Securing a parking spot proved to be surprisingly straightforward amidst the bustle surrounding the observatory. The area teemed with life as hundreds of enthusiasts congregated, eager to witness the celestial spectacle. Families staked their claim on patches of grass with blankets and lawn chairs. The air was filled with the savory aromas from an assembly of food trucks lined up along the parking lot's perimeter.
Beyond the commercial offerings, some attendees had taken it upon themselves to grill their meals. Children wove through the crowd, their laughter punctuating the air as they engaged in games of tag or tossed footballs back and forth.
Wade couldn't help but notice the shift in Mr. Raven's demeanor as they meandered through the lively crowd. Upon spotting a group of men gathered around a grill, his father's eyes seemed to spark with recognition. Mr. Raven's smile widened, genuine and infectious, hinting they were buddies of his.
An errant football spiraled through the air, missing Wade's head by inches. He felt the rush of air as the ball whooshed past. He blinked in surprise and scanned the area for the wayward thrower.
"You've got to keep your eyes peeled, son. Never know when you'll need to dodge or catch a surprise pass around here," Mr. Raven said. With a friendly nod, he tossed the football back to a boy who looked about as old as Wade did now.
Still recovering from the near miss, Wade shot back with a wry smile, "Or maybe everyone else could just aim better."
The boy called back with a shit-eating grin, "Sorry, Chris! But hey, makes for a good reflex test, doesn't it?" He laughed loudly.
Mr. Raven glanced at his watch and turned to Wade. "Why don't you go toss the ball around with Dexter for a bit? It'll be good to stretch your legs after the ride," he suggested. "Meet me back at the steps in two hours, alright? The eclipse will start soon after that, and you won't want to miss it." His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. With a final nod, he gave Wade a hearty slap on the back.
Mr. Raven started walking towards the group of men now serving the grilled hot dogs. Wade stood there a bit awkwardly, not sure how to engage the other boy. Dexter extended the football towards Wade with a playful tilt of his head. "Come on, give it a go. I promise I won't aim for your head this time."
Wade hesitated. He might as well make the best of it. 'How hard can it be?' Taking the football, he felt the unfamiliar weight in his hands, the leather cool and slightly slick under his fingers. Dexter's expectant look, framed by his freckled cheeks and bright, mischievous eyes, made him sigh in resignation.
With a shrug, Wade tossed the ball back clumsily. The ball wobbled through the air but somehow reached Dexter's waiting hands. Dexter snorted, "The heck was that, Chris?!"
Wade just shrugged. "Not really in the mood?"
"That's your excuse for being shit at throwing," Dexter laughed, tossing the football back with a gentle spin. Wade caught it and threw it back.
Dexter caught the wobbly pass, but instead of preparing for another throw, he just let the ball drop to the ground with a dull thud, like a sack of potatoes. He glanced at Wade and sighed. "Well...what do you want to do then?"
Wade rubbed the back of his neck, feeling out of his element. "I don't know, man. Maybe just walk around and check out what's happening? There's got to be something less... sporty we can do." He offered a half-smile. "How about we go see what they have in the observatory?" Wade offered.
Dexter chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "Nerd," he teased, the word playful rather than biting. "Of course you want to go there. Not like you haven't been there a million times already."
"I'm not hearing any ideas from you," Wade said. 'Right, Chris is a space enthusiast.'
"Let's head down to the river," Dexter said. He gestured toward the woods, a grin still on his lips, and started toward the river, expecting Wade to follow.
Navigating the lively crowd, Dexter suddenly veered off the beaten path, nodding towards the dense woods bordering the observatory grounds. The crowd's sounds faded into a soft murmur, replaced by the rustling of leaves and the distant sound of running water. Dexter set a leisurely pace.
The walk through the woods brought them to the river's edge quicker than Wade expected. In its winter state, the Colorado River flowed with a quiet, relentless force, its dark waters contrasting with the stark white of the snow-covered banks. Here and there, chunks of ice floated downstream, bobbing gently on the surface.
The river's shoreline was a mix of smooth stones and patches of snow, with the occasional bare tree branch reaching out over the water, creating intricate patterns of shadow and light. It felt miles away from the festive chaos they had left behind.
