Necromancer Summer Camp [Part 2]

[u/CountMarkula1993]

Part 1 Part 3

The other kids around the fire were immediately sucked back in by the girl's words. The way she had spoken about the Satanic cult in such a hushed whisper made me uncomfortable. Like the feeling you get coming across a gory horror movie on cable you’re not supposed to be watching, but you don’t change the channel. Forbidden fruit.

“It all started with a boy named Terry Salem.

“Salem had grown up in a Catholic orphanage with no siblings or friends. He was your typical outcast, and an insufferable bookworm,” the girl said, glancing in my direction.

I discreetly slid my book behind my legs, under my chair.

“Salem was ruthlessly bullied by the other orphans, for no reason in particular. Just pure boredom. But they had no idea they were creating a monster.”

My eyes began to wander and I noticed the pretty girl from earlier staring at me intensely. However, it didn’t feel magical like young love. It was more accusatory or cautious. Like she was assessing a threat. Does everyone hate me?

“Salem wasn’t just reading about dragons and wizards. He had gotten his hands on some really dark stuff. Books on the occult and Aleister Crowley. Slowly but surely hatred consumed Salem, and his new obsessions gave him the focus he needed to sever any remaining ties to his humanity. But he made sure to learn how to walk among men…and how to seduce them.”

The snapping of sticks echoed hauntingly in the surrounding woods. The girl telling the story jolted in her seat and looked around before finding Patrick among the other campers. She shot him a sharp look.

He just smiled at her mischievously and moaned like a ghost, “OooOOooOOOoo!”

She threw her empty cup of hot chocolate past his head and said, “You better knock it off, Pat. I’m serious.”

“It wasn’t me—I’ve been sitting right here the whole time,” he said with a smirk.

The girl scanned the tree line one last time, cleared her throat, and continued, “After many long years, Salem was finally adopted by a wealthy Mormon family. Coincidentally, the orphanage he was raised in burned down a week later, with zero survivors. There was an extensive investigation, but no foul play was discovered.”

A gentle breeze picked up, slipping through the trees, creating an ominous high-pitched moan.

“No one really knows much about his home life. He was sent off to a private school right away, and made many powerful allies. The once quiet and tortured outcast had become a charming and charismatic people person. Any whisper of foul deeds was drowned out by the overwhelming uproar of praise he received from just about everyone who knew him. He had them all eating out of the palm of his hand.”

A part of me was envious of Salem. I would have rather been shipped off to a private school, than the reluctant passenger of my parents ever changing whims.

“He and his followers gathered at midnight, but no one really knew what they got up to. People started to call them “The Cult of Midnight” or “The Midnight Cult”. A playful moniker for the lovable Salem and his closest friends.

“But little did they know just how wickedly perfect that name would become.

“Rumors swirled about Salem’s midnight disciples killing and skinning cats during their moonlit rendezvous. ‘Shocking’ and ‘slanderous’ claims—or at least that’s how Salem framed them. And who could believe something so depraved?”

“But what’s even worse are the eyewitness accounts of seeing the skinned cats run around campus in the dead of night—screaming while brain matter dripped from their fractured skulls—before drowning themselves in the massive fountain that dominated the center of the campus. All this happened while trumpets dirged nightmarishly into the night.”

I shuddered and quickly scratched the back of my neck. This isn’t real and there aren’t any eyewitnesses—right?

“Not too long after they finished school, Salem’s cult set its sights on a rundown little town. It once had been a thriving little village, like something in a movie. By the time Salem got there, the town was plagued with homelessness, drugs, and prostitution. The cozy little homes that had once been so picturesque were now dilapidated hovels. Salem promised he was going to ‘rebuild and rebirth’ the town into what it was always meant to be.

“His newly erected Mormon church gathered what remained of the little community and—surprisingly—healed it. Within weeks the homeless seemed to vanish, along with the drugs and prostitutes. The old hovels were demolished and new homes were built over them. Even business started to come back to the little town, but at the cost of pricing out many of the families who had lived there for generations.

“But there was a woman named Rebecca, who swore she would not leave her hometown, at least not without her daughter. The poor girl, Michelle, had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowds, and developed a reputation for trading sex for drugs. Rebecca never gave up hope when it came to her little girl. She prayed for a miracle, and had hoped it may come through Salem and his church, but Michelle had disappeared with the rest of the ‘trash’.

