Fearful village

It's been a while...I've been traveling by car for days now. Because of financial difficulties, I had to sell my old one. It's a risky game, but I had to hitchhike my way to wherever it is I have to go. It's a funny thing...in my business as a private investigator I've always relied on hard facts and evidence. It's strange to suddenly find myself going off of a feeling or my gut instinct. In fact it's very dangerous. My adversary knows me well, and I hardly know it. It has the ability to erase my memory, and it has been in my apartment. It may very well be stalking me as I write this. There is something I apparently did remember without the journal, though...sedatives work in staving off the madness this monster brings. I know I've sent these letters to a certain user on an artist forum known as Deviantart...but for some reason my computer will not load the site. It loads everything else but the site, so I don't even have access to that. All I have are my wits. Literally. A case involving a sadistic stalker ended badly, giving me a bad limp that may or may not recover. Most of the time it doesn't bother me, but my doctor says that I need to give strenuous effort on it a rest for seven more weeks. Those are seven weeks I do not have, and this thing may be immune to bullets. See, I only have to things to go on at the moment, two things that this monster left behind:

1)As a fact I know it can manipulate me by controlling my instincts and impulses.
2)It can't be hurt easily, even with my firearm.

But I can't seem to place that masked figure...Where does it fit in? I can sense familiarity in it, but nothing more. It's like a bad dream that I'm striving to remember...I can't place it.
Either way, the hitch-hiking did not do so well. Of all the things I haven't sold yet, my clothing was used to barter rides to this rotten town in the middle of a forest. I look and smell like a vagrant, but at least I can blend in. I'm somewhere in Kentucky. Northern Kentucky. Unlike the cliche I have yet to meet any inbred hillbillies. If I had to put it into words I'd say that it's like a country version of a slum, at least where I am. The motel I'm staying in is ratty. Not the upscale urban hotels that I'm used to. The place lingers of stale tobacco. There's more than one thing that makes me uncomfortable about it; first off, there's a large window by a cheap, poorly locked door. The lack of security or reinforcement worries me. With minimal force someone could easily smash through. And from the letter I received I might be dealing with a criminal organization. There is only one lock; a deadbolt fastened to a plywood frame. Plywood.
There are no alarms. So why am I staying here? Like I said...It's where I feel I'm supposed to be. I've had plenty of time to observe my surroundings. Admittedly it's a quiet town. There is a very noticeable absence of activity. When I see kids playing in driveways, they all go inside whenever I walk down the road. They look at me with fear. But thankfully the town isn't so disconnected from society that they do not have wifi. I took the liberty of checking the location of state prisons. Usually towns this paranoid and quiet deal with escaped prisoners. There's nothing for one hundred miles. In Google maps, however, I did notice an abandoned mining facility just shy of five miles to the west of my present location. An extensive and large mine buried within a mountain. In this part of the country, it isn't uncommon to find such towns as this. In the minig booms in the early to middle 1900s, towns were often formed around large deposits of coal due to the wealth they generated. When that resource was exhausted, people left and the mine becomes decommissioned, and sits and decays until it becomes dangerous. If there is organized crime activity going on, this is the perfect place; secluded, buried, and forgotten. It's also not kind to strangers. When children look upon me in fear, usually the adults looks upon me with suspicion and unpleasantries might ensue. With a town this paranoid, that usually means a Winchester or a twelve gauge pointed at my face. I've dealt with ghettos and slums, but I've heard that some of the secluded towns can be even more unforgiving, especially if they have something to fear.
There very well could be. There is an air about this place. Although it is still in the dead of winter, something else gives me a chill. Snow muffles activity, making things silent. However this town is in a place of hills that border on being mountains, and it's still in a forest. The first thing anyone notices about forests is that they are not quiet. Birds are chirping. Squirrels are chirping. Water is running in creeks and rivers. Wolves, rabbits, chipmunks, all sorts of things, even in the winter, even on damnably cold days like these. But I hear nothing. And whenever I take a walk, I can sense something. Like I'm being stalked. And sometimes I think I hear the soft laughter of a child.

