“Listen, man. It’s just a bet. A fucking game, you get me?”
I glared at Anton Fisker, sole owner and operator of “The Burning Hour”. My checks the day before had told me that he was twenty-seven years old and had grown up in Michigan before moving to this area ten years before. Upon his arrival, he’d immediately purchased a fifty-acre plot of pine trees and rocky ground out in the middle of nowhere. That was in August. By October of the same year, the first word of a new extreme haunt or fear challenge called “The Burning Hour” began popping up a few places. By this year, it was still an underground event, but one with quite a following. Available only by appointment, and even then, only on Wednesday nights, it had become the white whale of some internet circles, particularly among those for whom the distance, limited access, or the sheer cost, put entry out of reach.
There were numerous accounts of what took place in The Burning Hour. Most of them were fiction, created by people wanting some attention on their forum or social network of choice. Even they usually got the framework of the experience right, of course. That was simple enough, as it was detailed on the website. The site was password-protected, but that hadn’t stopped plenty of screenshots from being floated around by customers that had paid the entry fee and gained access. It was all in the first paragraphs when you entered the site:
Congratulations on taking the first step toward experiencing The Burning Hour. Before you proceed to the forms and disclaimers, a bit more about what you’re about to sign up for. You will be given directions to the location, and once you arrive, you will be given a new set of clothes and a fresh flashlight. This is all you can carry down with you.
After you are ready, you will head down into the space. The door will be shut and locked behind you, but a staff member will be on the other side. If at any point you wish to leave, simply knock four times quickly in a row on the door you first entered. The door will be unlocked and opened and you will be allowed to go. Bear in mind that your time allotted stops the moment you knock the fourth time, and if that occurs before the full hour has passed, you forfeit.
But if you are able to stay inside the entire hour, you will not only be refunded your entry fee, but you will receive $100,000.00 in cash, as well as digital certification from The Burning Hour that you have completed the challenge.
I bit the inside of my cheek as I waited to respond. Fisker didn’t look like he had $100,000.00 or even $100. And he certainly didn’t look like he’d be running some operation more complex than cooking up some low-grade meth. So it was a scam. Or worse, a trap for the unwary.
“As you know, I was hired by the parents of Andrea Wallace. Very rich and very sad people that will do just about anything to get their daughter back. You know, the young girl I showed you in the picture? The one that you admitted was here last month?”
He frowned and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m not trying to hide it. I keep good records. Got photos and video of everyone that comes and goes from here.” He gestured around at several obvious cameras on poles both inside and outside the chain-link fence. “Not looking to get sued.” Fisker glowered at me. “Or get hassled by cops.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m not a cop. I’m a private investigator. And I already told you that when I arrived. So I can only assume you’re saying that to be rude.” I leaned forward slightly, my eyes fixed on his. “Why are you trying to be rude to me, sir?”
He held my gaze and shrugged. “Maybe because you come in here acting like I did something wrong. Look, it’s like I told you. The girl you’re talking about came with two of her friends. She’d paid the 15k to get them all in ahead of time through the website. They were all a little drunk, but otherwise seemed like nice kids. I got them signed in, went over everything with them, and then turned them over to Billy and Megan. Like you saw on the video, they go in at 8 p.m.”
Fisker’s expression changed as he slowly shook his head. “I figured they’d be out of there in five minutes. Ten, tops. But they didn’t knock.” His gaze had drifted away, but his eyes found me again as he went on. “No one—and I mean no one--has ever stayed in the space more than thirty minutes. When it reached forty, I was at the door with Billy. When it reached five past an hour, we unlocked it and went in.” He shrugged. “They were just…gone.”
I debated what tact to take. On the one hand, what he was saying was true, at least in part. I’d watched his security footage and gone over the statements police had taken a month earlier, as well as done my own follow-up investigation before going out to see the attraction and the man that owned it. Andrea had bought the tickets and gone with her two best friends, Betsy Jasper and Alice Woods to The Burning Hour voluntarily so far as I could tell. There was no sign in her texts or emails, or anyone I talked to, that she was doing anything other than thrillseeking like any other college kid with more money than sense.
