u/Equivalent-Part6608

Jack hadn’t come back. He had missed the bus. Then he hadn’t shown up in class at all. Police cars had swarmed over Jack’s house like bees. His parents went into the woods behind their houses, shouting for Jack. The Johnsons had as well, and the Leyvees, and the Grants. His big sister chewed on her finger nail nervously as the sun slowly sank.
His parents were quiet as they came in. He was still up, way past his bedtime. The sky was black, and the search for Jack was over. He was pushed into bed without any word on what happened to his friend. His mother had planted her lips against his forehead and held him close. His dad had tears in his eyes. That scared him most of all. 
They talked quietly, their muttering echoing through the house. Eric could only hear every third word as he pressed his ear to the door. 
“Gone.”
“Were they watching?”
“How?” They kept repeating that most of all. Eric glanced out his window, the fat full moon stared back at him. He knew how, and it scared him, because he could hear it now. Jack said he had heard the noise on Monday. He said it kept getting louder. Eric thought it might have been some bird. Jack had called him stupid, and then Eric hadn’t wanted to play with him anymore. 
Now he was gone. His guts wrung themselves together. He could hear the rumble just ever so faintly. It was coming from deep into the woods. Though there was no wind outside, the trees waved at him, their leafy branches seemed to talk to him.
Come here they said. Your friend is here, just pop open the window and step in. The rumble was getting louder now. Eric’s legs shook as he tried to walk towards the door. He needed his mom and dad now, his big sister, anybody. The rumble was definitely coming from the treeline. It was a long droning note, that moved past his glass window, and through his spiderman blanket.
It wasn’t a rumble he realized. It was a call. He plugged his ears, but the call twisted around his fingers, and seeped into his ears, vibrating his very bones. Eric grit his teeth desperate for the call to go away.  His blanket fell away, and his bare feet padded over to his window. The screech was loud, but Eric didn’t stop to process it.
He didn’t stop to process the way his ankle twisted underneath him as he fell from the second story, or how his arm ached at his side. Splinters dug into his hands as he shoved open the creaky gate of their backyard.
Cool grass chilled his feet. His legs pushed themselves forward as if he had walked this path a thousand times before. His old fears were replaced by the droning call that pulled him further in. The moonlight made the leaves gleam, and the trees smiled at him. Their bark forming faces older than his house, and his parents.
His breath was ragged as he half ran and limped through the forest. Something was chasing him, snuffling through the branches, snapping twigs and clawing leaves. Fear flooded his heart, but the call promised safety. The call picked up in pace, hurrying him through a bush of thorns. 
Something grabbed him. His feet slid out from under him and his skull cracked off the ground with a horrible thud. Someone screamed in horror, it might have been him, he hoped no one heard. The call grew to a wretched laugh, mocking him as he was drug. Darkness enveloped him as he was slowly drug deeper and deeper into the dark. 
Eric didn’t know where he was, he needed his mom. He needed his spiderman blanket wrapped around him again. He came to a stop, dirt and filth covering his entire body. Moonlight swirled above, the beams lighting the cave he rested in. Jack stared back at him. His eyes were half closed, and his mouth hung open. His arms hung in the air, white vines pierce his arms and back.
The call had gone silent, the monster chasing him must have gotten lost. “Jack” Eric hissed. He was too scared to raise his voice any louder. “Jack.” Eric said again, this time more desperate. Something was coming down the cave. 
Eric slowly reached out to shake Jack. Before he could his body shot back, the vines pulling him towards the figure in the center of the cave. The face was human, skin peeled back, to reveal eyes that swam in their sockets. The call ripped out from its wobbling skinny neck, the skin whiter than snow.
A massive fat blob like body shook while tiny little arms grasped at the body hungrily. The figure unhinged its jaw, and swallowed Jack whole, the body sliding down the neck.
“Eric!” someone was screaming, and then he was being drug. The figure bellowed as he was lifted out of the cave, his body screaming in pain. Tears fell from his cheeks, and snot bubbled from his nose.
Somehow they made it back, his sister was sobbing as their parents came running out of the house. 
Soon the neighbours had shown up, they looked at Eric, terrified. 
Yet even among all of the concern and cries, he could hear it.
Come back it said.
Come back.

