u/AbKane667

I woke up shivering, barely able to open my fingers. The fire had almost gone out. Lucy lay wrapped in her blankets, shivering too.

My knees cracked as I got up. I walked to the woodpile and threw a few sticks into the fire. The small orange light slowly grew.

“Lucy, Lucy,” I whispered in my raspy voice.

She opened her eyes and squinted.

“I’m so cold, Jake.”

“I know, I know. Just come closer to the fire.”

She moved closer, stretching her hands toward it. I sat next to her and hugged her, waiting for the shivering to stop.

After a while, Lucy looked up at the sky. You could only see gray clouds through the bare trees.

“I don’t even remember what the sun looks like.”

“Don’t think about it. You’ll bum yourself out.”

She pulled her knees closer to her chest.

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

“We should eat.”

Lucy looked at the dead rats. It was all we had. We had run out of cans a week and a half ago.

“I…I can’t.”

“Lucy, you need to eat.”

“I can’t do it again, Jake. I didn’t even eat meat before all this.” She put her head in her legs.

I looked toward the city we were by. The snow blew through the empty streets.

“We could go into the city.”

“But the gangs could be there. If they catch us, we’ll have to…”

“I know, but there could be food too.”

She looked at the rats and swallowed.

“Okay.”

She slowly got up. I handed her the knife. She put it in her pocket and stomped out the fire.

The snow was fresh, reaching to our ankles. In the city, there were no human tracks, no trash. The wrecks lay in the streets, some on their side, some on their roofs. The buildings had broken windows. The snow had already reached over a foot in the empty rooms. We stayed close to each other. Lucy’s eyes darted between the buildings, but the city was empty, quiet. 

We passed by a small electronics store. There was a large plasma TV in the back. It reminded me of the one we used to own. I remembered an oily man in a suit saying that the climate wasn’t changing. A few years later, I sat in front of that same TV with Lucy when the terrible winter came. It was worse than anything we’d seen before, and from that day on the winter never left.

“Jake?” she called quietly.

I shook my head. There was only my reflection in the TV, looking like a man I did not recognize.

She was pointing at a building at the end of the street.

“Jake, that looks like our old apartment building.”

“Oh yeah, it does.”

“I remember my little plants and the paintings. The apartment was so cute.”

She smiled. A warm feeling tingled in my chest.

“Yeah. You made it pretty.”

“It was pretty before too. It just needed something extra. I really miss it. I hope this ends at some point.”

“I don’t know, Lucy.”

“I don’t know either. I hope. Let’s look at the building.”

We walked toward it. Lucy smiled again and grabbed my hand. It was still really cold.

“Oh, it really is so similar,” Lucy said and walked to the window. 

She glanced through it and immediately covered her mouth, letting out a silent gasp.

Inside lay two bodies. There were charred spots where their limbs should have been. Their abdomens were open, but all the organs were missing.

“Jesus.” I took her hand and moved us away.

“The gang kept them alive,” she whispered, looking at the charred spots.

We walked a little further. Lucy kept turning her head around more anxiously. I could see we’d have to leave soon, but then, at the end of the street, a small bodega appeared.

“I don’t know, Jake.”

“We’ll be quick. Just this one and then we’ll turn,” I said and walked toward it. 

She looked around one more time and followed after me.

Only one window was broken, and the door was still on its hinges. The inside was as cold as the outside. Through the cold came that rotting, stale smell that all the other buildings had. Lucy kept behind me, holding onto my shoulder.

“I really think we should leave.”

“Lucy, look!”

There were a few unopened cans on the shelf: tomatoes, peaches, and green beans, Lucy’s favorite.

“What a lucky day,” I said and looked back at her.

She forced a smile.

“Yeah. Can we go now?”

“Sure, but let’s eat some green beans; you love them.”

“It can wait, Jake.”

“Fine.”

The snow crunched outside. Something strange tightened in my chest. I slowly turned.

A bolt of shock ran up my spine. A gang of men stood outside the store, smiling with guns and hatchets in their hands.

My feet froze to the snow. We'd talked about what we’d do if this happened, but I never thought it would come to this.

“Jake,” Lucy whispered. Her eyes were filled with terror. She could see the fear in mine. She already had the knife in her hand.

“Drop the knife,” one of the men said.

Lucy looked at me.

She knew.

“I’m sorry,” Lucy whispered.

Sharp pain shot through my neck. I jolted back. Lucy’s knife was stuck in my throat, her hand still around it. Warm liquid poured onto my shoulders. She pulled it out and stabbed herself in the neck too. She collapsed to the floor right after me. I reached my hand toward her, but she was too far away. She smiled and slowly closed her eyes.

I looked over the field. The crops barely reached a foot off the ground. Their stalks were dry and bright yellow. My stomach felt heavy. I couldn’t look at it anymore. 

The feeling worsened as I sat alone in my chair. My wife opened the kitchen door and looked out.

“How’s it looking, Alex?”

“How do you think?”

“Don’t you be mean. It’s not my fault.”

“It’s not mine either!”

“No one’s saying that. I just want to know what’s going on.”

“It’s bad.”

“At least we still have the goats.”

“They will barely give us enough.”

“Will there be nothing from the harvest?”

“I wouldn’t count on it.”

She rubbed her face.

“But there is the witch.”

“No, Alex. Don’t even think about it!” Mary said and walked back to the kitchen.

As the days passed, the heaviness in my stomach grew. At night, I could barely sleep. Thoughts of the harvest and winter kept me up as I stared at the wall. Headaches followed, sometimes so painful I had to stop work.

Over the next few days, the crops started to look drier, and the ears remained thin. As the crops worsened, my problems intensified.

One day I sat in my chair again, holding my head.

“What’s going on, Alex?”

“My head. It’s killing me.”

“I’m sorry. Let me get you some warm milk.”

“Wait, Mary, we need to talk about something.”

“What?”

“The witch.”

Mary furrowed her brows.

“We’ve talked about it already.”

“Have you seen the harvest? There’s nothing. The witch could help us.” My headache started to ease. “If we just…”

“You don’t know if it’s true. What if it isn’t? We’ll lose two healthy goats. We’ll definitely starve then.”

“It is true. My father told me stories. Plenty of them.”

“So what? My mother told me that if the wife is sacrificed, the harvest will grow. Do you want that?” 

She paused.

“I won’t have any more of it. If it’s only cheese this winter, that’s how it is.”

She walked to the kitchen and shut the door behind her. My headache returned. The goats barely got us through last winter, and this harvest was bad. The witch was our only option.

Mary came back with a glass of warm milk. She laid it next to me and stroked my hair.

“Hopefully this helps.”

I just nodded.

That night Mary went off to bed early. I said I’d follow her, but I stayed down for some time, waiting. When I was sure she was deeply asleep, I got off my chair and made my way toward the back door. The more I thought of the witch, the more my headache let up. I had almost made it past the kitchen when Mary’s voice called from above: “Alex?”

Coldness shot through me.

“Yeah?”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I’m just getting some warm milk for my head. The glass you gave me helped.”

“Oh, great. I hope it gets better soon.”

“It just needs time. Go to sleep. Don’t wait on me.”

“Okay. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

I walked to the back door and stood there, holding the handle. After a few minutes, I carefully opened it and walked out.

The goats were in their pen, sleeping. When I opened the fence, they got up, stretched, and let out a quiet bleat. I got the rope off the wall, tied it around their necks, and put a knife in my back pocket. They were easy to lead out of the pen. Our goats had always been friendly.

The witch’s house sat atop a hill above the village. One had to walk through a forest to get to it. The forest was cold and dark. Owls hooted loudly, making the hair on my arms stand up, but the goats walked happily toward the hill, unbothered. 

As we got higher, the headache and the heaviness in my stomach let up. The trees around us grew barer. The goats had slowed down, looking back at the path and up at me. 

The smell of sulfur hung in the air. After some time, I finally saw the witch’s house ahead. The air was now almost freezing, but all my pains disappeared. The goats had stopped, not wanting to take another step. It had to be done now. I’d drag them the rest of the way. 

I tied one up to a tree, held the other in place, and slit its throat. The other one started shaking, stepping around. I walked to it and slit its throat too. The smell of sulfur mixed with iron. 

I was out of breath when I reached the doors. The wood on them was old and rotting. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door. My heart began to beat faster. I’d never seen a witch before, at least not one who wasn’t hanged.

The floorboards creaked inside. The door slowly opened. An old lady with gray hair stood on the other side. She looked at the goats and me, bewildered.

“What are you doing here?”

“Witch, I bring you these two goats. Please, make my harvest plentiful.”

“Why did you bring them? Your wife already took care of it. The harvest will be plentiful.”

“What?”

“Take them away. The air makes the dead rot faster. I don’t want them here.”

I looked down; the goats were already full of maggots.

“Leave now,” she said and shut the door in my face.

The headache slowly returned, worse than before. It felt as if the freezing air was around my brain. I laid my goats down and walked back. Mary’s words echoed in my mind, sinking my heart even lower.

My head was throbbing, but as I got home and looked in the pen, it stopped completely. My head went silent. Inside the pen lay Mary. A blade was in her hand, her throat cut open, and the hay beneath her turned red.

The sun had begun to set. Sweat ran down my back. I had finally managed to dig the hole deep enough. I got no help from my neighbours. They were too scared he would come for them, so I carried her coffin alone, stopping every few feet to take a breath. As I pushed her coffin into the hole, her dry hand fell out, but there was no time to put it back.

Inside the house, the hatchet and bowl were still there. Although the blood had been cleaned off them, seeing them still made my stomach turn.

The other people in our town were too scared to do anything, but something had to be done now. He took away my wife. The next morning I woke up early, went to the post office, and sent a telegraph to Boston.

The very next day, there was a knock on my door. Outside stood a man with a briefcase and a new top hat.

“Good morning, are you Mister Larry Jones?”

“That’d be me.”

“I’m Samuel Becken of the Massachusetts Institute of the Supernatural.”

“I figured. Come in.”

“Thank you. It’s awfully hot out; may I have some water?”

“Sure.”

I got a cup out of the cupboard and poured water into it. He looked into it and tried to hide his disgust behind a smile.

“My superior told me you have a vampire issue going on.”

“That’d be correct.”

“What kind of vampire?”

“Kind?”

“Well, you know, is it the Revenant, Spectral Vampire, or Psychic Vampire?”

“I don’t know. It’s a vampire.”

“Yes, but what does he feed on? Blood, life energy, spiritual?”

I could see he was trying to get the better of me.

“Anything you give him. Blood, misery, soul.”

He smirked. “That’s not narrowing it down.”

Anger grew in my chest. “Well, I don’t know, mister. It killed my wife. Isn’t that enough?”

He put his hands before his chest. “I mean no offense. I’m just trying to narrow it down so I may choose the best tools.”

