Page 20 of While They Watch

Several attempts later, I figure out that I need to push the bullets down into a lower chamber which leaves room to keep adding more. Finally, I get excited, picking up another bullet and doing the same. This one also clicks into place right above the last. I keep pushing bullets in until I can’t add any more, but when I go to close the bullets inside, once again, it won’t close. I push harder but still nothing happens.

“What the fuck…” I mumble to myself feeling frustrated at how little I remember about guns. I wish I had paid more attention at that gun range. I try to dump the bullets back out again but this time only one falls out. I realize, I have no idea how to get the rest out, so I don’t bother trying. As I look down at the one that did fall out, I notice it looks weird. It’s green and swollen; the end of it is even a little bent. I throw it back into the box before placing a different, better-looking bullet into the gun. I take a deep breath and try to close the gun. It takes a little force, but the bullet pushes into the front, letting me twist it closed. My eyes go wide, “Oh my god… I did it!” A huge smile inches across my face at my victory. I place the gun back into the box before grabbing Luke’s supplies and head back upstairs.

When I get back into the bedroom, Luke has kicked the blankets off himself and is now shivering. I hurry to him, setting the food and water on the bedside before tucking the blankets back around him. This time I leave his arms out and push the blankets underneath him, hoping they will be secure enough to stay.

There isn’t anything else I can do to help him here. He needs a hospital with medicine and real food. I’m starting to feel afraid that if I don’t find help, he could die. I let one tear slip down my face but wipe it away before it falls. If I can’t stay calm and strong, then this is over before it begins. I lean down and kiss Luke’s lips softly but he doesn’t kiss me back or acknowledge my presence. “I love you. I’m going to go get help, but I’ll be back. I promise.” As I start to stand, I see a ring on his finger. Luke doesn’t wear a ring. I attempt to pull it off, but it’s stuck. Where did he get that and why would he put it on? It gives me a terrible feeling, but I don’t have time to worry about it.

I race around the room, throwing supplies into Luke’s hiking backpack before getting dressed. I put on as many layers as I can, tying my hair up before covering it all with my hat so it doesn’t get caught on anything again. I throw the backpack over my shoulder and walk out of the room, stopping for one last look at Luke. I take a moment, trying to memorize every part of his face. Before I turn to leave, I see my shattered phone on the bedside table. I’ve had it plugged in since I stepped on it, hoping it might still turn on. So far it hasn’t, but something tells me to bring it anyway. I’m glad I decided to grab it because at the last second I also remember the walkie- talkies, taking one and tossing it into the backpack as well. I position the other closer to Luke where I hope he will see it.

As I’m walking down the hallway, I hear a knock at the front door. My head snaps up and I can't help but smile with excitement. I run to the stairs, hoping I’m not just hearing things. Please let someone be here, someone who can help us–maybe the cleaners, like Luke predicted. I get halfway down the stairs before a voice calls out, “Hello? Is anyone there? If you let me in, I’ll help you. Hello?” I halt on the steps, my heart sinking, the voice isn’t normal. It sounds almost robotic, fading in and out, sometimes stuttering, almost like it’s practicing the words. I sneak down a few steps and when I get low enough to glimpse out the window, I see a figure standing at the door. I’m still high enough on the stairs that all I can see is their midsection. Its body looks bent and disfigured. Its skin grey and sunken-in, tight to its bones. Every rib is poking out at different angles. It’s not human. At least… not anymore.

The thought crushes every ounce of hope I had. I want to scream and punch the walls, but I don’t dare make even the smallest noise so, instead, I focus all my attention on squeezing the straps of the backpack. My sore fingers scream in agony, but the pain is the only thing keeping me in this moment.

Suddenly, it walks away from the window, its steps heavy and booming against the wooden porch. I jump a little with every vibration as it moves away. Quietly, I finish walking down the stairs. I don’t want to lose sight of it, and let it become hidden somewhere on the property. I need to keep control where I can. This all feels different now, more dangerous. It isn’t sneaking around or staying in the shadows. Instead, it wants to be seen.

