The rain was deafening as the droplets of water hit the ground with horrifying wildness. The ground was a soupy mix of mud and soil, and their feet squelched as they moved around the side of the house. The revolver in Luis’s hand was cold, to the point of freezing the flesh on his palm, and the constant rain was driving deep into his bones like ice-tipped spears. Rose was beside him, her face haggard and scared, her eyes receding deep into her face from lack of sleep and constant paranoia. Mary was ahead of the group, the rifle pushed against her shoulder as she scanned the dark world from left to right.

Luis could barely hear anything over the rain and the wind. His hair was swept perpetually to the left, and he had to wipe water away from his eyes as it dripped down from his forehead. In the back of his mind, terror lived. He kept thinking about the horrifying thing that had invaded their house, that had been stalking them, that was now roaming somewhere nearby. To his own surprise, the stranger did not strike as much fear in his heart; he had dealt with many men of similar, or worse, propensities. Men who were quick to anger, quick to draw their gun, quick to judge when they saw his barren farm. Men like him were easy to come by, and even the supernatural nature of the stranger were not enough to raise his concern to fear.

The family looped around the left side of the house, maintaining a healthy distance from the wooden wall and the windows. Luis looked through the glass, hoping to catch a glimpse of the creature and thus gain a better idea of what their path should be. The darkness was too thick though, and the only thing he could see was a vague outline of his own reflection and the thick streaks of rainwater running down the glass.

Mary raised her hand out in front of the group with sudden urgency. Everyone in front of Luis stopped, as did Luis himself. He listened closely, trying to push his hearing past the familiar noises of the storm, straining to discern something different.

It was faint, but he heard it: footsteps squelching in the mud, followed by a ragged breathing sound. The footsteps came in successions of four, at which point they would pause and the breathing sound would become audible. Then the footsteps would continue. They were moving toward the side of the house, where they all stood.

Luis pulled the hammer back on his revolver as he watched Mary look down the sights of her rifle. Everything became apparent all at once: if it was the creature in the front of the house and she fired, they would all be killed. Or, at the very least, the children would be. He had never seen an animal with such terrifying speed, even when he was a boy growing up in Texas. He had seen a lot of beings on those flat lands: snarling wolves, large insects and spiders, snakes with enough venom to kill a man in a few minutes flat. But he had never seen anything like the frail, yet disturbingly powerful monster that was hunting them, that was now a few feet away from ending their journey before it had even started.

To Luis’s astonishment, Mary did not move. She stayed rooted to her position, looking down the sight of the rifle. Nobody else moved, either. The footsteps continued, and the creature came into view. Without the moon and the stars to light the outdoors, it was difficult to make out any specific features. Still, Luis could see the thin arms, the long claws, and the glowing, red eyes of the thing that had torn out a chunk of his calf with ease.

It sniffed as thin limbs moving through the water with eerie silence. Then it walked forward, craning its head for the faintest sound as the storm raged overhead. Luis watched it continue forward as joy lifted his heart.

A few minutes later, when the monster was gone, Mary motioned for them to continue forward. Everyone moved with as much silence as they could while wading through thigh-high water. It did not return. By the time they reached the road, which had become a river in and of itself, Luis felt more confident about their chances of survival than he had since the first night of the storm.

They pushed forward, moving through the coursing water and pushing into the forest. Luis was on the same page as Mary: the forest was a bit higher than the house and the road, so it wouldn’t be flooded yet. The trees would provide cover, and they would be able to make their way to town – or, at the very least, to shelter – without attracting unwanted attention.

The darkness appeared to swell, black shadows sneaking past the trees, wrapping around the sodden branches and dead twigs. Luis tightened his grip on the revolver, as he looked to his left. Rose was still standing beside him, and John had joined them. His eyes were wide, dancing with terror and confusion. Luis could only imagine what he was thinking. The trees swayed and creaked in the sharp wind, and the rain pelted their skin, stabbing into their bodies like bits of ice.

