Ash Williams's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

Ash kicked the cabin door open and stepped inside. Dust hung in the air like smoke. The main room looked exactly how he'd left it—overturned furniture, black stains on the floorboards, claw marks gouged deep in the walls. The fishhook in his brain pulled him toward the cellar door. That's where Cheryl had clawed until her fingers were stumps. That's where the book would be hiding. He crossed the room and grabbed the handle. It swung open on screaming hinges. Wooden steps descended into darkness that seemed to breathe. This was it—the first real step toward ending everything. Ash started down. Each step creaked under his boots. The smell hit him halfway down—rot and copper and something older. His flashlight beam cut through the black, sweeping across dirt walls and exposed beams. The cellar was empty except for a workbench against the far wall. No Necronomicon. The fishhook pull faded to nothing, like someone had cut the line. Ash's stomach dropped. The book wasn't here. Six weeks of seventeen people vanishing, and the damn thing had moved. He kicked the bottom step and splinters flew. Then he spotted something on the workbench—a leather journal, pages yellowed and brittle. Professor Knowby's handwriting covered every page. Ash picked it up and flipped through. Sketches of symbols. Notes about translations. A list of objects that could destroy the book: consecrated fire, sunlight rituals, iron forged in specific patterns. This wasn't the Necronomicon, but it was the next best thing—a guide to killing it. Ash tucked the journal into his pack and climbed back up. The book might be gone, but now he knew how to end it when he found it again. Outside, the toolshed stood twenty feet from the cabin's back corner. Weathered wood, door hanging loose. Ash kicked it open and checked inside—empty hooks on the walls, dirt floor, enough space for weapons and gear. If the book was still moving, still calling deadites to this place, he'd need a base. Somewhere to store the shotgun where he could grab it fast. The journal had given him the how. Now he needed to stay alive long enough to use it. He propped the chainsaw against the wall and laid the Remington across an old shelf. The cabin would draw the evil back eventually—they always came back to where it started. And when they did, Ash would be ready with consecrated fire and iron. He stepped outside and pulled the shed door closed. First step done. Now the real hunt could begin.