Jack hadn’t come back. He had missed the bus. Then he hadn’t shown up in class at all. Police cars had swarmed over Jack’s house like bees. His parents went into the woods behind their houses, shouting for Jack. The Johnsons had as well, and the Leyvees, and the Grants. His big sister chewed on her finger nail nervously as the sun slowly sank.
His parents were quiet as they came in. He was still up, way past his bedtime. The sky was black, and the search for Jack was over. He was pushed into bed without any word on what happened to his friend. His mother had planted her lips against his forehead and held him close. His dad had tears in his eyes. That scared him most of all. 
They talked quietly, their muttering echoing through the house. Eric could only hear every third word as he pressed his ear to the door. 
“Gone.”
“Were they watching?”
“How?” They kept repeating that most of all. Eric glanced out his window, the fat full moon stared back at him. He knew how, and it scared him, because he could hear it now. Jack said he had heard the noise on Monday. He said it kept getting louder. Eric thought it might have been some bird. Jack had called him stupid, and then Eric hadn’t wanted to play with him anymore. 
Now he was gone. His guts wrung themselves together. He could hear the rumble just ever so faintly. It was coming from deep into the woods. Though there was no wind outside, the trees waved at him, their leafy branches seemed to talk to him.
Come here they said. Your friend is here, just pop open the window and step in. The rumble was getting louder now. Eric’s legs shook as he tried to walk towards the door. He needed his mom and dad now, his big sister, anybody. The rumble was definitely coming from the treeline. It was a long droning note, that moved past his glass window, and through his spiderman blanket.
It wasn’t a rumble he realized. It was a call. He plugged his ears, but the call twisted around his fingers, and seeped into his ears, vibrating his very bones. Eric grit his teeth desperate for the call to go away.  His blanket fell away, and his bare feet padded over to his window. The screech was loud, but Eric didn’t stop to process it.
He didn’t stop to process the way his ankle twisted underneath him as he fell from the second story, or how his arm ached at his side. Splinters dug into his hands as he shoved open the creaky gate of their backyard.
Cool grass chilled his feet. His legs pushed themselves forward as if he had walked this path a thousand times before. His old fears were replaced by the droning call that pulled him further in. The moonlight made the leaves gleam, and the trees smiled at him. Their bark forming faces older than his house, and his parents.
His breath was ragged as he half ran and limped through the forest. Something was chasing him, snuffling through the branches, snapping twigs and clawing leaves. Fear flooded his heart, but the call promised safety. The call picked up in pace, hurrying him through a bush of thorns. 
Something grabbed him. His feet slid out from under him and his skull cracked off the ground with a horrible thud. Someone screamed in horror, it might have been him, he hoped no one heard. The call grew to a wretched laugh, mocking him as he was drug. Darkness enveloped him as he was slowly drug deeper and deeper into the dark. 
Eric didn’t know where he was, he needed his mom. He needed his spiderman blanket wrapped around him again. He came to a stop, dirt and filth covering his entire body. Moonlight swirled above, the beams lighting the cave he rested in. Jack stared back at him. His eyes were half closed, and his mouth hung open. His arms hung in the air, white vines pierce his arms and back.
The call had gone silent, the monster chasing him must have gotten lost. “Jack” Eric hissed. He was too scared to raise his voice any louder. “Jack.” Eric said again, this time more desperate. Something was coming down the cave. 
Eric slowly reached out to shake Jack. Before he could his body shot back, the vines pulling him towards the figure in the center of the cave. The face was human, skin peeled back, to reveal eyes that swam in their sockets. The call ripped out from its wobbling skinny neck, the skin whiter than snow.
A massive fat blob like body shook while tiny little arms grasped at the body hungrily. The figure unhinged its jaw, and swallowed Jack whole, the body sliding down the neck.
“Eric!” someone was screaming, and then he was being drug. The figure bellowed as he was lifted out of the cave, his body screaming in pain. Tears fell from his cheeks, and snot bubbled from his nose.
Somehow they made it back, his sister was sobbing as their parents came running out of the house. 
Soon the neighbours had shown up, they looked at Eric, terrified. 
Yet even among all of the concern and cries, he could hear it.
Come back it said.
Come back.