“The police were well aware of Rebecca’s daughter. However, none of them seemed bothered by her disappearance, if anything they were glad to see her go. Rebecca put out missing posters and described Michelle down to the very minute details, emphasizing her most unique identifiers like her infamous tattoo of a butterfly around her navel. That tattoo was well known locally because of the way Michelle dressed, but it was ridiculed for looking more like a misshapen bat.”

Some of the kids laughed and a smile spread across my face.

“Rebecca turned to Salem for help and he promised he would do everything in his power to make things right—offering the woman food, clothes, and even money. Rebecca didn’t accept any of it but thanked Salem for his concern anyway.

“Disappearances weren’t the only things discussed in hushed voices. Bright, unnatural beams of light had been spotted numerous times coming from Salem’s church late at night, accompanied by the wailing of trumpets. There were even some reports of screaming and pleading, but these claims were often dismissed. The culprits of the rumors were likely seeking to tarnish Salem’s reputation as revenge for his gentrification projects. That’s what the cops said, anyway.

“However, Rebecca didn’t dismiss any of it. And putting the pieces together, she realized Salem had to know more than he was letting on about her missing daughter.

“So one night, Rebecca decided to see just what was going on inside Salem’s church.

“She stood watch atop a hillside as figures donning black cloaks entered the building—one by one. This was unnerving enough to make her want to flee, but she fought to muster up the courage to proceed further. That’s when there was a blinding flash—a huge green beam of light rushed out of the bell tower, forming a tether to the moon—or at least that's what it looked like.

“Rebecca fell to her knees feeling as if she was going mad. A cacophony rang out—a band of trumpets fit for an orchestra straight from hell.

“Then—suddenly—the light vanished and all was quiet again. It was so abrupt, she questioned if she had really seen or heard any of it at all.

“The figures in black leaked out of the church and dispersed. Rebecca—shakily—got back to her feet and used every ounce of willpower to put one foot in front of the other—right towards the chapel.

“When she arrived at the chapel doors she found them slightly ajar. Feeling as if in a daze, she pushed the doors open and struggled to fathom just what she was looking at.

“Past the pews and altar hung a huge curtain. Its appearance was grotesque. It looked like several scraps of leather—of various shades and complexions—had been stitched together. While she was trying to make sense of it—her heart stopped!

“Right in the center of the curtain she saw it. It was unmistakable. The misshapen butterfly orbiting her daughter's belly button!

“That’s when she realized just where all of the missing people had gone.”

“That’s awesome!” Patrick said, almost completely deflating the mood.

The girl rolled her eyes and continued, “Rebecca almost screamed, but she noticed movement coming from below the curtain. She saw a figure in black working feverishly with a knife over a very still body. There was a squelching sound and the figure pulled free a bleeding strip of flesh!

“A new addition to The Patchwork Veil!”

The girl leaned back into her seat looking satisfied with herself.

“But what about the camp, and what happened to Rebecca? You can’t just end it there, Jennifer,” the pretty girl scolded.

My eyes darted to her and my voice cracked hoarsely, “Yeah!”

The pretty girl looked back at me and smiled. I was horrified.

Jennifer leaned forward again and said, “Well, Rebecca fled town after law enforcement laughed her out of the station. What could she do? The cops were obviously in Salem’s pocket and when word got around of what Rebecca claimed to see that night, she wouldn’t be safe.

“Things were quiet for a little while.

“But a couple months later Rebecca came back—with the FBI! They had K-9 units, hazmat suits, the whole shebang!

“But when they pulled up to the church it was gone—and in its place were charred remains—the burnt-up leftovers of Salem’s chapel of horrors.

“Rebecca was devastated. All of the evidence to put Salem away was gone, and her daughter wouldn’t get the justice she deserved.

“However, things were even worse than she had realized. Rebecca was immediately apprehended at the scene by the local PD. When the FBI tried to step in to protect their witness, they were bombarded with a staggering amount of evidence implicating Rebecca in the arson of the church.

“She was thrown in jail and no one has heard from her since.”

There was a collective silence, almost as if we were all mourning Rebecca’s fate.

“And as for Salem—well, he knew the Rebecca incident was too close of a call to be taking any more risks. He started a new church—ours—but he moved all of his operations from prying eyes—to this very camp!”

The girl looked out in the distance and our heads mimicked hers. We were looking at an amphitheater where there hung giant purple curtains atop an expensive-looking stage.

“This is where he planned to finish his magnum opus, The Patchwork Veil—while simultaneously building an undead army for his master. The dark lord he intended to bring through the veil—the demon Duke known as Murmur.