The sounds of snapping wood began to grow louder, followed by the echoes of a tree trunk crackling and splintering as the wind pushed against it with superhuman might. Luis looked to his right and saw the tree in question, saw the branches start to angle lower to the ground as the towering tree began to topple over, pulled down by gravity and worn from non-stop rainwater.

Luis didn’t attempt to yell to the group. Mary and Emma were ahead of him, and he wasn’t even sure his voice would carry over the wind. Instead, he turned toward his daughter. An electric shock pulsed through his body as he realized that John had started to move faster, likely in an attempt to get closer to his mother. By doing so, he had pulled a few feet in front of Luis, and had put himself directly in the path of the falling tree.

Without thinking, Luis put his hand up to his daughter. She stopped moving at once. Then, he barreled toward John. Manic energy seemed to fuel his sprint as it mixed with adrenaline and fear. The tree fell, the groaning and creaking turning into horrifying crunching sounds. John heard these and turned, only to freeze as he watched a thick wall of wood fall toward him. With a final burst of energy, Luis leapt and pulled the boy into his arms. He hit the ground with a wet slap, and mud sprayed around them. Then the tree hit the ground. Twigs and branches broke from the base, spraying outward. The ground seemed to ripple as the weight of the tree crashed into the immovable Earth, sending a shockwave in every direction. Then, the wind and the rain regained authority over the world, and all Luis could hear was the world wailing, and all he could feel was numb cold.

He pulled John to his feet; the boy’s mouth moved, Luis assumed he was saying thank you, and Luis clapped him on the back while taking a breath. Then he turned to find Rose. She was still standing where he had told her to stop, but her eyes were full of fear and her hands were covering her mouth.

Luis rushed over to her and hugged her tight. He planted a kiss on her wet forehead before taking her hand and walking forward. Ahead, he could see Mary’s gaze filled with appreciation. He nodded to her, and she turned to continue making their way forward.

Out of the darkness, Luis heard quick footsteps pattering through the mud. He recognized them far too late. An explosion of pain jolted through the side of his face, propelling his body to the right. His grip on Rose’s hand slipped, and he fell onto his side into the mud as warmth ebbed in his cheek.

Anguish blossomed in his gut as he saw the shadowy figure of the stranger. He was standing behind Rose, his arm wrapped around her neck. In his hand was a revolver, similar to the one Luis had taken. He pulled the hammer down and pushed the barrel into her head as Luis tried to push himself to his feet. Before he could rescue his daughter, the stranger picked Rose up with a single arm, like he was carrying a sack of flour. His eyes gleamed black and he smiled. Luis saw sharp, triangular teeth in his mouth. Then, the stranger turned and dashed into the woods with inhumane speed. He was gone before Luis could call out to Mary.

When he managed to push himself up to his feet, he rushed toward the road. His eyes were still focused on the dark path upon which the stranger had taken his daughter. Mary was already there, and her eyes were burning with crimson rage.

“Don’t,” she said as he approached. She turned his head toward her own. “That’s what he wants. He’ll kill ya if you go down there. Let me.”
Luis realized she wasn’t asking. He shook his head and tried to push forward, but Mary held him back.

“Let me go!” he yelled, trying to pull away from her grip. She had grasped his forearm, and would not let go.

Mary’s visage changed from rage to determination. “It’s a trap,” she said. “I have more firepower, and I’m guessing I have more experience with a gun than you.”

Luis said nothing in response. He could tell Mary had her answer from his expression alone. She pulled Luis in for a quick hug, a move which surprised him.

“Keep my kids safe,” she whispered in his ear. “Make sure they get to town. I’ll bring Rose, too.”

Before he could protest or offer thanks, Mary disappeared into the woods. She moved swiftly, the repeater up against her shoulder, and then she was gone. The blackness swallowed her whole.

Luis turned toward Emma and John as fear began to eat away at his gut. He didn’t say anything more; he didn’t think he needed to. The kids understood what was happening, even if they didn’t understand why it was happening. He marched forward with his grip even tighter around the revolver, and he focused on whatever lay ahead.