Jack hadn’t come back. He had missed the bus. Then he hadn’t shown up in class at all. Police cars had swarmed over Jack’s house like bees. His parents went into the woods behind their houses, shouting for Jack. The Johnsons had as well, and the Leyvees, and the Grants. His big sister chewed on her finger nail nervously as the sun slowly sank.
His parents were quiet as they came in. He was still up, way past his bedtime. The sky was black, and the search for Jack was over. He was pushed into bed without any word on what happened to his friend. His mother had planted her lips against his forehead and held him close. His dad had tears in his eyes. That scared him most of all. 
They talked quietly, their muttering echoing through the house. Eric could only hear every third word as he pressed his ear to the door. 
“Gone.”
“Were they watching?”
“How?” They kept repeating that most of all. Eric glanced out his window, the fat full moon stared back at him. He knew how, and it scared him, because he could hear it now. Jack said he had heard the noise on Monday. He said it kept getting louder. Eric thought it might have been some bird. Jack had called him stupid, and then Eric hadn’t wanted to play with him anymore. 
Now he was gone. His guts wrung themselves together. He could hear the rumble just ever so faintly. It was coming from deep into the woods. Though there was no wind outside, the trees waved at him, their leafy branches seemed to talk to him.
Come here they said. Your friend is here, just pop open the window and step in. The rumble was getting louder now. Eric’s legs shook as he tried to walk towards the door. He needed his mom and dad now, his big sister, anybody. The rumble was definitely coming from the treeline. It was a long droning note, that moved past his glass window, and through his spiderman blanket.
It wasn’t a rumble he realized. It was a call. He plugged his ears, but the call twisted around his fingers, and seeped into his ears, vibrating his very bones. Eric grit his teeth desperate for the call to go away.  His blanket fell away, and his bare feet padded over to his window. The screech was loud, but Eric didn’t stop to process it.
He didn’t stop to process the way his ankle twisted underneath him as he fell from the second story, or how his arm ached at his side. Splinters dug into his hands as he shoved open the creaky gate of their backyard.
Cool grass chilled his feet. His legs pushed themselves forward as if he had walked this path a thousand times before. His old fears were replaced by the droning call that pulled him further in. The moonlight made the leaves gleam, and the trees smiled at him. Their bark forming faces older than his house, and his parents.
His breath was ragged as he half ran and limped through the forest. Something was chasing him, snuffling through the branches, snapping twigs and clawing leaves. Fear flooded his heart, but the call promised safety. The call picked up in pace, hurrying him through a bush of thorns. 
Something grabbed him. His feet slid out from under him and his skull cracked off the ground with a horrible thud. Someone screamed in horror, it might have been him, he hoped no one heard. The call grew to a wretched laugh, mocking him as he was drug. Darkness enveloped him as he was slowly drug deeper and deeper into the dark. 
Eric didn’t know where he was, he needed his mom. He needed his spiderman blanket wrapped around him again. He came to a stop, dirt and filth covering his entire body. Moonlight swirled above, the beams lighting the cave he rested in. Jack stared back at him. His eyes were half closed, and his mouth hung open. His arms hung in the air, white vines pierce his arms and back.
The call had gone silent, the monster chasing him must have gotten lost. “Jack” Eric hissed. He was too scared to raise his voice any louder. “Jack.” Eric said again, this time more desperate. Something was coming down the cave. 
Eric slowly reached out to shake Jack. Before he could his body shot back, the vines pulling him towards the figure in the center of the cave. The face was human, skin peeled back, to reveal eyes that swam in their sockets. The call ripped out from its wobbling skinny neck, the skin whiter than snow.
A massive fat blob like body shook while tiny little arms grasped at the body hungrily. The figure unhinged its jaw, and swallowed Jack whole, the body sliding down the neck.
“Eric!” someone was screaming, and then he was being drug. The figure bellowed as he was lifted out of the cave, his body screaming in pain. Tears fell from his cheeks, and snot bubbled from his nose.
Somehow they made it back, his sister was sobbing as their parents came running out of the house. 
Soon the neighbours had shown up, they looked at Eric, terrified. 
Yet even among all of the concern and cries, he could hear it.
Come back it said.
Come back.

You can kill the homeless in droves sometimes. You can’t do it in one big group obviously. They may fold in half like flowers in the rain, but all it takes is one dirty shank. Then you might have aids, or god knows what else. I crack the man’s head against the wall, his body lets out one last little shudder, as his eye stares up from the concrete.

Spitting on the corpse I wipe my boot in his filthy rag of a jacket. Come tomorrow he’ll be bagged and then incinerated, his ashes tossed into the nearest landfill.  Live like trash, die like trash I say. His friends peer from behind trash cans, too scared to get any closer. They will mourn his loss for a moment and then pilfer his remains like the rats they are.

The mask muffles my breathing, and I am glad for it. I do not want the filth of the city knowing I am upset. My footsteps make no noise as I weave through a series of alleys and dark streets. A man asks me for change. The very sentence makes my guts roil. Pulling my knife, I stab the man in the kidneys while ramming a hand over his mouth. I stab him several more times before he finally crumples to the ground.

Disgust makes me shiver as the man's blood soaks into the dark blue coveralls I wear. It's not a big deal, it's like mud that dries on the skin, and makes your fingers feel stiff and slow. 

I enter into my small apartment, the space dim, from the yellow lighting. It is not dirty however, I refuse to live like the rats. This place has my essentials, bathroom, kitchen, and bedroom. The mask finally comes off and I can breathe. The black latex is slick with sweat, and I can smell my own stink. I undress, stripping naked. Throwing the clothes away into the wash, I step into the shower. My laundry routine will get the stains out, and make the clothes new again.

The water is hot, turning the skin red, and purging the sin and waste away. It falls around my feet swirling into the drain, damned and doomed to fire and ash. A weight has been lifted from my shoulders, but it comes crashing down when the phone rings. There are only so many landlines in the city, so they make you move often. 

“Mission failed Brother Shine.” the voice was garbled and strange, like a million flies buzzing in unison. Blood pounds in my skull, a steady war drum. I feel like my Father is yelling at me again, palm crashing down. “But do not fear Brother Shine. You are not to blame for such a series of events. Brother Goebbels and Brother Zhou have made a mess. Saturday, twelve, Cowtown Motel.” The phone clicked as if it had never been on. 

