The Beast In the Shadows

Beneath a moonless sky, a crowded SUV crawled through a sloppy dirt road. Scattered clouds drifted by, the wind glittered with frozen mist. In the backseat, with a massive pack of equipment buckled into the seat beside her, Aubrey wondered, for the tenth time, what she had gotten herself into. 

Peter had insisted they needed it all: numerous lanterns and flashlights, an expensive camera she hadn’t known he owned, a tripod, and two space heaters. Not to mention their sleeping bags, clothes, and food.

“We’re only camping the night, and then leaving first thing in the morning,” Aubrey had said when she saw the amount of crap spilling from Peter’s SUV. His sister and Aubrey’s best friend, Olivia, had nodded in agreement.

“Trust me,” he had said. “We’ll want all this. Whatever happens in there, I want it on camera.” Aubrey had just rolled her eyes, reminding him that nothing was going to happen.

“The cabin we’re going to,” Peter was saying now, turning down the radio so Aubrey and Olivia could hear him, “was originally built in 1908 by a man named Benjamin Trevors.”

“And people say it’s haunted?” Olivia asked with a raised eyebrow and turned toward him in the passenger seat. 

Aubrey shook her head, amused as she leaned forward to listen to Peter’s story.

“That’s right. They say Trevors has haunted the cabin since he died.”

“How did he die?” Olivia asked. 

“Oh, you know,” Peter said with a shrug. “The way most old people go. He was an empty nester and a widower.” He paused as the SUV jostled sharply, clambering over a rock in the road. Aubrey and Olivia each gripped the handles by their heads. Peter continued casually, “His throat was ripped out. Splattered from one end of the cabin to the other.” 

Olivia gasped, but Aubrey shook her head.

“He’s full of shit, Olivia,” she told her friend. “I searched this place online this morning and read those rumors on a few bogus ‘ghosthunter’ blogs, but there was no official report of how he died. He was an eighty-year-old man. He probably died of natural causes.” She emphasized ghosthunter to remind the siblings exactly how ridiculous she thought all this was. 

“I found his obituary in an old newspaper article, and you’re correct—it didn’t list his cause of death,” Peter said, waving a hand at her. “But I talked to someone whose grandpa knew Trevors back in the day, and he said it was a total bloodbath. Everyone in town knew it, but nobody liked talking about it. Everyone wanted to forget about it and move on.”

“What really killed him then?” Olivia asked.

“They say it was some rabid animal, got in the house and cornered him,” Peter replied, and whether it was true or not, Aubrey felt goosebumps. 

“Is this the part where you try to convince us werewolves are real, too?” Aubrey asked to dismiss her discomfort, and Olivia laughed.

“Mock me all you want, but come tomorrow morning, we’re going to have proof that ghosts are real. And you, Aubrey, are going to owe me a hundred dollars,” Peter declared, a smug smile smearing his face.

“Come tomorrow morning, Peter, you’re going to look like a fool, and you’re going to be paying all our trespassing fines when we get caught,” Aubrey replied. She grinned at him in the mirror.

Olivia held her hands up. “As long as I don’t lose any money, I don’t care which of you is right.”

They slowed to a stop before a swinging gate the color of rust. It blocked the road, and had a NO TRESPASSING sign bolted to it. A heavy chain and lock secured the gate to a tree, but there was no fence beyond, nothing to prevent someone from stepping around the gate.

“I guess we’re walking from here, ladies,” Peter said as he shut off the car and climbed out. 

“You didn’t say anything about hiking through mud in the dark,” Aubrey complained, cringing at her white tennis shoes. 

“It’s not far. Unless you’re scared, Aubrey, and we can end the bet early,” Peter offered with a grin. She threw him a glare. He knew exactly what he was doing, goading her like that. Knew she was too competitive to back down now. 

“Might as well get this over with,” Olivia groaned as she climbed out. 

As Aubrey got out of the SUV, she scanned the trees for wildlife. A yellow gleam caught her eye, and she saw another NO TRESPASSING sign nailed to a tree. And a few feet down, nailed to another tree, another sign. Every ten or so feet, there was another sign.

“I think they really don’t want anybody trespassing here,” Aubrey called to her friends, who were already squeezing between the trees with packs.

“Then they should have made it harder to trespass,” Peter replied, and he did not slow down as he continued walking down the dirt—mud—road. 

Aubrey pressed her lips in a line and debated, then shook her head. Might as well get this over with, indeed. She hurriedly grabbed the last duffle bag from the back and slung her sleeping bag roll across her shoulders, then followed her friends into darkness. 

Peter was right about the walk being short, at least. 

They came upon the cabin in less than five minutes, their flashlights reflecting back at them in small glass windows. It didn’t look creepy, Aubrey decided as they approached and set their bags down on the porch. Peter tried the doorknob, but it was locked. 

“Oh no, such a bummer, I guess we have to leave,” Aubrey said, aiming to turn around, but Peter grabbed her shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I can get us in.” The upward quirk of his lips promised trouble. 

Aubrey’s eyes widened as Peter produced a credit card and slid it between the door and the frame.