Well, after a couple of days of walking around and getting my bearings, I started asking in the local diner about how I could get to the coal mine, considering there are no taxis and I have no car. It's a risky business, but I have no choice. Even if I have to leave behind my own firearm, I have to find out what I need to. There is an urgency, I can feel it. There is something I'm supposed to do, and sometimes that means sacrificing my own safety.
...to an extent, that is. Disarming people is a snap for me. There are ways to deal with a rifle pointed at the back of your skull. Even with someone who perceives you as an enemy.
I managed to get a ride from one of the more suspicious men. He's a mechanic who has about a foot over me. Although he's a little bulging in the stomach department, I recognize muscle when I see it. No doubt he's armed as well. He decided to drive me up in his other car, a very souped up SUV that any proud redneck would be jealous of. Interestingly enough, he started a conversation. I was expecting silence. Since I had no real lies in mind, I decided it would be better to have an honest conversation right off the bat. I recorded the whole thing.
[Name withheld]: "So...where're you from?"
Me:"Chicago."
???:"Why'd you come to a dump like this?"
Me:"I'm not entirely sure."
???:"So you're lookin for somethin?"
Me:"Yes."
???:"Well, what is it?"
Me:"I can't remember..."
???:"Heh...it's always the same with you drifters. So, you got a name and a job?"
Me:"I'm Daniel Barron. I'm a Private Investigator who specializes in stalking and abduction cases."
???:"Ooh. So you're lookin for someone?"
Me:"I don't know."
???:"Again I ask; what's your business here?"
Me:"Something drew me here. It sounds crazy, I know. But I have to be here."
At this point it falls into an awkward silence. He keeps his gaze on the twisting road and I look at the fascinating view of his glove compartment.
???:"You mentioned that abductions were your specialty..."
Me:"I did."
???:"Don't get smart with me. I might not look like it, but I can read a guy. You don't know anything, do you?"

This statement obviously drew my suspicion, but I dared not show it.
???:"If you had lived here long enough, you'd know that we have a lot of disappearances I've seen you walking around this town. I've seen some drifters do that, some of them come here because they're not right in the head. They like to kill. We might not have a prison around here, but as you can see...it's a great place to harbor a criminal. But when I look at you, I don't see any of that."
Me:"Then what do you see?"
???:"I don't know. You're a pretty hard face to read. I'll admit that I've stalked you. But when someone comes round here and starts getting his bearings, he usually starts looking at the people first. You've just been looking at your surroundings. Either that means you're damn smart or that your an honest man on the run. I should let you know that drifters often disappear, and all I can say is that none of us are to blame."
Me:"Then what is to blame?"
???:"I might be smarter than the average man here, but I'm still just a schmuck. There aren't any law enforcements up here, but there are unexplained marks around here. People's houses occasionally get vandalized with a very specific marking, an X inside of a circle. Our trees fair no better. If you looked closer at our yards, nearly every tree has that marking in it."
Me:"Why are you telling me all this?"
???:"Something about you makes me trust you. I keep trying not to, but I do. I also think you should know what you've walked into. No drifter here has lasted longer than a week here. I thought you should know the details before something happened."
Me:"Now how the hell do I know it ain't you doing all this?"
???:"You don't. But rest assured if something does happen to you; you won't see me there. I just catch the dishonorable drifters. You should know that if you're going to try anything, I'll tie you up and haul your ass to the nearest police station."
Me:"Who gave you the authority?"
???:"I used to work on cop cars before I retired here. The cops use me as a sort of unofficial officer because they trust me and do not have the manpower, especially in the winter. The Sheriff drives by once a week in the summer, but in the winter we get nothing because they don't have the manpower."
Me:"In a town this dangerous, that' pretty odd."
???:"It is, but I'll also let you in on another secret: anyone who tried to find the cause or perpetrator of these abductions also ends up disappearing. They have their house trashed and vandalized shortly afterward. Minor items are taken. There was a time when the police raided this town to find any of these items and hopefully a suspect, but nothing was ever found. All they ended up doing was trashing our houses. Not that anyone objected, though. We want to find the cause, don't get me wrong."
Me:"Hm."