Dexter suddenly scooped up a handful of snow. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he compacted it quickly and launched it toward Wade's face.
Wade saw it coming and managed to dodge just in time. The snowball whizzed past his ear, disintegrating against a tree behind him. "No more throwing things," he exclaimed, annoyed.
"You're no fun today." Dexter stuck his tongue out.
"Funny." That was all Wade said about it. "Let's keep walking."
"Ok, grandpa." Dexter rolled his eyes.
They continued walking, but there was silence between them. Wade was not feeling sociable. Dexter started lagging behind, throwing rocks he picked off the ground into the icy river. It suited Wade just fine. The silence was golden.
As they meandered along the river's edge, the silence between them was suddenly pierced by a distant, rhythmic sound—a faint but steady beat of a drum. Wade paused mid-step, tilting his head slightly, trying to discern the direction of the sound. His brows furrowed in curiosity. 'That's some Jumanji shit right there,' he thought. Maybe it was time to turn around. Curiosity killed the cat and all that.
Dexter, who had been absently skipping stones, stopped and looked up. "You hear that?" he asked, his voice low.
Wade shook his head. "Nope." He'd had enough cosmic fuckery for one day.
"Come on, man. I know you hear it, too. Let's go find out who it is!" Dexter whined.
"Hmmm. How about no." Wade resolved not to go.
"Argh. Why?! I'm bored." Dexter stomped his foot down. His face had started to turn red from frustration. "And since when do you not want to explore shit? You're always going on about exploring the unknown."
Wade hesitated briefly, weighing the wisdom of venturing deeper into the unknown woods. The mystery of the drumbeat was intriguing, but dare he risk his life and limb? Was he being too dramatic? What would be the likelihood that something bad happened? The beat was strangely alluring and was hard to ignore. Dexter's persistent urging didn't help either.
"I bet it's someone throwing a party out here!" Dexter nudged him playfully. "Don't be such a buzzkill, Chris. Aren't you the least bit curious? What if it's something cool?"
The drumbeat continued, its rhythm steady and somehow compelling. Wade felt a tug of curiosity despite his reservations. "Fine," he sighed, "but at the first sign of trouble, we're out of there."
Dexter's grin widened. "Deal. But when it turns out to be the adventure of a lifetime, you owe me one, you sissy."
"Whatever." Wade rolled his eyes. 'Child.'
Together, they followed the sound, moving cautiously through the woods. As they drew closer, its cadence became more apparent, a complex pattern. Wade could feel the vibrations through the soles of his shoes. The anticipation built with each step they took. They came upon a clearing in the cedar trees. A crowd of black-robed people was there. They had found their mystery drummer. It was a naked bald man with a blank golden mask. His pale skin reddened from the cold. He held a simple wooden stick in his hands, which he used to strike a drum crafted from aged wood and taut leather.
Encircling a large, rounded black stone that seemed to serve as an altar, a procession of women moved with deliberate grace. Their golden cloaks, mirroring the man's mask, fluttered softly with each step, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. Like the drummer, their faces were hidden behind identical golden masks, adding to the mystique of the ritual they performed. Their movement was slow, almost hypnotic, their feet tracing patterns in the soft earth as they circled the stone in a silent, sacred rhythm.
Wade and Dexter stood at the edge of the clearing, watching the masked figures. The haunting sound of the drum and the solemn procession around the stone created a beautiful and unsettling tableau.
Wade felt an uneasy chill crawl up his spine. 'This is nuts,' he thought, the beat resonating uncomfortably through him. 'We should head back,' his mind screamed.
Dexter seemed caught between revulsion and morbid curiosity. His nose wrinkled at the sight of the naked drummer, his earlier bravado faltering in the face of the bizarre ritual. Yet his gaze lingered a tad too long on the cloaked figures.
Wade's discomfort grew as he realized they were intruding on something private, possibly sacred. Dexter leaned in and whispered, a hint of mischief returning to his voice. "Dude, think they're... you know, the same underneath those cloaks?"
Wade shot Dexter a disapproving look, his patience wearing thin. "Seriously? That's what you're thinking about right now?" His voice was low.
