Thrillseekers.Com: A Novel

By L. R. Manley

Historically, evil has taken many forms. And in the twenty-first century, what better way to wreak havoc than through the internet?
Alex Morris has finally found the murder-mystery event she's been looking for at "thrillseekers.com," and she can't wait for spring break so that the fun-filled weekend can begin. What she doesn't know is that the host for this event has his own evil agenda for the weekend, and the murders that will eventually occur aren't played out by actors! This host speaks to the reader in a condescending, yet oddly likable voice, revealing the fact that he becomes flesh in a person already living, then feeds on others' weaknesses, fears, and especially deaths.
When Alex and seven others begin their weekend adventure, there is no turning back. They have no way of knowing that there is more to their presence there than the mere desire for fun, for one of them is not what they seem to be, courtesy of their mysterious host. As the weekend progresses, the players will ultimately realize that this game is deadly, yet there is no escape until it is played to its dismal, shocking conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Sep 20, 2000
• ISBN: 9781469759760

L. R. Manley

L. R. Manley has been an educator for the past eleven years and a writer since childhood, often writing stories for her own amusement. She lives in the midwest and is currently at work on her next book.

Book preview

PART I

The Gathering

TO BEGIN

Of Mans First Disobedience, and the Fruit Of that Forbidden Tree, whose mortal taste Brought Death into the World, and all our woe.

—John Milton, Paradise Lost Book I, Lines 1-3

The time is drawing nigh. Sleep has kept company with me long enough, and this soul must wake. It is weakened now, as is customary after its lengthy slumber. Its stimulation is of the utmost importance, and the soonest opportunity for its oblivion to come to an end is imperative.

I must say, however, that things have gone along quite nicely in my absence. It’s been since…let’s see…Jeffrey Dahmer. Yes, it was quite exhilarating being him. Removal of vital body parts, storing them, eating them, drinking their blood; quite satisfying, really.

It’s funny though, speaking of that with such satisfaction and fond recollection, how my taste in methodologies always seems to change with the times. Before Dahmer, I was the good Reverend Jim Jones. Quite a landslide, that was. More satisfying than I ever would have imagined.

You see, through that experience, I was reminded of how basic and primitive human nature really is, once you break it down. People are a lowly species, contrary to how they might like to think of themselves. They have an innate need to be led, preferably by someone who will give them love and acceptance, but also offer a firm hand that provides limitations.

Pitiful, really. I’ve never quite understood that trait in humankind. Probably God’s way of making human beings feel like they need Him; hence His precious little commandments. Who needs whom, if you really stop to think about it?

But never mind. The way things work in this world certainly makes it interesting for me. While I was Jim Jones I capitalized on that little piece of basic human nature one hundred fold. At the same time, I was able to bastardize the entire family system, using any woman I wanted and forbidding other relations of which I was not a part. Regardless of what I did, these people were not allowed to criticize me. I had the ultimate power. It’s a shame that it had to end, but I simply had no other choice, given the circumstances.

Before Jones, I embodied the esteemed Charles Manson. Once he started up The Family, the situation was quite similar in concept to the People’s Temple of which I just spoke, but on a much smaller scale. My task was easier though, simply because I had exemplary help and there were a multitude of drugs.

But permit me to explain. Let me spell it out for you, because you, too, are a member of the species about whom I have been speaking, aren’t you? Understand that I feed off of your misery and others of your kind. People like Ted Bundy and John Wayne Gacey nourish me, though I had no immediate part in their deeds. The evil was simply already present in them, and I was able to sit back and watch as my strength grew.

Humankind never disappoints me with its daily acts of violence and selfish behavior. I love chaos. I thrive on it. I will never die because human nature deems that there will never be an end to it. Yes, chaos feeds me well. And for entertainment, I become it. I enter those people who have great potential for the soothing evil that I crave, and I take over.

But this time I’m going to take a chance. This time I’m going to pick someone at random, just to see what transpires. And with today’s technology running rampant, what fun it might bring!

Oh, but wait. I didn’t properly introduce myself, did I? There’s an explanation for that. You see, just as I appear in many forms, I’m also called by many names, so I am often at a loss as to how best to perform the trivial formalities of introductions. Why don’t I just make it simple for your feeble mind? I’ll give you only one of those names, and perhaps you’ll be able to remember.

You may call me Legion.

