Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Cole spent the day hiking and contemplating his future and what he wanted it to look like.
He knew more about what he didn’t want than what he actually wanted, which didn’t help matters as it left everything wide open as if he could be, or do, anything he wanted.
Which wasn’t true, as he had zero chance of ever becoming a surgeon or something like that.
He needed to be realistic.
Realistically, getting out of construction work meant going to college to do something. But what? There were only two things he knew how to do: football and construction. He could hammer nails and had learned to schedule a job, but he wasn’t sure how useful that would be in any other field.
He’d contemplated jobs associated with football, but he was one hundred percent sure that he didn’t want to coach either, so that left things like physio or psychology, which were things he could also do, not associated with sport. That was a point in their favor.
He certainly had experienced both from the other side of the table, so maybe that was a place to start…or would it bring up his own issues?
He took a quick dip in the little river before returning to the cabin in the late afternoon.
There was supposed to be a meteor shower tonight, so he decided to light the small outdoor fire so he could sit out and watch it.
It was only as he was setting the fire that he felt that presence again.
That prickly sensation of being watched was the same as when he’d stood on the deck enjoying the morning.
Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have taken matters into his own hand, but he figured if someone was spying on him, perhaps it would make them back off unless they were hoping to catch an eyeful…
in which case he’d given them exactly what they wanted.
Either way, he was not letting his imaginary stalker get in the way of enjoying his cabin.
Imaginary, because there was a damn good chance it was all in his head.
Except there was a fourth pile of rocks by the river today. He touched the smooth, flat pebble in his pocket. Someone was leaving him gifts.
Or at least he assumed they were for him. Perhaps that someone was pissed that he’d taken a rock as it had been replaced, but not by something pretty.
He’d deliberated about what to do with the piles. Ignore them, knock them over… rearrange them into a giant question mark? In the end, he’d gathered a few rocks himself and made a small question mark. Not that he expected an answer.
Whoever it was watching him had never given any indication of being a threat. That said, he never came out here unarmed, and if he was sitting out at dusk or at night, his rifle was always beside him.
Just because he didn’t like to hunt like his cousins and uncle didn’t mean he didn’t know how to shoot. Not that he’d ever needed to. Most of the time, any wildlife that stumbled upon him realized they didn’t want to be there and scampered off.
Even though he didn’t want to think about his cousins or the accident today, and knew if they had been there, they’d have shot everything that dared step foot in the clear area around the cabin.
Hell, they would’ve gone looking for trouble if it didn’t find them.
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the painful memory, even though it never worked.
He gathered enough kindling to get the fire going and coaxed it to life before feeding it some bigger logs. He was running out of cabin offcuts and needed to cut more wood over the summer.
Not this trip, though, as he hadn’t brought the chainsaw.
Maybe the next one.
With the fire going, he went inside and gathered the ingredients for dinner—one of his one-pot pasta dishes, which mostly involved throwing everything into the pot and hoping for the best. Usually, they turned out okay.
He dumped what he estimated was enough pasta for two meals, so he didn’t have to cook tomorrow, into the pot, added a pepper, frozen spinach, a jar of pasta sauce, some water, and finally some chopped, precooked chicken—he hated mucking around with raw chicken.
If he hadn’t already eaten the leftover bacon from breakfast, he’d have chopped that up and chucked it in too; instead, he’d turned it into some very nice bacon and cheese sandwiches which he’d eaten while hiking.
Along with the pot, a bowl, a beer, and a coat and hat because the evenings were still cool, he grabbed the rifle and went back out.
It was much darker now, as the sun had disappeared entirely behind the hills.
He could’ve bought a west-facing block of land, but he’d rather have the sunrise than sunset.
He got dinner cooking and set up a camp chair, so the smoke was blowing away from him, and let out a sigh. He still needed to come up with a plan and figure out how he was going to action it.
Going back to school, college, didn’t hold much appeal. He was sure he’d be the oldest in the class. Not only that, but he’d have to go part-time so he could still help Dad in the business.
