Book Eight, Chapter 72: Family Troubles

“He’s going to attack us the moment he knows that we’re here,” Camden said as we huddled, making a plan. His Battlefield Intuition trope allowed him to look into the tactics an enemy would employ.

“I’ll try not to take it personally,” I said. “So, to maximize this interaction, we should probably talk to the family first. Maybe they’ll scream for him, and there will be a fight. Or they might not.”

“Sounds good to me,” Camden said. He had his rifle ready to go, and one of his soldiers had a flamethrower primed and ready.

I almost asked Roxy to try to be the one to reach out to the family. It was an old habit from the days when we had Kimberly as our NPC charmer. I wasn’t sure Roxy would do the same. Her character didn’t really seem like someone who would approach this situation with gentleness.

So that meant it was up to me.

The next time we went On-Screen, I began walking out of the jungle into the clearing where the tent was with my hands raised.

“Hello,” I said. “Is everything okay here?”

The young woman looked at me like I had two heads and ran into the tent.

The young man chained to a tree did his best to turn and look at me.

“Quiet,” he said through his gag. “He’ll hear you.”

In the distance, another explosion went off. At the very least, that meant Torsten Dahlberg was unlikely to be sneaking up on us.

I waved for the others to follow me as I quickly made my way to the campsite. There were a few squirrels cooking over the fire and a pan of some type of gravy, perhaps with berries in it.

When I got to the young man, Vidar, I quickly began attempting to help him escape his bindings, but they were quite tight. I didn’t exactly know how to pick a lock, but I could probably get it to work using Hustle if I needed to.

“Where’s the key?” I asked.

“He has it on him,” Vidar said.

“That’s okay, I’ll figure it out,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Vidar,” the young man said.

I looked over at the tent where the young woman, presumably his sister, was hiding and staring at us.

“Vidar, my name is Riley, and I’m here to help. Can you explain to me what’s going on?”

Rage rose up into the kid’s throat as he started to describe what had happened.

“He dragged us out here into the jungle after Mom got sick, saying it was one last family camping trip, and now he’s obsessed with digging a hole. He tried to get me to help him, and when I wouldn’t, he chained me up. I’ve been here for a week. He won’t let me out. He’s gone mad.”

Camden, meanwhile, had his soldiers secure the perimeter. Roxy and her bodyguard stayed back, but my crew was filming things.

I had to get the kid out of the chains. Unfortunately, I didn’t have anything on me to pick the lock with. But I knew a way.

“Camden,” I said, “give me a paper clip from those files.” My heart raced. I didn’t actually remember any of the files being paper-clipped. Some were stapled, though, but mostly loose-leaf or bound inside notebooks and journals.

Still, when Camden made his way to me, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a paper clip from amongst the documentation we had found.

It was basic improvisation, and yet I still felt a little afraid to do it. I was going to have to get over that.

I unbent the paper clip and quickly used it to pick the lock, which consisted mostly of just shaking it around in there until something clicked. Dina had been the first of us to figure that out. We were pretty impressed with it.

Quickly, I worked to unbind the chains around the kid’s legs and torso so that he could get out freely. Carousel really hadn’t skimped on the details of what it would be like for someone to be chained to a tree for a week. The first thing the kid did was change clothes.

Camden and I gradually worked our way toward the tent.

“We aren’t here to hurt you,” I said. “We can help bring you back to civilization and get you some help, a hospital.”

The girl, Ylva, gently said, “It’s too late for the hospital. Mama has less than a month.” She looked at her mother with such hopelessness. “Dad’s gone crazy. If we don’t leave here, I think Vidar and I might die too.”

I didn’t know what to make of the situation.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“We’ll help you,” I said.

Carousel was getting footage of most of this interaction, which meant it wasn’t just an arbitrary, terrifying thing we found in the woods. It was important. Clearly, this guy, Torsten, was trying to get into the tunnel to the Sunken Cradle.

Was there some legend about the cradle having healing properties or something? That might explain why Andrew’s character wanted it after the lung cancer diagnosis.

I didn’t know yet, but I did know that we weren’t getting out of there without a confrontation, so I decided to push it forward.

“Camden, we’ve got to get her out of here. What can you do?”

He thought for a moment and said, “We can haul her out of here on that cot. It looks solid enough, but I don’t think she’s conscious. She may be too far gone already.”

“She gets sleepy on her meds,” the young woman said. “She’ll be thankful if you can get us out of here.”

I nodded.

Camden and I looked at each other. We knew what was about to happen.

He ordered his men to help pack up the campsite, which they did diligently, taking all the medical supplies but leaving the food. That way, Torsten might not starve when he was done blowing a hole in the ground.

The troops had her propped up and were carrying her on her cot, with the daughter and son following right behind. That took up four of the six soldiers.

In the distance, screaming could be heard. Torsten had discovered us just as we expected him to.

“Don’t you lay a hand on my family,” he said. “I’m trying to save them.”

He had a pickaxe in his hand, but I was more concerned with the sticks of dynamite he carried on his waist belt.