They still have the tape up as I walk to the grocery store. The reusable bags in my hand tug like a dog on a leash. I only stop for a second, but I can still remember Brother Goebbels losing his mind, and turning the mission upside down. Zhou had tried to stop him and earned a knife to the ribs. A ringing phone drags me away from the noise. 
Tucked on the side of the apartment building in the shade, a phone box rings.

My heart pounds as I make sure no one is watching, before I accept the call. “Brother Shine, Brother Zhou is two blocks down. Groundside Apartments, room 3. Check under the potted plant. He is hurt, he will not put up much of a fight. Method as always is up to you.” The phone clicks off.
“Sir what are you doing?” An old woman looks up at me with concern in her eyes. What’s her deal anyway? Why is she so close to a murder scene, and what is she doing sticking her nose in my business? My hands twitch with a primal rage, and for a moment I want to make her skull explode against the brick wall.

But in the day my mask must remain. I rub my head sheepishly. “I forgot my phone ma’am, I was trying to get ahold of my friend but he won’t pick up the phone.” I give her a bashful smile, bowing my head down. “Its such a shame this is the only public phone available.” The old woman bobbed her head up and down, neck waddle bouncing around like a turkey. For some reason this made sense to her. Why weren’t there more public phones available? There used to be.

“Ohh I see.” She shakes her head. I bite my tongue. Now she wants an entire conversation. “Ever since that murder of the family, I can’t check on my tulips. The police keep shooing me away.” There are some brightly coloured tulips by the front of the building, their petals wilting. The woman starts gibbering about her plants while slowly moving towards the tape.

Dipping back into the shadows I take a path composed of a number of twists and turns until I come on the backside of Groundside apartments. Zhou lives in squalor, like the rats of the city. The building is graffitied and falling apart in many different places. The bottom floors have no windows. I look for cameras but do not see any. Based on the overall quality of the building I doubt there are many inside it as well. I still wish I had my other face.
The leather gloves slide over my hands, and I crawl through a broken window. Its occupant is dying. Needles and pills are scattered around him, and his face is turning blue. I want to spit on his face but leaving any sign of my presence behind is never wise. I make my way out of the room and down a short hallway that is unlit. 

Most of my killings are silent and lethal. They must be in an ever increasing age of being watched. Here is a blindspot however. Far from normal society, this bog of an apartment building exists separate from the lives of grocery trips, and days at the park. The door is not even locked and I can see why when it swings in.

Zhou has been in the process of dying for the last three days. Rot fills the room, and the man’s eyes are unfocused as he tries to talk to me. His knife wound is somehow still bleeding. His white skin has turned an extra degree of pale, and sweat pours down his cheeks. A red flag with one big star and four little ones hangs limply over his living room. His dull eyes regard me warily. He looks at the gloves on my hand before trying to speak.

“My name is Richard. I was raised in Iowa. My mom and dad-” He hardly struggles as I strangle him. The leather creaks as his windpipe is crushed beneath my fingers. A weak arm bats fruitlessly at my hands. I make sure he is dead, watching blood vessels burst in his eyes, and the skin turn purple. I have to catch my breath after I am done. A phone rings in the room.
Hidden behind a stack of dirty plates I pick it up. “Well done Brother Divine, Saturday twelve, Cowtown Motel.” The phone clicks off. They are running a deal on cans of soup, and bunches of bananas.

The tv flickers before me. I flip through the channels, watching as the Friday evening drags on. A laughing family, a celebrity orders his burger and fries. The animal channel shows a wolf ripping the head off of a hare, its muzzle stained red, yellow eyes wide. The phone rings. There is no hesitation when I pick it up. “Brother Shine, there is a household just out of the city. Range road 24, just off the road to the left. Four of them total.” The directions, although vague, always guide me to my mission. I will need my guns for this one.

I do not have many weapons. They are unneeded for the most part. My enemies are unaware, but these ones will be ready for me. The pistol is a dark black, and the wood on the shotgun gleams in the low light. My car waits for me outside, it starts to life with its usual purr. 

The trip is not extremely long, the sounds of traffic, and my whiny air conditioner. Follow me until the pavement gives way to gravel. Rocks crunch under my tires and my brakes squeal as I look down the driveway. It is long, I will have to walk all the way. The guns are heavy in my hands, my feet give me away long before I see the house.

It is nice. Two stories, siding painted a baby blue, that would look lovely in the day. I used to have one of these. The man on the porch startles as he sees me. He fumbles for a gun, struggling to grab it due to his already injured arm.

“No, no, no, I’ll get you this time.” My arm flicks upwards and the bullet from the pistol takes him through the eye. He crumples dead. Screaming erupts from inside. I cannot take time now. Holstering the pistol, I ready the shotgun. The door folds in as I kick it down. A girl runs in front of me, and her head explodes in a red mist.

Bullets fire from the kitchen and I duck behind a wall. The gunman empties his magazine, the finger clicking the trigger uselessly. I pop out from my corner and shoot a woman through her middle. Her pistol falls from her hand, and she falls against the stove dragging blood across the glass. Someone is crying upstairs.

