The Winter Reptile

December 31'st 2020

New Year's Eve for us began cold, at the crack of Dawn, and that was the only sunny day out of the whole trip.
We never saw P or M that day, I suspected they were busy with their own things. I'm not sure what, I didn't even really understand how places like these functioned. I had finally gotten an hour and a half of sleep and just as I was really getting comfortable with a dream I was having—one I couldn't remember—I was rudely awakened to the sound of heavy rapping on the cabin door, "get up, shit face, you're sleeping through the hunt."
It was Amy, and she continued knocking until I finally groaned, past my denial of having to leave the warm comfort of the sleeping bag, climbed out, walked over to the door, unlatched and opened it, putting a stop to her persistent knocking and showed her my middle finger. She had on all her thin, but insulated camouflage clothes. Unfazed, she returned the gesture, her hands camo gloved as well, "get dressed and get some coffee," she said. "I've got some doughnuts in the cookhouse."
"Whatever," I said, shutting the door.
"Good morning to you too," her voice sound faint, distant, as if something wasn't sitting right with her. Maybe it was just me. After all, I was exhausted, not having slept for several hours. Everything in my mind was so hazy, I hardly even remembered what had happened late last night. I knew I'd gotten up for something. But for what, I wasn't sure. All I knew was that my first night out in the wilderness fucking sucked.
I dressed in my warm hunting gear, same as Amy's, (may as well do it right) gathered all the necessities for the hunt, organized in my pack and grabbed my 17 she let me borrow. I checked the chamber, like she showed us, made sure it was empty of a round and slung the strap of the rifle over my left shoulder. Outside was bright and painful for my eyes as I began trudging through thick snow. Squinting hard, I joined the others outside the cookhouse, where Amy held out a thermos of coffee to me. I took it, looking at her. She seemed uncomfortable with something, her eyes were wide, her face was pale, and she seemed to be trying too hard to breathe, "you okay?" I asked her. Even though I was angry with her the night before, she was my friend and I did care.
She shrugged and tried to look positive, "oh yeah, just anxious about the hunt, worried Alex and Jake might screw something up." She spoke so they wouldn't hear.
I looked over to them. Alex was leaning against the hood of Amy's pickup, slurping coffee, totally looking as though he didn't give a shit about the day ahead. Jake came out of the cookhouse, balancing a chocolate doughnut on his coffee. He actually appeared a little more enthusiastic, to my surprise, "morning, pussy face," he said when he saw me.
"Morning," I replied, looking around, "where's Chloe and Bernard?"
"I know, you're in love with me," if Chloe had said that, I think I would have vomited right there, but it was only Bernard as he came from the cabin behind the cookhouse, holding up his gloved hands. "Forgot my gloves and shades."
"You look like you need a pair," Alex said, looking at me through his.
I would have rolled my eyes, but it was too painful to, "Chloe's still getting ready and there's a pair in my glovebox," Jake told me.
"Thanks," I said, and went and got them. It was so much better when I put them on, everything was in a cool shade of brown. I ate two doughnuts and drank my coffee while we waited for Chloe in silence, the flavors blending made up for the fact I wouldn't get to go with her today. I was too damn nervous and embarrassed to admit to Amy that's what I wanted. Maybe that was why she made that decision the night before, so I would man up and just say something. But I didn't feel ready yet, and it wasn't anyone else's business. Something kept nagging me in the back of my mind. What happened? I couldn't sleep, but the last thing I remember is something lurking outside.
"Tracks," I said aloud, not realizing it.
"Tracks?" Amy asked, looking puzzled.
"Nothing," I quickly shook my head. "I need to go piss."
I turned and waded back toward my cabin. On the other side, I studied the snow, looking for tracks, venturing further away. Even though it was snowing last night, and any source of footprints were sure to be covered by now, there still had to be some kind of indentation, to show that something had walked here. I looked as far as I could, searching for any sign, even studying for scratch marks on trunks of pine trees. I must have been looking for a while, because I heard Jake calling me, "hey, dick face! You starting without us?"