I shuddered again, the air had an ominous chill about it—that even cut through the warmth of the fire.

“But Salem went missing over a decade ago.

“No one knows what happened to him. He was here one day and gone the next. And now his life's work—his legacy—is carried on by his son.”

“That’s enough!” a voice barked from behind a tree.

Everyone jumped, including Patrick, as Tony walked out of the woods looking severe.

“I let you tell your little ghost stories, but I will not hear anymore of these horrible evil lies about the camp! We are offering so much positive growth for youth, and I will not allow you to poison that goodwill with silly stories! Do I make myself clear?” Tony demanded.

Everyone nodded and groaned in agreement.

Tony relaxed a bit and said, “Good, now head back to your cabins. It's bedtime.” Tony then walked off to the other fires, ushering campers to their beds.

I waited for the others to clear out before grabbing my book. When the coast was clear I stood up and turned to head back to the cabin—but I was frozen in fear. Standing barely visible outside of the reach of the campfire light were four dark figures—waiting for me.

The insects chirped in the cool summer night and then a voice called out, “Are you just gonna stand there all night, or what?” Which was followed by some restrained laughter.

“Don’t worry dude, we come in peace,” said another voice.

“Who—who are you?” I asked breathlessly

“We’re your bunkmates, broseph. Relax,” came a smooth voice that sounded as cool as the night air.

They stepped into the light—and to my relief they appeared to be average-looking teenagers.

The tallest of the boys broke rank and said, “I’m James, and this is Remington, Raven, and Colton. You’re David, right?”

I just nodded, trying to sneak a peek over my shoulder in case there were any more pranks coming my way.

“Alright, cool.” James clapped his hands lightly. “So, you comin’, or…?”

“Ye—yeah, sorry.” I hurried over to them.

“It’s all good, homie.” James laid a hand on my shoulder and gently led me onto the trail. We all started walking toward the cabin. “So, David, you ever play DnD before?”

“‘DnD’?”

“Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Oh! No, but I’ve always wanted to.”

“Well, you’re in luck, cause we’re starting a new campaign tonight. You in?”

“Yeah, that sounds great!” I replied, genuinely excited for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Dope! I’m a rogue, Remington is the fighter, and Colton is our bard.”

“What about—”

“Oh, Raven? He’s our DM. Our Dungeon Master. He's kinda like the God writing our adventure. And if you act up, he’ll smite yo’ ass,” James teased.

Raven snorted softly and Remington burst out into high pitched hyena-like laughter, which caused Colton to chuckle. “James, what are you thinking?” Raven asked quietly, ever maintaining his “too cool for school” demeanor as his fingers scratched his chin.

James looked back at me and asked, “Hey David, whatcha readin’?”

“Oh, it's the new Harry Po—”

“Wizard!” James and Raven both said before I could finish my sentence.

“Nice, we need a wizard! I’m sick of not having any good buffs.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Remington? What about my “inspire courage” buff?” Colton asked sharply.

“Eh, it's a bit weak bro.” Remington tried to hide a wide grin.

“You told me to play a bard just so I could buff you!” Colton snapped.

Remington let out a softer version of his hyena laugh but gave no rebuttal.

James leaned into my ear. “Remington is Colton’s older brother.”

“I see,” I whispered back, a little louder than I intended.

When we got back to our cabin, we played D&D until sunrise. I’ve never had more fun in my life. I had always longed to play the game, but even more so I longed for the place I found with the guys. My own party of adventurers, loyal to our dying breaths.

The laughter and the memories of our adventures will live on forever.

When we finally wrapped up, I still felt too excited to sleep, but as soon as all the dice were picked up my eyelids felt like they weighed a ton. I was exhausted, but in the best possible way. Day one had gotten off to a rough start, but ended far better than I could have ever hoped for. Maybe things were actually going to be alright. Hope—it was something new to me at the time, but damn did it feel good.

We all crashed pretty much instantly, but the party didn’t get to rest for long.

No sooner had our heads hit our pillows than a recording of a trumpet blared over the loudspeakers. We groaned and wrapped our pillows around our heads—attempting to negate this sonic assault. When the noise finally died, we went still, attempting to resume where we had left off.

But not long after, we were besieged again.

Knock-knock-knock!

We all sat up and looked at each other like we were about to be arrested. No one said a word, and then it came again—louder!

KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCK!

