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Earl keeps his eyes locked on the road ahead, jaw tight enough to crack teeth, but doesn’t respond.

“That thing was standing on two legs,” I snap. “And unless Oregon’s got some kind of mutant fucking grizzly population, bears don't have arms like that.”

“Boy, you need to learn when to keep your mouth shut.”

I slump against the seat, trying to breathe steadily while my brain desperately scrambles for logic. I've seen plenty of bears and none of them looked like that. It had to have been some huge guy in hunting gear or something. A costume, maybe. That's the only explanation.

Except…

The way that thing moved… wasn’t human, and no human stands that tall.

Outside, the forest presses tightly against both sides of the road, endlessly suffocating. Earl says nothing the rest of the drive, and neither do I, too lost in my own thoughts. Every now and then, I swear I catch movement following alongside us, but by the time I turn my head, there’s never anything there. Just terrifying, inky darkness.

One thing is definitely certain: I may not know for sure what the hell I saw out there, but I can guarantee that it wasn't any fucking bear.

Chapter

Seven

Benji

The sheriff left me in a holding cell for three days—basically my entire week off.

By the time Uncle Gale finally picks me up from the station, I'm exhausted and my back aches from sleeping on an old metal cot. Not that I slept much anyway. The feeling of something watching me through the window bars kept me awake, even though I never saw anything there.

“Rough vacation?” he chuckles dryly as we exit the building into the parking lot.

I shoot him a glare. “Your sheriff’s a psychopath.”

“Nah. Earl’s actually pretty reasonable.”

“He threatened to shoot me because his wife invited me over.”

Gale shrugs without missing a beat. “Reasonable by Deadfall standards, anyway. I told you to be careful.”

We slide into his truck, which clearly needs a wash and some detailing. From the smell alone, it's clear that he practically lives in the thing. The engine coughs to life before Gale throws the truck into gear and pulls away from the station.

I can tell he's pissed about having to drive me all the way to Portland for my Camaro, but he stays silent once we get onto the road. So do I.

Rain streaks across the windshield while the town crawls slowly past outside. Everything looks greener after three days locked in a concrete box and yet, the sight of mossy forest stretching high above only sets me on edge. Somehow, I felt safer back in my cell, protected by Deadfall's finest.

Side-eyeing my uncle, I swallow hard before finally breaking the silence. “Back at the sheriff’s house… when he put me inside his cruiser, I saw something.”

Gale’s grip tightens almost imperceptibly on the wheel. “You were drunk,” he says flatly.

I let out a sharp laugh. “No, I wasn't. He lied on the police report, and he saw the same thing I did.”

Gale keeps his eyes straight ahead.

“Earl told it to leave,” I continue quietly. “Like he’d done it before.”

“Probably a bear.” The older man reaches for the radio knob, but I slap his hand away before he can touch it.

“It wasn’t a fucking bear, Gale. It looked exactly like whatever Dennis drew in his journal, and Mary at the gas station asked me if I'd seen ‘it’ yet. So what the hell's out there?”

My uncle mutters under his breath, jerking the wheel to the right and taking the next exit. “That old bat isn't right in the head, whole town’ll tell you that. Did they feed you in there? Want a burger or something?”

“No,” I say through gritted teeth, rubbing my fist into my eyes. “What I want is some fucking answers.”