I gave up, sighed. I could see nothing. Perhaps if there were tracks, whatever came through did so elsewhere. I peed behind my cabin, covered the yellow snow in fresh white, and when I rejoined the others, Chloe was there this time. She had on warm, pink camouflage, pack and rifle slung over her shoulders, her blond hair tied back under her hood, "that was one long piss," She said, smiling at me.
I almost said something I perhaps should've left unsaid, but thankfully she turned to Amy and said, "hon, did you get a bloody nose last night?"
Amy frowned, "no," she said, "why?"
"I saw some blood on the rug in there by your sleeping bag."
"No, I didn't have any issues last night," Amy shrugged, again, I could tell something was up with her. "I would have noticed signs of a nosebleed on my pillow."
"Maybe you scraped a scab when you got up or something?" Bernard offered.
"I don't have any scrapes or scratches on me," Amy said, she seemed to want to drop the subject. "I don't know where any blood came from, maybe a wounded rodent came by. Are we all ready?"
My eyes widened, completely dumbstruck by the oddity of the conversation, everyone else seemed oblivious. I didn't understand why. Did any of them feel that presence? That electric feeling? Now the girls were finding blood on the floor of their cabin. What was going on? I wanted to ask them, but Amy was anxious to get going. The sun would be high in the sky soon and we would be out most of the day. I decided I would ask them tonight.
"So it's me and Alex," Bernard said.
"Me and Chloe," Amy nodded, I flinched, still pissed, wondering if she would keep her away from me next time we swapped out.
I bit my tongue, saying lastly, and bitterly, hoping she would sense that bitterness, "and me and Jake."
"Right," Amy nodded to Chloe, then to me, as if to silently tell me, you're not making a move unless you can get your shit together.
Fuck you, bitch, "I hope we kill something," I said, forcing a smile.
"Oh, speaking of which..." Amy rummaged through one of her pockets, came out with a mouth call. "Going to show you all how to do this, a quick lesson, okay? Then we'll go, unless something comes into this call."
We all stood behind Amy as she crouched against a tree, looking out toward the open, clear of any buildings, laid her rifle across her knees and put the call to her lips. The sound that came forth was horrible. It sounded like a dying animal. Because it was supposed to. It resembled the distressed cries of a cottontail, WEE WE WEEE WEEEE WE WEEEE WEEEEE WAAAA WEEE AAA WEEE!
We all grimaced at the sound, it was terrible to listen to, and loud, echoing through the winter air. Goddamn! I would rather listen to the sound of someone in The Last of Us II whimpering in agony and terror as I jammed a knife into the vein in their throat. Well not really, that game is way too realistic and distressing when it comes to kills. At least that wasn't real. Neither was this, but it was easy to imagine a coyote having one of those rabbits caught in its jaws while it screamed like that, in terror and agony, being ripped to pieces and eaten alive.
Suddenly, I found myself waiting, eager to see one of those bastards come over the rise, right into Amy's crosshairs. I wanted to see one die.
But nothing came, and Amy kept it brief. We watched as she used her palm, moving it certain ways to manipulate the sound that came out the end opposite she was blowing on. When she finished, she said, "that's how you do it, it just takes practice. Once you get it right, it can be lots of fun. An uneducated one will jump right into your lap if you can nail it with these calls. Just remember, as soon as you see one, don't hesitate. Take the shot quickly, aim dead center or the head. You make sure that dog goes down. Fast and clean."
Those of us who planned to shoot all nodded in mutual agreement.
We then set out.
Me and Jake went passed my cabin, toward the main road. I glanced longingly at Chloe as she and Amy made their way toward the open area P and M's house was in, toward the trees on the far side. Alex and Bernard went the other way, passing the cabins, going toward the shop and garage area.
But before we fully departed, I glimpsed Amy's gate as she walked, so awkwardly. Yet I knew somehow, it wasn't from the deep snow. I shuddered, Disturbed.
Two by two, we split up, and went separate ways.