And he wasn’t sure he was passionate about being a physio or a psych. If he wasn’t sure, it probably wasn’t meant to be. And he sure as hell didn’t want to be repeating this conversation with himself in another seven years because he’d chosen the wrong thing.
He stirred the pasta, so it didn’t stick to the bottom of the pot—he’d learned that one the hard way. Sometimes he boiled potatoes and cooked sausages. But when he was here, he liked to keep things simple, and there was no one to complain about his cooking anyway.
He figured dinner was about another ten minutes away, so he cracked the beer and leaned back to watch the stars come out. Not that they really came out, they just became visible.
He’d like to do much the same.
Coming out wouldn’t have been possible while playing football. He’d thought about it many times over the intervening years, and he was reasonably sure his parents would be fine if he told them he was bi, but his mother would tell him to choose the easy route and stick to girls.
While he’d brought a few girlfriends home, he’d never brought a boyfriend home. Never had someone he could call a boyfriend. Friends with benefits, maybe. He’d never let anything become more serious because he might have to say something.
If his cousins were alive, there was no way he’d even be contemplating it. They’d make his life hell. Dead, they weren’t any better.
He took another drink, knowing he needed to do something because this life wasn’t working for him. On the upside, if he came out and got kicked out, at least he had the cabin. But he wouldn’t have a job, even one he hated.
As he lowered the bottle from his lips, that knowing prickle crawled up his neck. Something was out there, lurking in the shadowy woods. During the day, it was easy to convince himself that it was a neighbor or perhaps a curious animal.
At night, it was a little harder. For months after the accident, he had nightmares filled with wolves with bright red eyes. He scanned the shadows the starlight couldn’t reach. Nothing. No movement and no reflection from wild eyes.
This is what happened when he spent all day in his head, creating stories about piles of rocks and feeling as though he were important enough that someone gave a shit about what he was doing.
He laughed and shook his head. “Get it together, Denny.”
Instead of thinking about becoming a psych, maybe he needed to start seeing one again. Mom would like that.
He pulled the pot off the fire so it could sit for the last few minutes soaking up the rest of the liquid. Sometimes he got it wrong, and it was a bit soupy, but better that than dry.
As he sat back down, movement in the woods caught his eye.
Fuck, there was something out there. His pulse quickened as his hand slid to the rifle on the ground. The cool metal was reassuring. A reminder that he could take care of himself.
Something rustled, and a twig snapped.
Too noisy for an animal, and a human creeping around the woods at night was potentially far more dangerous.
Who the fuck did that? Not him, he never roamed the woods at night, mostly because he didn’t want to fall and damage himself; he’d already spent far too much time in hospitals and rehab, and he had no desire to do it again.
He sat there, fingers on the cold metal, not sure if he should call out or act normal. He took a sip of beer, then set it on the ground next to him. If it was an animal, calling out might scare it away. The same for a human. Maybe.
He held his breath, ears straining for any sound. The darkness under the trees moved, and a fucking massive grey wolf stepped out. Had it smelled the food? Was it hungry?
Did it prefer pasta or human?
Human with a side of pasta?
He swallowed, but his mouth was dry as his fingers closed around the rifle. Getting mauled by a wolf was not his idea of a good time. He lifted the rifle slowly.
The wolf stared at him.
Cole fired into the trees over the wolf’s head, hoping it would run away. Instead, it grew wings and flew upward, before crying out and tumbling to the ground.
The creature lay face down in the dirt.
“Fuck.” Cole stood. Had he killed it? Whatever it was.
He took a couple of steps closer, heart beating hard as panic and fear entwined and threatened to stop his breathing. He’d shot something. He hadn’t meant to shoot it. It had been a wolf, and he’d shot over its head to scare it away.
It couldn’t be a wolf…wolves didn’t have wings.
The creature groaned, and Cole froze, not sure if he should run to the presumed safety of the cabin or offer assistance.
“I can’t believe you shot me?” The winged creature grumbled and turned its head to look at him with its big red eyes.
For a moment, Cole was lying on the side of the road, convinced he was about to die. “You!”