“He feeds primarily on misery and blood.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay. Sounds similar to Vrykolakas, but it wouldn’t make sense for him to be all the way here.”

I kept silent.

“Well, thank you. I won’t be taking any more of your time. Where does he reside?”

“Atop a hill right behind my house.”

“We’ll discuss the payment after. I’ll bring back the dust as proof.”

“Alright.”

He tipped his hat and walked out, leaving the untouched cup behind.

An uncomfortable feeling grew in my chest. I watched him disappear into the woods. The man seemed like he hadn’t seen a vampire in his life. It seemed like this was his first time leaving the city. I couldn’t just sit back. I got off my chair and followed him from a distance.

He had crossed deep into the woods, deeper than most people in town had. There were already smears of blood on the tree trunks and a few animal bodies lying on the side of the road: rodents, foxes, even small dogs from the town, but Samuel walked as if he was still in Boston. Only when he saw the first human remains did he slow down. 

The forest was dark. The sun was barely visible. My heart began to pound.  A bat flew overhead, followed by another and another until a whole flock of bats came out. Samuel put his hands in front of his face and quickly dropped his briefcase. The bats flew around him for a while and then disappeared back into the trees. Samuel looked around, bent down, and quickly searched his briefcase.

A wave of coldness blew through the forest. Samuel pulled out his silver pistol and pointed it into the trees. The vampire stepped out of the darkness behind him.

“Samuel,” it said in a low, cold voice.

He quickly turned.

“Stay back.”

The vampire smiled and stepped forward. Samuel fired, hitting him in the chest. For one second, Samuel smiled. The vampire looked down at the wound and laughed. The flesh grew back in an instant. Samuel didn’t even have time to scream.

I hid behind a tree.

The forest was quiet.

I could feel my heart pulsing in my ears.

A bat flew somewhere close.

My eyes darted around the trees.

“Right here,” the cold voice said.

I jerked back. 

The vampire stood on a branch above.

He jumped down and landed gracefully before me.

“You sent him, Larry?”

I stayed silent.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You killed my wife!”

“I did?”

My temples pulsed with pressure.

“You made me!”

“The hatred was already there. It just had to be amplified. “

I put my hands over my ears.

“And once you saw the blood, you couldn’t resist. No one made you drain her body.”

Stomach acid shot up my throat.

“You saw that this man was incompetent, but you still sent him here. Don’t fool yourself, Larry. It was all your choice.”

He flew where Samuel’s body lay, picked it up, and brought it to us.

“But now, you get to reap what you sow.”

He bit into Samuel’s neck; the smell of fresh blood shot into the air. My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since my wife’s death.

The sun had begun to set. Sweat ran down my back. I had finally managed to dig the hole deep enough. I got no help from my neighbours. They were too scared he would come for them, so I carried her coffin alone, stopping every few feet to take a breath. As I pushed her coffin into the hole, her dry hand fell out, but there was no time to put it back.

Inside the house, the hatchet and bowl were still there. Although the blood had been cleaned off them, seeing them still made my stomach turn.

The other people in our town were too scared to do anything, but something had to be done now. He took away my wife. The next morning I woke up early, went to the post office, and sent a telegraph to Boston.

The very next day, there was a knock on my door. Outside stood a man with a briefcase and a new top hat.

“Good morning, are you Mister Larry Jones?”

“That’d be me.”

“I’m Samuel Becken of the Massachusetts Institute of the Supernatural.”

“I figured. Come in.”

“Thank you. It’s awfully hot out; may I have some water?”

“Sure.”

I got a cup out of the cupboard and poured water into it. He looked into it and tried to hide his disgust behind a smile.

“My superior told me you have a vampire issue going on.”

“That’d be correct.”

“What kind of vampire?”

“Kind?”

“Well, you know, is it the Revenant, Spectral Vampire, or Psychic Vampire?”

“I don’t know. It’s a vampire.”

“Yes, but what does he feed on? Blood, life energy, spiritual?”

I could see he was trying to get the better of me.

“Anything you give him. Blood, misery, soul.”

He smirked. “That’s not narrowing it down.”

Anger grew in my chest. “Well, I don’t know, mister. It killed my wife. Isn’t that enough?”

He put his hands before his chest. “I mean no offense. I’m just trying to narrow it down so I may choose the best tools.”

“He feeds primarily on misery and blood.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay. Sounds similar to Vrykolakas, but it wouldn’t make sense for him to be all the way here.”

I kept silent.

“Well, thank you. I won’t be taking any more of your time. Where does he reside?”

“Atop a hill right behind my house.”

“We’ll discuss the payment after. I’ll bring back the dust as proof.”

“Alright.”

He tipped his hat and walked out, leaving the untouched cup behind.

An uncomfortable feeling grew in my chest. I watched him disappear into the woods. The man seemed like he hadn’t seen a vampire in his life. It seemed like this was his first time leaving the city. I couldn’t just sit back. I got off my chair and followed him from a distance.

He had crossed deep into the woods, deeper than most people in town had. There were already smears of blood on the tree trunks and a few animal bodies lying on the side of the road: rodents, foxes, even small dogs from the town, but Samuel walked as if he was still in Boston. Only when he saw the first human remains did he slow down. 

The forest was dark. The sun was barely visible. My heart began to pound.  A bat flew overhead, followed by another and another until a whole flock of bats came out. Samuel put his hands in front of his face and quickly dropped his briefcase. The bats flew around him for a while and then disappeared back into the trees. Samuel looked around, bent down, and quickly searched his briefcase.

A wave of coldness blew through the forest. Samuel pulled out his silver pistol and pointed it into the trees. The vampire stepped out of the darkness behind him.

“Samuel,” it said in a low, cold voice.

He quickly turned.

“Stay back.”

The vampire smiled and stepped forward. Samuel fired, hitting him in the chest. For one second, Samuel smiled. The vampire looked down at the wound and laughed. The flesh grew back in an instant. Samuel didn’t even have time to scream.

I hid behind a tree.

The forest was quiet.

I could feel my heart pulsing in my ears.

A bat flew somewhere close.

My eyes darted around the trees.

“Right here,” the cold voice said.

I jerked back. 

The vampire stood on a branch above.

He jumped down and landed gracefully before me.

“You sent him, Larry?”

I stayed silent.

“Why’d you do that?”

“You killed my wife!”

“I did?”

My temples pulsed with pressure.

“You made me!”

“The hatred was already there. It just had to be amplified. “

I put my hands over my ears.

“And once you saw the blood, you couldn’t resist. No one made you drain her body.”

Stomach acid shot up my throat.

“You saw that this man was incompetent, but you still sent him here. Don’t fool yourself, Larry. It was all your choice.”

He flew where Samuel’s body lay, picked it up, and brought it to us.

“But now, you get to reap what you sow.”

He bit into Samuel’s neck; the smell of fresh blood shot into the air. My stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since my wife’s death.

The dust rolled over the plains. The sun shone brightly in my eyes. I still had no hat. I’d left the old one with my daughter, Grace. She hated that I had to leave for so long. I hated leaving her, too, especially seeing her that sick, but we needed the money. Food doesn’t put itself on the table, and the doctor’s bills don’t pay themselves either, but the doctors provided barely any help. The only thing they had to say was that her illness was serious, like we couldn’t see that with our own eyes.

My house came into view through the dust. It looked the same as it had when I left it, except for a small wooden box on the back porch. 

I took a deep breath before opening the doors. My wife stood in the kitchen, cooking, humming a song. Her face lit up with joy when she saw me, but she quickly turned it into a sad frown.

“Hi, Ralph.”

“Hi, Alice.”

“How are you?”

“I’m alright. How are you and Grace?”

She paused.

“She’s…she’s passed.”

“What?!”

“Ralph, I’m so sorry. It happened just a few days ago. She grew really sick and could barely breathe. At least her death was merciful. She died peacefully in her sleep.”

It felt like the roof was caving in on me.

“It’s okay, Ralph.”

“I shouldn’t have left.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks.

“Don’t say that, Ralph. We would have starved if you hadn’t.”

“But maybe she’d be…”

“No, Ralph. It was bad.”

“Let me see her.”

Alice quickly grabbed my hands.

“No, Ralph.”

“Just once more.”

“It’s going to make it worse. You know it.”

I couldn’t even think. The world stopped feeling real.

“Sit down, Ralph.”

She sat me down at the table and put a bowl of food before me.

“I can’t.”

“It’s okay.”

Alice sat at the table and ate, trying to speak to me, but all her words came and went through my head. She left the bowl and walked away.

Hours passed while I dully stared at the wall. Only her tapping woke me from my trance.

“You should go to bed. It will be okay soon. It just takes time.”

She led me to our bedroom, helped me take off my shoes, and lay next to me. Her warm embrace melted the cold inside a little. Within a few seconds, I was asleep.

I woke up to a strange sound. At first I thought it was a dream, but then I heard it again. It sounded like knocking on wood. 

I got up, walked to the window, and looked out. The moon was high in the sky. The prairie was bare. No one was at our door, but the knocking got louder. My heart began to pound. I grabbed the shotgun by the window and slowly opened the door. 

It was a cold and windy night. There was no one outside either, but the knocking continued, coming from the back porch. 

The noise became more distinct, louder. It was as if someone was beating against a plank of wood from below.

The wind picked up, and with it came a whisper, one from a voice I knew too well. Cold sweat ran down my collar. I ran to the coffin on the back porch, the gun still in my hands. The knocking and her voice echoed in my head. She kept calling out, “Dad.”

With my free hand, I lifted the lid. She lay there, pale, motionless.

“Grace?!” I yelled and grabbed her, but her body was limp and stiff.

The sadness cut through me again. I held her cold body, crying. 

After a while, I laid her back down. I felt a small sense of relief. Alice was not right. I needed this. 

The moonlight shone down on her. She was still beautiful. I brushed the hair out of her face, but then I noticed something–a deep red gash winding around her neck.

My head started to spin. Stomach acid shot up my throat. I took a few steps back and threw up next to her coffin. 

Footsteps echoed around the house. I spat on the ground and quickly pulled my gun up. Alice was standing in her nightgown, her eyes wide with terror.

“You said she died in her sleep. What’s that around her neck?!”

“Ralph, I can…”

“Who did it to her?!”

“I…” 

She put her hands over her face and started bawling.

“She was struggling so much, Ralph. Her breathing…The doctor wouldn’t even come. I just wanted to help.”

It hit me like a freight train. My wife. The woman I loved and trusted. She had betrayed me; she had betrayed us. 

Before I could collect my thoughts, my finger was on the trigger. 

The bang echoed through the prairie, followed by a wet, heavy splat. 

Alice’s body collapsed to the ground.