                                                                                                           :
What did I know about hunting? Hardly anything, aside from what I've seen on TV, read in books and done in video games. I knew you had to be quiet, look for tracks and stay downwind and all that. But actually going out and experiencing the real thing was quite another. And I had never guessed my first hunt would be so peculiar, unique. I mean... coyotes? I had never thought of them as game animals. I knew fur had to come from somewhere, and I knew this—calling and trapping—was a kinder way of doing it than the actual inhumane methods in other places. To be honest, I thought if I ever were to go hunting, it would be something usual, like deer.
We knew to be quiet, stay downwind, and it was easy so far, slowly wading knee deep in the wet and white powder, as me and Jake moved through the trees, tall, looming, almost forbidding, yet at the same time, welcoming. Around us, was a vast and gorgeous crystal world as the morning sun rose slowly. Once the cabins were no longer in sight, I decided to take my rifle from my shoulder and hold it at the ready, just like a hunter. I wanted to know what I was doing, I wanted to understand. I hoped Amy wouldn't have any luck shooting something. Maybe if I got one first, and Chloe went with me the next day... I found any strand of hope I could desperately hold onto.
We didn't say anything. I slowed, looked to Jake, who looked at me. I mouthed the words, 'slowly, but occasionally stop and look around.'
He nodded, grinned, we continued on. Eventually, we came onto a road, buried in snow, and saw where two animals had waded through, roadside. I looked closer, but could hardly tell what they were, given the collapsing snow around the prints. But I believed it was safe to say they were coyotes. Two of them. Of course they were plentiful out here. People hardly hunted them, they were used to people who didn't, so they weren't very cautious. This was going to be a piece of cake. I believed some Hunter instinct—passed down from my ancestors—had kicked in. I grew excited. I followed the tracks, which were heading away from the property. I was blatantly unaware that Jake was struggling to keep up, he tapped my shoulder and I turned around. He looked annoyed, mouthed, 'occasionally stop?' And shrugged, letting me know it was a question.
I mouthed back, 'sorry.'
We continued on.
We came around a corner, where the road turned right and overlaid open terrain, and the two coyotes, ambling along the road, their backs turned to us. My stomach burned, I suddenly started trembling, (what did they call that? Buck Fever? Where you get over exited when the hunting tables turn in your favor) as I looked at the animals. They were easily sixty yards away, did not even know we were there. They were beautiful, brownish gold in the morning sunlight against the snow. Occasionally one would stop, sniff a bush, hike a leg and piss, before moving on. I turned and looked at Jake, who's eyes were wide with excitement. We settled down on the snow covered ground, careful not to make a sound. They still hadn't noticed us. I could have picked one off just like that, but I wanted to get their attention, to face me. I had to think carefully. Slowly, I eased a round into the chamber of the 17, made sure the safety was off, laid the barrel across my knees. I took out the mouth call Amy gave me, put it to my lips, tried to remember how she did it, and began to replicate the sound of the distressed cottontail as best I could.
I butchered it of course. It sounded as if I was blowing on a whistle with an aspirator amplified fifty times. But the coyotes heard it, threw their heads up high and turned toward us in unison. I tried to smooth the sound of the call, tried to make it sound more like a dying rabbit, made some small succession. The coyotes stared, as if amazed to see intruders. But when the first one bolted across the road and vanished into a thicket of trees, it wasn't from my call, nor mine and Jake's presence. The scream came, loud and sudden, completely drowning out my call, to my left, far into the trees, ten times louder. It was no dying rabbit.
A negative reaction to the sound of the mouth call.
It was a scream of anger. It was a scream of hatred. I froze, the call still pressed to my lips. I had never heard a sound like it. It was otherworldly. Like the blend of a pig's squeal, a woman's scream, a wolf's howl and the hiss of an angry cat. Loud, nerve racking. I felt a shiver go down my spine, as if Jake suddenly decided to stuff snow down my shirt. I had heard many things in movies and games that sounded demonic, evil, horrifying. None came close to this, as if all the others were the weakest attempts you could imagine. The scream was followed by a dreadful series of inhuman hacking, grunting, angrily. I couldn't tell how far away it was, A memory from stories I heard came back to me, if it sounds like it's close, then it's far away. If it sounds like it's far away...