Every one of my footsteps fall like hammers against the steps. I crack a door open and see a boy who can’t be more than ten. His superman blanket is pulled to his chin. He looks like my son. Vic had loved Superman, we had watched every movie, cartoon. We had read every comic of the man ever made. The boy sniffles eyes wide. His hair is even similar. Something creaks, most likely the building itself. I raise the shotgun.
The trip back is long, I take an hour in the shower. My skin feels wrong as I try to sleep.

The sun is hot as it beats down on my second skin. Something has permeated my entire body, dripping through my skin and into my veins. It makes me shake and shudder, as I watch the motel. Goebbels was never used for his mind. He had no tactics, just an unflinching brutality. He still holds loyalty to his old world. This was always going to get him in the end, just like it got Zhou. He thinks he is better, that he can evade the world.

I think of my son Vic, soon she begins to enter my thoughts. She watches me from the motel balcony, as Goebbels steps out from room 203. I must take him now. My shots are erratic as they rip through the air. Goebbels bellows as bullets rip through his shoulder. They are both here now, watching, judging.
Goebbels returns fire, and pain blooms in my ribs.

Grunting I swing the shotgun up and fire one handed. The shot is wild, my shoulder pops out of its socket, and the shotgun clatters to the ground. Yet somehow Goebbels has been struck. He crawls towards the blue pool, wheezing, bald head glistening in the sun. His nazi tattoo peeks from under his collar as I approach him. Vic pleads with silent eyes, while she stands there arms crossed.

I do not see the knife as it plunges into the inside of my thigh. The blood is warm and red, and I am going numb. Goebbels tears the knife down my leg, and I scream. He laughs with glee, before I put the shotgun barrel to his head, and turn it into pulp.

I fall into the pool, unable to control my body anymore. I see them, they watch as I slowly sink from the glistening sun, and down into the waves. Cold embraces me.

Even here they watched her. This used to be her place, but they now followed her everywhere. Amy didn’t mind the staring, not after this long. The voices were what truly disturbed her. She could ignore the stares, even as they had permeated into her life more and more. The whispers were what she truly feared. They put a voice to the fears, breaking through as she tried to convince herself it was going to be ok.
But they had won. Why else had she decided to come back? Wind made the branches of the trees moan. The eyes stared at her from the knots of the poplar and pine trees. They watched as they always did, never leaving her for a moment. Not at school, not at home, not even in her own room.
She ignored them, even as they moved soundlessly. The voices themselves were quiet. Their whispers floated along the wind. Some mocked her, some mourned for her. She found herself wondering what they would say about her. Guilt stabbed her stomach when she thought of her parents, her friends. They wouldn’t understand, she hoped they could find it in themselves to forgive her. 
A twig snapped under her foot, and the summer air took a sudden chill to it. Her feet moved on their own, her hands held no light. There was no more avoiding it, no more fighting it. The eyes on the trees glowed with an unearthly pale glow, watching like they had for so many years. 
“This way, this way.” a voice whispered. A breeze tugged at her hand, and blew on her back pushing and pulling her further into the woods. Her heart ached the further she stepped in. Had this ever been her happy place? Had every walk with her father been another step into the tiger’s jaws? Amy’s breath began to fog in front of her, she was close now.
A mouth pushed itself through the bark of a tree, its pearly teeth chomping the bark before it opened its mouth to speak. “This way, now, go, please.” it said. More mouths appeared, and soon a chorus of the young and old urged her on. Tears had started streaming down her face in earnest, as the moon disappeared beneath large black branches bigger than any tree in the country. 
Her head had filled with wonder when she had gazed upon them. Ancient entities that had stayed hidden for so long. She wished she had been less stupid and seen them for what they truly were. They mocked her as they swayed in the breeze. Malice dripped from their crooked limbs. She began to descend, feet weaving around the rocks and roots of the hills perfectly. 
The massive trees grew as she stepped down into the bowl of a valley they grew around.  Amy came to a stop. This was where the line ended. She weeped as the wind howled around her, yanking her hair. It was done waiting.

They found Amy Fetterman coughed onto the shore not far from town. The water drifted by lazily while a tree moaned in the wind while it looked down on her. It was mournful.

Mike opened the door of his home and stepped outside into the hot Utah sun. He walked  down the steps and went towards the horse pen. It sat away from the house, but it wasn’t a far  walk by any means. He knew his sister would be sitting by it looking at the horses. He was right.  Helen had her arms hung over the fence staring into the pen. Mike shriveled his nose at the smell  as he approached the pen.  

“Helen come back inside, please, it's hot outside.” Helen let out a shaky breath. Mike  realized that she had been crying. The horses' deaths had hit her hard, they had been like best  friends to her. Mike looked at the horses. He didn’t like to, the sight disturbed him. They had two  horses, one white, with black spots on her coat, simply named polka dot. She had been Helen’s  favorite out of the two. The other horse Chester had a simple brown coat, and he had been a good  horse. Now the two of them were laid on the ground ripped apart. Chester’s eyes were wide with  fear. Whatever he had seen in his final moments still scared him even in death. The heat had  given their bodies a horrible stench. Flies buzzed around their carcasses, and Mike was sure that  if he went into the pen, he would find maggots crawling inside of them.  

