The Backrooms

What happens when you test the limits of a new friendship?

The autonomous electric vehicle that was driving George Hill and his new friend, Andreas Lindgren, was humming along, barely making a sound. Andreas’s younger sister, Alicia, was sitting next to George in the back, while Mrs. Lindgren was talking on the phone to Mr. Lindgren. There was a quiet resignation in the vehicle that was foreign to George, who was used to the rumble and clatter of his mother’s rusting minivan.

Alicia was watching an animated movie on a video display embedded in the back of the driver’s seat. Her headphones were on, and she was engrossed in whatever musical number was being sung. Andreas poked his head around the passenger seat to talk to George.

“Sorry about having to sit with my little sister. She isn’t big enough to sit in the front seat,” Andreas said.

“Oh, it’s okay, my little brother is the same,” George said. “I prefer sitting in the back. He likes to throw food at me, and it’s easier for me to punch him in the back seat.”

Andreas raised his eyebrows, surprised at the very notion that food would be used as a projectile in any vehicle. George wondered what Andreas would think if he knew eating stale cereal off the floor was a survival technique on long car rides.

“Hey, want me to turn on the TV for you? We’ve got every streaming service you can imagine right from satellite.”

“Nah, that’s alright, we’ll probably be at the haunted house soon.”

 “I can’t wait! I’m kind of scared. This is my first one.”

“I’ve been to plenty. They’re not so bad. Didn’t your dad build this one?”

“He built the technology behind it.”

“You mean like the animatronic props and stuff?”

“No, he built the magnetic field distortion unit so we can noclip into other space times. You know, where all the creatures are that are supposed to scare us.”

George nodded his head and smiled like he knew what Andreas was saying. He could tell that he wasn’t fooling anyone. Andreas was in the middle school honor’s club for science and math. George was in remedial math, and barely passing science. A knot started to form in his stomach. 

“It’s okay if you don’t know what any of that means,” Andreas said. “My dad says most of the guys he works with don’t get the science, so you’re not alone.”

Somehow that didn’t make George feel any better.

“You know what a portal is, right?” Andreas asked.

“Sure,” George said.

“It’s basically the same thing. When you noclip, it just means you jump from one space to the next. Except these spaces aren’t in the same time continuum.”

“Like a different reality?”

“Sort of, but my dad says in principle it’s the same reality. We just can’t see it because we have a different magnetic resonance frequency. His technology changes that so a door can be opened. It also allows us to see those creatures.”

“Now you’ve got me scared.”

“Don’t worry, we can see them, but they can’t see us. That’s the fun of it. They throw in actors in costumes and special effects, so you don’t know what’s real and what’s not. This is the haunted house of the future.”

Andreas’s mom was off the phone and took manual control of the vehicle as they pulled into the old, abandoned mall parking lot. Hundreds of people were in line already.

“Alright, boys, here we are. You’ve got money, George?” she asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Lindgren, I rake leaves for the neighborhood to earn money so I can go,” George said. “It’s kind of a tradition.”

Mrs. Lindgren looked at George with the same face full of pity that the grocery store clerks gave his mother when she pulled out food stamps from her purse. 

“Oh, honey, that’s not necessary. You keep that hard earned money. Andreas has Apple Pay with a stipend, so he can pay for you both. Our treat,” Mrs. Lindgren said.

“Don’t pee your pants,” Alicia said as the boys stepped out of the car.

“You’re hilarious,” Andreas said.

After Andreas paid, the boys stood in the back of the line. George was confused by the setup, which was not connected to the mall. The parking lot was being used, but the spacious building was not a part of the attraction. It was merely a backdrop.

The haunted house was nothing more than a rusted burgundy shipping container with two portal doors — an entrance on the front, and an exit on the side. Both were a glow of swirling rainbow colors that flashed bright white whenever a person walked through.

Low fidelity easy listening music was blasting from PA horn speakers mounted to the front of the container. It was barely drowning out the hum of electricity coming from the doors and a large contraption on top that had thick insulated wires running over to a portable industrial generator.

Also mounted to the top of the container was a grimey billboard sign that advertised, The Backrooms. Every few minutes a handful of people would be ushered through the front door when a green light above it flashed, or several would exit the side door quickly, laughing and screaming. 

“I don’t get it,” George said.

“The spaces are not the same by volume. You could fit the relative square footage of the entire mall inside that shipping container,” Andreas said.

A couple of men in business suits torn to rags, bloodied and wearing zombie makeup started tormenting a few girls in the line. Some screams could be heard as a man on stilts walked by, who was wearing a business suit carrying a duffle bag with fake limbs hanging out of the sides. His eyes and mouth were made up to be sewn shut.