CHAPTER 1

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been searching for something like this all semester long. She’d been combing the Internet now for three or four weeks, if not more, for the perfect murder mystery weekend that would coincide with the university’s spring break. But when Alex Morris saw the flaming red letters now brightly glowing on her computer screen, she felt as if it had fallen unbidden into her lap.

The ultimate mystery weekend, it said. For the most memorable fright you’ve ever encountered, click here!

Alex moved her mouse so that it rested on the fiery orange button beneath the thrillseekers.com logo, clicked on it, then waited with anticipation for the page to load. She wished her roommate Rachel was here to see this, but she was at her ten o’clock class right now. They had decided together, shortly after they’d returned from winter break, that they would need some excitement in their lives by the time they finished midterms in March.

Alex had always wanted to try one of the mystery weekends she’d heard so much about, and when she’d suggested it, Rachel had readily agreed. Since she’d had no luck up until now locating any new information, and this site suddenly appeared as if out of the blue, Alex had a feeling it might be just what they were looking for.

Orchestral music suddenly filled the room, echoing off of the cold tile floor and plaster walls, and Alex returned her attention to the now loaded Web page. She recognized the piece that was playing as Danse Macabre, one that she knew well on her violin, since it was in the university orchestra’s repertoire. The eerie quality of the piece, coupled with the dark, tunnel-like enclosure that was now depicted on her screen, only made Alex more certain that this was the mystery link they’d been looking for. She could think of nothing more spooky than actually being in this maze of tunnels, exploring every turnoff to discover what might be hidden there. She smiled in anticipation.

After a moment of taking in the rocky passageway on her screen and wishing she could be there in the flesh, she discovered that, directly above the arrow of her mouse, there was a small, bony hand with its index finger pointing forward. She grinned, delighted at the cunning of whomever had created this site. It had been set up like a CD-ROM game, and Alex was more intrigued than ever to find out what lay beyond. She clicked the button on her mouse, making sure the arrow on her screen rested directly on the hand, and the image immediately burst into life, creating the illusion that she was now walking through the musty, shale-lined tunnel. Her eyes flicked back and forth rapidly as the images changed. This was the next best thing to being there, Alex knew, and she didn’t want to miss any detail.

After a few seconds, the tunnel stopped moving past, having reached the junction of a perpendicular tunnel on the left of her screen. As Alex waited to see what would happen next, an attractive blond woman appeared at the opening on the left. She had come from the darkness of the passageway, wearing oversized gold-framed glasses and a short blue dress. Glancing to her right, Alex saw that the skeletal hand was beckoning with its index finger toward the original, forward direction of her own tunnel.

She looked back at the woman to see if anything had changed in that direction. Nothing had, and Alex decided to take a chance. She had always been one to succumb to her own curiosity, and despite the fact that she was obviously expected to click on the hand, she couldn’t resist moving the mouse to the woman instead, positioning the arrow directly on her before pushing the button.

What resulted was a piercing, anguished scream the moment her finger clicked on the mouse, then the woman fell to the floor of the passageway, apparently in a dead faint. Until now, the only sound coming from the computer had been the music, so when the scream erupted, Alex was so startled she jumped in her chair, causing its legs to clunk gracelessly on the hard, tiled floor.

This is great! she said out loud, laughing at her own gullibility. She found herself totally immersed in this new adventure, excited at the prospect of what the weekend package she was seeking here might be like. She hoped it would be this kind of creepy setup. Some remote, abandoned mansion would do the trick. But dear God, what about the cost? She was almost afraid to find out, sure that it would be well over her budget.

The other point to consider would be how far away this mystery event took place. With her luck, she’d get all psyched about going, only to find out that it was located somewhere in Germany, or some other place completely beyond her means. Knowing there was only one way to find out, she clicked on the hand at the center of the image. The screen burst into life once again, moving her through the original passageway.

No sooner had the images begun to move than a second junction appeared, this time at the right of the screen. Alex felt her muscles tighten in anticipation of what was to come. Her choice was again either the beckoning hand in her own passageway or a man, this time, wearing a three-piece suit and carrying a briefcase. Naturally, she moved her mouse to the man. The crack of a gun sounded the instant she did, having not even clicked the button, and blood simultaneously squirted out from his chest. He, like the woman, slumped to the ground with a grunt, his briefcase landing with a thump behind him.

