All Chapters of The Rip: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

The gym looked like a slasher shrine. Jason’s hockey mask glared from one corner, Freddy’s hat and claws from another, Myers’ blank gaze dead centre like a curse. Plastic tombstones ringed the bleachers. A fogger in the corner coughed pale ribbons along the floor, then sighed itself quiet. The place smelled like tape, hot dust, and the sugar-sour of fake cobweb spray.Helpers had bailed. Music crews gone. Teachers vanished. Just the three of them remained—Rachel, Nick, and Nathan—picking the last bones clean.Nathan snapped the cap on the poster glue and lobbed it into a crate. “You guys seen Jazz?”Nick didn’t look up from the Sharpie he was scrawling on a box: CREPE PAPER — DO NOT CRUSH. “Nah, mate.”Rachel folded the final banner—GOODBYE YEAR TWELVE—like a flag and slid it into a sleeve. “Pool,” she said. “She ducked out for a swim.”Nathan chuckled. “Of course she did.” He clapped Nick’s shoulder once—too quick to mean anything, too loud in the empty. “Back in a tick.”He cut down

The sun hung low over the coast, casting long golden rays across the surf. The beach, once lively with families and surfers, was now deserted. Police signs flapped in the wind, nailed to timber posts driven deep into the sand—warnings of treacherous seas and unconfirmed sightings of something unnatural. The waves hissed and crashed in relentless succession, their rhythm broken only by the occasional gust of wind that sent sprays of saltwater across the dunes.Gabe stood just above the wet line, fists buried in his jacket pockets, trying not to look like a man about to beg. Beside him, Father Frank moved with a quiet, workmanlike reverence. The priest’s black exorcism robes clung to his frame, the gold-threaded stole flicking in the breeze. He adjusted his collar, kissed the small crucifix at his chest, and whispered a Latin prayer only the wind could hear. Then he uncapped a small silver flask.“Gabe,” he said, voice low but certain, “if there is an entity out there, I’ll start with a

Miguel Alvarez, the school’s longtime janitor, whistled softly as he pushed his cleaning trolley down the hallway. It was nearing sunset, and the golden light that filtered through the windows cast long shadows across the polished linoleum floors. His shoes squeaked with each step. The corridors were silent now, the laughter and chaos of the day having faded into the quiet hum of the building’s nighttime rhythm.A man of routine, Miguel took comfort in the solitude. He had grown up in Seville but made his home here decades ago, finding peace in order and cleanliness. The kids were good enough, mostly. Messy, sure—especially around the indoor pool—but he didn’t mind. It gave him something to do.He reached the storage cupboard near the gymnasium, unlocked the door with a jingle of keys, and pulled out his pool-cleaning trolley—a bigger rig fitted with racks for towels, spray bottles, and disinfectants. He set the smaller classroom unit aside, humming as he worked. “I love the colourful

Phil closed the folder and tucked it back under his arm. “You’ve got ten minutes before CSU locks the pool side again,” he said. “Stay behind the tape, don’t touch anything. Swallow—” he threw Andrew a sharp look “—you play nice.”Andrew smirked without humor. “Scout’s honor.”“Yeah,” Gabe muttered, “you always were a shit scout.”They moved as a knot—Phil leading, Susan at Gabe’s flank, Andrew dragging his feet just enough to make it annoying—down the long corridor toward the POOL doors. The smell hit first: chlorine and copper and something sour that crawled right up the nose and set up camp. Two techs were packing a rolling cart with sealed tubes and swabs. One, a young guy with sharp cheekbones and a too-clean lab coat, lifted a hand.“Careful with the threshold,” he said. “Wet floor’s patched with drying compound.”Gabe looked. The tiles glistened like they’d been iced. A line of white grit ringed the joint where tile met metal drain.“Salt,” Susan said softly, crouching. She did

The shrill ring of Nick’s mobile phone shattered the stillness of the bedroom.The room was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of a streetlight filtering through the blinds. Boxes of clothes still lined the walls—half-unpacked, a sign of a new life in motion. A queen-sized bed sat at the centre, flanked by mismatched bedside tables. It was a modest space, but it was theirs.Nick stirred, groaning. His left arm was draped across Rachel’s waist. He shifted carefully, reaching for the phone on the bedside table.“Hello?” he mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eyes.Gabe’s voice came through the speaker—quiet, but alert beneath the gravel of sleep.“Nick… it’s me. I just got off the phone with Dean. He sounded… off. Something’s happened. Something bad. The message was scrambled, but he mentioned Travis and Lisa. I’m on my way—I’ll be there in half an hour.”Nick blinked hard, forcing his brain to catch up. His father’s tone stirred something uneasy in him. He didn’t trust easily—not Gabe, n