From there it was the silence The SUV made relatively short work of the stubborn road. When we actually did stop, I found that the mine was in a large ravine. Equipment and covered hallways snake over the ravine, but the ravine is not the mine itself. There are tunnels in the ravine walls.
The man told me about a few rumors concerning the mines. Mostly children's superstitions, but he couldn't ignore them. He explained that the mine has a very stupid design. He pointed out that the ravine had been created by a now dried up creek. Flash floods are common in these regions, and a ravine like that one channels the water, collecting it and funneling it into valley and other rivers. While this one is angled away from their town, it begs the question why the tunnels were all cut at water level. Even though they were angled uphill, methane pockets would threaten them if their air supply was cut off by rising waters, and the rushing waters would drown them if they swam out. No one really knew why the mines were designed that way, but the children apparently rumored that it was not coal that the miners were digging for. Something else. Some children believe they were looking for a gate to hell, while others think that the overseers of the operation were sadistic tycoons who abused their workers and enjoyed watching them die horribly. Going deeper into the history, the man found out that there was some fact behind this. The mine had a peculiar attraction to tragedy. Methane pockets were frequent, as are floods. Bones are still down there, he says. Winter is the best time to explore the place. The whole place is frozen and much more stable, as long as it isn't heat susceptible...or sensitive to loud noises. Both of which are unlikely. Mines have this way of collapsing on people, especially the ones that have fallen into disuse like this one. Anyhow, there are six main tunnels and many more auxiliary tunnels used for ventilation. The mine was decommissioned in the late fifties, and by then there was a better system in place. Dotiki mine immediately comes to mind. It's in the same region near this place. Apparently this mine is all but forgotten.
Even so, the man who drove me up apparently is used to the conditions around here. He carries a pistol similar to mine. He led me up the trail to the mine, a very steep and slippery trail that a city dweller like me is unaccustomed to. The mine itself looks foreboding enough. In this case the top of the ravine is overgrown with briars rather than trees. I guess acid rain take its toll up here in the summer. There are three watchtowers overlooking the mine, each connected at the base by wood and steel covered bridges. Why are there watch towers in a mine? I asked about this. The employees of the mine were prisoners kept on a chain and rail system. A collar was tied around the necks of the prisoners and these chains slid along rails. If a prisoner was caught in a flood, this chain would effectively hang them. A guaranteed death. If they did not die of asphyxiation, they would drown. This mine is a built death trap with draconian leaders. My guide would not go into the tunnels with me. He says it's unsafe for more than one person to go in at a time. The combined vibration and body heat would surely destabilize the brittle tunnels. There are six tunnels to explore, as I said.

Going in, it's apparent how much colder it is on the inside. But it's also beautiful. Frost is allowed to grow uninhibited, making a crystalline snow land on the inside. It muffles noise and reflects light, simulating a starscape. The man gave me a torch he keeps in his truck and I went in by myself. The tunnels seem to be built to be confusing. The old rails for carts still work, but the electrical system gave a few sputters before dying completely. I had an Edison era lightbulb explode over my head. Going deeper inside revealed nothing. Each branch was a dead end, which is to be expected. Nothing was defaced, although there were a few skeletons that need reporting. Human remains, in a legal sense, are to be photographed and taken to a crime lab to be analyzed. Somehow I doubt that these people died by peacful means. Their bodies are contorted horribly. I took a few courses on forensic science in college. I know when something has been stabbed. Some of the fractures these men received are downright grisly to look at. One of them even had his head squeezed like a grape. The skin still held it together and there were no signs of external forces, such a a boulder from the roof falling on his head. Something physically crushed the man's head. A few bits of dried gray matter still linger on the skin. Speaking of skin, black tracks fall from that one's eyes, as if the man was crying blood before he died. That body was in the last branch I investigated of that tunnel. The other tunnels were similar, but one in particular caught my attention. It resembles a sort of locker room in the way how it's wider, and how there is more than one rail for chains. One thing that I find weird is that there are chains in this one. Even more odd is that these chains appear to have meat hooks at the end. Underground is cold, but it still need refrigeration to be cool enough to store meats. What's with the chains? There is also a very heavy blast door in this room. If I had the proper tools I could break in. The door has given away to rust.
When I look at the chains...it feels familiar. Where have I seen chains in such a random fashion before? I know I've seen them...where?! As I stop typing this, it's 7:32 PM. Now's as good a time as any to start a log of activity. This is my second day here.

9:00 AM
I woke up to the sounds of a crowd outside this morning. It appeared to be a crime scene. I flashed my license to gain access. The man who drove me to the mines earlier seems to act as the resident policeman like he said. The scene wasn't pretty. Instead of a disappearance, it's a murder, and a pretty gruesome one. Whoever did this knows what he's doing. From what I can tell, there was a minor struggle. The victim was a woman in her early twenties. Her died with her eyes open, full of fear. The blood has long drained form her face and now she's frozen in a state of terror. Her body is cold. Too cold for it to be natural. Her house shows no signs of break-in, but she was assaulted. Something held her wrists and ankles down. Whatever restrained her nearly fractured the bones. But what doesn't make sens is that her organs are missing. There is a very precise incision down her chest, the same kind a coroner or a medical examiner makes when they perform an autopsy. A message was spelled out on the wall with her nailed intestines. The poor woman...if there were cops around I might be able to tell if she were sedated or paralyzed, but it doesn't appear so. It seems fear paralyzed her enough to not even scream as this psycho removed her organs. All of her organs are gone. Not just her intestines. Not a drip of blood, except on the wall. Speaking of the intestines and the message...
It was this:

"Our contract still stands.
                                               Orcus B. Tolling"

A clear message to me. This man knows it. He threw a look at me, a damn cold and suspicious look.  He pulled me aside, he's not about to say his suspicion to the townspeople (or villagers, this place's commercial development stops at a single convenience store). If he did that I might be subjected to the angry mob treatment. But he did talk to me.

