"What does it say?"

Taylor doesn't respond as she continues to stare down at the phone trembling in her hands. Even though she isn't quite sure what to make of the message, she still finds it frightening to look upon.

"Taylor?"

Fluttering her eyes as she snaps back to reality, she looks up to see a concerned Marc leaning over the console as he attempts to read the screen. "Sorry. It says... Warm."

"What?" Marc shakes his head, as if he had misheard her, and looks down to get a better view at the phone in her hands. He reads the same word as her, sent in all caps with nothing but a period hanging off of it. "Warm? What does that mean?"

Gulping, she gazes over at him. Part of her doesn't want to know what it means. She just wants to find Millie as soon as possible so the three of them can get the hell out of here. She reaches for the door handle when he lightly grabs her arm. Not prepared to hear another we-shouldn't-do-this speech, she gazes over at him as she takes in a deep sigh.

But that's not the direction he goes this time. Being close to Millie himself, he knows that there is no question that this is something they must do. "Just don't run off by yourself like you did at the house. I can't... I can't lose you, Taylor."

"I won't." She reassures him before pulling the handle, popping the door open. Although there is clearly safety in numbers, the numbers have since fallen drastically and she can't risk allowing Marc to become another casualty in this. Inside, she tells herself that—if it comes down to it—she will do whatever she needs to protect him. Even if that means leaving him behind to face this masked lunatic all on her own.

Considering it's their only light source, other than the moon which is partially blocked by the branches of a large oak tree, Marc makes sure to leave the headlights on before exiting the car. The two quietly shut their doors behind them, as if it would matter, and with both hands he lifts the shotgun up to his chest.

Taylor eyes the widest building first. She figures that, if the killer is intent on being dramatic, he would more than likely have Millie stowed away in the largest—and probably most difficult to search in—spot. She signals to the weathered building and Marc nods, the two hiking through a patch of wildly overgrown grass to approach it.

A banner hangs from its front deck, its words faded due to years of sitting in direct sunlight. She figures that, at one point, it was vivid and colorful. Probably something the children had all gathered together and made. They pass it as they walk up the steps, really just a pile of corroded wooden planks, to see that the front door is already wide open. Without hesitation, she steps through the doorway with Marc close at her side. Autumn leaves fill the large entryway that leads into the dining hall where about a dozen or so wooden tables are lined up in two rows, perpendicular of each other. Some even still have stained plates and plastic cups sitting on top of the torn tablecloths.

Finding it difficult to see in the dark room, she already regrets not sparing a few seconds to dig up a flashlight before they left. After seeing that Marc's phone still has over half of its battery left, she clicks a few buttons to open up the flashlight application. A light flashes on from the rear of the phone, brightening up the room as its focus lingers to her left. As she takes a few steps forward she sees a short hall and follows it down into the kitchen, finding the small area empty as well. Rusted pots and pans hang from an iron rack mounted above the tiny wooden island centered in the room. Several spider webs wrap through them, as if holding the tarnished utensils together by their lace net. From the looks of the amount of dust settled on the web itself, the insects have even abandoned this hellhole.

The phone buzzes, startling her. She looks down at the already lit screen, using her thumb to expand the notifications bar. It's another text from Millie's phone.

'COLD.'

"She's not in here." Taylor, already picking up on the context behind the messages, lowers the phone to her side as she heads back through the hallway toward the open door.

Not wanting to fall behind, Marc quickly follows her as the two soon find themselves stepping back outside. "How can we be sure?"

She flashes the phone's screen at him, giving him a couple of seconds to glimpse at the short message before pulling it away. He trails behind her across the open lot to the first cabin across from them.

"Like we can trust this guy." He scoffs, shaking his head. "I still can't believe that we're doing this. It's one thing to go on this insane mission, but to not call the cops?"

"I don't trust him." She clarifies, her tone growing somewhat annoyed. Stopping in front of the car's headlights, she ignores the blinding beam in her eyes as she spins around to face him. "But right now, we really don't have a choice but to play this fucked up game until we find her."

Knowing that she's right, he doesn't respond as he takes a moment to collect his thoughts. The last thing he wants is for her to put herself in danger but, considering everything going on, he comes to the realization that she has been in peril all along.

Taylor turns back around to walk up the short steps to the cabin. The second she reaches for the door, she feels the phone vibrate once again.

'COLDER.'

She shows Marc the phone's screen before turning toward the path in the direction of the second cabin. They walk a few yards, her eyes set on the building as Marc's scan the wooded area surrounding them, until she can feel the planks creak underneath her feet as she approaches the door.

With the flashlight app still activated, she pushes open the door and directs the light in the room. At her side, Marc aims the shotgun as he looks around for even the slightest movement. She feels another vibration in her hand and glances at the device.

'WARM.'

Taylor flashes the phone at Marc and he nods, his grip tightening onto the forend of the shotgun as he steps forward. The two look around the cabin, seeing a loveseat layered with dust centered in front of the fireplace with six cots lined up further in the back of the building. It appears to be far larger than it looks from the outside, with even a small countertop and a sink set up along the wall to the right of the sofa. Not seeing anything out of the ordinary, she crouches to the floor to glance under the beds as he checks behind a door that she assumes to be the closet.

