AFTERMATH [until dawn]

Chapter Ten

SAM

Sam wandered around the small guest room in Jessica's place, stopping before the small collection of books messily stacked in the wooden bookshelf.

There's got to be something to read, she thought as she prowled through the books one by one. Something to take my mind of things... Sports Almanac...Italian cookbooks...Travel guides...Really? Not one novel? Nothing at all? Who reads this boring shit?

With an annoyed huff, Sam flung herself onto the small bed in the middle of the room and stared up at the ceiling blankly.

What am I doing here? She wondered. I could just go home, but home wouldn't make me feel any better.... Sam sighed and brushed her hair out of her face. But its not like being here makes me feel any better, anyway, she thought bitterly.

Sam missed Josh the most at times like this. He would have known exactly what to say to cheer her up. He would have cracked some stupid joke, or come up with some weird activity... Either way, it would have been lots of fun. Sam smiled, thinking of all the good times they had together, before shaking her head again. God, Sam, stop reminiscing—he isn't here anymore, when will you accept that? The more you think, the more you hurt.

Sam rubbed her temples, trying to get rid of her headache. I need a glass of water.

She slowly stood up on shaky legs and exited the guest room. Sam made her way to the kitchen, stopping once in a while to look at Mike and Jessica's photos and belongings on shelves and tables. She heard Mike outside, taking care of the trash from the night. Sam poured herself a glass of cold water and sipped it, leaning against the side of the refrigerator while she her mind wandered.

Jessica's probably asleep, she thought. I never thought that one day we would have to all meet up in...in a Psychiatric Centre. Nobody could have ever imagined this. It was a very peaceful night. All was quiet and Sam could hear the sounds of trees rustling outside in the woods. It calmed her nerves. It's so...Nice here. It's really calm, it feels safe, and it's actually a good place to rewind and relax.

Sam finished her water and washed the cup, hanging it on the shelf to dry. She wiped her hands on a towel and looked at herself in the small mirror on the wall. The once-bright green eyes of the girl in the mirror were cloudy, and the easy grin that she usually saw was not there. Gingerly, Sam reached up and touched the dark scar on her cheek. What's happened to me?

She stared blankly at her own reflection for a few seconds then turned away, unable to face it. I never realized how much Josh meant to me until... he was gone. Maybe that's life—you never appreciate and treasure what you have until its too late.

A series of knocks on the door pulled Sam out of her thoughts and she flinched. The knocking ceased for a second, before it started again.

"Mike?" Sam asked fearfully. Why is he knocking like this? I thought he was out back, taking out the trash? He could easily get through the back door... She picked up a knife from the kitchen drawer beside her and held it up threateningly. "Is that you?"

"Sam!" A male voice shouted through the door. "Open up! Please! Hurry!"

"Chris?" Sam recognized the voice immediately, and quickly put down her knife before running to the door. She pulled it open and watched her friend (and his girlfriend) standing outside with wide eyes. "Jesus! What happened to you guys?"

Chris and Ashley stood by the door, with Ashley leaning against the doorframe heavily. They looked like they had been in a fight. Chris' clothes were rumpled and dirty, and there were scrapes on his jeans that weren't there earlier in the night. Ashley's parka was stained with dirt, and her beanie was almost falling off. Her hair was messed up and frizzy, like she'd just run a marathon. If not for the blood on their clothes and the look of terror in their eyes, Sam would have assumed that the couple had been outside doing something else...

Her friends' disheveled appearances, however, were not the scariest part. Between Chris and Ashley, they were hauling a bloody man on some sort of a makeshift stretcher made of two sticks of wood with one of Chris' jackets stretched out in between. The man had a giant wound on his head and he seemed unconscious. Sam didn't recognize him.

"W-Who is that?" Sam asked, pointing at the stretcher. She watched with horror as a drop of blood dripped off the side of the stretcher and onto the mat outside the door.

"He's, um..." Ashley's voice trailed off as she seemed to realize that she didn't know the man's name. Alarmed, Sam took a step back.

"No, Sam, it's fine," Chris said quickly. With a grunt, he readjusted his grip on the stretcher while Ashley held on, visibly straining with the effort. "This guy saved us out there."

"What?" Sam asked. "Saved you from what?" No, no, no... Sam could pretty much guess what had attacked her friends—the bloody clothing, the burns on the unconscious man, Ashley's frightened expression...

"A W-Wendigo, Sam." Ashley whispered the word, like she didn't want to hear it herself.

Sam was silent. Her brain was still processing the situation, refusing to accept the truth. Not again, not again, not again, this isn't happening again! Sam remembered being in the Lodge last year. She remembered the fight between the Wendigos, with Hannah battling most of the others and winning. She remembered risking her life by yelling to save Mike, giving him the time to edge out of the house and leaving her alone with the rest of the monsters. She remembered the panic that had gripped her heart when the Wendigo turned to stare at her, and how difficult it was for her to remain still. And, above all—she remembered the murderous screech of the Wendigo seconds before she had flicked the switch, disintegrating everything in the house and flinging herself outside soon after.