This sounded like neither. The second coyote stood its ground, staring in the direction of whatever made the sounds. "That the actual fuck?" I heard Jake mutter. Silence followed, then three second later, I stuffed the call back into my pocket, readied my rifle, fixed the crosshairs right on the coyote's eye and squeezed the trigger.
The shot that rang out wasn't as loud as I thought it was going to be, my ears didn't ring. Probably because it was a small caliber. A rimfire in a rifle—and yes, I know what a rimfire is. But in the split quarter second between the bullet exiting the muzzle of the barrel and claiming my prize surgically accurately, a dozen thoughts blew through my mind, each more insane than the next. What was that, a mountain lion? Bobcat? Someone's sick idea of a prank and our imaginations getting the better of us? Something real and Supernatural? A Skinwalker! A werewolf? A Raven Mocker? A Howler? A Wendigo?
The coyote crashed to the ground, the bushy tail went up, ringing like a bell, and it's as if my call was never answered by what made that sound. But it HAD been answered. I watched as the wild dog thrashed in the snow repeatedly for about five seconds before going still. A quick, clean kill. Just like Amy wanted.
We did not move for some time after that, however.
Me and Jake sat there, still frozen in shock by what just happened, what we heard. What had screamed, did not scream again. The feeling of static was back, running over my flesh, causing it to prickle. Despite the warm clothes, I felt cold. Finally, Jake spoke up, "aren't we gonna take that back to camp now?" He pointed toward the coyote I killed.
I tried to shake the feeling, nodded. We made our way toward the kill. The coyote looked smaller than it had been when it was standing, but still fluffy with a prime winter coat and every bit as beautiful as something you'd see in a film. Nothing like the ones I've seen scavenging the dumpsters in Cruces, covered with mange and riddled with disease. These were clean—as clean as they get, anyway—the coyote lay on its belly, blood bubbling from its eye, where I shot it, soaking into the snow in a seemingly beautiful formation of scarlet. Unrealistic I get this lucky on my first hunt, I thought, studying my prize. Almost as if this was set up...
"Congratulations," Jake said, patting me on the shoulder, but I could tell he was still frightened. It's still watching us.
And indeed it was. The eyes I felt on me came from far behind us. But when I turned back to look, I saw only snow and brush and trees. "What was that?" I asked.
Jake looked pale, "fuck if I know. Mountain lion."
"They wouldn't scream like that."
"Like you know how they scream," he was right, of course. I knew they screamed, like bobcats. But I thought it was only when they were mating or something.
Jake must have thought the same, because he tried to lighten the mood by saying, "maybe it was your mom. She and I had a great time last week, she must have come out here, saw me and got..."
I cut him off, " shut up, dude. That's like, your worst mom joke yet."
"Oh well, excuse me, Mr. Get scared of every animal noise you hear in the woods."
I ignored his lame taunts, "come on," I said, leaning down, grabbing both hind legs of the coyote. "Let's get this guy back and skinned out before he spoils."
"I think it'll be a while," Jake said. "But yeah, I do wanna get back. Congratulations on your first kill."
"Thanks," I said, feeling a wave of triumph.
I liked having to hold the coyote by its hind legs, surprised by how light the canine was—though I was sure to feel the weight after a while—the fur was soft, so soft that it seemed almost delicate, as if it would slip off the carcass if I wasn't careful. I shouldered my rifle and grabbed the front legs with my other hand, holding the animal in a more comfortable position (Jake would never touch the thing). I was careful to keep clear of the head, red teeth showing, the good eye staring at me, the blood pouring onto the snow in streaming droplets, leaving tangled and red patterns. We started back toward the cabins, but stopped.
Another coyote rushed passed us, close enough for Jake to reach out and touch. The animal acted as though we weren't there. We watched as it ran hard, vanishing into the trees, leaving a trail of snow flying in its wake. The oddity increased considerably when another coyote came up over the rise, passed us, again, not even acknowledging that we were even there, followed pursuit of the first. Another coyote emerged from the trees where we came from and did the exact same thing. "Is this normal?" Jake asked.