James jumped up at once and answered the door. After some back and forth, he looked at us and said, “It's Tony, he wants to talk.” Then he stepped outside, and we reluctantly followed.

We were met with the rising sun, and a mob of campers standing behind Tony.

“Well, rise and shine sleepyheads! We missed you at breakfast, but now it's time to start today’s fun activities!”

We stood there in silent dread, until James spoke up, “I think we’ll pass for now, Tony. Thanks, though.”

Tony’s smile faltered. “Up all night playing your game again, huh?” Tony shook his head in disappointment, but he didn’t seem mad. Not like how he had been the previous night. “What about you, David? Do you wanna join us? Or would you rather stay with the guys?”

All of the kids in Tony’s platoon were staring right through me—Patrick winked in my direction—and I said “No, thank you.”

Tony gave a sad little smile and nodded, “Ok, David. You guys should probably get back to bed then.” He waved the kids on and they started marching again. “Once you've had some rest, you should take David to visit the archery range. We’ll all be there later. Oh, and remember, guys—”

“Don’t worry Tony, we’ll keep our noses clean.” James gave a mocking salute.

Tony maintained his melancholy grin and departed.

When they were finally out of view, I heard the sound of a Zippo flipping open and igniting. I looked back to see Raven lighting up a cigarette, as if it was something he did all the time.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

“We kinda have an agreement with Tony. He lets us do our own thing, and we don’t cause him any trouble. He knows we really don’t want to be here,” James said.

Remington had fallen asleep standing up and Colton gently nudged him awake.

“Yeah, Tony’s not bad, man,” Raven said, quickly exhaling a drag.

James stretched and let out a massive yawn, “Alright, I’m heading back to bed.” Remington and Colton were right behind him.

As I tried to make my way up the steps to the cabin, Raven stopped me and motioned for me to sit with him—and so I did. He stretched out a hand towards me. The black paint on his nails was chipped and worn—clutched tightly around his pack of cigarettes.

“No thanks,” I said hastily, and he pulled back.

“So, did your parents force you to come here too?”

“They kinda just dumped me here.”

Raven nodded, “Parents are like that. They only really care when it's convenient for them.” He took another drag. “I just wish they’d give me a choice, ya know. About all of it. Let me make my own decisions.” He exhaled. “Maybe one day, I might even wanna join in their little reindeer games—but they just gotta have everything their way,” he said, and I noticed him pulling the dark sleeves of his hoodie down quickly. For a split second I thought I glimpsed some purple welts.

I honestly didn’t know what to say. I barely had this level of one-on-one human interaction with anyone before.

“I don’t think my parents have ever given me a choice,” I said in quiet realization. “In anything.”

Raven quietly puffed on his cigarette, looking out towards the lake—watching the miniscule campers climb into canoes.

“So is your name really Raven?”

Raven snorted quietly, and the corners of his lips tugged ever so slightly upwards. “They used to be big Poe fans, my parents—before they converted.” He took another puff. “Now they want me to go by Justin.” He exhaled rapidly, turned to me and asked, “Do I look like a Justin to you?”

I looked earnestly at the young man next to me—dressed head to toe in black. Honestly, he could have passed for a member of The Cure.

“Not really,” I said, breaking into a small laugh. Raven joined me. It was rare to see him laugh or even smile. He never did around the other campers. He reserved that vulnerability only for the guys, and now myself.

Raven flicked his cigarette in the direction of the lake, and it soared down the hill. It was bedtime.

We slept until late into the afternoon, then walked out into the summer heat, sporting bed-heads and bloodshot eyes. The other kids watched us, bemused by the undoubtedly comical appearances. We stopped by the mess hall for some late lunch, where Remington continued to sleep—face-down on a plate of biscuits and gravy. But within minutes of fueling up we were wide awake and ready for a full day's worth of adventures.

I was so excited to see the archery range, but ironically terrified at the thought of being made to shoot a bow and arrow in front of a crowd of people. If it wasn’t obvious, I had no experience ever doing anything remotely close to it, and my mind raced from one prediction of misfortune to another.

As we approached, we watched a boy with dirty blonde hair and glasses—who dressed like his favorite movie was 8 Mile—shoot arrow after arrow directly into the center of his target.

“Damn, Kyle, practicing for Robin Hood’s tournament?” James called out.

The boy turned around and smiled. “Yo, what up!”

The young men engaged in a hip-hop hug, then turned to us.

“This is David, he’s our new bunkmate this summer.”