The wind blew again. With it came the knocking, but it wasn’t hard and loud anymore. It was slow, quiet, and calm. After a few knocks, the prairie grew quiet again.

“Sam, come!” echoed from the baby room.

“What, Anna?”

Our baby boy, Jacob, lay in her hands, curled up, shivering.

“He’s not eating again. It’s the second day. I…” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have taken him out, but I wanted him to see the snow!”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” I said, hugging her.

Anna was right. She shouldn’t have taken him out, but now it was too late to worry. I looked out. The snowfall had calmed down.

“I’ll go fetch the doctor in town.”

“Don’t leave us alone...”

“I have to. I’ll be back soon.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “I just want him to be okay.”

“He will be.”

I kissed them both on the forehead; his was much warmer than yesterday.

The sun was hidden behind dark clouds. I hurried as fast as I could, expecting the snowfall to intensify again soon.

After a while, the first village houses appeared. The snow started falling again. The doctor’s house stood on a hill above a church. By the time I got to it, the wind was already moving the fence, and the snow stung my face. 

The doctor’s eyes widened when he opened the door.

“Jesus, Sam. Come in.”

He pulled me in and shut the door behind me. 

“What’s wrong?”

My face was numb from the cold. I rubbed it before speaking.

“The baby, Jacob. He won’t eat.”

The doctor looked out the window.

“How long has it been going on?”

“For two days.”

“Did you take him out?”

I hesitated.

“In this weather?” the doctor said, rubbing his face. “That’s not good, Sam, but we can’t go now.”

I clenched my jaw. Anna’s worried face flashed before my eyes.

“Come sit,” the doctor said. “We’ll go as soon as the storm lets up.”

He sat me down and brought me a cup of tea.

“Does he have a fever?”

“Pretty bad one. He’s got a chill, and he’s shivering too.”

The doctor shook his head and looked out the window again. “Hopefully the storm lets up soon.”

I had finished my fifth cup of tea by the time the sun set. The storm didn’t let up.

We waited through the night. Thoughts of Jacob kept me up.

As the sun rose, I looked out the window. A cold shiver ran through my chest. The storm had barely let up.

“What now?” I asked.

“It’s bad, but we’ll have to go.”

I nodded.

We kept close, barely able to see a few feet ahead. Inside the forest, our feet would sink to our knees. After a few hours, we were still some distance from home.

We were walking down another hill when I heard the doctor scream. I quickly turned my head. He sank chest-deep. His hands were pushing on the snow around him.

“Doctor!”

I ran to his side and began digging frantically with my hands. The snow was fresh, but there was so much of it. The doctor’s eyes were wide open with fear. 

I could barely feel my hands. The doctor stopped pushing. His body shook violently beneath the snow.

When I finally reached him, he was shivering harder than anyone I’d seen before. I pulled him; his body felt limp.

“My tools,” he murmured.

I glanced into the hole. There was only fresh snow. I started to dig around, but my hands could barely move. The doctor sat on the ground next to me.

“Leave it, Sam. We’ll be okay.”

I helped him up, took off my jacket, and gave it to him. Within a minute, I was shivering too, but I knew we were close.

As we passed another hill, my house came into view. A warm tingle spread through my cold body, but as I focused my gaze, I realized there was no smoke coming from the chimney.

I opened the door. The firewood was stacked by the fireplace, but Anna and Jacob were nowhere to be found. 

“Anna?”

No answer.

“Anna?!”

The doctor came inside behind me.

“Where are they?” he murmured.

“They must be upstairs.”

The doctor didn’t even take off his coat and headed to the stairs. I followed right behind him. Upstairs was a little warmer, but still cold. The door to the baby room was open. Anna sat in the chair, rocking back and forth, humming a lullaby. There was a dirty bowl with a spoon in it next to her.

“Did Jacob eat?” I asked happily. 

Anna didn’t answer. She kept rocking back and forth, humming.

The cradle was empty. 

I let out a sigh.

“She’s just calming him down,” I thought.

“Sorry for taking you, doctor,” I said, but he didn’t stop until he reached Anna; then his whole body froze.

“Is he okay, doctor?”

“Leave, Sam.”

“What?”

“Leave!”

I took a few steps forward. 

“Anna?!” 

She finally looked back and smiled.

“He finally ate. I fed him!” she said joyfully and turned around.

Jacob lay motionless in her arms. His lips were blue. Old food spilled out of his mouth.

“Sam, come!” echoed from the baby room.

“What, Anna?”

Our baby boy, Jacob, lay in her hands, curled up, shivering.

“He’s not eating again. It’s the second day. I…” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have taken him out, but I wanted him to see the snow!”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay,” I said, hugging her.

Anna was right. She shouldn’t have taken him out, but now it was too late to worry. I looked out. The snowfall had calmed down.

“I’ll go fetch the doctor in town.”

“Don’t leave us alone...”

“I have to. I’ll be back soon.”

She closed her eyes and nodded. “I just want him to be okay.”

“He will be.”

I kissed them both on the forehead; his was much warmer than yesterday.

The sun was hidden behind dark clouds. I hurried as fast as I could, expecting the snowfall to intensify again soon.

After a while, the first village houses appeared. The snow started falling again. The doctor’s house stood on a hill above a church. By the time I got to it, the wind was already moving the fence, and the snow stung my face. 

The doctor’s eyes widened when he opened the door.

“Jesus, Sam. Come in.”

He pulled me in and shut the door behind me. 

“What’s wrong?”

My face was numb from the cold. I rubbed it before speaking.

“The baby, Jacob. He won’t eat.”

The doctor looked out the window.

“How long has it been going on?”

“For two days.”

“Did you take him out?”

I hesitated.

“In this weather?” the doctor said, rubbing his face. “That’s not good, Sam, but we can’t go now.”

I clenched my jaw. Anna’s worried face flashed before my eyes.

“Come sit,” the doctor said. “We’ll go as soon as the storm lets up.”

He sat me down and brought me a cup of tea.

“Does he have a fever?”

“Pretty bad one. He’s got a chill, and he’s shivering too.”

The doctor shook his head and looked out the window again. “Hopefully the storm lets up soon.”

I had finished my fifth cup of tea by the time the sun set. The storm didn’t let up.

We waited through the night. Thoughts of Jacob kept me up.

As the sun rose, I looked out the window. A cold shiver ran through my chest. The storm had barely let up.

“What now?” I asked.

“It’s bad, but we’ll have to go.”

I nodded.

We kept close, barely able to see a few feet ahead. Inside the forest, our feet would sink to our knees. After a few hours, we were still some distance from home.

We were walking down another hill when I heard the doctor scream. I quickly turned my head. He sank chest-deep. His hands were pushing on the snow around him.

“Doctor!”

I ran to his side and began digging frantically with my hands. The snow was fresh, but there was so much of it. The doctor’s eyes were wide open with fear. 

I could barely feel my hands. The doctor stopped pushing. His body shook violently beneath the snow.

When I finally reached him, he was shivering harder than anyone I’d seen before. I pulled him; his body felt limp.

“My tools,” he murmured.

I glanced into the hole. There was only fresh snow. I started to dig around, but my hands could barely move. The doctor sat on the ground next to me.

“Leave it, Sam. We’ll be okay.”

I helped him up, took off my jacket, and gave it to him. Within a minute, I was shivering too, but I knew we were close.

As we passed another hill, my house came into view. A warm tingle spread through my cold body, but as I focused my gaze, I realized there was no smoke coming from the chimney.

I opened the door. The firewood was stacked by the fireplace, but Anna and Jacob were nowhere to be found. 

“Anna?”

No answer.

“Anna?!”

The doctor came inside behind me.

“Where are they?” he murmured.

“They must be upstairs.”

The doctor didn’t even take off his coat and headed to the stairs. I followed right behind him. Upstairs was a little warmer, but still cold. The door to the baby room was open. Anna sat in the chair, rocking back and forth, humming a lullaby. There was a dirty bowl with a spoon in it next to her.

“Did Jacob eat?” I asked happily. 

Anna didn’t answer. She kept rocking back and forth, humming.

The cradle was empty. 

I let out a sigh.

“She’s just calming him down,” I thought.

“Sorry for taking you, doctor,” I said, but he didn’t stop until he reached Anna; then his whole body froze.

“Is he okay, doctor?”

“Leave, Sam.”

“What?”

“Leave!”

I took a few steps forward. 

“Anna?!” 

She finally looked back and smiled.

“He finally ate. I fed him!” she said joyfully and turned around.

Jacob lay motionless in her arms. His lips were blue. Old food spilled out of his mouth.

The rebel slowed down again.

“Get it going!”

“Going as fast as I can, Yankee.” He dodged a vine that hung from a tree. “One oughta be careful. The thicket’s not your friend in these mountains.”

The heat dug into my skin, soaking my wool uniform.

“I don’t need it to be my friend,” I said, adjusting the rifle’s weight. “I just need you to get me over that ridge.”

“We ain’t gonna get over it if you ain’t careful enough. One wrong step and the mountain will take you whole.”

“The mountain?”

“My parents warned us. Stay on the path.” He looked toward the trees. “My brother thought it funny not to listen. The ground swallowed him before we could get to him.”

Cold sweat ran into my collar. The image of my brother flashed before my eyes. The way the rebel frowned reminded me of him.

“That’s nonsense.”

“It ain’t. Listen.”

He put his index finger up. The sounds of the mountains echoed around us: the trees swaying, the birds singing, but between them came a strange noise, like a tree scraping against the mountain’s side.

“What’s that?”

“The thicket,” the rebel said.

“Just go.”

Every step higher felt like walking deeper into an oven. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. Now I was the one who was falling behind the rebel. He kept looking back at me. I kept the rifle close to my chest, making sure he could see it. 

The rebel walked strangely, constantly shifting from one side of the rock to the other. I stepped over another vine stretched across the rocks and called to him: “Why are you walking like that?”

“The blue moss. We call it bluebelly.” He pointed to the side of a rock. A strange little plant grew on it. In the heat, it almost seemed to be moving. “It ain’t actual moss. It’s part of the mountain spirit. Step on it wrong and it will send you straight to the arms of the thicket.”

I just shook my head.

The heat grew even more. My vision grew muddy. The vines swayed although there was no wind. The rebel turned his head and squinted.

“The spirits are strong here.”

My lungs started burning from the heat. We climbed a few more rocks until I could barely breathe.

“We need to stop.”

“Not here.”

“You’re not the one to decide.”

I lowered my rifle, taking deep breaths. The rebel kept his eyes on me.

“Your leg!”

My eyes shot down. A vine was slowly wrapping around my ankle. I jerked instinctively. My other foot came down on the moss. My body went tumbling into the thicket. I expected a hard landing, but the ground felt soft, almost too soft. The rifle was still in my hand. I tried to push myself up with my elbows, but they sank into the ground.

