked at him thoughtfully.

"My friends thought it would be fun to look inside an old wooden box that was a part of my professor's collection of Native American relics. I had a bad feeling about the whole thing, but we were just looking to pull a small prank before graduation." Henry's leg started bouncing nervously.

Garth leaned forward. "Was there anything on the box? Any symbols or writing?"

Henry nodded. "Nothing that I had seen before from studying the history of local tribes. It definitely wasn't Native American. Just the sort of stuff you see on TV. Ya know? Like horror movie stuff."

"So, what did you guys do?" Nate asked. "And what happened?"

"We opened it." Henry started to get choked up. "A blast of black smoke erupted from inside and flew up into the sky. You could just feel that something wasn't right. And then we all left campus for the weekend."

I nodded. "And shortly after that is when Naomi was killed?"

Henry swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"When was the last time you saw or spoke with the professor that the box belonged to?" I asked.

"The day we left campus. But she doesn't have anything to do with this. No, this was something dark. We unleashed whatever was in that box, and now it is hunting us down, one by one." Henry sat up. "I have to get out of here."