"I bet you thought about it, too!" Dexter said defensively.
"Man, this is some wild stuff. Never thought we'd stumble into... whatever this is," Dexter said, changing the topic.
Wade responded with a tight-lipped smile. "Yeah, 'wild' is one word for it," he agreed, his voice tinged with apprehension. "I'm just not sure if we should stay for this..."
Dexter, undeterred, continued, "Imagine the stories we could tell after this. 'That one time we crashed a Satanist party.' It's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"
Their banter was cut short as the drumming suddenly intensified, drawing their attention back to the ritual. The atmosphere seemed to thicken, the air charged with an unseen energy that made Wade's skin prickle. The women in gold began to hum low with the drum. The sound was mesmerizing. Neither of them could look away. The sky began to darken. Wade found himself unable to move.
Huuuuummmmmmmmm...
At the edge of his vision, Wade could see the boy beside him. The humming was coming from Dexter. Dexter's eyes had rolled upward, his eyelids twitching. The sun had begun to eclipse. That couldn't be right. It felt as though they'd been there less than an hour. Or had they been there longer? The women began to dance around the stone spasmodically. Dexter was humming louder and louder. It was like locust wings in his ears. Wade began to panic. He tried with all his might to move. To get away.
The women abruptly stopped, as did the drumming and humming. Dexter stood still beside Wade. The shift from the frantic activity to this sudden stillness was disorienting, leaving Wade gasping for breath as if he'd been running. The women around the stone stood eerily motionless, like statues. Their golden masks hid their faces, making it impossible to read their expressions.
As if on cue, the silence was broken by a whisper that seemed to emanate from the stone itself, a voice that was neither human nor entirely comprehensible. In a frenzy, the women in gold threw themselves upon the altar. They clawed and grasped at the stone, wailing. Dexter launched himself forward as well. His smile looked unnatural, almost a pained grimace. He moaned as he pushed himself through the crowd of black-robed people. He joined the golden women.
"BEGIN!" a tall black-robed figure commanded. There were some whispers of hesitation and pointing at Dexter, but the man silenced them with a look. He raised a black shard of obsidian, maybe glass, and the crowd followed suit with their blades.
'I need to get out of here. I need to leave. What was I thinking?!' Wade thought, desperation clawing at his throat. But his body remained frozen.
As the black-robed leader raised the shard higher, the crowd's fervor intensified, their chants rising in a cacophony that seemed to shake the very ground. Still unable to move, Wade could only watch in horror.
The eclipse peaked, plunging the world into an eerie twilight. In this surreal half-light, the golden masks of the women shimmered with a ghostly luminescence, their frantic movements casting bizarre, elongated shadows across the clearing. As if triggered by the celestial event, the black-robed figure thrust the shard downward in a dramatic, ritualistic gesture. The crowd's shards pointed toward the sky, creating a forest of dark, glinting points that seemed to pierce the dimness.
In that instant, a deafening silence fell over the clearing, the chants and wails abruptly ceasing. The only sound was the rapid beating of Wade's heart, echoing in his ears like a desperate drum of escape. And then, without warning, the ground beneath the altar began to tremble, the earth itself responding to the ritual's climax. The stone, previously inert and cold, now pulsed with a sinister, inner light, its surface cracking and shifting as if something within sought to break free. Wade's breath caught in his throat as he witnessed the impossible: the stone splitting apart, revealing a swirling chasm of dark energy. The air around the clearing warped and twisted, the fabric of reality bending in ways that defied understanding.
Dexter, caught in the throes of the ritual's final act, stepped forward, drawn inexorably towards the chasm. His laughter, once filled with youthful mischief, now sounded hollow and unhinged, a chilling soundtrack to the unfolding nightmare. Wade's paralysis broke. Panic surged through him. 'No!' he wanted to scream. But his voice was a mere whisper, lost in the roar of the chasm. The robed figures, their ritual complete, stepped back in unison, their gaze fixed on the women in gold and Dexter as they stood on the edge of the abyss. It was too late. Dexter, with a wild, ecstatic cry, leaped into the void, followed by the women, who disappeared into the darkness as the stone closed, sealing the chasm as if it had never been.