Run & Hide by Beatrix Hollow
24
The campground was on fire. The flames roared and cackled. Brandon looked haunted because he knew what was burning. The tour bus, our cars, our phones, all of our things… and the bodies of his bandmates.
There was no doubt that Loren was responsible for the fire because of the potent, eye-watering stench of gasoline wafting around us.
The weight of the catastrophe bore down on us as the light of day crawled up over the mountains. We didn't welcome it. The brightening sky felt like a cruel joke. Instead of promising us that things were about to get better, all it did was bring our horrible situation into the light. All it did was promise us that daytime wouldn’t save us and that there was still more in store.
This fire meant we were now trapped in the woods, too far away to make it out in a single day. How many miles were between us and the nearest town? The highway? There was a madman on the loose--greedy and angry. We’d suffered through death and trauma but the fire told us it wasn’t over yet.
It didn’t matter that we were tired, hurt, and raw. It wasn’t over yet.
“The ranger station,” I said, turning to look at the others. Brandon kept looking at the fire as if he expected someone to come walking out. “We saw it when we drove in. Three miles before the campground,” I said to Caspian. He was the only one paying attention. Mothman was stomping around, eyes scanning the woods, looking for signs of Loren.
“Good thinking,” Caspian said, nodding. His arm slipped around me and he pulled me into him. He looked back into the fire. The flames had a way of pulling our attention, they danced, memorizing our worn out minds. Loud cracks echoed out from the fire and the loud bang of a falling tree made my heart race. This was on the verge of becoming a true forest fire. Someone would notice it soon, right?
“Your violin…” I said to Caspian. It had been a family heirloom, something so old they couldn’t even be certain the year it was made.
“It was just a violin,” he sighed before tentatively reaching for Brandon. His hand hovered over the other man’s shoulder before he finally dropped it on to him. Brandon startled, turning to look at Caspian in shock. Caspian squeezed his shoulder then pulled back awkwardly.
I realized I’d never seen Caspian have any close friends. He was popular in school but he was the type that floated from friend group to friend group. There was never any depth to his socialization. Caspian wasn’t exactly the charming, socializer with a heart of gold that I had imagined. Was he close to anyone other than me?
“We should go,” Caspian said.
Something whizzed by our bodies, a tiny thing speeding through the air and getting lost to the flames beyond us. A bullet, I realized.
Mothman ran towards us, his leather duster flapping behind him as he pointed off in a direction we should run. His red eyes burned, a static hiss in my mind kicked up before fading away again. I watched him run at us, my mouth cracking open and my heart thumping in my chest.
My shocked reaction was instinctual. He was just so tall and his body a mysterious hulk beneath his worn leather. He had wings, a frightening mouth, and talons on his long, thin fingers. The flames and approaching day lit him up, making it more than apparent he wasn’t human. Only the shadows of night could fool someone into thinking that.
The monster won’t eat you, I told myself.
Another bullet blazed by, snapping me from my revere. A burning line seared into my arm. At first I thought the fire had somehow lept out and lashed at me. I looked down to see the skin on my upper arm cut into a straight line. Blood welled up inside the wound then began to trickle down.
“I was shot,” I said in shock. Just barely, but I’d been shot. It took me back to that night at the concert. The chaos, the stampede, the blood on my face, the screams. Simon’s face. Matthias’ dead expression. My knees suddenly went weak, my heart uncomfortably fluttering fast and light in my chest. Caspian snatched me up roughly before I fell and took off behind Brandon.
We darted straight into the woods, heading the way Mothman had pointed out. Bullets bit into the dirt behind our heels like a ravenous animal snapping at our feet. I clutched onto Caspian while Brandon and Mothman ran beside us.
Caspian started to fall behind. Bruises were under his eyes and his arms were beginning to shake as he held me. He was clearly exhausted from everything he’d been through. I shivered as I thought about the fight next to the river, when that man—dead now—had tried to kill him.
“Put me down,” I insisted and he looked at me in concern but there was no choice; It was either put me down, or eventually fall over with me in his arms. He didn’t stop as he moved me down and we ran hand in hand. A bullet hit the earth right next to me and a scream tried to burst out of me but my throat was still too ragged.
Ahead of us Mothman stilled at my raspy cry then swiveled around. We ran past him while he stood there, looking behind us towards the threat. I could hear Loren stomping behind us, reminding me of that night in the woods with the raccoons. Stomp. Stomp Stomp. Right behind me.
I shuddered in shock, realizing it may have been him that night. Caspian gripped my hand and kept dragging me forward as I paused to encourage Mothman to press forward.
“Mothman!” I yelled at him. What was he doing? He was standing right in the open. Any second a bullet could rip into him. Brandon yelled out in front of us, a vicious snarl of frustrated anger.
“It’s a wall of rock!” He cried out, standing in front of a slice of rock that ran upwards a hundred feet and stretched in both directions. He yelled out in a rage and threw a fist into it. I sucked in a breath of shock. He gave an angry hiss of pain as he pulled his bloody hand back, looking no less pissed off.