He was also right that the video shows them entering, and I had seen no signs of editing or alteration of the two hours between then and when police first arrived. Hell, Fisker was the one that had called the cops once they’d looked for the girls and not found them anywhere. That didn’t mean he was innocent, of course. Just smart.
Unfolding my arms, I nodded at him. “Look, I believe you. I’m not saying you did anything to them. But there has to be something else you haven’t told me or the cops. For instance, isn’t there more than one way in and out of that place?”
Fisker’s eyes widened slightly as he broke into an uncomfortable smile. “Um, no. I guess you haven’t seen what’s down there, but there’s only one way in or out.” He pointed at the ten-foot high fence we were standing outside of. “And that thing goes around the only way down to the door. I’m the only one with the key to the fence gate, and only my key and a single staff key exists for the door down there. And no one is allowed inside the fence unless I’m either here or in the trailer where I can see the cameras.” He cocked his head behind him to the single-wide set up at the edge of the clearing. “Had a couple of kids climb past the fence a few years back, which is why I added the razor wire up top, but they couldn’t get any farther than that.
I frowned at him. “Well, if it’s all as tightly-run as you claim, then you’d have to know everyone that came and went. So where did Andrea and those other girls go?”
Fisker looked angry for a second, but then the flare of emotion faded away, only leaving behind a grey sad look in his eyes. “Man, I wish I knew. You think I want this hassle? The only reason they haven’t shut me down or locked me up is because of my lawyer threatening them, and even he says that I need to be real careful to not give them an excuse.” He glanced toward the set of stone steps heading down into the earth on the other side of the chain-link. “Thing is, there’s nothing for them to find.”
I felt my irritation growing. This guy was lying or hiding something, but I didn’t know exactly what yet. Stepping past him, I went to the fence and peered down the steps. “We’ll see. So what about when they went inside? You say you’ve showed me all the video you’ve got, but there was none from any cameras inside ‘the space’.”
He shook his head slightly, his eyes wary. “Because there are none. There’s no recording in there. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t.”
Letting his odd response go for a moment, I pressed on. “Okay, so no video. But you have to have people watching them, right? Doing stuff to people to freak them out and make them leave fast?”
It was Fisker’s turn to frown. “You don’t get it. This isn’t a haunted house or a carnival ride. We aren’t in there manipulating things.”
I stared at him. “So you’re telling me that there’s never anyone in there with them? Watching them or scaring them?”
His gaze was steady. “I’m telling you that I wouldn’t let me or my staff be in the space while the door was shut for a million fucking dollars. And there’s no way for us to get in or do anything in there other than through that same door.”
I smiled slightly at his phrasing. “You’re being very careful with your words, aren’t you, Mr. Fisker? So what, you control things remotely with electronics or something?”
Fisker scrubbed his hand across his cheek. “Look, dumbass. Most electronics don’t even work in there. Even the flashlights I give them, which I order special because they’re supposed to be shielded and durable? They burn out in like five or ten minutes.” He gave a laugh. “Hell, that’s probably when half these people start knocking to get out. But to be really clear, no, neither me nor anybody working for me goes in there to mess with them or messes with them remotely. We literally just shut the door, lock it, and wait.”
I felt my smile hardening. “I don’t believe you.”
He smirked. “And I don’t care.” Puffing out a breath, he ran a hand through his greasy hair. “Look, look. You said you read about this place online, right?”
I nodded. “Sure. Most of it sounded like bullshit, but yeah. What’s your point?”
Fisker gave me an unpleasant smile. “What let you know the ones that were bullshit?”
I paused, surprised by the question. After a moment of thought, I gave a shrug. “Some I could tell because what they said sounded like something from a normal haunt, not something that people would leave if they had a chance at winning the kind of money you claim to be offering. Others were clearly just made up crap—stuff that didn’t make sense and was supposed to be scary but you could tell the person telling it wasn’t actually scared by it because it had never happened to them. A few were just jumping on the bandwagon. Too vague.”