“Oh, please, that only works in movies,” Aubrey said, struggling to keep her voice level. She shivered as a breeze speared through her. Despite still being early in October, the temperature would be dipping below freezing tonight.

Peter jerked the doorknob as he crammed the card in the latch, and the door swung back to expose a pitch-dark interior. 

“Great, my brother is breaking into houses,” Olivia muttered as she went in, wielding her flashlight as a lance through the shadows. 

Aubrey entered behind Olivia, bouncing on her toes to try to warm her limbs. At least the cabin offered a reprieve from the biting wind. Peter entered behind her and shut the door against the night. The beams of their lights cut straight paths through the blackness; stubborn shadows clung in the corners. Aubrey could see enough to note a fireplace that was almost certainly not used in decades. The fog of their breath lit like phantoms in the air. 

“Don’t worry.” Olivia patted Aubrey’s arm and shrugged. “The space heaters work well. We’ll probably all need to sleep in here, though.” 

Peter started rifling through bags, turning on several battery-powered lanterns as he pulled them out. Board by board, each flicker of light exposed the interior of the cabin. 

While Peter set up the tripod and camera to “catch the proof on video”, Aubrey and Olivia explored the cabin, finding that the ground floor consisted of the front room they’d use to make camp, and a small kitchen. Aubrey spied some dark stains on part of the kitchen floor, and shuddered as she remembered Peter’s story. 

This cabin’s over a hundred years old, Aubrey reminded herself. It’s probably just a water stain. Still, her thoughts weren’t entirely reassuring. 

Upstairs were two bedrooms. The ceiling slanted sharply, so that one side of each room was only tall enough for one’s feet as they slept, with their head on the other side. Inside both rooms were sleeping bags, colors faded and the material shredded, most likely by animals looking for nesting material. Aubrey made a mental note to keep an eye out for those animals as their flashlights lit the rooms. There were a few empty bottles and various snack bags. Garbage.

“I wonder what made these people leave all their stuff behind,” Olivia said, rubbing her hands together. “Do you think they got scared and bailed?”

Aubrey scoffed at the implication there was anything to be scared of, shining her light in a corner. A high-end hiking backpack lay abandoned. She looked closer at the sleeping bags and found that they, too, were an expensive brand.

“I don’t think anyone would leave this sort of gear behind unless they needed to. I bet they got caught for trespassing,” she mused. “Like we’re going to.”

“Relax, nothing’s going to happen,” Olivia said, waving her hand as she descended the narrow stairs. Aubrey took a deep breath before following, unable to shake the sense of dread in this place. She told herself she only feared being caught. 

Downstairs, Peter had found the space heaters, and the main room was beginning to feel…well, not warm, but less like they were at risk of freezing to death. 

“No goblins or ghouls yet,” Aubrey reported as she reached the bottom of the steps. She crossed her arms. “I didn’t see a bathroom, either.”

“I saw an outhouse out back. Hurry up, I need to go, too,” Peter said, handing her a lantern and a roll of toilet paper from one of the bags. 

She did, walking quickly through the wind toward a small shack behind the cabin. Her feet crunched on the dense carpet of dry leaves and pine needles. The clearing had not actually been cleared in many years.

The outhouse itself was a classic design—square, with a small window cut from the door. She had to yank it open. The smell made her gag, but she hung her lantern on the hook beside the door and entered. Enough light slashed through the window for her to go about her business, and she tried not to think about the festering pit of waste beneath her as she opened the lid covering the hole. The stench worsened, and she swallowed her cough before it could erupt. 

Just be quick about it, she thought, shoving her jeans down to her knees and perching on the ice-cold seat. 

As she went, Aubrey heard a leaf crunch outside. She frowned, listening. 

Another crunch—slow, tentative, as if testing to see if she would call out. 

“Just wait, Peter,” she yelled. The crunching ceased. He must have followed her to use the outhouse after her, or to try to scare her. Unfortunately, it was more likely the latter. Aubrey waited for a reply, but none came. She sighed and completed her business.

Another crunch, and the sharp crack of a stick breaking. 

She stood and wriggled her jeans up over her hips, squinting as she peered through the small window. She couldn’t see beyond the small hazy pool of blue light cast by her lamp. There was no other light piercing the darkness. 

Crunch. Snap.

The sounds were louder this time, getting closer.

Her fingers were numb as they fumbled with her zipper. Was something else out there? A rabid animal, waiting to rip her throat out, like in Peter’s nonsense story? Could it be more than that? She tried to ignore how much she trembled. 

Crack.

Aubrey flinched. The sound was right outside the door. Her breath cut in and out of her, so sharp her chest ached. She tried to hold it, to keep any sound from spilling out as she listened to the woods. 

Time dripped by in silence, and Aubrey wasn’t sure how long she stood there, trembling in that reeking shack, before she heard Olivia call her name.

“Did you get lost?” Olivia asked. Her flashlight cut through the darkness toward the shack, and Aubrey waited for the scream that something was behind the outhouse. When none sounded, Aubrey crept out. She scanned the trees, tearing her lantern from its hook and thrusting it above her head to try to illuminate as much as possible. 

“There was something out here,” she murmured, walking around the back of the outhouse. She couldn’t tell if any of the leaves were disturbed, but there was nothing obviously out of place.