Alex chuckled as she clicked on the guiding hand once again to continue on her journey. She had only a moment to notice the slight moisture on the walls around her, when a bat swooped down from somewhere above. Alex instinctively ducked, though the bat was obviously not a threat to her. As quickly as it had appeared, it flitted out of sight again.

As she continued her forward progress, no other people appeared as they had before. In fact, Alex saw that the tunnel was coming to an end shortly, opening up into a large, moderately-lit room. After only a moment, the entire room came into view, and it appeared as if she were standing in it just past the entrance to the tunnel.

A clock began its mechanical chiming, just as Danse Macabre ended. At that moment, Alex realized that a nice-looking older man was seated at the huge dining room table in the center of the room. It appeared to be quite elegantly set for a dinner party. A fire blazed in an oversized fireplace directly behind him. He looked up suddenly, as if startled, then smiled warmly.

Come in, come in, please, he said in a low, soothing voice. I see you’ve found your way quite nicely. He rose from his seat, and a slightly mischievous expression overtook his face.

Since you’ve shot my accountant and scared my poor secretary to death, I can see that you’ve come with great purpose. Let us not delay any longer. Please, sit down. He gestured to the chair directly across from his own.

Alex experimented and clicked on the grandfather clock at the far side of the room instead, just to see what would happen. When nothing did, she looked back at the man. His expression was fixed in a patient smile, as if waiting for her. Alex finally clicked on the chair he had indicated, and the view instantly shifted, moving as if she were walking toward the table and sitting down.

Now, the man said, as he repositioned himself on his own chair, allow me to introduce myself. I am Mr. Horace Taed, pronounced to rhyme with the word ‘made,’ but spelled T-A-E-D. And your name is?

Mr. Taed looked expectantly at Alex from the computer screen, and she wondered what it was that she was supposed to do now. After she waited a moment longer and he’d said nothing else, she decided to try using the keyboard to enter her name, then see if anything would happen. She typed in her given name, Alexandra Morris, and pressed enter. The minute she did, a feminine voice said her name, as if it were her speaking directly to Mr. Taed.

Alex laughed out loud at how odd it was to hear her own name coming from the computer. She quieted when she heard Mr. Taed begin speaking again.

I’ll wager you’re seeking a place such as this for your own explorations. Would I be correct in this assumption? He looked at her expectantly once again.

Yes, she typed, and the feminine voice responded as before.

I see. Mr. Taed put his fingers to his temples and rubbed slightly in a circular motion, as if he either had a headache, or he was trying to read Alex’s mind. She chuckled at the thought, then jumped as a log shifted in the fire behind him, creating a loud cracking noise.

Completely unperturbed by this interruption, he finally lowered his hands and said, Would you pay one hundred and fifty dollars for an adventure such as the one you are seeking?

Alex breathed a sigh of relief that the price was within her reach, as well as that of Rachel’s. Yes, she typed again, and the voice representing her own responded in kind.

Well, then, Mr. Taed smiled. That is all we really need to know, now, isn’t it? You’ll receive some documents in the mail within the next few days on our mystery weekend package, and then we can proceed from there. Thank you for coming. I so look forward to meeting you in person. Good bye for now.

With that, Mr. Taed walked out of the room through a hidden doorway in the wall next to the fireplace, and Alex’s computer suddenly lost its connection to the Internet. Damn! she said out loud. I didn’t give him my address. How is he going to send me the information?

She logged back on and used the toolbar to locate her last site visited. To her surprise, all that was listed was Crime On-line, a site she had used for reference in her last report for her criminology class. What’s the deal? she said to her computer screen. Then she remembered the button that she’d pushed that had connected her to the tunnel and Mr. Taed to begin with. Thrillseekers.com, it had said. She quickly typed it in and pressed enter. The computer whirred to life, seeking the address she had typed, and Alex relaxed. But to her complete amazement, her computer screen suddenly displayed a message. It read, The Web server cannot find the file or script you asked for. Please check the URL to ensure that the path is correct.

Alex frowned, wondering what was going on. Convinced that she had typed it correctly, she gave it another try anyway. After a few moments, the same message appeared on her screen. Alex was completely baffled. She had been there only minutes ago, enjoying every minute of her visit, and now it was as if the whole thing had been her imagination.

As far as her computer was now concerned, thrillseekers.com did not exist.