[Name Withheld] "I know a threat when I see one...and it corresponding with your appearance is more than coincidence. You tell me what's going on."
Me:"If I knew, I'd tell you."
He did not like my response and punched me in the jaw. He knocked a filling loose.
???:"You tell me right now, we all knew that girl out there and I have to answer to her family. Now you're involved and we both know it, so cut the crap!"
Me:"[name withheld], if I knew what was going on, I'd tell you, I really would. I...I don't know. I have this amnesia."
???:"Ain't that convenient."
Me:"You want me to leave and I'll end up like the other children around here."
???:"If he's after you then why should we keep you here?"
Me:"Do you honestly think he's going to stop if you give me to him?"
???:Hrrrm..."
Me:"Think about it. Plus, if it is my fault I'll have her death swimming around my head for the rest of my miserable life. I want to end this more than anything."
???:"Pretty fine speech you've prepared."
Me:"[Name withheld] you're a smart man. Give me time."
???:"I can't give you too much time. I gave you a day and this happened."
Me:"Then leave me at the mines. If it wants me, then it can have me, far away from this place."
???:"What if this killer kidnapper is you? I'd be letting you go."
Me:"Hell, I can't break into a house and leave no marks! No  one can! No windows broken, no locks picked, no doors forced open, no tool marks anywhere! You got here before me!"
???:"Allegedly."
Me:"Do I look like the seasoned killer you're after?! Look at me hard. Does my face look weathered? Are my hands callused? Do I have that glint in my eye? I'm a city man, even if my clothes don't say it."
???:"I'll give you that, you don't have the hard worker's look about you. But I'll be watching you...closely."
Me:"Fine. Do what you wish."

From there we parted ways. Something about the situation is odd...this man is the only one who has reacted normally. I'm a vagrant who just happened to pop into their village when on the third day, a murder was committed. Does no one else suspect me? Even when I try to talk to them they seem oblivious to me. They acknowledge me, but it's as if they forcefully ignore my presence. What's going on?
Aside from that, I have noticed something that I did not have time to notice before I rushed to the scene of the crime. My hotel window has that iconic mark over it, scratched into the frost. A circle x, plain and simple. A clear message. Now, what contract did I form with this thing, man, or what be it? What transpired between me and this monster last time? There are two things I did not barter off to get to this town: my laptop and my cell phone. The latter I checked...I found a few contacts I did not recognize, yet I added two years ago. One of which I called immediately. Nancy Mcglynn. I won't record that conversation, mainly because she recorded the conversation for me and has it on a micro SD card. She apparently hacked her phone and modified some of the privacy features. She's a smart girl. In any case, she started telling me about my last encounter with this thing, but she found her memory of the incident is somewhat diminished. She tells me she is not in any immediate danger. I feel as if I should protect her...but its not after her.
The connection faded as we both started to feel the memories return. Our connection stirred memories within me, and they are nearly within realization...but I still can't remember the incident worth a damn!
I explored the town some more, with this mechanic following me. He isn't even making an effort to hide the fact that he's stalking me now. I don't care. As long as he doesn't interfere. Besides, he'll probably find out something on his own if he affiliates himself with me any further.
I could enjoy the beauty of this place in peace if he weren't trailing me, making my job a little easier. On a bordering road, I found something eerie. The man took notice of this when I bent down beside the road. A doll. A handmade doll. A basic white man with grotesquely elongated limbs.
A short conversation followed.
???:"So what the heck is this?"
Me:"I'm not entirely sure. It's familiar, though. I can feel it."
???:"Sure it's not just some children's toy thrown out on the side of the road?"
Me:"Look at this thing. Does it look like the toy of any right-minded child? Maybe if they were Freddy Kruger it'd be charming. Red pinhead eyes isn't something children like to have staring at them."
???:"Well, are you going to keep it?"
Me:"Why not? It can't hurt anything. Besides, I'd like to know how the hell this fits into the puzzle."
???:"I think you're wasting your time picking up litter and coming up with excuses."
Me:"Well, you can think that. It doesn't change my opinion."
???:"Hmph."
After that we walked back. I requested to go up to the mines with the proper tools. Being a mechanic, he had a few handy tools, like the cutting torch. Thankfully I did not need that. The doors in the mine were so rusted I could use bolt cutters. The first thing I did was look into the tunnel with the torch. Since this man is suspicious of me, he came in with me despite his concern about safety. It's better he see for himself anyways.
The tunnel was...weird, to say the least. It's a steep incline that goes on for a very long way. I can't really say how long, but both of us saw an orange glow at the bottom. Something is down there. I wanted to go down, but this "friend" refused to let me go down. He pointed out my limp. I pointed out that for being suspicious of me that was kind of him. He threatened to give me more than a limp. Still, we cannot ignore the glow. Sometime this week, we will head down there. Even if I have to do it at night and alone.