The air became clogged with thick, white fog as rain continued to fall. Luis’s bare feet were numb from their constant exposure to the freezing mud. Surprise and concern engulfed his mind as he saw a dark cabin up ahead. It was just off the path, no more than a hundred feet away. The windows were dark and slicked with clear droplets, but none of them were cracked or shattered. In fact, the cabin appeared to have withstood the worst of the storm. Trees had fallen around the structure, littered about like errant pieces of garbage, but none of the heavy trunks had come in contact with the cabin’s wooden walls.

Luis allowed himself to experience a fleeting burst of hope. Maybe they had found a haven. Maybe they could wait out the storm without having to go into town. While Mary considered the busy streets safe, Luis had learned that they were anything but when your skin wasn’t pale.

Then, as if to internally combat the hope he felt, fear trickled into his mind, disguised as logic.

What if the cabin is dangerous? he thought.

The children were silent behind him. John’s eyes were gaunt and tired, though a determined fire burned in his pupils – a visage Luis had seen just moments before when Mary had dashed off into the darkness. How long ago had that been? It still felt as though it had been minutes before, but time didn’t make any sense out in the woods. With the constant rain and wind, and the cloud of darkness that hovered above them, Luis wasn’t sure whether they had been walking for five minutes or five years.

Emma’s expression was a mixture of fear and pain. Luis could not imagine what she was going through. Her father murdered in front of her, her uncle thrown into the muddy void, presumably dead, her mother disappearing into the darkness, perhaps never to be seen again. There was only so much a child could take, and Luis could see that she had far exceeded her capacity to process trauma.

Luis led them to the cabin, the revolver raised out in front of him, his ears pricked up to discern any possible sound that could indicate danger. When he heard and saw nothing, beyond the slashing rainwater twirling and twisting in the windy darkness, he reached his free hand forward and grasped the knob. To his surprise, it turned smoothly and the door opened without so much as a rusted squeak.

Darkness engulfed the house, so much so that he could barely make out the furniture that was placed throughout the central room. As his eyes adjusted, horror gripped his heart. He reached his free hand out and gestured for the children to stop moving.

On the floor was the body of an old man. Part of his head was missing, splattered across the wooden floor with the rest of his blood. His right eye was bloodshot and cloudy. His mouth hung open in a cold expression of shock, and his purple tongue lolled out of his mouth. When Luis looked up, he saw a shadow move in front of the window on the far wall.

“Children!” he yelled. “Run!”

An explosion tore through the night air, and hot pain erupted in Luis’s shoulder. The force of the bullet propelled him backward, back into the cold, dark rain. His grip on the gun faltered, and the revolver went splashing into the mud behind him. The children were running through the woods, scattering.

Luis’s heart rate began to escalate, beating hard and fast. Wood creaked and groaned as the shadow walked toward him. Matthew’s face came into view, and his lips curled in a sharp sneer.

Matthew lifted the revolver, aiming the barrel at his head. Luis turned to find his revolver in the mud.

“Put it down!” a small voice said.

Luis’s mind was clouded with fog; he could barely recognize the voice, and joyous shock jolted through his body as he looked up and saw Emma standing a few feet away. The revolver was in her hands, slicked with muck, pointed at her uncle.

“Let him go!” Emma said, her voice strengthening, her tone commanding. She pulled back the hammer.

Luis’s shoulder was burning with pain, and he could feel his blood mixing with the mud and water beneath him. He raised his hand out toward Matthew, who still had the revolver trained on him.

“Please,” he said. His took a deep breath and tried to ignore the pain. “Please, just stop.”

Matthew looked up at his niece, who seemed ready to pull the trigger at any moment. Then, a horrifying, high-pitched roar made the very Earth beneath him tremble, and Luis felt a new kind of fear – a groundswell of dark doom – bloom in his chest.

Next Chapter: Mary