My truck rumbled to a start as I set off for the hunting ground. I had a sniper’s nest set up deep in the nearby national park and every year I’d head out there solo and bag some deer. It was a relatively long drive, about two hours each way, but it was the only place in the entire world where I really felt at ease, the humdrum monotony of the regular world melting away more and more the longer I spent there, way out in that secluded part of the woods which I all but considered my own.
Once I hit the spot where I usually parked I had another hour’s hike before I’d finally be there. Lugging my gear over and back was always the low point of the trip, but it was all worth it, regardless of whether I got a deer or not. I slung the heavy pack over my shoulder and the truck slowly disappeared out of view as I lumbered down the beaten path, taking in the familiar scenery.
By the time I arrived my back was starting to ache and the sun was going down, so I was more than happy to put the tent up as soon as my nest in the large and mostly barren conifer tree came into view. I dumped all my stuff at its base and began putting together my sleeping arrangements. As soon as everything was set up I collapsed inside with my sleeping bag, eyes already closing. The tiny one man tent was to be my home for the next three days, and I couldn’t have been happier in that moment. I snuggled in and faded into a deep, much needed sleep.
I woke up sometime later, having to piss. As I unzipped the tent the brisk night air hit me hard and I hurried over to the base of the tree to relieve myself, eager to get back inside. However, just as my stream was coming to an end, I heard something strange off in the distance which jarred me.
“Peter.”
The sound was faint, but it was definitely a voice. A woman’s voice. I stood fixed like a deer in headlights, listening.
“Peter!”
It was clearer this time, closer perhaps.
I wracked my brain trying to figure out what was going on. There was no rational answer that could explain why someone would be out there amidst the thick woodland at this time of night and in this remote a part of the forest, calling my name…
I wasn’t married, never had kids. All of my relatives were either dead or out of state, and I didn’t mention to anyone at work that I was coming here. Even if I did, why would any of them be out here looking for me? I had my phone, I even had a sat phone just in case I ran into trouble in a dead zone. If something important had come up, somebody would have just called me. Not trekked deep into the woods after me. Something wasn’t right.
“Peter!”
The voice sounded farther away. I backed myself into my tent, zipped it shut behind me and loaded my rifle. I’m glad I didn’t have a fire going or a light on. Whatever that was, it wasn’t good, and I knew somehow in my gut that I didn’t want it to find me.
After catching about an hour’s sleep, the sun finally broke over the horizon. I’d been terrified all night, but the brightness of a new day soothed me. As I made breakfast, I began to feel pretty silly. I was a fully grown man out in the woods getting scared by some spooky noises like a little kid. I had just woken up in the dark and gotten creeped out over weird animal calls. That was that.
I climbed the rope ladder, rifle hugging me as I pulled myself onto the platform I’d built. It wasn’t anything special, just four knee high ply board walls fixed onto a sturdier wooden floor for cover. I only had about enough room to sit down on my chair or stand, but I got a phenomenal view of the surrounding area from up there and I didn’t need much else to be comfortable. My spot was just on the edge of a fifty foot clearing which separated two sides of the treeline, and deer loved to come there to graze that time of year.
So, I waited, having a beer or two and not seeing much in the way of game. Just a lot of chirping birds and critters occasionally rustling around below. Several hours passed and I was starting to feel a little tired. The last night’s disturbed sleep had really messed up my day.
Just as I was getting ready to climb back down and cook some lunch, I noticed something pale in the distance, standing out against the sea of green on the other side of the treeline. It looked like a head, poking out from behind one of the conifers. I put the scope of the rifle up to my eye and tried to get a fix on it. After scanning around for a few seconds I found it again, whatever it was.
It definitely was a head, I could see its sunken eyes clearly against the odd alabaster tone of its skin. A glint must have caught the scope and it darted away out of view as it noticed my noticing it.
“Peter!”
This time there was no denying it. Someone was out there, messing with me. It had to be. A stupid prank if ever there was one, it’s just asking to get shot in the face by accident, lurking around in the woods with a Halloween mask on. “By accident”, I chuckled to myself, “Won’t be an accident when I find this fucker, that’s for sure.”
I wasn’t actually going to shoot anyone, after all now that I’d sussed out their dumb joke I was going to get to the bottom of it, and hopefully give them a good scare back in return. So after another brief scan of the trees I scrambled down the ladder, trying not to be spotted by whoever might have been watching, before circling around to where I’d seen the figure. There I sat, pack lightly filled with a few power bars and some water and the rifle cradled under my arm, waiting for the next call. It didn’t take long.
“Peter!”
It wasn’t a familiar voice whatsoever, it sent a chill down my spine just hearing it. This only made any sense if someone I knew was trying to freak me out, but surely they wouldn’t have gone as far as to hire someone else to do it, right? That would be ridiculous.
“As ridiculous as someone following you miles deep into the woodland just to fuck with you?”, I thought to myself, stomach tightening. Before I could begin re-rationalising the situation my train of thought was derailed and a sense of determination overcame my confusion.
“PETER!”
She couldn’t have been far away, whoever she was. I sprung to my feet and began marching my way over to her through the undergrowth, but as I covered more ground the voice seemed to move along with me. Like trying to chase a rainbow. This didn’t soften my resolve one bit though and I stubbornly kept on, trekking for over a mile before stopping after not hearing her for a while. I removed a water bottle from my pack and put it to my lips.
“PETER!!”
This time it was close. Closer than I’d ever gotten to it. She sounded genuinely in need of help. I spat water all over myself in surprise and quickly packed it away before climbing the short ridge where the voice had come from. I was met with a small, dark cave opening. Foreboding, it seemed almost man-made somehow, and yet naturally formed like something out of an old forgotten fairytale. I’d never ventured this far off from my usual trail in over thirty years of hiking it. I was in all-new territory, and I felt it right there, staring into that abyss beyond the cave’s small, circular mouth.
I considered heading back. It was getting dark, and the flashlight I had with me wasn’t great. The joke clearly wasn’t funny anymore and to say I was feeling tired of it was an understatement. I turned around and began trying to retrace my steps when my heart sank and nearly exploded at the same time.
“PETER!”
“PETER!!”
“PETER!!!”
The woman was screaming, screeching out for me, her bloodcurdling voice resonating from within the blackness of the cave.
My mind emptied and I legged it out of there, clutching the pack close with the rifle dangling over my shoulder, smacking against my back with each frantic footfall as I struggled not to trip up over the brush. Her calls for me never stopped, and even though I was getting further and further away as I ran from the cave her voice still echoed just as close and as loud as when it first started screaming my name as if it were in my buried deep inside my head.
I didn’t go back to the camp to get my gear, I didn’t even stop for breath until I was back in my truck, steering wheel gripped under my white knuckles and screeching tyres beneath my mud-caked boots. I didn’t return to those woods. Although, I don’t think it would matter anymore anyway.
It must have followed me. It calls for me wherever I go, and I’m the only one who can hear it. It grows closer with each passing day. All I know for sure is that I have to keep moving. I can never, ever let it catch me. But I fear that it will. Soon.