PART 1 HERE:PART 1
2 days later we arrived at the airport. We were going to Oregon. The most eventful thing on the airplane was some shitty Karen trying to get a first class seat. Apparently she was “special.” The pilot told her to go fuck herself. When we got to Oregon we rented a motel in the city nearest to my old house. It was only two stars. The beds were hard as a rock and room service sucked. The only good thing was free tv, but they only had 15 channels and it was in black and white. The next day we went to my old house. When I saw it again I got chills down my spine. I felt like I made a mistake coming back here.
We grabbed our shitty monster hunting equipment out the trunk; flashlights, bear mace, a 9mm Glock 19, 2 magazines for the Glock, and a knife. We planned on using mace on it then shooting it. Ryder put the Glock in his pocket claiming he has a good shot.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked Wilson.
“Yeah, are you?” He replied. I didn’t answer.
Only about 30 minutes in, we saw it. At first the forest noise died down. Only a few seconds ago the forest was lush with animals and the sounds of birds. Then it was the cry for help. When I heard it my stomach dropped. We cautiously walked towards the voice, ready for attack. When we reached to where we heard it nothing was there. Then I heard a whisper behind me. I turned around. Nothing. This fucker was playing with us. I heard another whisper. All of a sudden whispers were coming from everywhere. The whispers gradually became louder and louder and more aggressive until it sounded like yelling.
All of a sudden something comes out of a bush. It’s the thing. Before it had a chance to do anything Ryder shot it. Ryder used all of our ammunition to shoot it because unlike what he said about being a good shot, he missed almost all of his shots.
“Well great job dipshit, now we are out of ammo!” Wilson said, pissed.
We thought It was over. Ryder put the gun in his pocket when another thing came out from another bush.
“Holy shit, there’s more than one!” Ryder yelled.
It came full speed at us. It all happened so fast. It came towards Ryder. He tried to pull out the gun but it got caught on his pants. By the time he got it out it was too late. He was already dead.
“Ryder!” Wilson screamed. The monster snapped his head towards Wilson.
“Oh shit.” Wilson said in fear. It came at him. He used the mace, temporarily stunning it. I snuck towards Ryder’s dead body. I grabbed the blood covered Glock. I shot at it. The gun clicked. It was out of ammo. The thing started having Wilson’s leg as a snack.
“Fuck! My leg! Shoot it!” Wilson screamed in pain.
“I cant! I don’t know where Ryder put the second mag!” I yelled back. I pulled the buck knife out and stabbed it in the throat. Blood squirted everywhere. It stumbled back and screeched in pain. It came after me full speed. As soon as the thing came near me it tried to jump on me. I ducked. It went over me and I stabbed it while it was in mid air. I screeched again. I ran to Ryder’s dead body looking for the second magazine.
I felt it in his other pocket. I grabbed it. Before I could put it in the gun it jumped on me. The magazine slipped out of my hand, out of my reach. It saw what I was trying to grab and threw it. It landed in a nearby bush. I fumbled for my buck knife, but then realized I dropped it by Wilson.
It was about to bite into me. I could feel the drool dripping onto my face, and smell its rotten breath when I saw Wilson hopping to me. Then the thing showed a faint sense of Recognition. It confused it enough for me to grab a nearby stone and hit the thing in the face. It screeched. It was about to dig into my gut when Wilson stabbed it, again making it stumble back. I ran for the magazine.
When it saw me going for the magazine it came for it too. I was almost there when it tried to jump on me again. Again I ducked, sending it into some sticks. I grabbed the magazine. That’s when I realized, my Dumbass self left the gun behind when I was pinned down. I ran for the gun and grabbed it. The gun was covered in mud and drool.
I reloaded and tried to shoot at it but it jammed. When I was trying to fix it it jumped on me, pinning me again. I threw the gun to Wilson.
“Shoot it!” I yelled. Wilson unjammed it and shot it in the head, splattering blood all over my face.
“Are you okay?” Wilson asked, ignoring his own injuries.
“I think I should be asking you that.” I smiled. “Now let’s get back to the truck.”
I wanted to cry. Ryder was dead and Wilson needed medical attention, immediately or he would bleed out. I Put a Tourniquet on Wilson and dragged him back to the truck. I prayed that he would live.
When we were driving there I tried to calm Wilson down by telling jokes. We laughed and cried a lot on that drive. It was the last time I talked to him. Wilson died of blood loss after about 3 hours in the hospital. The story I gave then was that a bear bit his leg off on a camping trip. I didn’t tell them about Ryder, or the thing. I don’t know what to do now. My friends are dead, and this will haunt me forever. All I know is that I’m never going into the woods again.