Page 25 of While They Watch

Suddenly, a strong wind blows through the field, cutting off the sound of the screams. My hair whips around my face as I desperately try to keep it out of my eyes. My eyes dart back and forth, trying to find what’s shrieking at me. As I step to the side of the giant effigy, I see it. My nightmare is standing in the shadows of the trees at the far end of the clearing; standing tall and still, its arms hanging limp next to its emaciated looking body. I can see it breathing; its hot breath blowing out a cloud of steam in the cold air surrounding us.

I take a step backward, and in my next blink the creature is hurtling toward me on all fours. Without hesitation, I drop the sleeping bag and turn, running full force toward the trees on the other side. I don’t know why but I know that if I can just make it to the trees, I’ll be safe. I pump my arms as hard as I can, the backpack slamming up and down on my back, reminding me of how much faster I could be if I dropped it but I can’t afford to lose it. My legs burn but I don’t slow down. I push past the pain in my side and my pounding heart but it’s still gaining on me. I can hear its loud, huffing breaths behind me. Its footsteps shake the Earth behind me, but I’m close.

Just a little further, a little faster. I muster up every ounce of determination as I lean forward and force my legs to move quicker. I can sense it’s almost closed the gap between us. I can almost feel its sharp nails cutting through me. Right as I think my heart is going to explode, I burst into the trees.

Forgetting my new rule, I instinctively look behind me. The field is empty but before I can slow down, I collide with something. I bounce off it and fall to the ground. Once again, the wind has been knocked out of me. I roll onto my side and lay on the ground, gasping. I want to get up and start running again but I can’t. Right as I’m sure I’m going to suffocate, a huge gush of air rushes into my lungs, and I start coughing. Choking on the air that’s trying to save me.

“Where the hell did you come from?” A scratchy voice says from above me. “Are you okay, ma’am?” Confused, I look up slowly, not knowing what to expect. Standing over me is an older man, dressed in hunting camo with a gun slung over his shoulder. I blink a few times, not knowing what to do or say. My body and mind are in shock–-so much has happened in the last few minutes. He holds his hand out to me, and I warily take it, letting him pull me up. “Do you need help?” All I can manage is a nod before I burst into tears. “Whoa whoa, it’s alright. Come here, come sit down.”

Still holding onto my hand, he gently pulls me toward a tree stump and helps lower me down onto it. As I try to pull myself together enough to say something back to him, he carefully takes hold of my backpack, pulling it off me and setting it on the ground. Then, he kneels so he’s face-level with me, giving me a reassuring smile before handing me his water. I grab it, gulping it down greedily and then feeling slightly embarrassed. I look up at him, forcing myself to meet his eyes.

“Th… thank you,” I say quietly. The words sound weird coming out of my mouth with how little I’ve been using my voice. Once I start speaking though, I can’t stop. I need to get it all out so I sit there and tell him the entire crazy story. I don’t hold back any details and he never interrupts me. He only stands with his arms crossed, pacing at times but always listening. I can see he’s really paying attention and that he cares because he stops occasionally making eye contact with me before nodding and encouraging me to keep going. When I get to the end of the story, I slouch forward, tired and weary. The emotional toll it’s taken out of me by reliving it in my mind, scares me. “I promised I would go back for him. We need to go get the police or somebody.” More tears slip down my face as I feel my whole body start to shake, the adrenaline is finally wearing off.

“We will, I swear and I hate to say this but… there’s no way we can go tonight. If what you are saying is true, then the things you’re describing are out here right now, and that, combined with the sun being so close to setting…Well, we wouldn’t last two minutes. I have a hunting shack just a mile walk from here. It’s not much but it’s warm and it has a bed. You look like you’re about to fall over where you sit. Now I’m not going to tell you what to do and you can go if you want, but I’ll just say this–you getting further lost out here or getting deathly ill yourself isn’t going to help save your Luke. You might not care about a random, old man’s opinion but do me a favor and humor me.” My first thought is that there’s no way I can wait. I’ve lost too much time already but as I look into the eyes of this stranger, I see kindness and wisdom. My gut tells me I can trust him. My mind tells me I don’t have a choice.

I look up at him and nod, “Okay.” He smiles as he pats my leg. Then he grabs my backpack and slings it over his own shoulders before reaching down and pulling me back up. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it.

