The Shack

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The crunch of twigs sounded underfoot as I kept up with the park trail. I slicked the back of my hand across my sweaty brow, enjoying the moment's relief the overhanging branches provided and kept up the pace. The humidity has been torture this week, but it hasn't stopped me from exploring the park.

The map crinkled in my hands as I rechecked the location. I found the 'X' on the map and checked my surroundings before nodding to ensure I was at the correct spot. Kneeling in the grass, I took it all in. This is where the family of three was found. I remember the report; their bodies were found at their campsite—mutilated. Their organs were removed. Human saliva inside them—

My feet squished under the layers of dead pine needles as I probed the area for clues. This week, I've been keeping myself busy with the case files and locating the spots where the victims were found. I couldn't sit at home; it just made me think. My mind runs wild with crazy thoughts I don't want to imagine. The letters were another thing I didn't want to think about. No matter how I feel about it, nothing makes sense.

Is the writer of the letters trying to help me or just trying to throw me off? Are they the guys from the car incidents?

So many questions, and yet no answers.

I whipped the stick across the campsite with a huff and started down the trail once more, searching for the other locations.

By the time I reached the nest location, the sun had long passed the sky's midpoint and started to descend.

Gentle waves lapped at the water's edge while I enjoyed the fresh breeze blowing across my hot skin while I studied the river for clues. I hadn't a clue what to look for; these crime scenes have been swept over countless times by professionals—not to mention some of these cases are months old now.

The shadows grew longer across the ground, and the midday heat began to cool off into the late afternoon. The birds' songs sang out above, and squirrels rustled through the trees and underbrush. Dusting off my hands, I stood up from the old dock I was examining and shoved them onto my hips.

A grizzly bear attacked the woman in the case file, but I didn't come up with anything after a quick check of the area. It could be a one-off, though. Maybe the wrong place at the wrong time?

I started walking the water's edge, sifting through the long, wiry reeds to see if anything was hiding inside. Mud splashed over my hiking boots as I pulled my foot free with a grunt. The report crossed out 'grizzly bear' and changed it to 'wild dogs'...but I haven't seen any signs of either of those. My hand laid over the top of the pistol I had attached to my hip. It was dad's, but I don't think he'd mind if he knew where I was. Regardless of what the letter said, I knew just from all the attacks around here that it would be better to arm myself than not. Can't take any chances—

A stick snapped, startling me. Whipping around with my hand clamped over the hilt of the pistol, I let out a nervous laugh when nothing was there. But my laughter didn't last long. The birds' songs ceased, and even the squirrels raced up the trees to sound a loud alarm. My heart hammered against my ribs, and my legs began to shake. Slowly, I shifted a step behind and fixed my eyes ahead. Nothing stood out in the trees or shrubs, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was there. Staring. Waiting—

"Ah!" My foot slipped down the drop, sending me crashing. The cold of the water seeped into my bones and snuffed out any heat I had left inside me.

With an irritated growl, I yanked myself out of the dirt and water and plopped down on a large rock. My body, from the thighs down, was soaked right through and dirtied with mud. "Ugh!" The slick suction sounded out as I stood up.

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