“Help!”

The rebel ran to the rock, staring at me frantically. I tried to move my legs, but they also sank deeper.

“The rifle!”

He lay on his stomach and stretched his arm out toward it.

“No!” I screamed. 

The vines from the trees moved toward my limbs.

“You have to!”

My head sank lower. My eyes darted from the rifle to the rebel. The vines began to wrap around my wrists and the rifle. I clenched my jaw, held the rifle in both hands, and reached it towards him. He grabbed the barrel and pulled.

The ground didn’t want to let me go. Its pressure tightened around my body. He slid closer on the rock and grabbed the rifle more firmly. The vine on it started wrapping around his wrist too. 

He pulled again. 

His body slid closer.

The ground beneath me collapsed more quickly.

Again. 

My body stopped sinking.

Again.

I felt my body rising. His face turned red. The vine reached his shoulder. He tightened his grip and pulled again.

My whole body rose off the ground, as if I were surfacing from water. I landed on the rock, hitting my chin. The rebel handed me back the rifle and lay on his back, panting.

“Why’d you save me?” I said between breaths.

“After my brother, I told myself I wouldn't let no mountain take another man.”

I paused. The image of my brother flashed before my eyes again. He really did resemble him.

“Yankee!” He pointed to my rifle.

The blue moss was growing around the barrel.

Without thinking, I threw it into the thicket.

The ground swallowed it before I got back up.

For the rest of the way, we walked side by side.

The sounds of shells echoed over the trenches. Their distant glows lit up the barbed wire above. The rain had let up an hour before, turning into a drizzle. I put on my jacket and walked to where the cigarette’s light glowed.

“I’m Tom,” I introduced myself.

The man blew out a cloud of smoke.

“Will. You came today?”

“Yep.”

“And already put on guard duty.” He shook his head.

“They said it’s a tradition. We had a similar thing in my unit.”

“Why are you not with them?”

“Our sergeant ordered a counter-attack. The Germans wiped almost all of us.”

“Maybe a better fate.”

He paused.

“We have no tradition for guard duty. Don’t let them put you up here tomorrow.”

I spat on the ground.

“I thought there was still camaraderie.”

“There is, but everyone’s scared to come out at night. Strange things have been happening. Men are found in the morning, mangled in barbed wire with their heads buried deep in the mud.”

“Goddamn Germans.”

“It’s not them.”

“Who else? I’ve heard of men choosing the other way out, but not like that.”

The rain picked up again. The water started to seep through my uniform.

“You see all this?” he waved his hand around the trench. “We’ve dug miles into the ground, destroyed the earth below us. You don’t carve the earth this much without finding something.”

“You’ve been out here for too long.” 

He stared at me blankly. A soldier's cough echoed from the barracks.

“Just be careful. Don’t come too close if you don’t have to.”

He leaned on his rifle.

“You got someone waiting on you at home?”

“A wife and a son. Haven’t seen the little boy yet. You got any children?”

“Had a son, but he died of influenza. Haven’t heard from the wife since.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to.”

He flicked his cigarette into the mud.

Shells echoed again, much closer this time. We both turned our heads. Gunshots sounded after them, somewhere nearby. Will turned to me and nodded toward the sound. I gripped my gun firmly and followed after him.

I kept my eyes on the top of the trench. It seemed like the wire was closer. The coils swayed even though there was no wind.

“You see that?”

“What?”

“The wire. It’s not where it’s supposed to be.”

“Yeah, the men pushed it back after the third death.”

“No, it’s closer.”

“That’s not possible.” Will looked up, but then the gunshot grew louder. Men screamed in German. Footsteps splashed in the mud. The wire shook violently at the sounds as if a cavalry charge were sweeping across No Man's Land.

We ran to the side of the trench. Another shell hit, rocking the trench. I held onto my helmet and ducked. The rain splashed the back of my neck. The German officer's whistles sounded. The rumbling of the enemy’s footsteps grew louder. 

Will clicked off the safety and looked up, but he didn’t fire; he stood still, staring into No Man’s Land. I clicked my safety off too and looked up. The sounds immediately quieted as if they all dispersed into the air – no more gunshots, no more men. No Man’s Land was empty, bare, but the wire still shook.

“Tom, you heard it too, right?”

“Yes.”

Then something dug into my wrist–barbed wire. I tried to pull my hand out slowly, but the wire tightened, digging deeper into my skin.

“Shit. Will?”

His eyes shot downward. His whole body shivered.

“Jesus, Tom.”

The rain mixed with the blood on my wrist. Will grabbed the barbed wire and pulled on it, but it only tightened. My hand trembled, driving the barbs deeper into my skin. He pulled his knife, eager to cut the wire, but before he could reach it, two coils wrapped around his wrists and pulled him back. 

“Will!”

The knife fell into the mud next to me. I tried searching for mine, but another coil wrapped around my hand. 

The wire pulled Will over the trench; his face turned red as he tried to resist. I dug my feet into the mud and tried to pull my hands closer, but the wire climbed up, wrapping around my shoulders and chest like iron vines, digging deeper with each breath.

“Tom! Don’t let it…”

A loud splash echoed. I looked over. Will’s head disappeared under the mud. The trenches were calm, silent. Only the wire continued to sway.

The sounds of shells echoed over the trenches. Their distant glows lit up the barbed wire above. The rain had let up an hour before, turning into a drizzle. I put on my jacket and walked to where the cigarette’s light glowed.

“I’m Tom,” I introduced myself.

The man blew out a cloud of smoke.

“Will. You came today?”

“Yep.”

“And already put on guard duty.” He shook his head.

“They said it’s a tradition. We had a similar thing in my unit.”

“Why are you not with them?”

“Our sergeant ordered a counter-attack. The Germans wiped almost all of us.”

“Maybe a better fate.”

He paused.

“We have no tradition for guard duty. Don’t let them put you up here tomorrow.”

I spat on the ground.

“I thought there was still camaraderie.”

“There is, but everyone’s scared to come out at night. Strange things have been happening. Men are found in the morning, mangled in barbed wire with their heads buried deep in the mud.”

“Goddamn Germans.”

“It’s not them.”

“Who else? I’ve heard of men choosing the other way out, but not like that.”

The rain picked up again. The water started to seep through my uniform.

“You see all this?” he waved his hand around the trench. “We’ve dug miles into the ground, destroyed the earth below us. You don’t carve the earth this much without finding something.”

“You’ve been out here for too long.” 

He stared at me blankly. A soldier's cough echoed from the barracks.

“Just be careful. Don’t come too close if you don’t have to.”

He leaned on his rifle.

“You got someone waiting on you at home?”

“A wife and a son. Haven’t seen the little boy yet. You got any children?”

“Had a son, but he died of influenza. Haven’t heard from the wife since.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No need to.”

He flicked his cigarette into the mud.

Shells echoed again, much closer this time. We both turned our heads. Gunshots sounded after them, somewhere nearby. Will turned to me and nodded toward the sound. I gripped my gun firmly and followed after him.

I kept my eyes on the top of the trench. It seemed like the wire was closer. The coils swayed even though there was no wind.

“You see that?”

“What?”

“The wire. It’s not where it’s supposed to be.”

“Yeah, the men pushed it back after the third death.”

“No, it’s closer.”

“That’s not possible.” Will looked up, but then the gunshot grew louder. Men screamed in German. Footsteps splashed in the mud. The wire shook violently at the sounds as if a cavalry charge were sweeping across No Man's Land.

We ran to the side of the trench. Another shell hit, rocking the trench. I held onto my helmet and ducked. The rain splashed the back of my neck. The German officer's whistles sounded. The rumbling of the enemy’s footsteps grew louder. 

Will clicked off the safety and looked up, but he didn’t fire; he stood still, staring into No Man’s Land. I clicked my safety off too and looked up. The sounds immediately quieted as if they all dispersed into the air – no more gunshots, no more men. No Man’s Land was empty, bare, but the wire still shook.

“Tom, you heard it too, right?”

“Yes.”

Then something dug into my wrist–barbed wire. I tried to pull my hand out slowly, but the wire tightened, digging deeper into my skin.

“Shit. Will?”

His eyes shot downward. His whole body shivered.

“Jesus, Tom.”

The rain mixed with the blood on my wrist. Will grabbed the barbed wire and pulled on it, but it only tightened. My hand trembled, driving the barbs deeper into my skin. He pulled his knife, eager to cut the wire, but before he could reach it, two coils wrapped around his wrists and pulled him back. 

“Will!”

The knife fell into the mud next to me. I tried searching for mine, but another coil wrapped around my hand. 

The wire pulled Will over the trench; his face turned red as he tried to resist. I dug my feet into the mud and tried to pull my hands closer, but the wire climbed up, wrapping around my shoulders and chest like iron vines, digging deeper with each breath.

“Tom! Don’t let it…”

A loud splash echoed. I looked over. Will’s head disappeared under the mud. The trenches were calm, silent. Only the wire continued to sway.

“Clara, can you come, please?” my Mom called from her bedroom.

“Coming!”

She sat on the chair next to her bed, smiling.

“Sorry, Clara. Could you help me get to bed?”

“Of course!”

I held her as she slowly got into bed, letting out a small sigh.

“Thank you, Clara. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m glad to do it.”

“You’re very sweet. Have you had any letters from Sam?”

“No,” I whispered, gripping her sheets.

Mom caressed my hand. “It’s a shame he was drafted, but he’s a smart man. He’s going to be fine. I’m gonna head off to sleep, okay?”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

I shut the lights and walked back to my room. The last letter from Sam lay on the table. A new one hadn’t come in a month. I held it close to my chest as tears rolled down my cheeks. 
Then something hit the window.

My heart dropped to my stomach when I looked out. Sam was standing outside, smiling. My hands shook with excitement. I climbed out the window, ran to Sam, and grabbed him by the neck. It felt cold, like the night air.

“Are you okay?”

“Now I am.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was allowed to come back.”

“I missed you.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Sam, you shouldn’t have.”

“Come, I’ll take you there.”

He grabbed my hand. Under the moonlight, it looked much paler than mine.

“Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Let’s just go, honey,” he said and pulled me slightly toward the edge of town.

For the first minute, we walked in silence, broken only by laughter from the pub.

“Is something going on?”

“No. It’s just been dreadful – the past few months. So many of my friends are gone. Our entire platoon was wiped out a month ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You are the only thing that pulled me through. Each night I couldn’t sleep, I’d remember how beautiful you are and all the days we spent together.”

Warmth spread through my chest.

“Thank you. I really missed you. My Mom did too.”

“How is she?”

“She’s okay. The illness's been getting worse, but we get by.”

We stood before the cemetery gate. The moon hung high in the sky. His eyes were even bluer than usual. His hair was beautiful and dark.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He smiled and opened the gate door.