Nothing.

Taking a deep breath, she looks over at him and sighs. She can tell by his expression, similar to hers, that he didn't find a thing as well. Both hurriedly head out the door and back to the trail leading to the third cabin. As they approach it, her nerves grow even more unsettled with each step she takes.

Noticing a slight glow illuminating from in between the slits of the curtains on the two front windows of the cabin, Taylor and Marc exchange worried looks before stepping up to the cracked open door. Using the nozzle of the shotgun, Marc quickly pushes the door open and it swings into the wall. Immediately, both slam a palm against their face to block out the unbearable stench. The putrid smell is the mixture of rotting flesh and, oddly, reminiscent of a barbecue. Taylor prays that it's from a small animal that had managed to get caught into a hunting trap, or perhaps some disgusting meal that had been cooked up from one, as she walks alongside him further into the building.

From first look, the cabin doesn't look much different than the one before. Everything appears the same, from the furniture and its placement to the filthy windows and torn wood bordering the room. Except in this one, the fireplace is lit and on the sofa is a white blanket sprawled out with the form of something lying beneath. Almost long enough to fit a body under. On its own, the door slowly eases shut behind them as the phone buzzes again.

'WARMER.'

Unable to breathe, Taylor can feel her chest tighten as she walks further into the room. As Marc approaches the blanket, she turns to look away. She's not prepared to see this, or at least what it could possibly be. As she looks off, she notices something dripping down the chimney and into the fire. She steps toward the fireplace and leans in to get a better look, feeling the warmth of the flames on her skin as she sees that it begins to drip at a faster pace.

Grabbing the bottom corners of the blanket, Marc rapidly yanks the sheet off and tosses it to the floor—revealing nothing but chopped firewood stacked onto the cushions of the sofa. Taylor hesitantly looks over at him but, the second she catches a glimpse of what was really underneath the blanket, she takes in a deep sigh of relief. At the same time, she can feel the phone vibrate in her tightening grasp and she peers down at the screen.

'HOT.'

A snapping noise is heard echoing from above, followed by the sound of a thin piece of metal rattling from inside the chimney. Suddenly—

A smoldering corpse, cooked black with its skin flaking, tumbles down into the fire head first. Its neck snaps as it hits one of the logs, the brittle bones popping easily to twist its head upward. With its eyelids completely disintegrated, its eyes—looking as if they are about to tumble out of their sockets—stare back at Taylor through the rising flames. Taylor immediately recognizes her.

"MILLIE!"

Millie's lips are scorched to a maroon crisp, peeling back away from the remnants of her shattered teeth, and smoke sizzles from her charcoaled skin. Her broken legs slide down the brick wall of the chimney until they line up with the back of her head. Barbed wire is wrapped tightly around her ankles, the metal itself a matte black as it leads up the shaft. All that's left of her mangled body is her seared skin and fractured bones.

Dropping to the floor, Taylor lets out a blood-curdling scream as tears begin to flood down her cheeks. A cloud of ash and embers soar out from the fireplace, filling the room with even more dust.

The shotgun nearly slips from Marc's grip but he catches it, also beyond shaken at what lies before them. Millie's right hand, her fingernails splitting open at each of their cuticles, is outstretched as if she was reaching for help. As if she is reaching right for them...

The flakes of ash begin to settle in the room. The two, staring at the burning remains, are left speechless. Hearing a slight creak in the wood, Marc's eyes light up and he glances around the room. He can't tell whether the noise came from inside the cabin or out on its small patio.

"We have to go!" Marc screams through tears of his own, grabbing Taylor's arm as he attempts to pull her away. She resists, slipping her arm out from his clutch. "Taylor!"

"Millie!" Still sobbing, she shakes her head as she watches the flames rising around Millie's blackened skull. What's left of her flesh continues to fry in the blaze.

"Taylor, we can't stay here!"

After grabbing her arm again, he forces her to her feet and finally manages to get her to follow him to the front of the cabin. He twists the handle on the door, finding it locked, and slams a clenched fist against it. "Shit!"

Still distraught, Taylor finds herself staring back at Millie's mutilated body while Marc quickly runs up to the windows. He holds the shotgun with one hand while he tugs upward at the bottom of the frame with the other, finding the window isn't budging either. Glancing down, he notices the flat heads of several nails that were hammered into the base of the frame, fastening it to the window sill. He looks over at the window next to it and, although seeing that it is secured similarly, still makes an effort to pull it open. That's when, through the overpowering foul smell of roasting flesh, he gets a faint whiff of another familiar odor.

Gasoline.

A blazing flare suddenly emerges from beneath the other side of the window and he jumps back. Taylor turns around just as the spreading fire rapidly engulfs the entire front side of the cabin, a thick black sheet of smoke slipping in from under the door as well as the many splits in the wooden walls. She shakes her head, gasping as she watches the rising flames through the glass and, behind their tall flicker, she can see a hooded figure standing outside of the cabin.

♫ ᴅᴏᴡɴ ɪɴ ғʟᴀᴍᴇs / ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ ᴊᴀᴄᴋ ♫

Who do you think is behind the mask?
Place your bets.