The Weight of Living

02. Wendigo

BLACKWATER RIDGE - LOST CREEK, COLORADO

EXT. FOREST – NIGHT

Two tents were set up near a fire ring. Crickets chirped. Inside one tent, two young men, Brad and Gary, were playing head-to-head handheld video games.

"Dude, you're cheating," Brad said.

"No, you just suck," Gary replied.

Something growled outside. In the other tent, a third young man, Tommy Collins, recorded a video message on his cell phone.

"Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge," Tommy said.

Something dark flicked behind the tent wall behind Tommy, too fast to be identifiable as more than 'something dark'; the screen on Tommy's phone, displaying the video as Tommy recorded it, caught it.

Tommy continued. "We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow."

Tommy stopped recording and sent the message.

Brad closed his game system and tossed it aside. Gary stared at his system for a moment, then turned to look at Brad, who was getting up and unzipping the tent.

"Hey, where ya goin'?" Gary asked. "My moment of victory."

"Nature calls," Brad answered.

Brad went outside and zipped up the tent behind him. He went to stand against the tree to relieve himself. The fire crackled. Something snapped a stick. Brad looked towards the sound and saw the trees rustling. Brad shook his head and returned his attention downward, then looked up sharply. Something growled.

Inside Tommy's tent, Tommy, who was reading Joseph Campbell's The Hero With A Thousand Faces, heard Brad scream. Inside Gary's tent, Gary heard the same and rolled over.

"Brad?" Gary called.

Tommy sat up and asked, "Gary, what's goin' on?"

Gary opened the tent and stuck his head out to look around. He saw nothing. Growling. He looked up. Something pulled Gary out of the tent. He screamed.

Tommy turned out the lantern he had on. Shadows moved quickly around the outside of Tommy's tent. Tommy looked around, his eyes following the shadows and growling. Silence fell. Something slashed open Tommy's tent. Tommy screamed.

PALO ALTO, CALIFORNIA

EXT. CEMETERY – DAY

Birds chirped. Sam, wearing a suit and tie and carrying a bouquet of various flowers excluding roses, walked through an otherwise deserted cemetery.

Sam sighed and stopped next to a gravestone. It read "JESSICA LEE MOORE", "Beloved Daughter", "January 24th 1984 – November 2nd 2005". There was a small picture of a grinning Jess set into the stone above her name, a black-and-white picture of her leaning against the stone between a white teddy bear and a wooden box with a crucifix leaning on the picture, a small American flag next to the box, and three candles standing on the gravestone; one was of the Virgin de Guadalupe.

Sam looked between the gravestone and the flowers and began, "I, uh..." He laughed. "You always said roses were, were lame, so I brought you, uh..."

He looked at the picture set into the gravestone, then looked away, choking back tears. He stepped closer to the gravestone. "Jess... oh God..."

Sam knelt to set down the flowers. "I should have protected you. I should have told you the truth."

He leaned the flowers in front of the crucifix. An arm covered in dirt shot out of the ground and grabbed Sam by the wrist.