I watched as another came towards us, shook my head, "I don't know, I don't think so."
The answer—we learned—was no, when three coyotes ran passed us, dashing into the trees on the other side. More came. Three, five. Eight! Many, many coyotes. All running passed us and into the trees ahead. I counted at least twenty, and more were coming. I payed even closer attention, not to the dogs, but to where they were coming from. In the direction we came, the cabins, P and M's house, the direction Alex and Bernard had went, where Amy and Chloe had gone. They came from all those directions, almost as if... if they...
"They're being driven," I said aloud, in complete dismay.
"Huh?" Jake looked at me. "That doesn't make sense."
"I know, but I know why they're doing this. Something's causing them all to flee from...from...whatever's disturbing them."
"But what?" Demanded Jake.
"I'm not sticking around to find out. And neither are you, let's go." We started back toward the cabins, a live coyote brushing my leg as it ran past, almost causing me to drop the one I shot. "Amy knows more about this stuff than I do, maybe she might know."
Of course I was holding onto false hope. Amy had outdoor experience but I seriously doubt she would know why all the coyotes in the area were fleeing in the same direction. And it wasn't just coyotes either. I saw two raccoons leaping through the snow once we hit the tree line, going the same route. Every animal looked terrified, with wide eyes and panting mouths. The fuck is going on?
It screamed again.
My arms were sore from carrying the fur animal, my nose was red, my face was numb from the cold and my feet were also from the snow, despite wearing thick socks and sealed boots, and I could only imagine that Jake felt the same, aside from the sore arms. But we made it back to camp around the same time Amy and Chloe had arrived, five minutes after us. By then, I had secured a chord around one hind foot of the coyote and it hung limp and upside down over the side of her truck. The head stopped bleeding, but things were about to get messier.
We saw Amy and Chloe approaching from the large open area, hobbling through the snow toward the cabins. I studied their gates. Comparatively, Chloe was doing fine, just looked tired from the walk, seeing as to how she'd never done this, but Amy, who had a passion for outdoors and hunting, looked like she was about to collapse. She moved slowly, Chloe having to stop and wait for her every ten steps, narrowing down to every five steps when they finally reached us. She did not look good, "are you sure you're okay?" Chloe asked her, her face contorted into an expression of concern. As they passed the front of the pickup.
"I'm fine," Amy insisted, "please stop asking."
But she didn't look fine. Her face was even paler than it was before we all departed that morning, her foot pacing was all wrong, slower, lamer. She looked sick. I felt sick seeing her like that. She did not act normal. But she put on an impressed smile when she saw my coyote hanging from the side, "wow, that's a nice one!" She exclaimed. "Which one of you got him?"
Jake pointed at me, I seemed to forget my worry for her (I didn't know why), and grinned, "that was easier than I thought," I said happily. "There were two of them but the other got away..."
I told them the story, making sure Chloe was listening—she was—and when I finished, Amy looked paler than ever, and Chloe too, which brought my concern back. "That wasn't a mountain lion that screamed," Amy said, in an almost sinister tone, yet I could tell she was disturbed, they had heard it too.
"Do you know what it was?" Jake asked her.
"I'd tell you if I did, but all those coyotes you saw...that does explain why we saw none."
"It was driving them?" Chloe asked, eyeing the one I killed, suddenly the experience didn't feel so rewarding.
I nodded, "It's like..." I swallowed, "...whatever it was didn't want us here...didn't want us here hunting them."
"Or didn't want us here in the first place," Jake said.
"Another thing," I had to ask, because I couldn't be the only one who'd felt it. "Did any of you feel like you were being watched? Did it feel like there was electricity in the air?"
Amy shook her head, "I've been coming here for a long time, I've grown used to it. I have felt animal's eyes on me before, but I haven't been stalked by a predator in a long time, not since..." she went silent, her face white as chalk.
"Since when?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.