“Stay close, Miss. It’s not far,” he says as he starts leading me away. He has a small flashlight pinned to his jacket that helps guide our path. It’s much brighter than mine, which is helpful but also casts a larger eerie glow around the trees. I keep my eyes fixed on him though. I don’t let myself look around hoping to keep myself from seeing anything in the trees–real or imaginary. A few minutes into our hike, the sun sets the rest of the way and with it gone, the temperature seems to plummet. I get cold so fast that my teeth start to chatter. I try to make them stop, feeling weirdly embarrassed by this human reaction. You would think after everything I’ve been through I wouldn’t worry so much about what people think, but for some reason I still do. The man stops walking, snapping my attention back to what we’re doing.

“Here it is. Home sweet home. Well, for right now anyway.” He looks back at me and I can tell he’s smiling even though I can barely see him past his bright light. I smile back, hoping it looks as genuine as it feels but also being so tired that I’m not sure it came across that way. He holds the door open for me and the second I step inside, warm air hits my face. I quickly rush to a wood stove that burns in the corner of the small room. It only takes me a few long strides before I’m in front of it holding out my cold hands. Once I have feeling in my fingers again, I turn and let it warm the other side of me. I look around the shack and that’s really all this place is. It’s just a room with a single bed in the very middle, the stove, and a small table and chair. There isn’t even a toilet and though I realize, beggars can’t be choosers, I’m disappointed. It’s a utility-over-comfort sort of place which makes sense given its purpose, but I’ve never been in a room that’s so empty. The walls don’t have much on them. The only things are a perch by the door for his gun and a mirror. Definitely an older man, bachelor-type of vibe. I smile a little at the thought before realizing I haven’t been paying attention to what he’s doing. He probably thinks I’m rude. I look over at him as he is taking off his jacket and setting it on the table.

“This is great. I haven’t been this warm since I left the cabin. Thank you for bringing me here.” I go to say his name before remembering, I don't actually know it. “I’m sorry, I never got your name...?”

“It’s Abel,” he walks over and shakes my hand which makes me laugh and I could swear he blushes a bit. I shake his hand before setting my other hand on top, holding onto his tighter for a moment.

“I owe you everything, Abel. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

“Oh, hey now, you don’t owe me anything. I don’t know a single soul who would have left you out there in that state. Getting you and your fella the help you need will be payment enough.” He pats my hand before pulling away and walking back to the table. “There’s water over here. Help yourself. I have plenty and you take the bed, so you can get some good rest.”

“Oh, Abel, I can’t take your bed...” He puts his hand up, gesturing for me to stop.

“You will. I insist. I have a very comfortable sleeping bag that I can set up right by the fire. I’ll probably be more comfortable than you, to be honest,” he says with a wink. I can tell he’s the type of man that isn’t going to take no for an answer, so I nod.

“Thank you.” He gives one curt nod before grabbing his sleeping bag from under the table and settling down for the night. Before I do the same, I walk over to the table to get a drink of water. I feel thirsty enough to down an entire water bottle, but I can’t stomach the thought of having to go outside while it’s dark to go to the bathroom–or worse, waking Abel to take me. So, I drink just enough to feel a little better.

As I turn around to get into bed, I decide I’m going to brave looking in the mirror. I can’t imagine what I must look like after the last couple days. I’m sure it's not good. Unfortunately, when I get to the mirror, the glass is weirdly distorted, reminding me of a funhouse mirror. My reflection is dim, the only light coming from the wood-stove. The flickering light from the fire isn’t consistent and in turn makes my face look stretched and distorted. I lift my hand up to touch my face and my reflection does the same. My fingers are too long and crooked. I continue to gaze at my darkened reflection, feeling slightly entranced by my warped and twisted appearance. I try smiling but as my reflection smiles back, the edges of my mouth pull up too high. I sigh. It doesn’t matter what I look like. I can almost hear my mother’s voice, “It’s not a fashion show, Hanna.”

I roll my eyes with a smile, pretending she is here. I wish she was. I trudge to the bed, hoping to dream of my parents. As I crawl into the covers and lay my head on the pillow, I’ve never felt more comfortable. In the safety of enclosed walls, my mind feels at peace and immediately I feel myself starting to fall asleep to the soft sound of Abel’s snoring.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I open my eyes, hearing the birds coming from outside. It must be morning, I slept so hard I didn't even dream. At any other time, this wouldn't seem like a weird thing, but since I’ve been in these woods, I haven't missed a dream. I wonder what that means. There isn’t any point in obsessing over what I can’t control, so I let myself enjoy the fact that for the first time in days, I feel well rested. I stretch my arms over my head, feeling oddly relaxed when I should be thinking about the situation I’m still in, but I want to stall being in the real world even for just another few seconds. I close my eyes and let myself drift into a happy daydream.

