Read to the End

Fall in Line

This isn't the experience promised by the Airbnb ad. It promised relaxation, quiet. I imagined waking up to the sun, watching the snow glide over the trees while drinking hot chocolate. I thought I'd play board games, read a book, snowshoe, maybe even pretend to be a kid again and make a snowman with my niece. But that clearly isn't what happened.

I don't actually know what happened. All I know is that my family is missing. My sister, Tate. Her husband, Jake. Their daughter, Faith, who was so proud to recite the alphabet to me. And my twin brothers, Brody and Pete. They're just gone. It would be one thing if there was a sign of a struggle. Broken glass or blood or something. But there's none of that.

It all happened when I went down to the cellar, scrummaging for soda and some snacks. That's when I felt the tremor. The ground cracked and shook so violently like it was going to rip open and thrust me down to the darkness below. If that didn't get my adrenaline pumping, the screaming that followed did! I've never heard such terrible noises. They were insanity-inducing shrieks of utter terror, until they weren't. They just...stopped. Like someone flipped off a TV.

I rushed upstairs—it was only 30 seconds or so since the initial trembling — but when I made it to the landing, the cabin was empty. All the stuff was where it should be, except my family. They were gone.

A rush of cold air prickled my skin as I realized the door was open. I tried to rein in the panic. They probably just went outside. But I knew that was a lie. I ran to the door, but before I could even leave a print on the fresh blanket of snow, my eyes caught hold of something, and I forced myself back inside. Heart racing. Mind trying to understand what my eyes had just seen, I gingerly closed the door and slid to the ground behind it.

I've been pacing in the cabin for at least an hour now. Long enough for my mind to make sense about what I saw. They're obviously some kind of humanoid creatures. Elongated faces stretch out like ghastly horse muzzles. Their stretched-out bodies, maybe 7 or 8 feet tall, are completely black and shiny like beetles. Their skin—more like exoskeletons—reflect light in the same way blackened oil does, and I'm able to see their muscles and tendons flex.

I peek out the window careful to not be seen. They're still there, just roaming the woods like dementia patients who've forgotten where they are. Their gangling arms grab at everything they come across. Slithering tentacles spread over their arms like new growths on a tree branch. These feelers expand and shrink as the creatures wander the forest, with their unsettling gait. It's as though they're meant to walk on all fours, like a goat, but can't seem to figure that out. Their legs bend backward, so as they step, it's like they're galloping.

I've never seen or heard of anything like them.

Luckily, their attention is elsewhere right now, so I'm safe. Not sure how long that will last though, and it's getting cold inside the cabin—whatever was heating the place before is no longer working. But I'm afraid to turn on the wood-burning fireplace because the smoke may draw their attention.

So, what do I do? I have no idea where to find the keys to the Jeep. I think Jake may have had them last. I doubt I can outrun them, nor would I know where to run. And my cellphone has no reception.

I'm trapped.

And I've never been very effective at critical thinking. I guess that's why I've failed out of three, or maybe four, colleges. I need Tate. She's always been level-headed. She'd know what to do.

Where could she be?

A loud banging noise erupts from outside the kitchen. Turning my head, I see one of them has crashed into the window. Instinctively, I crouch down, hoping it didn't notice me.