“No, I don’t want to, I want Polka dot, and Chester back.” Helen sobbed. Tears ran down  her face and fell into the dry ground, which sucked them up greedily. “I want Dad to come back, I  just want everything to be normal again.” Now she cried. Mike wrapped his arms around her 

shoulders, and pulled her away from the horse fence. Slowly he walked her back towards the  house. Mike shared his sister’s concerns. Their Dad had been gone for a full day now. He had  gone out to hunt whatever had killed the horses. Mike would never forget the look on his father’s  face before he had left, his hunting rifle in hand. He had looked scared, something Mike had  never seen his father be before. 

“Look after your sister, ok?” he had said. Mike remembered the iron grasp of his father’s  hand on his shoulder. With rifle in hand and a pack slung over his shoulder he took the family  truck and drove off into the desert, to find whatever had killed the horses. Mike wished his father  would come back, they should have got help, but his father was a proud man, and those horses  had meant as much to him as they did to Helen. Now he had been gone for a full day and Mike  was scared. He tried his best to stay brave for his sister, but he didn’t know how well he was  doing. He was only fifteen, and Helen was twelve. They were too young to be left in the middle  of the desert. The nearest town was a forty-minute drive, and the only truck was gone.  

Mike opened the door, and gently guided his sister back inside. Helen walked off to her  room, to weep. The house was quiet, so he could still hear her gentle sobs. He wanted to comfort  her, but he didn’t know how. What would he tell her? That everything was going to be, ok? It  obviously wasn’t. Their father was somewhere in the desert hunting down some sort of animal.  What could even do that to horses? Mike sat in the living room, and flicked on the t.v, he could  at least distract himself for a little while.  

The day passed by slowly. Mike managed to cook up some soup for himself and Helen.  Walking to her room, he knocked on the door. 

“What do you want?” she asked. 

“I made some soup; you should come have a little bit.” Helen sighed. She got up and  followed him out to the kitchen, so he took that as a good sign. The curtains were all closed, but  the sun would be setting now, and darkness would soon swallow up the desert. They sat in their  usual spots at the table. Helen on one side of the table and Mike right across from her. Their  father sat at the head of the table, but his spot was empty. Mike slowly picked away at his soup.  Helen did as well. He was glad she was eating; it would keep her strength up. He didn’t know  what to do if their father didn’t come back soon. They might have to brave the journey to the  nearest town, and that was a daunting task. A predator could pick them off and kill them. “If we  could make it to the road, then somebody would see us and give us a ride into town.” That  would be the best. If animals didn’t pick them off, then the sheer heat of the sun surely would.  Also, they only had so much food in the house, they would run out eventually. Mike ran these  thoughts through his head as he stirred his soup around.  

Mike looked over to Helen. She didn’t say anything. She just stared down at her soup  with eyes that seemed to look at nothing. He could tell she was trying not to look at the empty  spot at the table. He couldn’t blame her. Every time Mike glanced over, it just reminded him of  the massive empty hole left by their father’s absence. Silence reigned for another ten minutes.  When suddenly a voice broke it. 

“Let me in.,” said the voice. Mike shot straight up in his seat. Helen did the same. With  wide eyes she looked towards the door. “Let me in.” the voice said again. Mike recognized it. It  was his father’s. How could that be, why hadn’t he heard the truck? “Let me in.” their father said  again. This time though it sounded wrong, strained somehow. Helen got off her chair and moved  towards the door. Mike was quicker though. He leapt up from his chair and grabbed Helen,  yanking her away before she could answer it. “Let...me....IN!” the voice screamed this time,  violently banging on the door. Pulling Helen away from the door Mike dragged her to the 

kitchen. Helen didn’t say a word, she had a look of terror on her face. Whatever was out there,  was not their father. It had his voice but it was definitely not him. Whatever was on the other  side of the door kept slamming it. The door rattled and shook, it looked as if it were about to  break.  

“Quick, Helen helped me push the couch in front of the door.” Helen nodded. Together they  pushed the couch in front of the door. Whatever was outside seemed to get frustrated, and it let  out a screech of anger. Helen covered her ears and turned away from the door.  

“Go away!” she screamed. Silence greeted them outside of the door. Then a voice spoke  up, 

“Let me in.,” said Helen. Mike’s eyes went wide. He looked at Helen. She slapped her  hand over her mouth, eyes wide. “Please let me in.” the voice said. Mike and Helen stood staring  at the door; eyes wide. They didn’t make a sound. “It’s so cold.” the voice said. Then it went  silent. Mike and Helen stood still, not daring to make a sound. Whatever was at the door gave up.  The sound of feet moved away from the house and into the night. The two siblings sat staring at  the door for another three hours. Eventually they moved. Helen looked at Mike, her eyes wide. 