As we walked in, the sound of the pub quieted. The air felt different, stiff.

“What’s the surprise?”

“Just wait,” he said, looking away from me.

He gripped my wrist tightly and pulled me hard.

“We don’t need to rush, honey.”

He didn’t answer. He walked fast, his eyes fixed on the path. Graves lined both sides of the path. The soil on them seemed fresh, almost like it had just been dug up.

We turned the corner, and before us stood the chapel. Its door slowly opened before Sam touched it. The hairs on my arms stood up. He dragged me inside before I had a chance to speak again. It shut right behind us. 

The moonlight shone on the pulpit. Sam took me to it and looked back at me.

A sharp feeling of cold replaced the warmth in my chest.

His skin was even paler than before. His smile was unnaturally wide. His beautiful eyes lost the blue. The now dark dots stared through me.

“Sam…what…?”

“I’m sorry, Clara.  I should have told you the truth, but it all happened so fast. The cannon fire. My friend's screams. My body lay lifeless on the ground before I noticed.”

My legs weakened under me. His voice echoed around my head.

“But I was allowed to come back, to take you with me, so that we can be together forever. All you have to do is just say yes.”

His smile widened more.

“Sam…no. I can’t.”

“I thought of you every night, waited for you.”

“I can’t. My Mom.”

“Your Mom will join us soon. Just come.”

His grip around my wrist tightened.

“Please, Clara. A yes.”

I shook my head.

“It’s the only way.”

“No,” I whispered.

His voice grew deeper. His face began shaking. His mouth and nose grew, his eyes widened only to shrink and grow again. They began moving across the pale skin, melting into one another until his face was nothing but smooth white skin.

“Just say it!” His face shook with the words.

My stomach twisted. I yanked my arms back with all my might. His pale arms snapped with the sound of dry wood. I turned and sprinted out of the chapel.

“No!” echoed all around me.

The graves beside the path were dug up. White silhouettes stood next to them. I kept my eyes on the path, sprinting towards the gate. With Sam’s calls, the silhouettes spoke too, calling my name. 

The air thickened until every step felt heavier.

The gate stood before me. I ran to it and shook it, but it wouldn’t open. The calls were closer. I grabbed the rails tight, pulled myself up, and started climbing over it, but before I reached the top, something grabbed my dress, pulling me back. I grabbed my dress with my other hand and yanked it up, tearing the fabric. Quickly, I threw my leg over and jumped to the other side.

The heavy stifling air vanished as my feet hit the ground on the other side. The bright moon had given way to the morning sun. The church bells rang. Hours must have passed in what felt like seconds.

I ran back home, not stopping until I reached my door.

Mom looked out of her room.

“Were you with Sam?” she asked, smiling.

“No,” I whispered.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it was him.”

I came closer and hugged her.

“No need to worry, Mom. I’m happy I have you.”

“What happened to your dress?” she said, holding the torn fabric.

“Clara, can you come, please?” my Mom called from her bedroom.

“Coming!”

She sat on the chair next to her bed, smiling.

“Sorry, Clara. Could you help me get to bed?”

“Of course!”

I held her as she slowly got into bed, letting out a small sigh.

“Thank you, Clara. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I’m glad to do it.”

“You’re very sweet. Have you had any letters from Sam?”

“No,” I whispered, gripping her sheets.

Mom caressed my hand. “It’s a shame he was drafted, but he’s a smart man. He’s going to be fine. I’m gonna head off to sleep, okay?”

“Goodnight, Mom.”

I shut the lights and walked back to my room. The last letter from Sam lay on the table. A new one hadn’t come in a month. I held it close to my chest as tears rolled down my cheeks. 
Then something hit the window.

My heart dropped to my stomach when I looked out. Sam was standing outside, smiling. My hands shook with excitement. I climbed out the window, ran to Sam, and grabbed him by the neck. It felt cold, like the night air.

“Are you okay?”

“Now I am.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I was allowed to come back.”

“I missed you.”

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Sam, you shouldn’t have.”

“Come, I’ll take you there.”

He grabbed my hand. Under the moonlight, it looked much paler than mine.

“Are you certain you’re alright?”

“Let’s just go, honey,” he said and pulled me slightly toward the edge of town.

For the first minute, we walked in silence, broken only by laughter from the pub.

“Is something going on?”

“No. It’s just been dreadful – the past few months. So many of my friends are gone. Our entire platoon was wiped out a month ago.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You are the only thing that pulled me through. Each night I couldn’t sleep, I’d remember how beautiful you are and all the days we spent together.”

Warmth spread through my chest.

“Thank you. I really missed you. My Mom did too.”

“How is she?”

“She’s okay. The illness's been getting worse, but we get by.”

We stood before the cemetery gate. The moon hung high in the sky. His eyes were even bluer than usual. His hair was beautiful and dark.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

He smiled and opened the gate door.

As we walked in, the sound of the pub quieted. The air felt different, stiff.

“What’s the surprise?”

“Just wait,” he said, looking away from me.

He gripped my wrist tightly and pulled me hard.

“We don’t need to rush, honey.”

He didn’t answer. He walked fast, his eyes fixed on the path. Graves lined both sides of the path. The soil on them seemed fresh, almost like it had just been dug up.

We turned the corner, and before us stood the chapel. Its door slowly opened before Sam touched it. The hairs on my arms stood up. He dragged me inside before I had a chance to speak again. It shut right behind us. 

The moonlight shone on the pulpit. Sam took me to it and looked back at me.

A sharp feeling of cold replaced the warmth in my chest.

His skin was even paler than before. His smile was unnaturally wide. His beautiful eyes lost the blue. The now dark dots stared through me.

“Sam…what…?”

“I’m sorry, Clara.  I should have told you the truth, but it all happened so fast. The cannon fire. My friend's screams. My body lay lifeless on the ground before I noticed.”

My legs weakened under me. His voice echoed around my head.

“But I was allowed to come back, to take you with me, so that we can be together forever. All you have to do is just say yes.”

His smile widened more.

“Sam…no. I can’t.”

“I thought of you every night, waited for you.”

“I can’t. My Mom.”

“Your Mom will join us soon. Just come.”

His grip around my wrist tightened.

“Please, Clara. A yes.”

I shook my head.

“It’s the only way.”

“No,” I whispered.

His voice grew deeper. His face began shaking. His mouth and nose grew, his eyes widened only to shrink and grow again. They began moving across the pale skin, melting into one another until his face was nothing but smooth white skin.

“Just say it!” His face shook with the words.

My stomach twisted. I yanked my arms back with all my might. His pale arms snapped with the sound of dry wood. I turned and sprinted out of the chapel.

“No!” echoed all around me.

The graves beside the path were dug up. White silhouettes stood next to them. I kept my eyes on the path, sprinting towards the gate. With Sam’s calls, the silhouettes spoke too, calling my name. 

The air thickened until every step felt heavier.

The gate stood before me. I ran to it and shook it, but it wouldn’t open. The calls were closer. I grabbed the rails tight, pulled myself up, and started climbing over it, but before I reached the top, something grabbed my dress, pulling me back. I grabbed my dress with my other hand and yanked it up, tearing the fabric. Quickly, I threw my leg over and jumped to the other side.

The heavy stifling air vanished as my feet hit the ground on the other side. The bright moon had given way to the morning sun. The church bells rang. Hours must have passed in what felt like seconds.

I ran back home, not stopping until I reached my door.

Mom looked out of her room.

“Were you with Sam?” she asked, smiling.

“No,” I whispered.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought it was him.”

I came closer and hugged her.

“No need to worry, Mom. I’m happy I have you.”

“What happened to your dress?” she said, holding the torn fabric.

Losing a person you spent your whole life with is a pain beyond description. At first, I thought the solitude I once longed for would be a comfort, but the depression sank its claws deep into my skin and would not let go. It was hard to eat, drink, even get out of bed. 

My mind was clouded with darkness. Recalling things was a monumental task, even simple things around the house. I’d be sure to shut the kitchen door after dinner, but each time I’d come back, the door would be open. I tried to focus on it, but no matter how many times I watched my movements and made sure to shut the door, it would always be open. The mystery became an obsession. It was easier to think about a door than about her, and all the wrong I’d done. 

I never actually saw it open, but one would need to leave the room or turn around, and it would open up, but only after the time my wife and I used to leave the dinner table. Oh, my poor wife. The thought of her waking up in the middle of the night, with foam around her mouth, digging her nails into my skin, still haunted my mind.

Before she passed, we had a habit of cleaning the mugs on weekends; each time we’d turn them upside down to let the water drip out. At first, I could barely clean a few of them, but one weekend I finally managed to get out of bed and clean them all. My fingers wrinkled from having my hands under the running water for so long.

The next morning I woke up, my eyes still drowsy from a night of rolling from side to side and staring at the wall. The kitchen was colder than usual. The cupboard doors felt harder to open. I opened the cupboard to get my coffee mug, but my body immediately recoiled. Every mug was upside down except hers, the one she drank from that night it happened. I shut it, counted to three, and opened it again, but the cup was still there. I grabbed my coffee mug and ran back to my room.

That day, the memories of her struggling out of bed, running to the bathroom, and trying to throw up kept flashing before my eyes. No matter how many times I turned to push them away, they still came back. The pain forced me out of bed. I got up and paced around the room. The floorboards creaked under my steps, and with each creak, a whisper sounded. My mind must have been making it up, I kept telling myself, but slowly, as the sun set, it became more and more audible: a quiet, whispered, "Why?"

This must have been the depression, the isolation, I kept telling myself. I jumped back to bed and closed my eyes as hard as I could, but sleep wouldn’t come. Cold sweat ran down my forehead. I turned from my side to hers, but that’s when I noticed that her side was colder than mine. My stomach twisted. Her calls for help as she lay on the bathroom floor echoed in my mind. 

I got out of bed and ran to the kitchen. The floorboards creaked under my steps. No longer just whispering "Why," but calling my name too.

The kitchen door was open again, and not just that, the table was back in its place. Exactly where we'd left it that night, that night it happened. I ran to the coffee machine and put the beans in, not even opening the cupboard; the old dirty mug would do. The last thing I needed was seeing her mug upside down again.

I slouched down at the table, trying to collect my thoughts. 

The room was dark and cold; no moonlight came through.

The smell of rotting fish filled the air.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. As I opened them again, a cup of coffee was already sitting before me with a box by it. I couldn't remember making it, but who cared? I had to wake up from this nightmare. The coffee tasted stale, almost like the air around me. I put it down, but then I noticed it was her mug!

A shock ran down my spine. I got up from my chair and put my back against the wall. The room grew colder; the smell intensified. I stayed still, but the whisper came again, louder this time.

“Why, John? I trusted you.”