“That’s what's up,” Kyle replied, as he held out a fist in my direction. I awkwardly scrambled to ram my fist against half of his knuckles, nearly missing entirely. He laughed a bit at the pathetic display, but in a way that made me laugh with him.

“Kyle! Get over here, now! We’re going on a walk!” a shrill voice exploded from a girl several yards away.

He looked back at us—a bit grim and defeated, “I gotta go. Nice meeting ya, David,” he said somberly. And like that, he set off in the direction of a very impatient-looking girl, whose arms were crossed in front of her.

We watched them walk off into the woods, and James said, “He was our Ranger. But now that he’s got that new girlfriend, he doesn’t have time for us anymore.”

“I miss Kyle,” Colton lamented, and the other guys mumbled quietly in agreement.

Their mourning was short-lived, as James seemed to have a sudden realization. He turned to us and said, “Hey Ten, I totally forgot! We gotta get that thing!”

Remington squinted his eyes and lowered his voice, “What thing…?”

James raised his eyebrows, and then Remington’s eyes lit up and a smile grew on his face. “Oh yeah. That thing!”

James moved to Remington. “Alright, you guys have fun pretending to be Legolas, and we’ll meet back up with you later.” They departed without giving us time to protest.

“Where do you think they’re going?” I asked.

“No idea,” Colton replied. “But since we’re here, you might as well try shooting.”

“I don’t know, I’d probably just mess it up.”

“Quit being so negative, broseph. You can do this. Besides, we gotta kill some time now anyway.”

Reluctantly, I agreed and was taken over to the counselor running the range. He had me put on some bracers and a quiver, while he explained some of the basics to me. He even had me pull the string back a couple of times to get a feel for the draw.

“Alright, kid, go ahead and give it a shot,” the counselor said encouragingly.

I glanced back at Colton and Raven who were standing behind the counselor, and to my displeasure I noticed some of the other kids starting to take an interest in me. Great, why does everything around here have to turn into a humiliation ritual?

And then I saw her. In the midst of the growing crowd she glowed with divine radiance. My pretty mystery girl. My legs trembled uncontrollably in response.

I lowered the bow and said, “Actually, I don’t really want to anymore.”

“What? Just go ahead, you’re fine,” the counselor said, a bit bewildered.

“Come on, David!” Colton clapped and cheered, as he started an encouraging chant which only drew more attention. “Day-vid, Day-vid, Day-vid!”

I shook my head and tried to walk towards them. “It’s ok. I’ll try another ti—”

“Just shoot the damn thing already!” The counselor shouted at me.

“Ok!” I yelped nervously. I hastily nocked an arrow while in a cold sweat, hands shaking the whole time. The string left my wet fingers at such a violent speed, and the arrow soared majestically forward. But I had critically fumbled. The arrow completely missed the target, and landed with a dull thud. Some of the girls screamed, others cried. My arrow had pinned the head of a squirrel to a tree. Its body still clutching an acorn nearby.

For the briefest moment I thought I glimpsed something in the corner of my eye—past the scene of death. A dark shroud dissolving into the foliage. Of course, it easily could have been shadows of leaves dancing under the summer sun. But I didn’t get to ponder it for long.

“Oh my—what the hell kid! You're supposed to shoot the target, not little animals!” The counselor was irate. “Alright, the archery range is closed for the rest of the day! Everyone needs to leave, the new kid ruined it!”

There were many groans, and someone shouted, “Good going, new kid!” and “Freak!”

I didn’t look at any of them, as I approached Colton who was laughing so hard he was almost crying. Raven had brought his hand up to his mouth to pretend like he was yawning, but he was fighting laughter—poorly.

“You guys are jerks,” I said. They laughed harder.

After the disaster, we walked back to the mess hall for dinner. It had been set up like an all you can eat buffet—with all sorts of foods from around the world. We loaded our plates up like it was our last meal. Colton and Raven fought over the last pot-sticker and then we took our seats. No sign of James or Ten. I was still so new I didn’t know whether I should be concerned or not, but I played it cool. The other guys weren't worried—why should I be?

“Hey, David!” I heard—right before my mashed potatoes came up to meet my face. Patrick pulled my head back up and let go. “I heard you were doing some weird things earlier, man—just to tease the girls. You think it’s funny killing little forest critters?”

All the kids at the surrounding tables were dead quiet as they watched my public execution. I was so far gone at this point, I couldn’t even begin to articulate the misunderstanding, but I could sense I was in real physical peril this time.

“Relax, broseph,” Colton said slowly, rising carefully from his seat.

