Epilogue
Luke
Run. Hanna. Those are the only two thoughts I’m focused on.
I have to escape from the cabin and from this never-ending nightmare.
My face is taking a lashing as I run through the trees and brush, but I can’t stop.
I rip through the trees as fast as I can, trying to track my direction by the sun.
I’m moving slower than I want to be as I’m fighting against my still healing injuries.
The further I get from the cabin the stronger I feel–the more diluted the pain seems to get–but whatever is out here, never lets me get far from it.
No matter how long I run, they always bring me back as soon as I fall asleep.
I’ve lost count on how many times I’ve tried to get away.
Each time I make camp, I wake back up in the same bed.
So, this time, I’m not going to sleep. I’m going to keep moving until I find my way out or until my body stops working.
The sun gets low fast and with dusk comes the same light fog as always.
It rolls in slow and dangerous at the same time every day.
The last thing I need is less vision. I’m already risking a lot being out here with no supplies.
My hand tightens on the kitchen knife I’m gripping onto.
I know the dangers of falling with a knife, but having a weapon outweighs the risk.
Every step I take becomes more treacherous as I can see less of the ground under my feet.
I concentrate on running and don’t let myself falter.
As night comes, I can’t run or jog anymore, so I settle for just moving.
Even as the pain from the scratches become a dull ache, it doesn't stop the intense heaviness from overworked muscles taking over. I fill my mind with thoughts of Hanna to keep me awake. I need to see her smile again before I die. I’m stumbling on my own feet and am becoming afraid that I might fall asleep standing up.
I hear whispers in the surrounding trees.
I know these things are out here, but I’m hoping they aren’t following me now.
They’ve been hiding just out of sight since the moment I got to the cabin.
I wish I had listened to Hanna. She knew.
She could sense it. If I’m honest, I think I could too, but I didn’t want to believe it.
I was so focused on giving Hanna the perfect getaway that I refused to see the danger she was trying to tell me about.
I wanted to show her she could enjoy this sort of trip, but I failed and now she’s gone.
I have no way to know if she’s alive, but I choose to believe she is.
The last thing I remember is her kissing me and telling me she was going to get help.
I don’t know how long I was asleep after that, but when I finally woke up, she was gone.
I’m so cold and I desperately want to stop. My brain is telling me to make a fire, slow down and sit. It’s begging me to do it. It would be a mistake. I know what will happen. With warmth will come sleep. I can sleep when I’m dead.
Just as I see the sun rise between the trees, something else emerges from the dark ahead of me. A small line shack stands in front of me, and this reignites my determination. Suddenly, I’m not tired anymore. This is exactly what I need. Please be unlocked.
As I take the last steps to go inside, my heart sinks as I notice the familiar claw marks scratched down the door–maybe not as safe as I was hoping. Although is anywhere safe when faced with these things?
I reach for the doorknob, a moment's hesitation before I turn it. The door swings open with a loud creak, and I turn my head, looking side to side as my nerves kick back in. That noise will have alerted anything out here where I am. I rush inside, slamming the door behind me. Immense relief washes over me when I see a thick deadbolt on the door. I lock it before turning into the room. The sun has risen just enough that some light is streaming into the window. It’s a mess.
There’s stuff everywhere, most of it broken.
My eyes widen when I spot a stove in the corner of the room and a sleeping bag.
There’s even a small pile of wood stacked next to the stove.
Fuck yes! Quickly, I shove the wood inside the stove before realizing that I don’t have anything on me to light it.
There must be matches around here or something I can use.
I stride around the room looking at the miscellaneous items strewn around the floor.
There is a bed in the middle of the small room.
I walk over and kneel, checking under the bed.
There’s a smell. Specific. Hanna. There are scraps of torn fabric next to the bed.
I pick one of them up and bring it to my nose, smelling deep.
It’s Hanna’s perfume, I know it. I look further under the bed, feeling frantic to find something more.
It's dark under the bed so I pull everything I feel out. There isn’t anything else that I recognize as hers.
I suddenly remember that I have one of the walkie-talkies in my pocket.
I found it on the bedside table. Hanna left it for me, I think.
Maybe she has another one and is still close enough to hear me.
I turn it on and start flipping through the channels, calling out for her, but all there is on the other end is static.
I toss it away from me as bitterness and anger fuel me, wishing I still had my phone.
Hoping that Hanna got my message. The not knowing is torture.
I look back down to the pile of things I’ve dug out from under the bed.
Sitting on top is a book of matches. I close my eyes and remind myself that I’ll see her again. This isn’t a coincidence.
I rush back to the stove and light a fire.
The stove is small but the warmth it gives off is quick and consoling.
I hold my hands close to the small open door, my fingers tingling as the blood forces its way back into them and let myself imagine Hanna doing the exact same thing. Maybe not even that long ago.
There’s a soft tapping on one of the windows.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up but I don’t let myself acknowledge it.
They’re more aggressive when you look. There’s a piercing scratch that moves slowly across the room until it stops at the front door.
A loud bang vibrates through the shack followed by a shriek.
They know I’m here. Another deafening bang.
This one startles me, my heart pounds as I look toward the door, watching it shudder under the strikes.
My eyes move upward. There’s a gun. I jump up, racing over to the door and grab it.
I open the chamber feeling even more adrenaline rush into my body as I see the gun is already loaded.
I don’t know if bullets will do anything against them, but I guess I’m going to find out.
It’s now or never. I sling the gun over my shoulder and run back to the bed.
I push it in front of the door before backing myself next to the stove.
I sit down with my back to the wall, the furthest I can get from the door.
I watch and wait. It’s quiet now. They’re observing what I’m doing.
That’s what they do, so they can learn. I focus on my breathing.
In and out. Be calm. Be ready. Don’t choke.
Suddenly there’s an ear-splitting screeching sound coming from the door, like fingernails on a chalk board.
It takes every bit of willpower to not cover my ears.
Instead, I keep my focus as I continue to stare at the door.
This time, I don’t look away. Long, sharp claws protrude from the wood door as a chunk of it is torn away.
My eyes are locked on the living nightmare standing in front of me.
It opens its huge mouth, sharp teeth jutting out in every direction as it bellows at me.
The noise these things can emit is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It reverberates deep in my bones.
It finishes ripping the door off the hinges before flinging the bed into the room. I don’t let the commotion or crash distract me. I hold the gun up, aim, and fire. Chaos breaks out as the bullet hits it in the chest. It lets out a roar-like cry as it stumbles backward and runs out of sight.
I sit, my hands shaking so hard that I drop the gun as I listen to the monster crash through the trees.
I slowly stand up and grab the gun before walking to the door, or what’s left of it.
The sun isn’t fully up yet so it's hard to see deep into the surrounding trees. I step out of my shelter and the moment my foot hits the ground, the trees illuminate with dozens of glowing eyes. There’s no way to escape. Not while they watch.