The mug began moving from side to side as if someone was stirring their coffee in it. My eyes were glued to it. It started moving faster and faster until it knocked itself over, spilling the coffee out.

The coffee dripped onto the floor. 

The smell of rotting fish grew.

Saliva filled my mouth.

Nausea. 

The light flickered.

My eyes shot to the box.

It was rat poison.

The same one I used for…

My stomach clenched.

My feet weakened.

Saliva poured from my mouth, foaming at its sides.

My body collapsed to the ground.

Slowly, my world went dark.

The last thing I heard was her breathing beside me.

“See that bird there, Alex?” Sam said.

“What bird?” I asked and turned my head.

Sam tripped me. I went hands-first into the snow. His giggle echoed through the forest. I made a snowball and threw it at him.

“Don’t act like a child, Alex.”

“You started it!”

We both laughed.

“I bet there’ll be plenty of pelts.”

“Yeah, and they’ll be all mine.”

We laughed again.

Snow began falling from the sky. Light at first, but quickly intensifying.

“It’s not looking great. Let’s hide. Wait it out. There’s a cave close.”

“You sure, Sam? We might make it back to town.”

“In this? We’ll get lost. The cave is right nearby.”

He turned left and walked off the path. I looked the way we'd come from, then back at Sam; his silhouette almost disappeared in the white mist.

“Sam, wait!”

The storm kept getting worse. It was hard to see more than a few feet ahead of us. We had to keep close. Sam kept his eyes fixed before him.

“Here!”

We ran in and sat on the floor, wiping the snow off us.

“That’s a bad storm. Hopefully it passes soon.”

“It has to. Storms like this don't happen around here.”

We sat in the cave, talking, watching the storm, expecting it to let up, but it only grew more intense, to the point that we had to move further in as the snow kept blowing closer. 

“I’m shivering.”

“We should get some firewood.”

“In this?”

“It’s not letting up.”

He looked at me and went out into the storm. He disappeared in an instant.

“Sam?” I yelled.

“Right here.” It sounded like he was a mile away.

I stood there, hesitating. I really didn’t want to go out, but I felt bad leaving Sam behind. Taking a deep breath, I walked into the storm.

The snow stung my face. The wind pushed me back, almost knocking me down. I walked closer to the trees and looked back. The cave was barely visible. My heart sank. I rushed back in and sat on the floor panting.

After a while, Sam returned. His entire body was covered in snow, but he held a bundle of sticks.

“You got anything?”

“Nothing.”

We started the fire and took out the little food we had. It was just enough to last us today.

“We should keep some for tomorrow.”

“There’s no way it lasts that long.”

“I don’t know, Alex,” Sam said, looking out. “Just save a little for the morning.”

When I woke up, my stomach already growled. To my disappointment, the storm still looked awful. Sam sat by the entrance, shaking his head. 

That day we went out for wood a few more times. I never made it far. Sam was the only one who got something. I avoided eye contact each time he returned. By the end of that day, all the food was gone.

The day after, my stomach was hurting badly. Sam spent most of the day sitting by the entrance again, looking out.

The headache and weakness came the next morning. I could barely walk two steps out of the cave before having to return. Sam stayed out much longer but came back with fewer sticks. He didn’t even try to hide the disappointment.

“Did you even go out?”

“Yes.”

“This is not working. We need to do something.”

I didn’t answer, but it didn’t seem like Sam was looking for one.

For the rest of the day, we didn’t talk. Sam just stared into the fire, determined. His face already looked weaker, gaunter.

The next morning, my head felt like someone put broken glass in it. I stayed on the floor longer than usual, trying to pick myself up. By the time I finally got up, Sam was nowhere to be found. At first I thought he went out for some wood, but there were a few fresh sticks right by the fire. 

After a while, he still hadn’t returned. My jaw started to clench. I went to the entrance and looked out. The storm still raged on, but Sam could have been out there. He could have fallen, gotten tired. I took a deep breath and went out. 

My feet felt so weak. The wind blasted me from side to side. After just a minute, I already fell.

“Sam?” I called out.

Nothing.

“Sam?!”

Just the wind.

I rushed back into the cave and lay down, breathing hard. Soon I fell asleep.

I woke up to a noise. At first I thought it was a dream, but when I opened my eyes, shock ran down my spine. Sam lay by the fire, shaking, murmuring.

“Jesus, Sam, what happened?!”

His teeth chattered. His lips were gray, almost blue.

He tried to say something, but only a jumble of noises came.

No more wood was by the fire.

Something had to be done.

I wrapped my hood around my face and walked out. The storm was still blowing, but it had let up, just enough for me to walk without falling. The snow was fresh, crunching under my feet. I managed to walk to the trees closest to the cave. There were still a few low branches within reach. With my last bit of strength, I broke them off and ran back.

I came into the cave, panting, and collapsed on the ground. My eyes started to close, but I had to keep him warm. I crawled to the fire, threw all the wood on it, slouched by him, and fell asleep.

When I woke up, my body felt like it had slept for years. I had to rub my eyes a few times to see. 

The storm had stopped.

“Sam! Sam! The storm.”

He didn’t answer. I shook him, but his body felt stiff. A chill ran under my skin. I shook him again, harder. He rolled to his side, his eyes stared emptily at the cave ceiling, his chest not moving, his lips blue.

The sun burned into my skin. Each step felt like carrying a thousand pounds. Edgar seemed the same, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“You okay?”

“What do you think?”

“Just asking.”

“Maybe think before you ask.”

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” He shot me a glare. “Your shortcut’s my problem. We should have been in town two days ago.”

“It will lead us there, just wait.”

“Wait?! The job is probably not there anymore, and we’re stuck in this place.”

“Calm down, Edgar.”

His lips tightened.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Still slouching, he walked towards me. I put my hand on my gun. My arms could barely lift to my waist, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight. Edgar stopped a few feet before me, his eyes widened, and he pointed behind me.

“Look, James.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“Look!”

I took a few steps back and quickly glanced over my shoulder. In the distance behind a rock, a few houses stood. Edgar began walking forward, captivated by the sight, his anger completely gone.

As we neared the town, I saw a man standing on the outskirts. Edgar seemed to have his guard down, but I put my hand on my gun and kept my eyes on the man. You never know who you’d meet in these places. As we got closer, I saw he had something in his hand, but it wasn’t a gun; it was the holy book.

“Hello, travelers. What are you doing in these parts?”

“Got lost on the way to Chino.”

“You look disheveled. May I invite you in?”

“Yes, please, preacher.”

He smiled from ear to ear.

“Please, follow me.”

The town was full of people, ladies in their Sunday dresses and men in their suits. Everyone had blue eyes and blonde hair. It almost didn't look real, like a painting. The people didn’t talk to one another and kept staring at us, smiling when our eyes met.

We walked into a small saloon. It looked like any other: liquor, chairs, tables, but on the walls were crucifixes of Jesus mounted beneath burning candles. Behind the bar, a man greeted us.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Harrold. These travelers have accepted my invitation.”

Harrold’s eyes lit up.

“Wonderful! May I offer you some beer and whisky?”

“Of course, we’re very thirsty.”

“I'm sure you’re starving too. Greta, bring the pork roast and heat some water,” he called to the back.

“How much will we owe you? We don’t have much money.”

“On the house. We need to get you fed and cleaned!”

“You’re in good hands. Service starts at 10. The church is right across the street.” The priest patted my back and left.

My mind was empty, still exhausted from the walk, but a strange feeling crept up my spine.

“Something’s strange here,” I whispered to Edgar.

“Yeah, probably some crazy religious folks.”

“I’m not sure we should be here.”

“And pass on free drinks and food?”

“Nothing’s free.”

“We just gotta go to the sermon.”

“I really don’t think…”

“Stop it, James,” he interrupted. “You’re not going to ruin this. You already got us lost.”

I tried to speak to him, but Edgar ignored me. I sat at the bar, looking at the door, but my stomach soon growled in pain. I put a piece of meat in my mouth. It was the most tender, delicious piece of food I had ever had.

After the meal, Harold took us to a room with two baths. Greta soaped and bathed us. I told Harold I could wash myself, but he laughed as if I'd made a joke. I kept trying to talk to her, but she just smiled.

“She probably doesn’t speak English,” Edgar said.

When we got out of the bath, our clothes were gone. Harold came in with two white robes.

“Your clothes were too dirty for the sermon.”

“I’d rather have mine.”

“I’ll wash them for you. You’ll get them right after the sermon.”

He also handed us a small glass with liquor.

“A special regional liquor. It will cure all your ailments.”

Edgar drank it immediately. I held it in my hand, looking at it.

“Stop being so impolite,” he muttered.

Harold’s smile was gone; his eyes pierced through me.

I almost set the shot down, but if they wanted to poison me, they could have done that long ago.

I drank the shot and gave it back to Harold.

The clothes hung on us like we were little children. We walked out of the saloon onto the dirt path. The sun seemed to shine more strongly. My feet felt a little weak. When we reached the church, we both slomped onto the pew. The priest started the sermon.

“We gather here for our annual invitation to God’s heaven. Two weary travelers have accepted our invitation this year.”

The town clapped. My mind started to spin. I looked over at Edgar. He was knocked out.

“As usual, they will be given to Jesus as he intended.”

Shock ran down my spine.

“No,” I tried to say, but only a jumble of songs came out.

My body felt like it weighed a ton. I got up, but before I could take a few steps, I collapsed to the ground. As my mind drifted, I saw the townsfolk sitting in their pews, looking at me, smiling.

When I came to, my mind was still spinning. There was a sharp pain in my palms and feet. The smell of burning wood filled the air. I focused my eyes, and before me I saw Edgar, still asleep, nailed to the cross with a small fire burning beneath it. 

My thoughts scattered. I tried to move my hands, but the pain in my palms shot up my arms. My body was also nailed to a cross. The feeling of heat grew. I looked down and saw Greta, holding a torch, smiling at me.

The sun burned into my skin. Each step felt like carrying a thousand pounds. Edgar seemed the same, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“You okay?”

“What do you think?”

“Just asking.”

“Maybe think before you ask.”

“What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” He shot me a glare. “Your shortcut’s my problem. We should have been in town two days ago.”

“It will lead us there, just wait.”

“Wait?! The job is probably not there anymore, and we’re stuck in this place.”

“Calm down, Edgar.”

His lips tightened.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

Still slouching, he walked towards me. I put my hand on my gun. My arms could barely lift to my waist, but I wouldn’t go down without a fight. Edgar stopped a few feet before me, his eyes widened, and he pointed behind me.

“Look, James.”

“I’m not falling for that.”

“Look!”

I took a few steps back and quickly glanced over my shoulder. In the distance behind a rock, a few houses stood. Edgar began walking forward, captivated by the sight, his anger completely gone.