I run to the kitchen window and wait as it slowly walks into view. I peek my head into the window just enough to be able to see. I thought it would’ve been running to the side of the cabin, moving with ease and speed but instead I watch as it lumbers slowly into the clearing. With this vantage point and bright daylight, I can see its long, skeletal body in its entirety. Its arms are almost as long as it is tall and it drags its long, sharp fingernails along the ground as it walks.

As I watch, I get the sense that it can’t see very well. Perhaps it's not a coincidence that most of our encounters so far have been when it's dark. Most predators come out at night and I have no reason to think these things are different. It stops in the middle of the yard before turning and staring toward the cabin. It’s far enough away that I can’t see where it’s looking but close enough that I can see the horrible, yellow eyes that have been following me around this place. My mind is trying to connect the dots, trying to place the creature into a category. Is it human or is it an animal? I don’t think it’s either. It’s a monster. Its face is sunken-in with thin, wisps of white hair hanging down past its shoulders. The hair is so white that I can see its misshapen skull underneath and big patches of green mold or moss covering different areas of the creature’s body.

“Hanna…. I need help. Please help me. I’m hungry. Let me in. Don’t let me die,” the words come from the creature, its mouth open but not moving, drool dripping from the corners as it continues to cry to me. It uses my own voice, then Luke’s and finally a mismatched jumble of both.

My hands grip the edge of the counter. In this moment, I’m not scared–I’m angry. I don’t have time for this. Luke needs me. I whirl around, dropping the backpack to the floor before I start moving around the kitchen, grabbing everything else I think I could need. I walk back over to the gun box and pick through the rest of the bullets, making sure to grab the best-looking ones and shove them into my jacket pocket. When I look at the gun, I worry it won’t fit in the backpack and I know already I don’t want to have to carry it the entire time. I bring the bag over and do my best to move everything to one side before shoving the gun in, butt-end first. I’m able to get it almost all the way inside, the top just barely sticking out. Relieved, I zip the bag up as tight as I can and hope for the best.

Now that I’m packed and technically ready to go, I freeze where I’m standing. I need to get help for Luke quickly; something deep inside me tells me that he doesn’t have a lot of time. I take a step toward the front door, stopping as I remember not only what’s out there but also how long the driveway was getting to the cabin. Not to mention, how far we are from the closest town. I could be walking for days before someone finds me. I try to think back to recall how many people we passed while driving and, for the life of me, I can’t remember any other car.

I need to think of something else. There has to be another way. I won’t be able to find help without some sort of plan. There seemingly isn’t anyone around for miles and I don’t even know what direction to start walking. I need to be prepared because knowing me, I could become lost very easily. The horrible thought of being lost in the middle of the forest reminds me of Luke’s father telling him to go to a fire tower. Like the one we saw at our picnic at the river. If Luke is right about it, there could be a radio. What if I could get there?

I try to push the thought away, dismissing it as an impossibility even though I already can feel the adrenaline of excitement coursing through my veins. I can’t stop the questions cycling through my mind. Could I possibly hope to retrace our steps? Can I afford to not try?

I get frustrated at my conflicted feelings on it and wish again Luke was able to help me. Why did he have to be so impulsive and run out into the woods? I warned him something was out there. This is what I was scared would happen.

I march over to the nearby couch, grabbing one of the pillows and scream into it. I scream until I can’t anymore. Until my lungs hurt. I feel dizzy, afterward and sit down, letting my breathing and heart-rate even back out. My head feels a little clearer now. I close my eyes, taking another deep breath.

My only real, solid option is to try to make it there. The thought of getting to a radio is too tempting to pass up. But how can I get to it through a forest that all looks the same? A small amount of anxiety creeps its way back in as I remember how even Luke got turned around out there. I push it away, focusing on what I do have going in my favor. It’s daylight, but I also have to assume that creature is watching me and if I just walk into the woods, out in the open, it would come for me.

My mind unavoidably travels to the basement. Luke said he had a dream that the tunnel down there leads outside. Is that even an option worth considering? I don’t want to go in that pitch-black tunnel but what if it’s the only other way out of the cabin. Maybe it could take me far enough away from here that I could have a fighting chance to avoid the monster altogether, especially if it’s busy watching the cabin. The part holding me back is that I have no way of knowing how long the tunnel is or even which direction it goes.

