8
1412 Words
Charles and I move in grim lockstep, rapidly gathering anything that could potentially be used as a makeshift weapon – heavy lamps, splintered chair legs, the rusted fireplace poker. My heart thunders in my ears as the adrenaline courses through my veins.
Another bone-chilling howl splits the night, closer this time. "Hurry, Cassie," Charles growls, his eyes alight with blazing determination.
I'm just hefting a sturdy floor lamp when a sudden, frantic pounding sounds at the door, making me nearly jump out of my skin. Charles immediately tenses, lifting the fireplace poker in a defensive stance as he slowly inches toward the door.
"Who's there?" he calls out in a low, dangerous tone. "Make one wrong move and you'll regret it."
There's a beat of silence, and then – "Charles? Cassie? It's me, Richard! Open up, for god's sake!"
My eyes go wide as a leaden weight drops into the pit of my stomach. Dad. Of course he'd eventually come looking for us, frantic with worry over our disappearance and Larry's state.
Charles's jaw tightens almost imperceptibly before he chances a glance back at me, a silent question in his eyes. Stay put, or risk facing my father and trying to explain this nightmare?
My heart twists painfully at the thought of lying to Dad, of keeping him in the dark about the unfathomable peril we've found ourselves in. But one look at the grim determination blazing in Charles's eyes, and I know there's no other choice – not if we want to survive whatever sinister forces seem to be hunting us.
Gripping the heavy lamp like a lifeline, I give Charles a tight nod.
With a fortifying breath, he turns back toward the door. "It's open, Richard. But keep your hands where I can see them."
The door swings open to reveal my dad framed in the dingy hallway, his face creased with worry and confusion. "What in the hell is going on here?" he demands without preamble, taking in our makeshift weapons with alarm. "Why are you two holed up like a pair of hunted fugitives?"
Before Charles or I can attempt to formulate a response, another haunting howl splits the air, far too close for comfort. My blood turns to ice as my dad freezes, the color draining from his face.
"What... what was that?" he asks in a strangled whisper.
Charles is already grabbing my arm, his expression taut. "We don't have time to explain, Richard. But you need to get inside, now."
Without waiting for an argument, he hauls me and my stupefied father through the door, slamming it shut and throwing the lock with shaking hands. For a few tense, silent moments, we all simply stand there in the motel room – me white-knuckling the lamp, Charles gripping the poker, my dad looking utterly bewildered.
Finally, he seems to find his voice again as he turns toward us with a combination of anger and fear. "Alright, you two had better start talking. What the hell is going on? And where's Larry? Does this have something to do with why he's in the hospital?"
A painful lump rises in my throat at the mention of our injured friend. "Dad, I..." I begin brokenly, but the words seem to catch in my throat, choking me.
Charles's hand finds the small of my back, offering me silent strength and support before he levels a grave look at my father. "Richard, I need you to brace yourself, because what I'm about to tell you is going to sound completely insane."
My dad crosses his arms stubbornly over his chest. "Try me."
Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Charles launches into the nightmarish tale – the innocent hiking trip gone horribly awry, the vicious, unnatural creature that set upon us like a guided missile, Larry's grievous injuries and brush with death. He doesn't mince words, laying it all out in stark detail.
With each passing second, I can see the consternation and disbelief play out over my father's features in a kaleidoscope of emotions. By the time Charles reaches the part about the thing stalking us with cold, meticulous focus, my dad's face has gone an ashen shade of pale.
"You're telling me... some kind of monster has been hunting you two?" he finally rasps once Charles has finished recounting the sordid tale. "A-And those howls we just heard..."
Charles's jaw tightens grimly. "That was it. Right on our trail yet again."
My dad scrubs a shaky hand down his face as he tries to process everything. "I... I don't understand. What kind of sick bastards could be behind something like this?"
A heavy silence falls over the room, thick with the weight of a million unspoken theories and dreadful possibilities. As if in answer, a thunderous crash suddenly sounds from somewhere down the hall, accompanied by a hair-raising, animalistic snarl that raises every hair on the back of my neck.
"It's here," I whimper, ice water flooding my veins.
Instantly, Charles is in motion, grabbing my hand and hauling me toward the room's dingy window. "Richard, with me and stay low!" he shouts over the rapidly escalating sounds of chaos pouring in from the hallway. "Our only chance is to make a run for the truck while that thing's distracted!"
My dad looks like he wants to protest, a million more questions burning in his eyes, but the raw desperation in Charles's voice seems to shock him into action. With a grim nod, he falls into step behind us, his expression a mirrored mask of grim determination.
A force like a freight train slams against the motel door, nearly rattling it off its rusted hinges. Whatever is hunting us has caught our scent, and it's closing in for the kill without mercy.
Charles wrenches the window open with a screech of protest from the ancient frame, ushering my dad and me through first before scrambling out himself. "This way!" he shouts, cutting across the dark, debris-littered parking lot as quickly as our feet can carry us. "I left the keys in the truck, we need to—"
He's abruptly cut off as a massive, hulking shape explodes from the shadows beside us, jaws gaping in a ferocious snarl. Up close, the thing is even more grotesquely horrifying than I remember – muscles rippling beneath wiry fur, fangs like jagged scythes, and those cold, soulless eyes burning with unholy hunger.
My dad lets out a guttural cry, stumbling back in sheer terror at the sight. Charles instantly moves to shield him, swinging the fireplace poker in a brutal arc that catches the beast across its lupine snout with a meaty thud. A spray of steaming blood paints the air like an inkblot.
The creature throws its head back, letting loose an ear-splitting howl of fury and pain that seems to shake the earth itself. For one wild, breathless moment, it trains those hellish eyes on Charles with unrestrained hatred.
Then, it lunges again with terrifying speed, claws slashing in a deadly swipe aimed right for my protector's throat.
"No!" I scream, pure adrenaline and mindless desperation propelling me forward before I can even fully register what I'm doing. With every ounce of my strength, I bring the heavy lamp crashing down toward the thing's skull.
There's a sickening crunch of metal against bone, accompanied by a piercing shriek. The lamp is torn from my grip and sent skittering away as the beast recoils, rearing back on its hind legs as it shakes its massive head. Black blood and viscous liquid leak from the fresh crater in its skull.
It's only stunned for a moment, but a moment is all we need. "Cassie, run!" Charles roars, grabbing me around the waist and bodily hauling me off my feet as he sprints in a dead panic for the waiting truck.
I catch one last glimpse of the slavering beast recovering far too swiftly as my dad races to catch up – it throws its head back, jaws gaping inhumanly wide as an ungodly howl of unearthly rage splits the night sky. Then Charles is hauling me up into the cab, my dad clambering into the truck bed with wild, rolling eyes.
The engine roars to life, tires kicking up gravel as we peel out of the lot in a squeal of abused rubber. I chance one last look over my shoulder at the rapidly dwindling motel – and freeze in sheer, visceral terror.
- Writer
