Just Don’t Go Camping

The pure anguish. Fuck. His leg was mutilated beyond recognition, and the blood that pumped from his thigh through the slashes throbbed each time his heart took a beat. He didn't know where to go or what to do, or even where to hide for that matter, for he was stuck in a predicament that was about to end his life. The spine-curling howl that came from far back in the distance made him whimper with trepidation, for he had already watched the others die, and he could only beg the lord that his life would be spared through this torment. The callings came as a cacophony of consternation and a foreboding cry, which made the man subtly start to drag himself forward quietly through the brush. Whispering a prayer upon his lips, he used his elbows to pull his dead weight while also using his only good leg to help with the low crawl process. It hurt; everything hurt him, the twigs digging into his wounds and the rocks sticking themselves into the fresh injuries, and all the while, mud was beginning to cake into the slashes, and his blood flow had stopped substantially.

Crawling under logs and squeezing through roots, all while trying not to be seen or heard, was a defiance he wished he was better at, as leaves crackled under his body weight and frail branches fell and broke in his wake as he moved forward to anywhere that wasn't where he was currently stationed. He lifted his head when he got the hot whiff of smoke, and fear jolted into more anxiety that his body already was overloading with. Many questions flew through his mind as he tried to decide whether to seek out the fire or run in the opposite direction. The man took his chances with the flickering light that was just feet in front of him, and when he arrived at the fire, there were two people sitting beside the flames, and each looked horrified by the man’s appearance.

The couple ran to the man and helped pull his carcass off the ground with great effort and took the injured to a chair to have a good look at the maiming done, which appeared to be by some kind of rabid beast. The woman ran into the tent to grab the first-aid kit, which only contained peroxide, Neosporin, bandage wraps, and a tourniquet. The injured man yelled out as peroxide was dumped on the slash, cleaning out the debris that had begun to gather around the open flesh with infections and parasites. The boyfriend of the couple ran to his bag and offered the man with a dead leg a bottle of whiskey, which the damaged man was appreciative of.

“My name is Raymond,” the man said as he stood in front of the injured man and propped his leg up by using another chair. “That is my wife, Anne.” The husband pointed to the mortified woman, whose hands had turned red when she applied the bandages.

“Im Thomas.” His breath was ragged and hoarse as he spoke, and Raymond immediately brought Thomas a canteen of water, which Thomas took down with just a few gulps.

“What did this do to you?” Raymond had a weapon on him, but he was afraid of whatever caused this wound because of the immensity of it, and he didn't know if his rifle could bring down something that big.

That was the question, wasn't it? What was it that caused Thomas so much harm, and it was hard for him to explain as he began to murmur to himself about monsters in the woods and all his friends dying. “We have to take shelter. They will find us.” Rayomd was so tired, and he put his head back and closed his eyes just for a moment as Raymond tried to keep Thomas awake.

“What is after you?” Raymond was desperate for answers, afraid of what might have followed Thomas from the depths of the woods.

“They are like us with stretched naked genderless bodies and they have elongated clawed hands, their fingernails being sharper than any blade I've ever used. They run fast and can leap from trunk to trunk when they are after you, and to stare one in the face is like looking at death, for their eyes bulge out, but unlike a human, this beast has no eyelids to cover its entire sclera. You don't understand. They sound like us.” Thomas snapped when he heard a crack in the distance. “They are here. We need to get into your cabin.” Thomas was already getting himself up and pulling Anne into his body to help him as he straightened up his spine.

The couple assisted Thomas into their small wooden cabin, and Thomas instructed the couple to shut every door and window and lock it tight, and even if they could, then barricade every entrance in, for the things that are after them are conniving and intelligent, and these creatures know just how to lure someone into their embrace. It wasn't long after everyone was locked in the cabin that the electricity was cut off, and a source of heat was gathered in the fireplace with whatever wood was inside.

“Can I shoot that thing down?” Raymond was standing next to the fire, hands on his hips, desperate to find a solution to this problem.

“It's too big, its skin is too calloused and thick, for its hide is almost as girthy as a stack of leather,” Thomas explained, throwing his own handgun on the floor in front of him, the entire weapon without a single bullet left.

Raymond was about to reply when the cacophony was broken by helpless human cries and deep growls from a predator. Anne pressed herself against her husband and began to sob, for fear was already spreading in this cabin, leading only to pure, vacuous behavior. Raymond looked to Thomas for instruction, and all Thomas could do with a drunken burp was laugh at the couple, for he already knew all of their fates. The scratching on the wooden exterior walls, mixed with the tapping on the glass windows, created a discordant sound that began to echo around the small house. There was only one bedroom, with an adjacent kitchen and living room, in this modernly built cabin, which made defense easier to manage because there were fewer entrances to monitor.

