Chapter Seventeen #2
Suddenly, it walks away from the window, its steps heavy and booming against the wooden porch.
I jump a little with every vibration as it moves away.
Quietly, I finish walking down the stairs.
I don’t want to lose sight of it, and let it become hidden somewhere on the property.
I need to keep control where I can. This all feels different now, more dangerous.
It isn’t sneaking around or staying in the shadows. Instead, it wants to be seen.
I run to the kitchen window and wait as it slowly walks into view.
I peek my head into the window just enough to be able to see.
I thought it would’ve been running to the side of the cabin, moving with ease and speed but instead I watch as it lumbers slowly into the clearing.
With this vantage point and bright daylight, I can see its long, skeletal body in its entirety.
Its arms are almost as long as it is tall and it drags its long, sharp fingernails along the ground as it walks.
As I watch, I get the sense that it can’t see very well.
Perhaps it's not a coincidence that most of our encounters so far have been when it's dark. Most predators come out at night and I have no reason to think these things are different. It stops in the middle of the yard before turning and staring toward the cabin. It’s far enough away that I can’t see where it’s looking but close enough that I can see the horrible, yellow eyes that have been following me around this place.
My mind is trying to connect the dots, trying to place the creature into a category.
Is it human or is it an animal? I don’t think it’s either.
It’s a monster. Its face is sunken-in with thin, wisps of white hair hanging down past its shoulders.
The hair is so white that I can see its misshapen skull underneath and big patches of green mold or moss covering different areas of the creature’s body.
“Hanna…. I need help. Please help me. I’m hungry. Let me in. Don’t let me die,” the words come from the creature, its mouth open but not moving, drool dripping from the corners as it continues to cry to me. It uses my own voice, then Luke’s and finally a mismatched jumble of both.
My hands grip the edge of the counter. In this moment, I’m not scared–I’m angry.
I don’t have time for this. Luke needs me.
I whirl around, dropping the backpack to the floor before I start moving around the kitchen, grabbing everything else I think I could need.
I walk back over to the gun box and pick through the rest of the bullets, making sure to grab the best-looking ones and shove them into my jacket pocket.
When I look at the gun, I worry it won’t fit in the backpack and I know already I don’t want to have to carry it the entire time.
I bring the bag over and do my best to move everything to one side before shoving the gun in, butt-end first. I’m able to get it almost all the way inside, the top just barely sticking out.
Relieved, I zip the bag up as tight as I can and hope for the best.
Now that I’m packed and technically ready to go, I freeze where I’m standing.
I need to get help for Luke quickly; something deep inside me tells me that he doesn’t have a lot of time.
I take a step toward the front door, stopping as I remember not only what’s out there but also how long the driveway was getting to the cabin.
Not to mention, how far we are from the closest town.
I could be walking for days before someone finds me.
I try to think back to recall how many people we passed while driving and, for the life of me, I can’t remember any other car.
I need to think of something else. There has to be another way.
I won’t be able to find help without some sort of plan.
There seemingly isn’t anyone around for miles and I don’t even know what direction to start walking.
I need to be prepared because knowing me, I could become lost very easily.
The horrible thought of being lost in the middle of the forest reminds me of Luke’s father telling him to go to a fire tower.
Like the one we saw at our picnic at the river.
If Luke is right about it, there could be a radio. What if I could get there?
I try to push the thought away, dismissing it as an impossibility even though I already can feel the adrenaline of excitement coursing through my veins. I can’t stop the questions cycling through my mind. Could I possibly hope to retrace our steps? Can I afford to not try?
I get frustrated at my conflicted feelings on it and wish again Luke was able to help me. Why did he have to be so impulsive and run out into the woods? I warned him something was out there. This is what I was scared would happen.
I march over to the nearby couch, grabbing one of the pillows and scream into it.
I scream until I can’t anymore. Until my lungs hurt.
I feel dizzy, afterward and sit down, letting my breathing and heart-rate even back out.
My head feels a little clearer now. I close my eyes, taking another deep breath.
My only real, solid option is to try to make it there.
The thought of getting to a radio is too tempting to pass up.
But how can I get to it through a forest that all looks the same?
A small amount of anxiety creeps its way back in as I remember how even Luke got turned around out there.
I push it away, focusing on what I do have going in my favor.
It’s daylight, but I also have to assume that creature is watching me and if I just walk into the woods, out in the open, it would come for me.
My mind unavoidably travels to the basement.
Luke said he had a dream that the tunnel down there leads outside.
Is that even an option worth considering?
I don’t want to go in that pitch-black tunnel but what if it’s the only other way out of the cabin.
Maybe it could take me far enough away from here that I could have a fighting chance to avoid the monster altogether, especially if it’s busy watching the cabin.
The part holding me back is that I have no way of knowing how long the tunnel is or even which direction it goes.
A memory so abruptly enters my mind, it takes me a moment to process it— the map in the shed.
I try to conjure the rough sketch in my mind but as I work to grab hold of the memory, it fades further.
I wish I had paid closer attention to the details, but the pressure of trying to remember leaves my mind blank.
Why didn’t I bring it inside with me? It doesn’t matter now, I don’t have it and I can’t risk coming face to face with whatever that thing is, so I’ll just have to leave without it and hope for the best.