This happened yesterday, but I was so conflicted with excitement and dread that I thought it best to sleep on it before posting about what I found.
So, after tossing and turning all night due to nightmares, here’s more about my continued search for the Evil Dead.
This is week 4.
And I don’t mean to inflict these horrors on you—I’m just hoping that by writing them down, I will be able to break their hold on me.
Last week I found the third Evil Dead sign. Yesterday I set out once again, retracing the route with my car. I passed that stain in the road, which still glistened with wetness. I kept my windows rolled up this time, though I could tell the air outside was rotten.
I had remembered to fill up the gas tank before heading out, and I had a GPS unit plugged in to the cigarette lighter to track my route. Just in case—you never know what might happen. Ha, ha.
It was a good thing too, because before long the roads turned to gravel, pot-holed and weedy. Strangely, there were no street name signs.
But my industrious planning turned to naught, because just as my car passed onto the gravel, the GPS map turned to a solid gray. I thought Google had mapped the entire US by now—those Google Street View robot cars must have missed this forgotten section of the county.
I zoomed in and out on the GPS to make sure, but the entire area was blank—no roads or landmarks were identified.
Ancient mariners used to draw pictures of sea monsters on sections of the maps showing uncharted waters—Google could have at least added a “Backwoods” label.
My patience paid off, however, when I finally found the above sign. But by that time I was late for another meeting, so I returned home. Nevertheless, I felt elated—this sign meant I was close, close to finding the source of this macabre Evil Dead prank, or whatever it is.
That old Knowby Cabin is somewhere in those woods.
I feel a grim urgency now, an impatience to finish this task of searching those cursed woods, looking for the so-called Evil Dead. It’s hard to type this, as I’m both excited about and dreading what I might find the next time I go back there. But I have to free my mind of these dark, surreal dreams, and to satisfy my morbid curiosity that is scratching at me like a fever.
The end is close now.