Finally, she said, "since I first came here. I slept in one of these cabins, at least... I tried to sleep. I was awake the whole night, feeling something's presence, like an animal was stalking around outside. Eyes watching...heaving shivers... eyes...electric... couldn't get warm. Not until four in the morning, and even then it was only light dozing..."
She acts as if it were only last night, and it was. Because it all came back to me now. At least, most of it, "...and everything was silent," I finished for her. "No howling, no breeze. Only that strong presence."
She eyed me up and down carefully, "so it's happened to you too."
It wasn't a question, "yeah," I nodded.
"It happened to me too," Jake suddenly said.
We all looked at him in surprise, "I think we all felt it," Chloe added. "It happened to all of us."
"It only happened twice," Amy said. "Once, to me, when I first came here, like I said, and again this trip. This time stronger, like... like... hatred. Since the first time, hardly anything, like it suddenly stopped caring. Now..."
"We don't know if Alex and Bernard felt it too," Chloe suddenly added.
"Right, we need conformation, it might not be anything at all," I quickly added. "We all kept silent because it was too weird to mention but our silence doesn't mean something or nothing happened. It could just be this place, our imaginations to a new place."
Amy quickly targeted that chink in the armor, "I agree. There's nothing wrong at all. Maybe it's just the change of me bringing ya'll up here that's got me feeling it again."
"Right," Jake nodded. "Maybe we're all just overthinking this."
"But what about those screams?" I quickly asked, remembering. "Those are sounds I'll never forget."
And indeed they weren't any I could forget. I could hear them in my head, so clear, so vivid and real. Everything else was a haze. "Just some animal," Amy decided, and we left it at that, obviously in denial that it could be anything else. "Look, it's been a weird day, let's just skin this coyote out and wait for Alex and Bernard. Then we'll ask them, discuss it at supper."
We all agreed, tried to shake the disturbance.
Since it was my coyote, Amy showed me how to skin it for its pelt, while having me do it. All of a sudden, Jake was interested, to which I rolled my eyes as I got out my skinning blades. I did make sure Chloe was watching. It was weird, I know, but I really wanted her to see that I could do something, anything that wasn't in a video game. Through Amy's guidance, I cut a circle around each hind leg, between the paws and break off joints. Then, I ran the blade under the hide along the inside between the legs, and inside the crotch, meeting each of the cut circles where I started. Amy said it was easy to pull the hide off, and preferable so as to not cut it full of holes. There was very little blood as I parted the hide from the muscle, warm and slippery in my hands as it easily pulled free, exposing bare meaty bones and tendons. The next part was a little gross for my liking, but she had me skin around the vent (the asshole) and what came next was kinda difficult, and that was stripping the tail. She got me two steel rods. I was supposed to clamp them between the skinned base of the tail against the hide (and when I say clamp, I mean clamp hard until my knuckles were tight and white) and pull down hard until the hide was stripped from the tail.
According to Amy, this was old school, saying that she forgot her Tail Stripper or whatever she called it. The tail and hide parted easily enough, a dozen jointed, slim finger the result. That was the hardest part. I then pulled the hide further from the corpse, listening to the wet disgusting popping and crackling of flesh being pulled apart until I reached the front legs. Amy had me carefully use the blade to skin down and around the elbows, cutting the hide free between the front paws and elbows. I pulled down to the neck until she had me use the knife again to skin out the ears, the eyes and finally the nose, blood spilling onto my hands and splattering the snow, warm and slippery, until finally, the pelt came free of the carcass.
What remained of the coyote was something from Resident Evil with only the paws covered in fur, and a puddle of blood in the snow by the tire. "Good," Amy said, slapping me on the shoulder. "You did good for your first time. Mine, I totally screwed up on."