“What was that?” she whispered. Mike gulped his mouth dry. 

“I... I don’t know. It has dad’s voice though.” 

“Is dad dead?” Mike looked at Helen eyes wide, he didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t  bother. Helen broke down and wept quietly. Mike felt tears running down his face as well. He  knew deep down inside of him that the thing outside had killed their father, and was also  responsible for killing the horses. 

The rest of the night passed slowly. Helen fell asleep, and Mike tried to stay awake, but  he kept dozing off, walking up in fits and starts. Occasionally through the night he could hear his  father's voice from outside the house. Whatever was outside had not left. It switched back and  forth from his father’s voice to Helens. It kept asking to be let in, though it didn’t come back to  the house, and bang on the door again. It was watching them though, stalking them. Mike had no  idea what they were pitted up against, but he had heard tales of such a creature before.  Skinwalkers, was what they were called in the legends. Their father used to tell it to him and his  sister as a scary story, but that was all it had been. Just a story, nothing more. In the legends, it  was said that a Skinwalker used to be a sorcerer that could take on the form of an animal. Mike  had no idea what was out there, but it was the closest thing that he could come up with. 

Mike woke up with a start. He rubbed his eyes, and looked around. He had fallen asleep.  Cursing silently to himself he looked around for Helen. He calmed down when he saw her curled  up on the floor. The creature had not broken in. Mike let out a breath. He walked away from  where Helen was curled up on the floor, and walked towards the kitchen. He quickly took stock  of what food they had. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he was guessing they had around a week left  of food. The water cooler had half a jug in it, plus one more unopened one sat next to it. 

Looking at his sleeping sister, Mike knew that he had to make a critical choice. Wait in  the house, or venture out into the desert and reach the road. They would have to make it through  the hot sun, and the creature was still loose out in the wild. They would be easy pickings out in  the flat terrain. However, Mike knew deep down in his heart that this was the best option. They  couldn’t count on anyone to come and save them. They had no phone to call for help, no  vehicle. The people in town already knew that they were recluses, so by the time they thought  to check up on them, it could be too late.

Walking back to Helen. Mike bent down and gently shook her awake. She rubbed her  eyes and looked up at him. 

“Is it gone?” she asked? Mike shrugged. 

“I’m not sure, but we can’t stay in this house any longer we need to get out.” “How?” asked Helen. “Dad took the truck; we’ll have to walk.” Mike nodded. 

“I know, but it's our only option. We don’t know when people are going to come look for  us. If we can reach the road, someone might see us and take us to town.” 

Helen’s eyes went wide with fear. “What if that thing is out there?” she asked. Mike  wanted to just say nothing, but he knew he had to put on a brave face for Helen. 

“I’ll fight it off.” he said with a boldness he did not feel.  

“How?” asked Helen. Mike felt his confidence slip immediately. “It got dad Mike; how  could you fight it off?”  

“I’ll have you; we can fight it together,” said Mike. He needed to convince Helen to be  brave. If she shut down on him, then she could be hard to reason with. He just needed her to be  brave for a little while longer. 

“We can’t do that, we’re not as strong as dad, we don’t even know what the creature  looks like.”  

Once again Helen was right. They knew nothing about this creature, other than Mike’s  own theory that it was a Skinwalker.

“What other choice do we have Helen?” Mike asked. “We stay here, we die, just like  dad!” Mike’s voice was getting louder, he hadn’t meant to yell, but he couldn’t help it. They  didn’t have many options and their time was slowly ticking away. Helen flinched. 

“I... I don’t know.” Helen whimpered. Mike sat back. 

“I’m sorry Helen, I didn’t mean to yell. I’m just scared.” This seemed to almost comfort  Helen.  

“You are too?” she asked. Mike nodded.  

“But don’t worry, we can get out of here I know we can.” 

“How can we fight it?” she asked warily. 

“With dad’s old shotgun, we could fend it off, we just need to hit the road. The day is the  best time to go. It only comes at night.” Helen looked at him with a dubious look on her face, but  she seemed to be more convinced to follow him than she had before. They spent the next hour  making their plan. It wasn’t a complicated one, they would both pack bags with food and water  in them. Mike would carry the old shotgun. He had fired it a few times before and understood  how to use it well enough to defend him and his sister. 

“Are you almost done packing?” Mike asked Helen.  

“I think so, who will look after us when we get to town?” she asked.  

“Not sure, they’ll probably take us to grandmas, she's the closest.”  

“Are we going to have to tell her what happened to dad?” Mike hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah, probably.” 

“What if no one believes us?” 

“We can’t worry about that Helen, we'll have to figure it out when we get there, for now  let’s just focus on getting out of here before that thing comes back.” Mike hefted the shotgun  under his arm. It was loaded, but not cocked. He didn’t want to accidentally fire the gun off, and  blast his foot into smithereens. He slung his bag over his shoulder, packed with water and some  food. He wanted to be sure that in case something went horribly wrong they would have some  food and water to keep their strength up. He looked over to Helen who had her bag slung over  her own shoulders. 