Mothman pointed to his right, directing us while still facing the threat. We started to move in that direction, our hands brushing over the rock wall as we went. A bullet snapped off in front of us, spitting shards of rock out in an explosion. We jerked to a standstill.
The situation sunk in. We were trapped, standing in a line against a wall like prisoners awaiting execution.
That’s when Loren finally came bumbling from behind the trees, a scoped rifle raised up, his eye staring down the long barrel. He still wore his ball cap but now it was drenched in so much blood that it dripped down onto his cheek and rolled into his neck. Despite the deep tan of a man who worked in the sun, he looked pallid. Dark bags were under his eyes and sweat beaded up everywhere on his body.
Something was clearly wrong with him. He staggered when he walked. His face was stretched into a smile that looked both pained but manic. His eyes were wild. The blood slipped from his ball cap again, sliding down his cheek like a tear. He reached up and tugged off the hat so he could swipe at the blood and sweat trailing into his eyes.
When his hat came off, I saw a fresh wound on the side of his head. It was ugly, biting straight through his skull and exposing a wet pink color underneath. A thick chunk of graying hair was missing. I jerked in disgust and my eyes wrenched away from the sight. Loren slammed his ball cap back on and readjusted his rifle to line up the aim.
“Think I’m that easy to kill?” He asked Mothman. A laugh rolled from him. He swayed on his feet then righted himself, taking a wide stance. This man wasn’t normal, or at least it felt that way. It felt like he’d never die and instead would keep tormenting us over and over until he finally killed us all. Pick us off, pretend to die, come back and do it again.
“I’m not letting you go,” he told Mothman. No one doubted him. Mothman was his white whale, his obsession. Mothman was also his excuse to be the human monster he’d become. He had a rancid soul that wept putrid from behind his dead gaze. From the moment I first saw him materializing in front of me in that bathroom I could sense the stench of moral decay.
Mothman stood there with one hand near his hip, his fingers wiggling like he was in a showdown. My eyes bugged. Was he going to try and shoot first?
Caspian winced, grabbing his forehead.
“Are you okay?” I asked in a panic. He shook out his head and brushed off whatever pain he had.
“He said keep going. There’s a cave.”
“What about him?” I asked. Caspian sent a look over my shoulder to Brandon. “I’m not leaving him. He’s kept me alive, Caspian. I owe him my life,” I rushed out, swallowing down a bitter taste. My eyes kept flitting back and forth between Caspian and Mothman as anxiety began to itch in my gut.
Caspian grabbed my face and planted a quick kiss on my lips. I looked at him, his tired brown eyes, his black hair a matted mess. I just wanted this to be over. I wanted Loren to fall over dead, succumbing to his wounds. I wanted to see my family.
“Yes, he saved you and he wants to save you again.” Caspian looked almost thankful, his eyes sweeping out to the other monster with appreciation in his eyes. “He wants you to escape.” I shook my head. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt or die. Mothman shifted slightly and a bullet bit into the dirt next to his boot.
“Don’t move unless I tell you to,” Loren grumbled, slowly crawling closer to Mothman. Now they were no more than ten feet apart.
Mothman made a quick grab for the handgun at his waist as he rushed forward. Loren’s rifle went off and I gasped but no one was hurt. Mothman had pushed the rifle barrel towards the sky. Loren dropped his rifle and reached out towards Mothman’s gun, snarling. The handgun went off twice, wasted bullets shooting harmlessly skyward.
Caspian grabbed my hand and pulled me roughly in the direction of the cave. Brandon was right behind me, his hands on my shoulders, pushing me forward while Caspian pulled. They worked together to quickly move me forward. I watched as Mothman and Loren struggled with one another, afraid to see what was happening but too concerned to look away.
Mothman swung one leg up and snapped forward in a lunging kick that caught Loren hard between the legs. Loren wheezed and Mothman pulled back and slammed his fist into the side of Loren’s head, right near the open wound. Loren’s eyes widened and his body jolted like he’d touched an electric eel. He fell to his knees and Mothman kicked dirt in his face before grabbing his gun off the ground and squeezing the trigger.
It clicked, empty of bullets. Loren shook out his head, winced, then laughed as he reached out for his own rifle.
Mothman turned and ran towards us. His wings flung out and his boots lifted slightly from the ground as he whooshed forward, catching up in an instant. He pointed out a place on the rocks and we ran until we got there.
A cave gaped in front of us, cold, moldy air trickling out. It was inky black. A horrible feeling came over me and I gasped and reared back.
“No!” I cried but Caspian kept pulling, Brandon kept pushing, and Mothman grabbed my other hand and dragged me in. The splinter got irritated as Mothman grabbed the hand and my vision went white a moment as I sucked in a breath. Sweat popped up on my forehead from the sharp pain.
Still, my instincts bucked like an unbroken horse. Chills raced over me and I started to shiver again. My intuition was telling me to turn around running and screaming from this cave.
Once we were a few feet inside, my urge to flee settled down. There was no other choice but to move forward. I stopped putting up a fight and we began to walk into the darkness.