Chapter Seven
The sunlight faded a couple of hours after dinner, and Abby was chilled and not just from the cold.
Ever since she’d brought up the hairy man, she’d felt uncomfortable and afraid.
She’d kept her gaze trained on the surrounding forest, but she’d been unable to see anything suspect.
Yet every noise she heard, she turned to look, convinced the hairy man was right there, watching and waiting.
She rubbed her arms again and tossed more wood onto the fire.
Whit was busy making a door for the shelter.
It was a sweet gesture and Abby knew she was doing it just for her, to try to help her feel more secure.
Abby knew it was a lost cause. She doubted she’d be able to sleep at all even though her eyes were growing tired and heavy and her mind was slowing down some.
Whit seemed to notice. “Why don’t you turn in? I’ll watch the camp for a while so you can sleep in peace.”
It was a kind offer, but Abby couldn’t seem to tear her eyes off her sitting across the fire, shaping wood with her knife.
Her dark hair was glinting in the fire and her equally dark eyes flashing with the dance of the flames.
She liked to chew her lower lip when she was pondering something or working with her hands.
Abby found it somewhat sexy and she began to wonder about Whit and her sexuality.
Was she a lesbian? Did she have someone?
She didn’t speak like she did, though she also seemed to be a rather private person.
Abby considered not asking, thinking it might be rude and put her off, but then she thought of the hairy man again and decided to ask anyway. Anything to get her mind off the mysterious creep, man or beast, that may or may not be following them
“Do you have anyone, Whit? Someone waiting for you at home?”
Whit glanced up at her, but set her knife down to fashion some branches on the skeleton of the door. “Why do you ask?”
“Just curious, I suppose.”
Whit nibbled on her lip again. She didn’t respond for a few long seconds. So long that Abby thought she was going to resist answering altogether.
“I do,” she finally said.
Abby felt heat rise to her face and her stomach dropped as if she had just crested the high hill of a roller coaster. She did? She does? Abby forced down a swallow and then forced a smile before she poked at the fire with a nearby stick.
“Tell me about them.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Oh?”
Whit stood. “Door’s done.” She held it up.
She’d fashioned it out of thick sticks, bound together in a crosshatch pattern with some sort of bendable reed she’d found near the water.
Then she’d attached some heavily leaved branches to fill the gaps.
“We’ll crawl inside and pull this in behind us to cover the entrance.
As for the back of the shelter, I already filled in with more branches, so you don’t have to worry about that either. ”
“It’s amazing,” Abby whispered. “Thank you.”
Whit leaned the door against the shelter and wiped her hands on her pants. “You ready to turn in? You look beat.”
“I am,” Abby said, suddenly feeling like she hit a wall.
She massaged her face and pushed herself to a stand.
She was too tired to try to pry information out of Whit.
And she was too tired to think too hard about the hairy man.
Right now, she just needed to sleep, and thankfully, her brain was showing her some mercy.
She gave Whit a grateful smile as she bypassed her to crawl into the shelter.
“Night,” she said, as she knelt.
“Good night.”
Abby eased onto the bed of pine needles and made herself comfortable. The shelter was warm and cozy and smelled of everything wilderness. The pine needles were pokey, but they also provided a nice cushion from the cold ground. She curled up on her side and closed her eyes.
“Would you like the door on?” Whit asked.
She opened her eyes and saw Whit peeking in the door. “Not if you’re going to stay up for a while.”
Whit walked away to sit close to the fire. Abby once again allowed her eyes to fall shut and the world to fade to black. And before she knew it, she was fast asleep.
When she woke sometime later, it was dark.
So dark she once again had to think hard to remember where she was.
She reached out and felt something. Someone.
Her breath caught in her throat before she realized it was Whit.
She exhaled and tried to slow her heart rate, but then she heard something nearby.
A snap. Then another. As if someone were outside walking and stepping on twigs.
Panicked, she shook Whit and whispered. “Whit, Whit, wake up!”
“Wha?” Whit turned over and Abby squeezed her shoulder.
“I hear something. Something outside. Like walking around.”
They sat up and listened. Another snap, this one farther away.
“See!”
Whit scooted toward the door.
“Wait! What are you doing?” Abby clenched her forearm.
“I’m going to go see. Now let me go.” She pulled her arm free, pushed the door out with her foot and allowed some of the dwindling firelight to seep inside the shelter.
Abby watched as she retrieved her knife and crawled out, leaving Abby behind.
Once again panicked, this time by Whit’s absence, Abby hurried out after her and stood outside near the dying fire.
Whit was already gone, having disappeared into the darkness.
Abby was alone and terrified. Absolutely scared stiff.
She couldn’t move. She just stood and waited, ears piqued.
What she heard only frightened her more. Rustling and snapping and cracking. Someone or something crashing through the woods. She knew one of them had to be Whit, but the other…she tried not to think about it. The sounds grew distant, until eventually, there were none.
She grabbed a stick, the biggest one she could find, and sank down onto the nearby fallen log that Whit favored. She dropped her head into her hand and trembled, trying not to cry. What if Whit didn’t come back? What if the creep, whatever it was, got her? Would he then come back for her too?
This was a nightmare. I’m in a nightmare.
She looked up at the star-spattered sky.
Why did I come here? She knew the statistics about all the people that went missing in Alaska every year.
It wasn’t comforting and now she understood exactly how easily it could happen.
She could disappear in the giant arms of the hairy man and no one would ever know what happened to her. It would be another Alaskan mystery.
Tears fell down her face. She was doomed. Running would be useless. It was dark and she didn’t know which way to go. Besides, her knee was hurt and if they were really being hunted, whoever or whatever it was would eventually find her.
I’m going to die.
She didn’t bother wiping her tears, but rather let them fall. She thought about adding more wood to the fire, to at least warm herself, but she was still too scared to move. A large fire would draw more attention to her, making her easily seen from within the woods.
She sniffled and tried to stifle her cries as she thought of Whit and what was happening to her. She hadn’t even heard her scream. The creep probably attacked stealthfully, taking her out before she could even mutter a word.
Movement came from the blackness of the trees.
Rustling. Snapping. Cracking. Her heart thudded and then rose to lodge in her throat like a heavy, cold stone.
She sat erect, staring intently, waiting for the creep to emerge.
The crashing grew closer. She thought she might wet herself. She clenched her eyes and prayed.
“Please, God, make my death quick.”