“No, I mean, who makes a haunted house to look like a corporation? Where are the creepy clowns, or butchers and cannibals?” George asked.

“You really don’t get online much, do you?” Andreas asked.

It was an innocent question that George ignored. He didn’t get online, not unless they were at the library. It was free access he could use for homework assignments, but his mother couldn’t afford cable in their apartment.

“It’s all about liminal spaces. Once you’re inside you’ll get it. It’s a series of rooms that are both familiar and lonely. Like at an abandoned mall,” Andreas said, waving his arm about, presenting the display of empty shops.

The boys moved up in line, getting closer to the entrance. Andreas’s phone rang, and he looked at the number. It was his dad calling. He picked up and held his phone to his ear while plugging his other ear with his finger. It was obvious there was some interference.

George ignored the choppy conversation. As he was investigating the crowd and the atmosphere, what looked like a large blackish-green tentacle slid out and back into the side door portal, leaving a large streak of goo. The attendant that was monitoring the exit barely noticed because he was flirting with customers. Others that saw the reptilian appendage thought it was a part of the attraction.

Andreas hung up, and then asked George, “Can I borrow your cell to call my dad? I can’t get reception here. He seemed upset about something.”

“I left it at home,” George lied. He had no cell phone.

“It’s probably nothing,” Andreas said.

“Have you noticed that nobody has exited recently?” George asked.

“Yes, they have. The line keeps moving. People are going in, which means they must be leaving. Only so many can enter at once or it distorts the frequency.”

“No, I’ve been watching. Nobody is leaving. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Come on, you’re just scared. So am I, a little, but we’re almost there.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Andreas turned away in disappointment. When he turned back his demeanor changed. He stiffened and crossed his arms and bared down on George with pure condescension.

“I knew this was a mistake. My mom told me I should ask you since you’re the poor new kid, but I figured you would wimp out on me. I could have asked Brad, you know. He would have appreciated this. You’re paying me back for the ticket,” Andreas said.

The shipping container rumbled, and several people in line jumped and started laughing. Andreas walked forward, ignoring the commotion. The boys were next in line. Out of the side door, several of the same reptilian appendages slithered out, exploring the exit. George could see them around the corner, stretching out, feeling for anything and then wrapping around the legs of the attendant. The teen looked terrified and started to scream as he was hoisted into the air and pulled back through the door.

George recognized the real fear of death. The same look was plastered across his father’s face as he ran out from a convenience store when an active shooter opened fire.

Several of those in line screamed, while others shouted and laughed. There was a convergence of spaces across the same time, which caused a collapse of continuity in both. The only thing remaining was an approaching chaos. Right before Andreas could step through, George pushed him hard out of line and away from the entrance.

The two couples standing behind them considered what transpired. One pair went through, hoping for the excitement to continue. The other pair backed away, as did others. The shipping container continued to rumble, so much so that it shifted on its foundation.

“What’s your problem!” Andreas screamed.

“I may not be as smart as you, but I ain’t dumb!” George yelled back.

The volume on the speakers started to rise, while the electric hum grew into a crackling thunder. The speakers exploded in a shower of sparks at their peak. People ducked and ran away. The device on the top began to glow hot orange as a visible force field encapsulated the shipping container. The field immediately crushed the billboard, and then began to press in on the container.

As the field got smaller, the shipping container began to crinkle and pop, metal twisting and crushing inward. The doors cracked and compressed, and the entire contraption got smaller as people screamed and ran. Visible high voltage currents ran through the wires. The generator started pouring black smoke and then imploded.

In a flash the entire container was non-existent, disappearing into nothingness. All that was left was a hole in the parking lot blacktop and a series of open wires that were shredded to pieces.

Andreas was speechless. He looked at George, then where the container used to be sitting and then down at his phone, which started chiming. Text after text was arriving from his dad.

Don’t go through! It’s not safe!

We detected an anomaly. Don’t go!

Andreas, please text me back. I need to know you’re safe.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Andreas started to cry. He couldn’t look up from his phone. Cars were peeling out of the parking lot. People were scattering, calling loved ones or the police. George started to walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?” Andreas asked.

“I’m going to walk home. I know the way,” George said.

“We can wait together. My mom will drive us back. She’ll make us dinner and we can go back to my house for a while.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Maybe you can text me later? Pretty crazy, what just happened. I don’t know if anyone at school will believe us.”

“I don’t have a cell phone,” George said as he walked toward home.

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Dear Reader: The Backrooms are a part of internet lore, and there are a number of websites, short stories and videos dedicated to the phenomenon. Throughout the month of October, my stories will take on a spookier slant as I explore these types of legends. My goal is to create another podcast episode as well.

You can help me out greatly by sharing these stories in social spaces and forums, and if you’re not already, by subscribing.