The birds feel like they are getting louder. Why are they so loud? It sounds like they’re inside. I open my eyes and the first thing I see is my breath in the air. It’s cold in here. It wasn’t this cold when I went to bed last night, not inside. Anxiety wiggles into my brain and even though I want to avoid whatever I might see, I sit up. Sunshine is streaming through the door which is wide open. I jump out of bed, looking toward the fire, where Abel should be, but he isn’t there. Frantically, I glance around the room. He isn’t here. His gun is still sitting above the door on its perch. I don’t know him very well, but he doesn’t strike me as the type of person that would go outside alone without his gun–especially after everything I told him. Heedlessly, I run out the door, not even stopping to put on my jacket or shoes. The same intense, dead smell hits me the moment I step out the door. It’s so strong outside my eyes water but I continue to stumble forward trying to ignore it so I can keep moving.

“Abel…. Abel? Where are you?” I run around the shack, screaming his name but I don’t hear anything back, so I sprint into the trees. I’m moving so fast that I’m not paying attention as I run into a small branch. I’m stunned by the pain that shoots across my face. I reach up, touching my cheek and it feels like I’ve been cut. As I pull my hand away and there’s blood on my fingertips. This only heightens my feelings of wild frustration and desperation. “Abel?!” I scream into the forest again. I have to find him. He couldn’t have just disappeared. I continue to stumble through the forest, calling him louder as the minutes tick by. I know I’m being reckless, but I don’t care. I can’t be out here alone again.

Unexpectedly, another pain shoots up my leg causing me to fall forward. I throw my hands out just in time to catch myself before rolling over and crying out. I slowly sit up, pulling my foot into my lap. There’s a stick impaled into the bottom of it. “Fuck! What the fuck…” I smash my fist into the ground next to me, grabbing dirt and leaves and throwing it as frustration pours out of me.

After I calm down, I pick up my foot again, yanking the stick out before I can lose my nerve. It wasn’t as deep as it felt, but the amount of pain and blood as I pulled it out was enough to make me feel like I might pass out. “Really great. First my face and now this. What is wrong with me?” I try to stand up but when I attempt to put weight on my foot, I fall back onto my knees. I look up to the sky and yell for Abel one last time, but I’m only met with horrible silence. I force myself to stand back up, gritting my teeth with every slow step back to the shack, which thankfully is still in view.

I need to be smarter. It doesn’t help anyone if I can’t keep my head on straight and continue to hurt myself or worse become even more lost. Slowly, I make it back, leaving a bloody trail following me. As I get to the door, the wind has pushed it closed just enough that I can see long, deep scratches etched into it.

I limp into the shack, trying to bite my fingernails, but I’m disappointed when I don’t have anything left to abuse. I look around the room but see no signs of a struggle. All of Abel’s things are here; his boots are still sitting neatly placed next to the stove. He had to have been taken. How didn’t I hear it? I should have done more. He felt so safe, like a lifeline back to the world. I should have been more forceful when I explained the danger we were in. He is out in these woods enough to have this shack. I guess I didn’t think they would bother him. If I’m honest with myself, I know it’s just my mind trying to justify what happened. The creatures want people to come to them. They call and scream, trying to lure people into the woods. They did it to Luke and they’ve tried to do it to me. None of it feels entirely real though.

What is true though is that I didn’t protect Abel. What if I can’t protect Luke? Anger, resentment and fear course through my body and before I know what I’m doing, I’ve walked over to the table. In a daze I fling everything on it across the room, shattering anything that can be shattered. I don’t stop. I’m like a wild animal as I grab the chair and repeatedly slam it against the floor until it's in pieces. Then I begin to scream–I scream until I crumble into a pile on the floor.

I feel empty, but also in some ways, clear. I wipe my face before standing up. The pain from my face stings sharply and I’m reminded of the cut. I slowly hobble over to the mirror, wanting to see how bad it is. I watch the ground as I walk, trying to avoid the mess I made. When I finally look up, toward my reflection, I see trees instead. It’s a window. My breath catches in my throat as I realize, it was never a mirror.