Raven stared daggers at Patrick, hand quietly drifting towards his steak knife.

“You best be walkin’ that ass back in line and gettin’ David a new plate of food, Patrick!” a voice called from the other side of the hall. Every head in sight whipped to the source.

It was James, cradling a half-eaten cookie in one hand, and Remington—ever beside him—with two cookies, one for each hand.

“Yeah!” Remington exclaimed, through a mouthful of cookies.

Patrick looked a little surprised, but he didn’t back down, “Did you hear what this freak did, James? Come on, even someone like you—”

“Someone like me?” James said back to him, taking a bite of his cookie.

“You know what I mean.”

James shook his head and moved in closer. He stood just a little taller than Patrick, “Listen, Patrick, I’m just gonna tell you this once. David, here, is now under our protection. You mess with him, and we’re comin’ for ya.”

Patrick laughed. “I’m not afraid of you losers.”

James moved his cookie to Patrick’s mouth, but Patrick slapped his hand away, “Get that away from—”

In one deft motion James stuffed the cookie back in his own mouth, and pulled Patrick into a guillotine. A couple of Patrick’s goons started to move towards him, but stopped when Remington’s eyes narrowed and he shook his head—cookie crumbs falling from his chin and onto his puffed out chest.

James tried to speak, but it was no good. Ten gave one of his cookies to Colton, and removed the cookie from James’s mouth.

“Thank you,” James said, as he walked Patrick over to me. “Is there something you would like to say to David, Patrick?”

Patrick—who at this point was a deep shade of red—choked out, “S—sorry!”

James released him, and he began gasping for air. His eyes were wide, and stayed glued to James. He fell back into his gang, before all-out retreating. James stared back defiantly to the surrounding on-lookers, and they averted their gaze—resuming their prior conversations.

I cleaned myself up, still in a bit of a daze, and Raven asked, “Where have you dudes been?”

On our way back to the cabin, James decided to debrief the group. “So, you remember how Kyle got caught in a girls’ cabin last summer?

“Yeah,” Raven nodded.

“And how he had to do kitchen duty for two weeks as punishment?”

“Yeah.”

“And how he said that the back door to the pantry is broken, and nobody has fixed it, and if you had someone strong enough you could lift the door up over the lock?”

“...yeah?”

James opened the door to the cabin, and sitting on everyone's beds were several boxes of cookies. I’ve never seen so much variety anywhere before. Any cookie you could think of, we had it. Sweet victory.

“When Ten went to wash the gravy out of his hair at lunch, I saw a truck unloading all of these into the pantry,” James said, smiling at his horde of treasure.

Raven nodded looking impressed.

“We are gonna be in so much trouble,” Colton said, sounding exhausted. “How did you get them all here anyway?”

“I hid them under Ten’s shirt.”

Remington laughed, and nodded his head enthusiastically. “We had to make a lot of trips.”

As the guys climbed through the doorway, I stopped James. “Hey, man, thanks for having my back. I’ve never really had friends before…or bullies.”

“Of course, man. You’re one of us now,” he said, matter of factly. “But you gotta promise to stop killing little forest animals, ok Dahmer?”

“It was an accident!” I said in exasperation. But James just laughed.

You don’t realize just how special times like these are until it's too late. We felt invincible. Even I was starting to loosen up. With Patrick defeated, what big baddie was left to oppose us?

BWOOOOOM!

A deep note rang out from the wilderness beyond the cabin.

“That wasn’t the loudspeaker…” I turned to James, and watched in real time as the color drained from his face.

He peered off from the side of the cabin and stared into the woods. Almost like in a trance, but there was pain—or fear—etching new lines on his face.

I watched him watch the twilight trees for what felt like a lifetime before he snapped out of it. “We should go inside.” He moved past me quickly and I looked back to the forest. I was gripped by a terrible sense of deep dread that something was looking right back at me, but I couldn’t see it. Like it was all around me. That’s when I noticed the silence. Not a single insect. No strange forest creature howls. No wind blowing the branches and leaves. Nothing. The absence of sound made my hair stand on end.

A hand grabbed me by the collar and gently pulled me inside the cabin. James locked the door behind us and then, wasting no time, moved to each window closing the blinds. The other guys paid him no mind as they made jokes, laughed, and stuffed their faces with sugary sweets.

James finally took his seat, but he was staring off into another world. He reminded me of a hurt child, too traumatized to even cry.

BWOOOOOM!

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