"Thanks," I said, turning the hide right side in, exposing the beautiful fur, the white of the belly streaked in blood. My hands were sore and exhausted from the work, sticky with blood. From what I heard, open skinning was a different process, one I knew nothing about. This tube result was called case skinning. As long as the animal didn't suffer, I thought, holding the flexible pelt in my red stained hands. This was interesting. And it didn't feel like what you hear or read that was exaggerated. Of course all that was just fiction and those were evil characters. That kind of stuff did happen, but this... this was just reality, and as long as it was done right, there was nothing wrong with it. I could see why Amy would have a passion for this. "Fun's just beginning," Amy said, undoing her tailgate, pulling out a red cooler, opening it. "You get it, tan it and mount it, or pay to get it done, or sell it."
She pulled out a large ziplock bag and opened it, then held out her hand, "give."
I handed the pelt to her and she took it, rolled it up into a ball, slipped it into the baggy, zipped it up and tossed it into the cooler, which was packed with ice. "I don't know about that, Amy," I said, unsure. "I kinda just wanted to try something new, I didn't really think I would get this lucky. But you should keep it."
"Don't be so polite," she said mocking my tone as she shut the cooler lid, shoving it back into the bed and closing the tailgate. "You can make something out of it, like a scarf, or a hat. Hell, you could even make a King in The North outfit, a Jon Snow cloak...*gasp*!"
"I'll think about it," I said. "But I'm not sure if... Amy!"
I caught her as she was falling, Chloe shrieked, Jake gasped. We all helped retain her footing as her eyes seemed distant now. She did not look good, "I'm fine," she said, though her voice indicated otherwise, her legs wobbled under her. "I'm just tired. Just walked a long way today."
"That wasn't a long walk," Chloe said as Jake and I put her arms over each of our shoulders. "You've been doing this all your life. You're not okay, you're sick."
"I just need some rest," She said, I could feel her trembling. "Take me inside so I can lay down."
"Good idea," I nodded to Jake and we walked her, slowly and easily over to the cabin she and Chloe were sleeping in. Chloe got the door for us and we took her inside. We helped her lay on her sleeping bag, on the bed closest to the entrance to the next room.
"Just give me a minute," she said, waving us off, her head settling on the hood of the sleeping bag, eyes closed.
"No," I said sternly. "You tell us what's going on, now!"
"Yeah!" Chloe agreed. "This isn't like you, Amy. Come on, girl. You can tell us. Did you catch something?"
"Is it the virus we mustn't name?" Jake asked. "Did you catch it?"
"No," she shook her head, not opening her eyes to look at us. "I just feel weak. I don't really understand why. I am hungry. Yes, that must be why. Yes. And thirsty."
"You want us to make you something?" Though I didn't need to ask and she even said as much.
"Just get out of here," she groaned.
We reluctantly left the cabin one by one, me trailing behind, but when we were out the door, Amy said, "Mark."
I turned, looked at her, "yeah?"
She opened her eyes, looked into my eyes, "great job today. Go get another one tonight, tomorrow. Don't let me slow ya'll down. Promise?"
I frowned, "uh, okay... I promise."
But before I could leave, she said, "Mark?"
"What is it, Amy?"
"Take Chloe with you?"
That struck me odd. Just earlier, she felt like her girl's hunt was more important than my chance to be with Chloe. Now, she was speaking to me as if this were her death bed. I shuddered, but got a hold of myself, smiled, "of course, Amy. Anything for a friend."
She smiled back at me, "be good now, don't do anything weird. I know you."
I chuckled, though she was scaring me, "I know you do, Amy. Don't worry, I'll be on my best behavior."
"Good, now beat it, I'm tired."
I would have left right then, but I didn't when I looked down. On the floor by the doorway, I saw blood. A thin trail of blood, extending to the outside and inside our tracks in the snow, where we had carried her in. It was dark blood, I knew it didn't belong to the coyote. I studied my hands, where the material was now dry and crusted, giving my skin a weird sensation, like I dipped my hands into chalk powder. The trail of blood lead to Amy's bed where she now lay, and on the rug, I saw what Chloe was talking about that morning. On the rug, was a dark blotch, dried. It had all come from Amy. Yet oddly, inexplicably, as if something wouldn't let me, I didn't voice this to anyone.
I simply turned, and left her there, both of us, and perhaps all six of us, knowing something was very, very wrong with this place.