As we neared the town, I saw a man standing on the outskirts. Edgar seemed to have his guard down, but I put my hand on my gun and kept my eyes on the man. You never know who you’d meet in these places. As we got closer, I saw he had something in his hand, but it wasn’t a gun; it was the holy book.

“Hello, travelers. What are you doing in these parts?”

“Got lost on the way to Chino.”

“You look disheveled. May I invite you in?”

“Yes, please, preacher.”

He smiled from ear to ear.

“Please, follow me.”

The town was full of people, ladies in their Sunday dresses and men in their suits. Everyone had blue eyes and blonde hair. It almost didn't look real, like a painting. The people didn’t talk to one another and kept staring at us, smiling when our eyes met.

We walked into a small saloon. It looked like any other: liquor, chairs, tables, but on the walls were crucifixes of Jesus mounted beneath burning candles. Behind the bar, a man greeted us.

“Hello.”

“Hello, Harrold. These travelers have accepted my invitation.”

Harrold’s eyes lit up.

“Wonderful! May I offer you some beer and whisky?”

“Of course, we’re very thirsty.”

“I'm sure you’re starving too. Greta, bring the pork roast and heat some water,” he called to the back.

“How much will we owe you? We don’t have much money.”

“On the house. We need to get you fed and cleaned!”

“You’re in good hands. Service starts at 10. The church is right across the street.” The priest patted my back and left.

My mind was empty, still exhausted from the walk, but a strange feeling crept up my spine.

“Something’s strange here,” I whispered to Edgar.

“Yeah, probably some crazy religious folks.”

“I’m not sure we should be here.”

“And pass on free drinks and food?”

“Nothing’s free.”

“We just gotta go to the sermon.”

“I really don’t think…”

“Stop it, James,” he interrupted. “You’re not going to ruin this. You already got us lost.”

I tried to speak to him, but Edgar ignored me. I sat at the bar, looking at the door, but my stomach soon growled in pain. I put a piece of meat in my mouth. It was the most tender, delicious piece of food I had ever had.

After the meal, Harold took us to a room with two baths. Greta soaped and bathed us. I told Harold I could wash myself, but he laughed as if I'd made a joke. I kept trying to talk to her, but she just smiled.

“She probably doesn’t speak English,” Edgar said.

When we got out of the bath, our clothes were gone. Harold came in with two white robes.

“Your clothes were too dirty for the sermon.”

“I’d rather have mine.”

“I’ll wash them for you. You’ll get them right after the sermon.”

He also handed us a small glass with liquor.

“A special regional liquor. It will cure all your ailments.”

Edgar drank it immediately. I held it in my hand, looking at it.

“Stop being so impolite,” he muttered.

Harold’s smile was gone; his eyes pierced through me.

I almost set the shot down, but if they wanted to poison me, they could have done that long ago.

I drank the shot and gave it back to Harold.

The clothes hung on us like we were little children. We walked out of the saloon onto the dirt path. The sun seemed to shine more strongly. My feet felt a little weak. When we reached the church, we both slomped onto the pew. The priest started the sermon.

“We gather here for our annual invitation to God’s heaven. Two weary travelers have accepted our invitation this year.”

The town clapped. My mind started to spin. I looked over at Edgar. He was knocked out.

“As usual, they will be given to Jesus as he intended.”

Shock ran down my spine.

“No,” I tried to say, but only a jumble of songs came out.

My body felt like it weighed a ton. I got up, but before I could take a few steps, I collapsed to the ground. As my mind drifted, I saw the townsfolk sitting in their pews, looking at me, smiling.

When I came to, my mind was still spinning. There was a sharp pain in my palms and feet. The smell of burning wood filled the air. I focused my eyes, and before me I saw Edgar, still asleep, nailed to the cross with a small fire burning beneath it. 

My thoughts scattered. I tried to move my hands, but the pain in my palms shot up my arms. My body was also nailed to a cross. The feeling of heat grew. I looked down and saw Greta, holding a torch, smiling at me.

The smell of rotten eggs and damp earth hung in the air. John’s movements sent small ripples behind him as he waded through the marsh’s pool. The bag hung over his shoulder.

“You think there’s gators around?” I asked.

“Don’t think about it,” John answered.

“Just asking. Why do we gotta go through the water anyway? There’s a path right there.”

“There could be people around.”

“In this place?”

Something rubbed across my thigh. Shock ran down my spine. Something moved under the surface. I pulled out my gun and pressed the trigger.

Click.

Followed by silence.

It was empty. The last cartridge I had.

“John, John!” I screamed, pointing at the water.

He kept his gaze on me, not moving.

The water was still now; the marsh quiet.

“The water…it moved.”

“You need to stop, David.”

“I’m not going through the water!”

“David!”

I turned around and waded to the shore.

His movements echoed behind me.

“You wanna get caught?”

“I don’t want to get eaten.”

“You’ll wish for a croc when they send you to the state pen, minimum 20 years for this kind of robbery. You have no idea what they’ll do to you there.”

“I don’t care about it.”

He pulled out his gun. Coldness ran through my body.

“My kids need to eat. You’ll make it with me to Lafayette. Then you do whatever. We’ll take the shore path. But if we're seen, it's on you.”

I knew this would happen. Since the moment he asked me to come along.

“You’re a piece of shit.”

“You didn’t have to come. You know that.”

“What else was I supposed to do? Go homeless?”

“You’re young. There are jobs everywhere.”

“Why didn’t you get one?”

“Bank took the house. Nobody's hiring a man my age. Just go.”

The mosquitoes were biting into every patch of my exposed skin. I’d wave my hand around, but before it became still, they’d swarm it again. 

I was waving it again when John stopped. He narrowed his eyes, then suddenly widened them, dragged me into a nearby bush, and pointed at the pool before us. 

A young man no older than 20 waded onto the shore. His body was pale as if it had never seen the sun, with only a small cloth covering his genitals. He walked into the brush and disappeared before our eyes.

We continued through the brush near the shore. Between the trees in the distance, a few huts showed with a couple of people walking between them. The people were pale too, walking slowly, almost rhythmically, not talking or looking at one another. 

John dragged me closer to the shore, our shoes halfway in the water. He kept looking at them and then back at me. I kept my expression blank. 

As we walked by the huts, I noticed small green drawings of an animal with sharp white teeth and a crocodile-like body, standing upright with human hands.

We passed the last hut, and the brush cleared up more. There was a patch of dirt surrounded by a pool of water with a small golden animal statue standing in the center. It looked like the one that was painted on all the huts.

“You think that’s real gold?”

“What does it matter?”

“If that’s real gold, it might be worth as much as the bag. My family would never have to worry about anything.”

“We already have a whole bag of money.”

He put the bag down and made his way towards the statue. A strange chill ran over my skin.

“John, stop,” I said, grabbing his shoulder.

He quickly turned around and pointed his gun at me.

“Don’t even try.”

I put my hands up and took a few steps back.

He walked to the small patch of dirt.

“John, just leave it. This whole place is weird – the people, the statue. Even their houses. The drawings looked exactly like that thing.”

“I don’t care about some kid's doodles.”

He picked up the statue and walked back. My eyes began jumping between the trees, but the place was still, silent. He opened the bag and put the statue in.

“Go on.” He gestured with the gun.

He began walking and looked back.

I just shook my head.

“Do I need to make you come?”

I took a step forward, but the ground felt strange, almost unsteady. My stomach twisted. The pools bubbled more, and the air grew damper.

A strange wave of warm air passed. The rotten smell grew. The bubbles were huge, almost reaching up to us. John put the bag down, held the gun in both hands, and began frantically turning from side to side.

Something exploded from the reeds.

Teeth.

Green scales.

A long green snout shot towards John. The teeth dug into him before he could make a move. The claws on its human-like forelimbs grabbed his torso. The creature dove back into the water, slapping its green tail on the surface.

John’s scream cut through the marsh.

My eyes darted back. In the distance, a few of the villagers stood before their huts, bowed to the bubbles, and then slowly disappeared into their huts.

Without thinking, I picked up the bag of money and sprinted towards the village, yelling for help, but the people were nowhere to be found, not even inside their huts. 

The path slowly turned into a puddle, then into a full pool. The fear of the water vanished beneath something worse. I just ran, only stopping after the water reached up to my waist. I looked around. Had I escaped? But then the water next to me began to bubble, and the warm air followed.

My finger could barely move, stuck to the trigger. The forest was quiet. My eyes jumped around the trees, but the forest was empty, deserted.

“We need to stop, Jack,” Steven said.

“Shut up, you’ll scare the game off.”

“What game? The forest’s bare. We need to start a fire. I can’t feel my feet.”

“You want to sleep hungry again?”

“I don’t want my feet to freeze.”

“Wait, you see that, Steven?”

There was a small clearing before us. A large black stone stood in the middle of it. 

“What is that?”

“Looks like a tombstone.”

“There isn’t a town for miles.”

The wind blew by, making the trees whisper.

“Come check it out.”

“You don’t know who put it there, Jack.”

But I didn’t listen to Steve and headed straight to where the whisper came from.

“Jack, wait.”

As I passed the trees into the small clearing, I noticed the snow let up, and the air was warmer, like an embrace.

As I walked closer, something rustled in the trees. I shot my eyes up. Two squirrels sat on a branch looking down at us.

“Steve,” I whispered and pointed my finger up.

We aimed and shot. The two small bodies fell on the snow.

“Can we set up camp soon?”

“Sure.” 

I put down my bag and started picking up firewood.

“Set it up somewhere else.”

“Why?”

“The stone, and the warmth. You can feel it too, right?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“But it’s weird, Jack. I don’t…”

I got back to collecting firewood. The only way to shut Steven up was to ignore him. He stood there running his mouth for a minute, but then put his bag down too. He wouldn’t leave on his own.

The fire shone on the stone. In the firelight, the stone looked dark, ominous, like something I’d never seen before.

“How long till we get to the river, Jack?”

“About two more days.”

Steven rubbed his face.

“I’m already so tired.”

“You shouldn’t have come, Steven.”

“I have to. My wife’s sick. I don’t know anything else but trapping.”

I shook my head, handed him the squirrel we shot, and took the other. I bit into it, expecting the tough gamey taste, but instead my mouth filled with sweet tenderness. A wave of warmth filled my body. After just a few bites, I wasn’t hungry anymore. I looked at the stone and back at Steven.

“You think they’re sick?” he said, looking at his squirrel.

Each time he spoke, the warmth weakened.

“Why?”

“They shouldn’t taste like that.”

“And what? Are you going to complain about food tasting good now?”

Then the trees rustled again, little, quiet at first, but the rustling slowly spread all around us. We shot our eyes up. The treetops were swaying to the rustle; from them, a thousand little squirrel eyes stared down at us, dark, focused.

“What,” Steven murmured.