The creature who’d saved him and damned him in the same night was on the ground only four yards away, bleeding into the dirt. “You’re the one spying on me?”
The creature…not a wolf but the mothman monster, which he hadn’t imagined all those years ago.
“Fuck.” Cole took a step back.
Mothman stared at him, as if confused. “I’d remember if we’d met.”
“Seven years ago, almost to the day. You…you were the wolf in the road they tried to avoid. You killed my cousins and almost killed me.” How did anyone forget that?
“Oh…” Mothman blinked. “You’re the kid I pulled out of the car?”
“Yeah, I’m the fucking kid.”
“Your cousins killed my sister,” he snarled.
“No, they killed a…” The words died on his tongue.
“A wolf? Like you just tried to do?”
“I didn’t try to kill you. I fired over your head. I didn’t expect a wolf to grow wings.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you shot me and I’m dying.” He rested his cheek on the ground and groaned, fluttering his eyelids like he was about to pass out.
“You’re a terrible actor. I was hurt worse in the car accident. Which you caused.” He put the rifle on the camp chair, because he wasn’t going to kill the monster.
“I didn’t mean for you to be hurt. That was an accident.”
“Same.”
“I helped you. I could’ve left you to die.”
There had been times when Cole had wished for that, usually when he woke up in pain from another nightmare. “So what? You figure that I owe you?”
Mothman gave another low groan like death was imminent. “Yes. What kind of asshole doesn’t render assistance?”
“I don’t know, what kind of asshole kills two…two assholes.” But the creature had a point. He was being a dick by not offering to help, while the monster hadn’t hesitated to help him.
Mothman laughed and smothered it with a cough and a moan. “You didn’t like your cousins?”
“They were older, and we didn’t have much in common. They were late picking me up that night.” Cole scrubbed his hand over his face. “You’re the reason my life got completely derailed.”
“I am the reason you are alive.”
“You’re the reason I almost died in the first place.”
“Your blood is the reason my sister is dead.”
They’d both lost family. He scuffed his boot in the dirt. “I’m sorry they shot her.”
How unusual, his cousins were the start of all the trouble. Even years after their death, the repercussions were still hitting him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t notice you were in the car.”
The Mothman creature wasn’t sorry for killing his cousins, which was fair enough.
Everyone agreed that it was only a matter of time before they got into trouble they couldn’t talk their way out of.
He probably should feel some kind of anger at the monster for killing them, but all of Cole’s anger was directed at himself and his lack of life.
“So you’re the local legend, the Mothman.”
“No, that would be my uncle.”
“Oh. There’s more than one of you?” That was not reassuring. And if the Mothman was real, did that mean all the others were also real? The idea was almost too big for him to think about.
He groaned. “I know this is all super new and exciting for you, but I’m dying. So maybe we could focus on the bleeding for a bit, and then I’ll answer your questions.”
“Right… I know basic first aid for humans.”
“That’ll do. And be quick because I don’t want to miss the meteor shower tonight. That is why you were sitting out?”
“Yeah…but why did you creep out of the trees?” Had Mothman been hoping to scare him?
“Why did you put a show on this morning?”
Cole’s cheeks heated like he was too close to the fire. He shrugged. “I thought I was alone.”
He wasn’t an expert in monster expressions, but he was fairly sure that Mothman did not believe him. “You said you were aware that someone was watching you.”
If he’d known it was a monster…
“And I wasn’t wrong, was I?” Fucking creepy monster. “For how long have you been creeping on me?”
“Since you started camping right under my flight path.”
Cole touched his pocket where the rock lived. “You built the rock towers.”
“So did you. You also left the question mark. I have answered your question.”
“Uh…I need to get the first aid kit from my truck.” And if he was smart, he’d drive away and never look back. The monster from his nightmares was real.
But he couldn’t leave it to die.
He glanced up at the sky. The last time the monster had been in his life, it had turned it upside down…which was exactly what he’d been hoping for this weekend.
He needed to be more careful what he wished for.