“I’m ready.” she said. She had a massive floppy sun hat on her head and looked  determined to leave the house. Mike wore a ball cap on his head. 

“Alright, let’s get out of here.” They both turned towards the door and walked over to it.  They began to move the couch out of the way. Something slammed into the door, and it shook.  Mike could have sworn he heard the door crack.  

“Let me innnn.” said the creature. Mike and Helen slammed the couch back into the door  and backed up. However, this did not seem to deter the creature. The door cracked and creaked.  Suddenly a twisted deformed claw smashed through the door. Loud screeching came through the  door. It sounded like a murder of crows, all screeching separately. Helen screamed and ran to her  room. The head of the beast came through the door next. Its antlers appeared first. They looked  like deer antlers, and the head they were attached to was a deer, but it was nightmarish. Sunken  blood red eyes glared out of its face. A crooked jaw filled with jagged yellow teeth filled its  maw. A red snake tongue forked out. The creature's screeching filled the entire room. 

Raising the shotgun Mike pulled back the hammer of the gun. He raised the gun to his  shoulder and fired. The creature screamed in agony, and its head dipped back out. Mike turned 

and ran hefting the shotgun with him. He ran to Helen’s room and rammed open the door. She  was in the corner of her room screaming.  

“Helen, we gotta go!” Helen covered her ears and cried. The creature screamed from the  living room. The sound of wood splintering could be heard. Mike threw his backpack off his  shoulder and began ripping into it. He pulled out two shells and with shaking hands managed to  load the gun. Helen had quieted down. The screeching had gone silent, but Mike could hear the  thing walking around. Whirling he clamped a hand over Helen’s mouth looking her dead in the  eye. The thing was by the door to the room. It stood by the door. Then it began tearing the door  down. The thing ripped it off of its hinges in an instant. Helen screamed in terror, and the beast  screamed with its piercing cry. Mike raised the gun and fired. The pellets hit the beast in the  body, black blood leaked from its skinny wretched body. The thing fell to the ground screaming. 

Grabbing Helen, Mike tore her to her feet and they ran past the creature. The monster  picked itself up and screeched and ran after them. Mike and Helen ran towards the door, but the  thing leapt across the room blocking them off. Screeching it rushed right at Mike and Helen.  Mike raised the shotgun between him and the creature. The thing slammed into him, smashing  him into the ground. Screaming Mike kept the shotgun between him and the beast. The  Skinwalker was strong however, and it batted the gun out of his hands. It raised its long-clawed  hand and went to swing. It stopped and screamed; the noise made Mike’s ears ring.  

Rolling around on the ground, the Skinwalker screamed in agony. A knife stuck out of its  ribs. Whirling Mike looked at Helen who was standing in the kitchen, glaring the beast down,  she had another knife in hand. Scrambling Mike grabbed his bag that had fallen to the floor.  Digging through it he pulled out two more shells. The Skinwalker hadn’t pulled the knife out of 

its ribs but it charged screaming. Letting out a banshee like shriek, Helen charged the beast knife  raised. Mike grabbed the shotgun and charged at it with her. 

The creature swung its clawed hand at Helen, but Mike threw himself in between. Pain lit  up his ribs as he felt the creature cut through his skin like paper. He fell to the ground, the  shotgun falling out of his hands. Helen charged forward planting the knife deep into the  creature's chest. Shrieking and wailing, the creature fell to its back, clawing at the knife. Black  blood leaked everywhere, from the knife wounds and the shotgun blasts. Clutching his side Mike  limped towards the shotgun, scooping it up he crawled to where the shells lay. The creature’s  screeching filled his head. Moving fast Mike opened the gun and loaded the shells, ignoring the  bloodstain that was now soaking his shirt. Turning Mike saw Helen sprint to the kitchen, to grab  another knife. Raising the shotgun, Mike pulled back the hammer and aimed it at the  Skinwalkers head as it charged him screaming and shrieking. The Skinwalker leapt clawed hands  stretched out, red eyes blazing with fury. 

The shotgun blast echoed in the room, and the gun bucked into Mike’s side, making him  grimace and fall. The Skinwalker was hit directly in the head. At such close range the shotgun  shattered the creature's skull. Its screaming went silent and it crashed down onto the floor, black  blood and pieces of whatever it had as a brain now spilled out onto the floor. 

“Mike!” Helen cried. “Are you alright?” Nodding shakily, Mike took in a breath, and  winced at the pain in his side. 

“Yeah, I think so, it didn’t cut me too deep, I should be ok.” He heard Helen let out a sigh  of relief.  

“It’s dead, we can leave now.” Helen smiled for the first time since their father had gone  missing. Mike was glad she was happy. With Helen’s help he picked himself up off the floor and 

slung, his arm over her shoulder. A sound broke through the peace. It was a horrible sound. It  was the sound of screaming birds, like a horde of them. Helen looked at Mike in horror as the  sounds got closer and closer to their house.