CHAPTER 2

Retired Doctor Dwayne Dexter looked at the television screen mounted high up on his own video store wall, then scanned the deserted store for someone—anyone—to verify that he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. Normally he loved being alone, but now he found himself wishing otherwise. He hurried past row after row of videos on their shelves for a glimpse of another face. Finding no one, he came to a halt and returned his gaze to the screen. It was still there, and it shouldn’t be—should never have been, since he himself had loaded the VCR with the latest horror flick and it was already halfway through the feature. Videos simply didn’t have advertisements right smack in the middle of the movies themselves, yet there it was. Dwayne blinked once in an attempt to erase the image from the screen, but the ad remained.

Tired of the same old horror films? the message read. "Want to make one of your own while being involved in the most frightening mystery you’ll ever encounter? Find out how on the World Wide Web at thrillseekers.com."

The latter part of the message blazed out at Dwayne with bright red letters surrounded by fire. He gazed at it for a moment longer, then it abruptly flicked off the screen as he watched, the horror movie taking its place as if nothing unusual had ever happened. The feature itself had obviously progressed during the advertisement.

Was that for real? Dwayne wondered now. He supposed a mistake could have been made when the film had been dubbed, but he thought this unlikely. Throughout the five years he’d bought, sold, and rented movies from his store, he’d never encountered another instance where an advertisement had shown up during the film, as opposed to the beginning. Granted, previews were sometimes shown at the end, he reminded himself, but never in the middle. Never. He decided there was only one way to find out if the ad was real or not.

Dwayne walked around the counter that was positioned to separate customers from the two computer terminals used to check out videos, then passed them to stand in front of the third computer. Ever since he’d had an additional phone line installed last September, this unit was always on-line, as he spent much of his time here researching sites on film-making. It had long been a dream of his to someday make his own movie—a real one for a change, instead of the simple home-movies he’d been spending his time on—and the advertisement had addressed exactly that. It was uncanny, really. If he wasn’t just seeing things, that is.

He typed in the address that the ad had given, and seconds later the site appeared on the screen. He noticed that thrillseekers.com was shown in the same red letters encompassed in flames that had been on his television screen moments ago.

The mystery weekend event of your life, it said below the title. You won’t believe your eyes, but your camera will record it all. Click here to begin your journey! An eye seemed to pulsate below the message, the milky black iris moving from left to right. Dwayne clicked on it with his mouse, and the screen blanked out to load the new page.

The bells attached to the front door of the video store clanged with the entrance of a customer. Dwayne looked up, nodding and smiling in greeting. Help you find anything? he asked, hoping that he wouldn’t have to leave what he was doing just yet. He was usually more than willing to aid in the customer’s search, or to merely chat about this new movie or that one. But not this time.

Nah, just looking, the man said, heading down the nearest aisle to the far back wall.

Dwayne looked back at the computer in relief, then jumped back a step, so surprised was he at the image that now appeared. A sneering, grotesque face of a man leered out at him with rotting teeth set in an open, cavernous mouth of decay. The mouth practically filled the screen, but it was the eyes set deep in the head that fascinated Dwayne the most. They were cold and distant, totally devoid of emotion, though it seemed to be the face of a real person.

Reaching for the mouse with his hand, he returned his gaze to the oversized mouth of the image. He moved the mouse to find the location of his cursor and discovered that it had become an amputated finger that oozed blood from the end where it had been attached to a hand. Intrigued, he clicked where it rested inside the mouth, and the image suddenly moved him forward, creating the appearance that he was now standing on the tongue. A dark figure stood in front of him, shadowed enough by the dim surroundings to prevent Dwayne from seeing the face behind the hooded, black cloak it was wearing.

The figure spoke. Horror, it breathed in a deep, whispering voice. Mystery, intrigue, and fear. These are the things you seek, yes?

Dwayne stood immobile, not realizing his mouth stood open and his eyes gleamed with anticipation.

Well, Mr. Dexter? the voice said now.

Not knowing anything else to do, Dwayne typed the word yes on the keyboard and hit enter.

Yes, a voice said, not unlike his own.

A mere one hundred and fifty dollars will make these yours. Do you find this agreeable? The voice still whispered, and it had a conspiratorial tone to it now.

His eyes still transfixed on the screen, Dwayne typed in yes once again, and the voice representing his own repeated the word.