I quickly got up, grabbed my gun, and shot into one of the trees. The eyes stayed, staring for some time. Steven got up and began searching for his gun. The squirrels all blinked in unison, and then they slowly disappeared into the treetops before Steven could aim.

“Jack, we need to leave now.”

“And get attacked by wolves?”

“We can just move a little.”

“Are you scared of squirrels?”

“No, but…” 

His eyes fell on the stone. The warmth was almost gone.

“It’s just a stone, Steven.”

“But the warmth, the squirrels. Who even put it here?”

I took a deep breath.

“If you’re so worried, we can take watch, tend the fire, but I’m not moving.”

Steven looked at me blankly.

“Look, you take the first part of the night, and I’ll take the second. You'll get enough sleep until morning?”

He just nodded, staring into the fire. I put my blanket down and lay on it, but my eyes stayed open, staring at the stone, listening, but not to Steven. 

Some time later, I heard Steven get up from the fire. The snow crunched under his frantic steps. He began mumbling to himself, quietly at first, but slowly growing louder until he almost screamed into the night: “No!” He then walked towards me and shook my body.

“Jack, Jack, wake up.” 

I rolled over, pretending to wake up.

“The voice. Can you hear it too?” he whispered.

“No.” The word came out of my mouth easily, even as the whisper echoed in my ears.

“It’s telling me to do stuff…bad stuff. We need to get out.” His voice trembled.

I looked at the stone.

“Okay, Steven, let’s go.”

His eyes opened a little. He wasn’t expecting that answer.

“Okay, okay.”

He got up and began putting stuff in his bag. I waited until his back was turned, and slowly walked towards him. The trees didn’t rustle, but the eyes were back. I didn’t see them, but I could feel them. They wanted to see. The stone wanted to see. As I got closer, I pulled out my hatchet. My arm didn’t feel like mine. 

The eyes blinked. The trees rustled. Steven quickly turned his head, his eyes wide with terror. It told him. The stone wanted him to see too.

I brought the hatchet down with full force. The sound of his skull cracking echoed through the forest. Steven’s body fell to the ground, his red blood mixing with the white snow. The warmth deepened, wrapping around my body like a warm hug from the woman you love. Warm squirrel bodies began raining from the trees. I smiled. The whisper became a symphony welcoming me home.

My finger could barely move, stuck to the trigger. The forest was quiet. My eyes jumped around the trees, but the forest was empty, deserted.

“We need to stop, Jack,” Steven said.

“Shut up, you’ll scare the game off.”

“What game? The forest’s bare. We need to start a fire. I can’t feel my feet.”

“You want to sleep hungry again?”

“I don’t want my feet to freeze.”

“Wait, you see that, Steven?”

There was a small clearing before us. A large black stone stood in the middle of it. 

“What is that?”

“Looks like a tombstone.”

“There isn’t a town for miles.”

The wind blew by, making the trees whisper.

“Come check it out.”

“You don’t know who put it there, Jack.”

But I didn’t listen to Steve and headed straight to where the whisper came from.

“Jack, wait.”

As I passed the trees into the small clearing, I noticed the snow let up, and the air was warmer, like an embrace.

As I walked closer, something rustled in the trees. I shot my eyes up. Two squirrels sat on a branch looking down at us.

“Steve,” I whispered and pointed my finger up.

We aimed and shot. The two small bodies fell on the snow.

“Can we set up camp soon?”

“Sure.” 

I put down my bag and started picking up firewood.

“Set it up somewhere else.”

“Why?”

“The stone, and the warmth. You can feel it too, right?”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“But it’s weird, Jack. I don’t…”

I got back to collecting firewood. The only way to shut Steven up was to ignore him. He stood there running his mouth for a minute, but then put his bag down too. He wouldn’t leave on his own.

The fire shone on the stone. In the firelight, the stone looked dark, ominous, like something I’d never seen before.

“How long till we get to the river, Jack?”

“About two more days.”

Steven rubbed his face.

“I’m already so tired.”

“You shouldn’t have come, Steven.”

“I have to. My wife’s sick. I don’t know anything else but trapping.”

I shook my head, handed him the squirrel we shot, and took the other. I bit into it, expecting the tough gamey taste, but instead my mouth filled with sweet tenderness. A wave of warmth filled my body. After just a few bites, I wasn’t hungry anymore. I looked at the stone and back at Steven.

“You think they’re sick?” he said, looking at his squirrel.

Each time he spoke, the warmth weakened.

“Why?”

“They shouldn’t taste like that.”

“And what? Are you going to complain about food tasting good now?”

Then the trees rustled again, little, quiet at first, but the rustling slowly spread all around us. We shot our eyes up. The treetops were swaying to the rustle; from them, a thousand little squirrel eyes stared down at us, dark, focused.

“What,” Steven murmured.

I quickly got up, grabbed my gun, and shot into one of the trees. The eyes stayed, staring for some time. Steven got up and began searching for his gun. The squirrels all blinked in unison, and then they slowly disappeared into the treetops before Steven could aim.

“Jack, we need to leave now.”

“And get attacked by wolves?”

“We can just move a little.”

“Are you scared of squirrels?”

“No, but…” 

His eyes fell on the stone. The warmth was almost gone.

“It’s just a stone, Steven.”

“But the warmth, the squirrels. Who even put it here?”

I took a deep breath.

“If you’re so worried, we can take watch, tend the fire, but I’m not moving.”

Steven looked at me blankly.

“Look, you take the first part of the night, and I’ll take the second. You'll get enough sleep until morning?”

He just nodded, staring into the fire. I put my blanket down and lay on it, but my eyes stayed open, staring at the stone, listening, but not to Steven. 

Some time later, I heard Steven get up from the fire. The snow crunched under his frantic steps. He began mumbling to himself, quietly at first, but slowly growing louder until he almost screamed into the night: “No!” He then walked towards me and shook my body.

“Jack, Jack, wake up.” 

I rolled over, pretending to wake up.

“The voice. Can you hear it too?” he whispered.

“No.” The word came out of my mouth easily, even as the whisper echoed in my ears.

“It’s telling me to do stuff…bad stuff. We need to get out.” His voice trembled.

I looked at the stone.

“Okay, Steven, let’s go.”

His eyes opened a little. He wasn’t expecting that answer.

“Okay, okay.”

He got up and began putting stuff in his bag. I waited until his back was turned, and slowly walked towards him. The trees didn’t rustle, but the eyes were back. I didn’t see them, but I could feel them. They wanted to see. The stone wanted to see. As I got closer, I pulled out my hatchet. My arm didn’t feel like mine. 

The eyes blinked. The trees rustled. Steven quickly turned his head, his eyes wide with terror. It told him. The stone wanted him to see too.

I brought the hatchet down with full force. The sound of his skull cracking echoed through the forest. Steven’s body fell to the ground, his red blood mixing with the white snow. The warmth deepened, wrapping around my body like a warm hug from the woman you love. Warm squirrel bodies began raining from the trees. I smiled. The whisper became a symphony welcoming me home.

Samantha’s nimble steps echoed down the stairs.

“The two little angels are asleep,” she said quietly.

“Angels? Those twin boys are rascals. Only you can get them to sleep. I don’t know what I’d do without you. It’s been rough since Mom’s death.”

She stayed quiet.

“Say, how about I get us some sweets tomorrow after church, and we’ll go sit by the lake?”

“But what about the boys?”

“They can stay at the nursery. I’ll talk to Miss Haller.”

“Okay,” she said, her eyes shining.

“Okay, sunshine. Did you get the mice ready for the sermon?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Father Nilles says He grows restless if Sunday’s offering is late. I’ll go turn off the lights outside.”

The air was still warm. Sweat formed on my forehead. I walked over to the light switch when something slithered on the side of my foot. I jerked back. My foot fell on something soft. A quiet crunch echoed. I looked down. It was a snake. A cold tingle ran through my body.

Please don’t be one of His.

It was hard to see in the dark. I took a deep breath, picked it up, and turned it around. The small white cross stared back at me.

“No!” I screamed into the night, gripping the snake’s unmoving body.

“Dad, what’s wrong?” Samantha called and ran to the porch.

Her terrified eyes stared at the snake.

“Dad?”

Her voice broke.

“Is that one of His?”

“Yes.”

She fell to her knees and began crying. I put the snake carefully on the porch and hugged her.

“I'm so sorry.”

She gripped my shirt.

“Does it mean that?”

“Yes.”

Her body shook with sobs.

We sat on the porch, embracing each other as we cried, my shirt soaking up Samantha's tears.

When she had no more tears left, she slowly pulled away.

Her voice shook as she took a deep breath.

“Will it save you and the twins?”

“Yes.”

She swallowed.

“There’s only an hour till midnight. What is needed?” 

“A cup of mice blood and…”

I paused.

“A knife,” I whispered.

“What, Dad? Please speak up!”

“A knife,” I shouted.

She got up and ran into the house. The sounds of cupboards opening and closing echoed through the house. I sat on the porch with my head in my hands, staring into the night.

“Dad, it’s ready,” she called from inside.

I tried to get up, but the thought of what I had to do kept me down.

It’s my daughter. My daughter!

Samantha ran out. “Dad, please, don’t make it harder.” She came over and grabbed my shirt again.

I bit down on my lip as Samantha pulled me up. 

A taste of copper filled my mouth. The inside was lit with candles. The cup of mouse blood lay on the table, next to a large hunting knife.

Samantha lay on the table, dipped the knife in the blood, and handed it to me. My hand trembled as I held it.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I love you so much, Samantha.”

“I love you too.” 

She paused.

“Will you take the boys to the lake tomorrow?”

My eyes filled with tears again.

“For me, please?” she continued.

“Yes, I will.”

“Okay.”

I held the knife above her chest, but my hand refused to move.

Samantha reached up and wrapped her fingers around my wrist.

“It’s okay, Dad.”

Together we pushed.

She gasped at first, but then held back another cry, her nails digging into my wrist. My hand shook as the warm blood spilled on it. Soon her grip loosened, and her face turned to the side.

Before my eyes was His painting; I used to admire His sharp fangs, His strong slithering body wrapping around the tree, but in that moment I hated Him. 

I picked up Samantha’s body and took it to the backyard.

The night was quiet. The moon sat high in the sky. I took one last look at her before He took her forever. She was the most beautiful person. I put her hands on her chest and walked up to my room.

“Dad! Dad!” The twins’ voices rang in my ears. I rubbed my eyes and looked up. Their faces were red with dried tears on their cheeks.

“Dad…Samantha…she,” they managed to get out, pointing at the window.

I ran to it.

My head started spinning.

I gripped the windowsill so as not to fall.

Samantha’s body still lay in our backyard, exactly as I left her yesterday.

Something was wrong.

My eyes fell on the snake.

I picked it up.

My body froze.

The white cross…

It was upside down.