Act 4

  Setting: The Backrooms

  Date: Thursday, May 4th, 1995?

  (The group walks cautiously as they make their way through the hallways. The oppressive hum of the lights drowning out every step of their journey. Alex and John take the front of the group, while Lily trails behind, trying to keep her distance. Her legs coiled like springs, ready to explode at the first sign of betrayal.)

  Alex (quietly, to John):

  Seems like she still doesn’t trust us.

  John (softly):

  Children trust unconditionally, and learn not to trust as they grow older. But if they learn Who they don’t trust before Why they don’t… It’s hard for them to ever figure out how to tell the difference between the two. For now, we’re happy that she’s even willing to follow us.

  (Alex looks back at Lily, who’s still trailing behind slightly with a worried expression. Her eyes scan the hall before noticing his gaze. Her face quickly shifts to a smile. So quickly, that Alex barely has time to notice the seams of the mask she now wears. His jaw tightens, but he stays silent this time. Suddenly, Lily’s head snaps towards a nearby hallway.)

  Lily (her voice a sharp whisper, trembling):

  Wait!… Stop!

  (Alex and John stop. They turn to see Lily frozen, pale-faced, as she listens intently to something only she can hear as her eyes dart around frantically, searching the hall for any sign of an escape. Worried, Alex tries to ask her what’s wrong, but his words die in his mouth before they can escape as he hears the sound finally reaching him. Starting as a faint shuffle that sounds to be the footsteps of a large group off in the distance. Slowly making their way towards them, as the soft sound of their conversations is muffled by the distance between the two groups.)

  Lily (urgent, whispering):

  We have to hide.

  John:

  Those footsteps sound human. Why don’t we-

  Lily (cutting him off, tense):

  Just Hide!

  (Alex scans the area. Just ahead, he spots a shadowed alcove… narrow but just wide enough to fit all three of them, and half swallowed by the flickering lights. He motions silently, before slipping into the darkness. Lily follows behind quickly, pressing herself against the wall, as her small frame trembles. John slips in last, the dim lighting hiding his face as he peeks around the corner.)

  (As the shuffling draws closer, their steps start to take on a more methodical pattern. Followed closely behind the sound of their conversations that now rise together in a ritualistic unison. They begin to chant in a performative, almost sinister tone. A few moments later, the mass of voices falls silent. In their place, another one speaks up.)

  Loud voice (booming, on the edge of madness): SPECTATOR! THE CURTAINS RISE. AS WE, YOUR LOYAL ACTORS, TAKE THE STAGE. BEAR WITNESS NOW. TO A TALE. ETCHED IN THE BLOOD OF YOUR LOYAL CAST.

  (The voice echoes, followed by the previous chants from before picking up. Louder, and more fervently than before. After a few moments, a second voice rings out from the crowd. They speak slow, and with the practiced cadence of a priest reading lines of scripture.)

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  Second voice: With each drop. Our blood brings us closer to our promised salvation. Spectator. Please. Shower us, your loyal cast with your attention as we…

  (Suddenly, the chanting stops. The only sound now is the loud thump of their feet hitting the ground in unison. There’s a long silence as if the members are waiting for some sort of cue, before a soft, reluctant voice picks up from the group.)

  Third voice (tired): We… perform…

  Group (whispered at first, then rising, fevered):

  Let the curtains rise. Let the curtains rise. Let the curtains rise!

  Loud voice (yelling): LOOK UPON US SPECTATOR AS THIS STORY UNFOLDS... A TALE FILLED WITH SADNESS, LOVE, AND BETRAYAL. NOW BEHOLD A PERFORMANCE CRAFTED BY THE HANDS OF OUR NEWEST ACTORS.

  (The marching continues on past the group, slowly fading away as it’s swallowed by the endless hallways. No one breathes. For a long moment, the only sound is the lingering hum of the lights. Then finally, Lily exhales, shakily, before moving back towards the hallways.)

  Lily (whispering):

  I think they’re gone.

  (A chill runs through John, causing him to shiver as he glances towards Alex. Who looks equally unsettled as he does. Neither daring to speak yet as the sounds of their loud chants still ring freshly in their ears.)

  Alex: You think they’re friendly? Maybe they were being symbolic when they said “Blood” a hundred times during their death chant.

  John (quietly, ignoring Alex):

  Lily, what was that?

  Lily (hesitant, her voice still lowered):

  They call themselves the Weavers of the Grand Narrative. They believe The Backrooms is all just a stage.

  (Lily pauses.)

  Lily: That something… or someone, is out there. Watching all of us like it’s some sort of… sick show.

  (A shudder runs through Lily as she looks off towards the distance, her eyes still wide with fear.)

  Alex:

  A show?

  Lily (uncomfortably):

  It’s what they call them, but they’re…

  (She takes a shaky breath as she tries, unsuccessfully, to regain her lost composure.)

  Lily:

  It’s hard to explain right now... Just make sure you never run into them yourselves.

  John (still shaken, but forcing himself to breathe):

  We can leave it at that for now. Let’s just focus on the next step, and find that camp you mentioned earlier.

  Lily:

  We should be close. They were a day… no half a day. Away from my old camp.

  Alex:

  That close to another group, and you still chose to run solo? They must’ve looked like bad news.

  (Lily’s lips tighten slightly, as she shakes her head.)

  Lily (frowning):

  No… it’s not them it’s just… I’ve seen what groups will do to the ones that slow them down. I didn’t want to take the chance that they might be one of them.

  Alex: I guess we’ll see when we get there. The worst that happens is that we get-

  (John elbows Alex in the stomach cutting him off, causing Lily to look at them, confused.)

  Alex (in pain): Ouch… sorry about that.

  John: You should be… now let’s get out of here before you decide to speak again.

  (As they’re walking away, the dull glint of an object catches Alex’s eye. Half-buried in the carpet, he sees a jagged metal object. Alex shakes his head, ignoring the object as he continues moving forward past it. Yet, when he looks down, he finds himself somehow standing over it. His curiosity unknowingly drawing him towards it. It doesn’t take long for that curiosity to win out, as he kneels above the object. Running a finger along its cold, jagged edges. His eyes widen.)

  Alex:

  What the hell? How did…

  John (glancing back at him):

  What’s wrong Alex?

  Alex (distracted): Nothing. It’s just… I thought I saw something.

  (He calls out to John, before stuffing it into his pocket. He jogs back to the group. His heart pounding rapidly in his chest. The conversations from before now silent, as tension clings to each of them like static. But Alex doesn’t notice that. Instead, he spins the object in his pocket. Tracing his fingers around the familiar indents and jagged edges.)