A memory so abruptly enters my mind, it takes me a moment to process it— the map in the shed. I try to conjure the rough sketch in my mind but as I work to grab hold of the memory, it fades further. I wish I had paid closer attention to the details, but the pressure of trying to remember leaves my mind blank. Why didn’t I bring it inside with me? It doesn’t matter now, I don’t have it and I can’t risk coming face to face with whatever that thing is, so I’ll just have to leave without it and hope for the best.

I walk back over to the basement’s open door and I’m about to take the first step downstairs before I stop myself once again with a frustrated sigh. Remembering how the blackness swallowed up everything, I can’t push back the rising terror of being trapped with no light. I don’t actually know how much life is left in the one flashlight I have but assuming it’s old, probably not a lot. Having enough light could be the difference between life and death down there. Or at the bare minimum, something that will help me hold onto my sanity. Once again, I’m faced with the idea of going out to the shed, but this time, for more of the flashlights I saw out there.

I sigh in resignation. Even though the last thing I want to do is go back out to the shed, I owe it to myself and to Luke to be as prepared as possible. He's counting on me. Plus, I would have the chance to grab the map and hopefully up my chances of making it to the tower. I try to focus on the hope as I feel myself forcing my own hand but mostly… I’m terrified. One more big risk before I leave. I don’t want to, but I’m going back out to the shed.

It’s so close. I can make it, I think, as I turn around and drop my bag. “Fuck it.”

_____

I walk to each window, checking the property for signs of that thing. I already know, though, that if it doesn’t want to be seen, it won’t be. I scan the tree line and let myself be momentarily comforted when I don’t see anything. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to walk to the front door and open it. I keep my eyes peeled as I quietly sneak around the house. I hate that I can’t see the shed from the front door. The anticipation of what could be around the corner fills me with dread.

I hold my breath as I peek around the cabin, relieved when I see the yard is empty. I don’t hesitate, taking my chance and running the rest of the way to the shed. I burst inside, going straight for the shelf with the flashlights and grab the box, pulling different ones out. When I try to turn the first flashlight on, it doesn’t work, so I throw it to the side before grabbing another. I start to panic when the second one doesn’t turn on. Finally, the last one lights up. “Thank god,” I say under my breath.

My head snaps up when I hear something start scratching the back of the shed. It’s breathing heavily and fast. I look up at the open door, my panic surging as I rush over and pull the door shut, locking myself inside. I fall as I stumble backwards. My breath is racing as I look side to side, searching for any way the creature could get in that I might be overlooking. Then the banging starts, the walls shaking from the impact.

“Help! Help! Help!” It screams repeatedly; its voice is shrill and ear piercingly loud. It slams against the sides of the shed as it moves closer to the door. I see its shadow eclipse the light coming from underneath. “Mommy, let me in. I’m scared.” Its voice seamlessly changes from something inhuman to that of a child. I cover my ears with my hands, trying to block out the horrifying crying and screaming. It scratches at the door; the wood sounds like it's going to split in two. I don’t know how long the door is going to hold, so I jump up, shoving my new flashlight into my pocket.

When I look back toward the door one last time, I see a kitchen knife sitting on one of the shelves. My heart skips a beat at my good luck. I lunge forward and grab the knife before backing as far away from the door as I can. I don’t stop until my lower back hits the table at the other end of the room. The impact startles me at first, but then I jump into action. I turn around, frantically looking through the various papers on the table. Gasping with relief as I see the map with the red circle. I grab it and shove it into my pocket–another crumpled map it is.

I look up at the window. It’s my only chance. I climb onto the table. It’s now or never. Without giving into the hesitation I feel, I open the window and throw the knife out and then stick my arms out after it. Once I get my head and upper body through, I use my arms to pull, push and wiggle myself out before gravity takes over and I fall the rest of the way to the ground. I tuck my body as fast as I can, so I land on my back and not my head. The impact with the ground knocks the air from my lungs, but I only let myself lay for a second before I push myself up onto my feet and grab the knife.