His smile widened. “Yeah, but you said most were bullshit. Not all. What about the ones you believed? What did they say?”
I felt my mouth going dry as I held his gaze. “They didn’t say much really. Just that they had done it and that they hadn’t won the money. And some of them warned people. Warned them to not come and do The Burning Hour. That it wasn’t worth it, even if they won the money.”
Fisker looked thoughtful. “Hmm. Those just sound like plants to me. Maybe I posted those myself. No better way to drum up business than to tell people to stay away.”
Looking past him, I stared at the steps going down. They looked like marble. What in the hell had he built out here? “Yeah, that was my first thought too. But I checked the people out. Tracked them back to real people. People that, so far as I can tell, are unconnected to each other or you…well, except for through this place.” Tearing my gaze away from the carved stone railing trailing away into the ground, I looked back at Fisker. “What is this place? Really? What happens to them down there?”
There was no smile on his face this time when he spoke. “I can’t tell you that.” He reached into his shirt and pulled out a metal chain with a small key on the end. “But I can let you see if you want.” The corners of his mouth twitched slightly. “Free of charge.”
He turned and unlocked the fence gate, stepping in before I could even respond. I hesitated to follow. “If this is some kind of trick to get me down there and do something to me, you should know I just left the sheriff’s office before coming here and they know where I was headed.”
Fisker shrugged. “That’s fine. I’m not going to touch a hair on your head. You’ll walk out of here just fine…unless, you disappear too I guess.”
“Uh-huh.” Clenching my jaw, I got out my phone and pulled up the contact I’d just added earlier that afternoon. “Hey, Investigator Grant. This is Wally Sturgis. Yeah, everything is fine. But I’m out here talking to this Mr. Fisker. He’s offered to let me go in his…attraction. If I don’t call you back in the next 90 minutes, send some deputies this way, yeah?” I smiled at Fisker as I put my phone away. “I’m ready.”
He held the door open until I was through and then locked it behind us. Walking past me, he beckoned to follow him to the steps and beyond. I felt my stomach tighten again. These steps were marble. Marble and ornately carved at the edges, curving slightly as they drifted further underground. I thought back to the land records. How had he bought this property in August and had this made within three months? And even if he had the means to do it, why?
But what was the alternative? That this had already existed here before he bought the land? It was possible, but that made no more sense. Stairs going down to…
I felt my breath catch as we reached a wall of featureless grey brick. Featureless except for a heavy metal red door and the white sign above it. Emblazoned across the sign in large green letters was a single line:
Mind the gap.
Fisker was about to unlock the door when he paused and turned back to me. “Sorry, almost forgot. Leave your phone and any electronic keys out here with me.”
“I don’t think so.”
He shrugged. “Then you don’t get in. Up to you.”
I stared at him a moment before handing over my phone and key fob. “Remember my phone call.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to unlock the door and open it. The door swung wide silently, and inside, everything was darkness.
“Oh, my bad. Here’s your complimentary flashlight. Good luck with it.” I glanced down to see he was holding out a small metal flashlight. Taking it, I clicked the rubber button experimentally. A bright beam of light flared out, and I turned it toward the open doorway. The beam didn’t penetrate far, but I could see tile floor and the ghostly outline of a distant white wall. On the wall, I could just make out what looked like some kind of map covered in lines of various colors. Walking closer, I shined my light around as my heart began to hammer in my chest. This was impossible. How was any of this…
Behind me, I heard the door slam shut. Fisker called out from the other side, barely audible. “Just knock four times when you’re ready to get out.”
I had spun toward the door when it closed, but now I turned back to the darkness, my breaths coming short and fast. Flashlight slippery in my hand, I took a step forward, tense for any motion or sound. The only noise was Fisker behind me. He was locking the door back with a metallic thunk before yelling to me one more time.
“Welcome to The Burning Hour.”
---
Credits
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