The ghosts of our past

Beneath the ashes

The forest pressed in around them as Ethan and Rachel ran, their breaths sharp and ragged in the cold night air. Branches clawed at their clothes, and the damp earth squelched beneath their feet, but they didn’t stop. They couldn’t.

Ethan glanced over his shoulder, half expecting to see a figure chasing them through the trees, but all he saw was darkness — a suffocating, endless void. Yet, he felt it. That prickling sensation along the back of his neck. The certainty that someone was out there.

“We can’t go back to the car,” Rachel panted, her grip on Ethan’s hand like an iron. “What if they’re waiting?”

Ethan’s mind raced. She was right. The car was too obvious, too exposed. “There’s an old service road,” he said, trying to steady his breathing. “If we follow the creek, we can loop around and hit the highway.”

Rachel nodded, determination hardening her features. “Let’s go.”

They pushed through the undergrowth, their steps quieter now, more deliberate. The forest was eerily silent, as if even the wildlife knew something was wrong. Every rustle of leaves sent adrenaline surging through Ethan’s veins.

After what felt like hours, they reached the creek, the faint sound of water breaking the oppressive quiet. Ethan knelt, splashing cold water on his face, trying to shake off the panic buzzing beneath his skin.

Rachel crouched beside him, pulling the journal from her bag. “We need to figure out who Caleb really was,” she whispered, flipping through the pages. “Why would Mom warn us about him?”

Ethan wiped his face, watching the dark trees around them like a hawk. “Because he’s dangerous,” he muttered. “Dad trusted him, but I always got a bad feeling about him." He used to watch us — like he wasn’t just a bodyguard. Like he was... studying us.”

Rachel swallowed hard, tracing her fingers over the word their mother had written: RUN.

“What if he never disappeared?” Rachel whispered. “What if he’s been watching this whole time?”

The thought turned Ethan’s blood to ice. He opened his mouth to respond, but then a branch snapped in the distance.

They both froze.

Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

Someone was out there. And they weren’t in a hurry.

Ethan grabbed Rachel’s arm, pulling her to her feet. They started moving again, careful not to make too much noise, but the footsteps followed — steady, patient, like whoever it was had all the time in the world.

Then, through the trees, they saw it: headlights. A car parked on the service road, engine off, lights dim.

“Maybe we can get help,” Rachel whispered, though her voice shook with uncertainty.

Ethan squinted at the vehicle, dread coiling in his gut. The car looked familiar. Too familiar.

It was their father’s old sedan.

The car he’d driven that night dragged them away from the cabin all those years ago.

Ethan’s heart slammed against his ribs as a figure stepped out of the shadows, silhouetted against the dim glow of the headlights. Tall. Broad shoulders. And even in the dark, Ethan could feel the weight of those cold, piercing eyes.

Caleb.

He was waiting for them.

To be continued...