“What are you doing? Come inside!” Olivia called, still by the cabin. Aubrey took a deep breath and headed to her friend. 

Inside, Peter was waiting by the door.

“Did you take forever on purpose?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Aubrey scoffed.

“I thought I heard something. I didn’t want to get eaten by a wolf,” she replied. Then, a touch softer, “Be careful.” 

“Did you really hear something?” Olivia asked when they were alone, wringing her fingers. Aubrey swallowed.

“I could have sworn something was right outside the door,” she admitted. She shuddered, goosebumps rippling across her flesh. 

Above them, a thump sounded, loud enough to be felt in their bones as Aubrey and Olivia jumped. They met each other’s eyes, wide enough for the whites to show all the way around. 

“Did you hear that?” Aubrey asked.

“What was it,” Olivia breathed.

“Animal?” Aubrey replied, equally quiet. “It’s probably…probably a raccoon.” Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, sticky and dry. 

They were silent, holding their breath, listening. 

Then, thud. From the kitchen, this time. 

Olivia covered her mouth with a trembling hand. 

“It’s probably Peter,” she whispered. “Trying to scare us.” She swallowed, her throat aching from the tightness. “I’ll go look in the kitchen.” Olivia shook her head vehemently but seemed too terrified to speak. 

Aubrey tried to take a step and failed. 

Tried again. 

Her feet wouldn’t budge. 

She was frozen in her spot, even as she shrieked at her legs internally to just move. 

Another thud in the kitchen broke the spell as she jumped, using momentum to propel her forward.

Aubrey didn’t let herself hesitate before shoving the swinging door forward.

She crept in, lantern before her, casting the room in blue light. The door swung back behind her, creaking on its hinges. She gulped, peeking behind a table built into the wall. 

The room was empty. 

Even as she turned, ready to tell Olivia there must be rats in the walls, dread sluiced through Aubrey like ice in her veins. Each pound of her heart pleaded with her to run, run, run. 

What was the matter with her?

She released her breath and forced her shoulders to relax, moving for the door.

It didn’t open.

Frowning, Aubrey pushed again, wondering if she misremembered which side the hinges were on. 

When the door still didn’t move, she called out, “Olivia? Is something blocking the door?”

If this was one of them trying to scare her, she’d—

A low growl rumbled through the floorboards behind her. 

Aubrey’s stomach dropped. 

The lantern tumbled from her trembling hands. The light shattered against the floor, and she was in darkness.

She closed her eyes anyways. 

Closed them as the growl became a snarl, the sound like no animal she’d ever heard.

Her limbs went numb.

Her thoughts eddied out. 

Teeth.

Fangs.

Aubrey screamed as something bit her right shoulder, the breath of the beast burning in the frigid night. 

It shook her, and instinct had her wrenching her shoulder free. 

A sob broke from her lips and she threw herself against the door, making her shoulder throb. 

She could tell it was bleeding, could tell it was bad— 

The door still refused to move. No sound pierced through from the other side. 

Iron jaws clamped down around her bicep, ripping muscle. 

Aubrey screamed again, pleading for help. 

The—creature—whatever—was biting her, attacking her, mauling her—

It snarled again, the sound reverberating through her bones.

“Help!” she shrieked. “Help me!”

She was kicking, thrashing against the door, and the creature fell from her arm again. The pain was hot and stinging as blood dribbled down her arm. It pattered against the floorboards. 

“Aubrey!” 

Somebody was screaming, but they sounded very far away, and Aubrey couldn’t make out whose voice it was, and her head felt too light, limbs too heavy—

Breath rushed from Aubrey’s chest as the creature lunged again.

***

Peter sent the head of the ax sailing through the kitchen door. 

Behind him, Olivia clutched her arms tightly around herself. Tears rushed silently down her cheeks. 

They had stopped hearing Aubrey minutes ago. 

Had stopped hearing that horrific, blood-curdling shrieking. 

Stopped hearing their friend begging for help. 

They each decided the silence was worse.

Peter swung the ax again.

He had barely taken note of the rusty old thing leaning against the cabin on his way back from the outhouse. As Aubrey’s initial screams cut through the night, he had rushed for the cabin, and when he found that the door was jammed—the door Aubrey was throwing herself against, thrashing and pleading—he took too long to remember that ax, had raced to retrieve it while Olivia stood catatonic in the corner.

He swung again. 

Olivia flinched as the blade crunched through the old door. Her eyes saw beyond the door, glazed, hollow. 

Peter froze as he ripped a board free. Beheld the scene beyond.

Aubrey’s dead body was face-down, alone in the room, with no sign of whatever beast had attacked her.

Blood was everywhere: staining her clothes, spattered across the walls. Seeping beneath her. 

There were small yellow chunks stuck to the board he’d pried free, and as Peter brought the board closer, he realized with a start that—it was—

He dropped the board and wretched.

Flesh.

Aubrey’s flesh—her tissue and muscle and blood and throat—was splattered across the room, from one end to the other.

The camera, useless and fallen to its side on the floor, recorded them as they collapsed, easy prey for the beast in the shadows.