The robe-clad figure nodded almost imperceptibly. Then these things shall you have. It turned as if to walk away, then the hooded head swiveled back to gaze at Dwayne. Oh, and Mr. Dexter, do bring your camera. Two red dots suddenly glowed from inside the hood of the figure, then faded away.

There was a slight beep, and the images disappeared from the screen. Dwayne stood immobile, so immersed had he been in the experience. He didn’t even care that the customer had by now approached the counter with two selections.

Only one thought surged through Dwayne’s mind, and it was this thought that would plague him for days to come. His sign-on was TripleD, for the three D’s in his title and name. He’d never once typed in any information, nor had he ever completed a member profile on-line. One question then remained, and Dwayne now gave form to the words, intoning it to himself for the first time.

How the hell did the voice know to call me Mr. Dexter?

CHAPTER 3

Two days later found Alex still wondering what had happened to the mystery site. She was walking back to the dorm now with Rachel after having attended the one class that they shared, which was orchestra. Rachel’s major was music and Alex’s was criminology, so there was little chance that there would be many other similarities between their schedules. But they would always perform in the orchestra together, as they both played violin.

Today’s practice session had been pretty intense, since they were practicing for their spring concert that was scheduled for the Tuesday night before spring break. It had been when they rehearsed Danse Macabre that Alex had begun thinking again about the Internet site.

I’m telling you, Rachel, that place would’ve been awesome, if I’d just remembered to give my address! And it was only a hundred fifty apiece! I just don’t understand why I couldn’t find the damn thing once it logged me off.

She had told Rachel all about the site; the eerie tone of the music and the surreal quality of the tunnel she had been moving through. Rachel, too, had been intrigued with the way Alex had described it to her. Together, they had tried accessing the site from as many of their friends’ computers as they could. All had been perfectly willing to let them try; all to no avail. It was as if the damn thing had never appeared in the first place, and Alex was beginning to doubt her own memory.

Bullshit, she told herself now. She knew she hadn’t dreamt it. The damn thing had been there, right in front of her on her computer screen, and she was confident that it hadn’t been her imagination.

Well, it wouldn’t hurt to keep looking. Maybe we’ll find another one that we’ve missed before. You never can tell, you know. Rachel was always willing to search for other solutions. Alex, on the other hand, hated it when she came up against a dead end such as this.

Yeah, we’ll do that, said Alex, somewhat lacking in enthusiasm as they neared the Union. It was time for lunch, and they were headed for the cafeteria, both of their violins in tow. She had her doubts as to what they’d find in the way of other options, but she didn’t let on to Rachel. She guessed Rachel was right, and it was at least worth another try. It certainly couldn’t hurt.

Let’s check our mail, first, Rachel suggested when they’d entered the main lobby. Maybe we’ll have some reading material to entertain ourselves while we eat. You know, some juicy piece of junk mail.

Alex nodded, and they headed for the row of combination boxes located behind the reception window. Neither of them received mail very often, but every now and then, one of them would get a catalogue from Victoria’s Secret or Spiegel, and they both enjoyed browsing through them, wishing they could afford even one of the items displayed in the ads. Alex’s sister, Casey, wrote to her from time to time, and her letters were always entertaining as well. But she’d just received one of her letters last week, and Alex hadn’t yet taken the time to write her back, so she knew there’d be nothing from her this time.

They rounded the corner and Alex began turning the combination lock knob on her box. She could see something in there through the tiny glass window located in the center of each box.

Hey, check mine, will you? Rachel said before Alex got to her second number. Rachel’s box was one row up from her own, and she was too short by more than a foot to see into the window. Even when she jumped up, her long brown hair swinging comically, her brown eyes bulging in an attempt to catch a glimpse, it was never quite enough for her to be able to check the contents. It was as if someone had played a cruel joke on the five foot nothing Rachel.

Alex was her physical opposite, in almost every respect. She had deeply set blue eyes with flecks of gray that tended to overshadow the blue on those rare occasions when her mood was dark. Her nose was thin with a slight lift at the point resembling, perhaps, a perfectly proportioned ski jump. When Alex smiled, her eyes would sparkle and a slight dimple would appear above the laugh line on her left cheek. The full effect of this smile always seemed to put people at ease around her, as did her easygoing personality.

Alex had cut her wheat-colored hair into a wedge during high school after she’d broken her wrist in a softball game.