The three new acquaintances sat by the fire and listened to the whispers coming from outside the walls ones that made their skin crawl and their bodies feel helpless with consternation making Anne weep harder and Raymon feel even more impuissant than he had probably ever felt in his entire world of endurance for Raymond was a big brawny man that knew how to defeat but this was a new fight that he was vulnerable to. The pack left little peephole holes in the windows to see if the beasts still lurked around, and all they got in response was one bulbous eye staring back at them.

Luckily for them, it was not winter yet, and the fire did not need to be tended every hour of the night; instead, as it smoldered, a heat emanated from it that made the atmosphere inside cozy, which defied the true feeling of doom beyond the door. The monsters did not leave the prisoners, nor did they sleep for all hours; you could hear their obnoxious calls or their hair-raising whispers, it did not matter, for what did matter was they would not leave. Raymond and Anne had enough food to last at least a week, for that was how long they had planned their camping trip, and they rationed their food in case they would be confined to their prison for days after the seven were up.

“We have to go out there and make a run for it in my jeep.” It was Raymond who came up with that absurd plan, which made Thomas laugh out loud.

“You don't think they haven’t already vandalized your car, hoping you would come out to try to use it to escape. Don’t you understand how smart these fuckers are? They are just like us, just more inclined to the environment around us than we are, which is a great advantage to them.” Thomas tried to explain through half a bottle of whiskey gone and three Percocet pills, which Anne found in her bedside drawer, lucky him.

“We have to think of something. We can't just stay here and possibly starve to death.” Raymond was raising his voice now, the frustration and unease in the room manifesting into rage as the claustrophobic situation was really setting in.

“Well, that's what I'm gonna fucking do.” Thomas laughed at Raymond and sat further back on the couple’s coach in front of the fireplace. “I’d rather starve than go through that awful death. You both haven’t seen it, experienced it as I have.” Thomas turned to Raymond and wagging his finger at the man who had his arm across his chest tightly, Thomas said, “I've seen what they can do, and I promise you starvation is a godsend compared to the torture those animals put you through before they decide to kill you. What? You think I was alone up here? Hell no, there were six of us, and I was the only one to get away with a maiamed leg.” Thomas waved his hand down to Raymond and chugged some more whiskey. “Do what you want, but don't you dare leave that door open, and if you go outside, I will not let you back in here.” Thomas didn't even look at Raymond when he spoke stoically to the fire, for Thomas was firm and meant what he said.

Suddenly, there was a rattling on the door as a desperate-sounding girl began pounding on the wood, making the frame rattle. She begged to be let in, and Thomas warned them twice not to, but Anne did. Anne opened the door after moving the barricades, only to be met by nothing, and then by a set of fleshy claws that came from the darkness beyond the door grabbing Anne by the face and pulling her out into the darkness. Thomas got up and skipped to the front to slam that barricade shut and lock it before the beast could get into the house. Raymond was furious to say the least, and he wanted to go after his wife, which made Thomas hit Raymond in the face so hard by surprise that it knocked Raymond unconscious.

Thomas dragged Raymond’s body using only one good leg and sat Raymond up in a wooden kitchen chair before using duct tape that he found in a kitchen drawer to glue the desperate husband to the chair and lock him in place so he couldn't do anything gullible. By the time Raymond woke up, Thomas was back on the coach with his whiskey and his fire going, lying back enjoying his high of narcotics and liquor. Thomas didn't have to look back to see Raymond struggling to be free of the vice Thomas had trapped him in. All while Raymond was shouting, a cry came from outside; the cry made Raymond shut up and look right at him. Thomas turned around and shook his head, trying to explain to Raymond that it wasn't his wife who was calling for him. Raymond shook the chair so radically that the wood snapped from under him, and he collapsed onto the floor, tearing silver tape off of him left to right. When he was free, he made it to the door, and who was thomas but an average man against a boulder to stop him from opening up the front entrance.

Thomas watched as claws wrapped around Raymond’s neck as Raymond fell back onto the floor. Then I witnessed the bald, veiny head of the monster emerge from the black, and with its lipless smile, it bit Raymond's nose off and hysterically laughed in Raymond’s face spraying blood all over the place before dragging Raymond’s screaming body away. Thomas struggled himself to the bathroom, where he locked himself inside with nothing but a flimsy piece of wood keeping him safe from the monsters that made it in. He sat with his back against the door when he began to hear the knocking. The taps were soft at first until rage took over, and the frame rattled, and wood split, and Thomas did not move from his position for days as he watched the sun come and go through a crack in the barricaded window.

Help did come, but it wasn't for him; it was for the couple who had been reported missing with an exact location to determine their whereabouts. Thomas and his friends were in the backcountry, and even if wildlife officers found their position, it didn't mean they would find Thomas and the others where they said they were located. But here in this cabin, help came for him, and for hours, officers tried to coax him out of the bathroom, as he was determined that it was the monster playing with his mind.