We killed them, she thought silently with despair. We killed them all...

All the memories and flashbacks passed in a matter of seconds, and Sam was back in reality with her friends at the door. They waited for her to respond. Numb, Sam moved away from the door and gestured for the couple to get inside.

"Just...uh...leave him on the ground beside the sofa, I guess," Sam said in weak voice. "Mike's out back taking out the trash, he should be back soon. He'll know what to do—it's his house."

Sam slammed the door shut after Ashley and Chris entered. When they were fussing around about how to put the man down—Ashley insisting they put him on the rug, and Chris trying to convince her not to, Sam took the opportunity and rushed to the kitchen. With shaking hands, she got herself another glass of water and chugged it down.

Snap out of it, Sam, she scolded herself. Sam turned to the mirror, and this time the face that stared back had a look of pure fear. She tried to relax the muscles there to show less emotion, but it didn't seem to work. They were attacked by... A Wendigo.

The universe seemed to stop, again, at that precise moment, as the extent of their situation finally settled in Sam's mind. A Wendigo! Holy fuck! Sam spun around, grasping the edge of a kitchen counter for support, as memories of last year came flooding back yet again. It was as if she could hear the sound of a Wendigo screeching right next to her ear. Vivid images of the Wendigos attacking each other and tearing off limbs raced through Sam's mind. She shut her eyes to try and get rid of the images, to no avail.

Stop, Sam, Stop. Just stop. Sam took a deep breath and steeled herself. Chris and Ashley must be scared enough already. I need to comfort them, not scare them more.

She walked out of the kitchen, acting calm with her head up. Both Chris and Ashley looked up when they heard her come in. They had placed the man on the ground next to the mattress, and Ashley was trying in vain to stop the blood from seeping onto the ground.

"So..." Sam asked. She realized how shaky her voice sounded and cleared her throat before continuing. "Where is it?"

"Where is what?" Ashley asked, a note of fear in her voice.

"The Wendigo?" Sam tried to say it nonchalantly, like it was no big deal—but the words still came out sounding like a curse. The feeling was similar to how people reacted in Harry Potter whenever someone said the word "Voldemort"—like it was the most fearsome and horrible thing in the world. And to the seven survivors...It was.

"Oh," Chris exhaled. "Uh, this guy," he pointed at the old man on the floor. "Killed it. He ran out with a torch and shoved it right through the Wendigo."

Sam was now confused.

"Okay, you know what, just explain from the beginning. What exactly happened?" Sam asked.

Taking a deep breath, Chris started to explain all the events that had happened just hours ago, with Ashley occasionally chiming in to add extra details. He talked about their walk to the parking lot, the strange noises, and eventually seeing the Wendigo. He described the way the mysterious man had bravely jumped into the fight and got thrown against a car, but still managed to save them. Ashley talked about her quick "plan" to carry the man back to Jessica's place to get him help, explaining repeatedly that he had saved their lives and she needed to help him.

"I get it, Ash, I do." Sam said quickly. She turned to the man on the ground, who showed no signs of life besides the slight movements of his chest as he breathed. "We need to help him... I don't know this house well, we've got to get...Mike..." Sam suddenly realized that Mike had been outside for an awfully long time.

"Where is he?" Chris asked, peering around. "I thought you said he was taking out the trash."

"Yeah, he was..." Sam frowned. "It shouldn't take that long... I'll go check."

Classic horror movie scenario, Samantha, she thought sarcastically. There are monsters out there who just knocked out a man, and here you are, heading outside to the dark backyard of your house—where nobody can save you—to look for your lost friend.

She hummed to herself to lighten the mood while flicking on a flashlight. Sam opened the creaky back door and aimed her flashlight outside, searching for Mike.

"Mike?" She shouted, slowly making her way towards the side of the house where the outdoor bins were. "Michael?" Sam cursed as she almost tripped over a rock on the ground. "Mike? This isn't funny!"

Sam shivered in her thin hoodie and made her way towards the bins. There were three multicolored ones, lining the side of the house. She gasped when she saw the silhouette of a man, then sighed in relief when she realized it was just Mike. One lone lightbulb shone right above the bins, its weak light flickering once in a while. Mike stood almost directly underneath it, back to the house, and stared at the woods far away. The pale light cast shadows on his defined features and gave Mike an almost ghoulish appearance. Sam slowly moved towards him, careful to avoid anything that may trip her on the ground.

"Mike? What are you doing out here?" She asked tentatively as she took another step forward.

Mike didn't respond.

"...Mike?" Sam asked again, furrowing her brows at her friends' silence. She reached him and tapped his shoulder. Mike simply continued to stare into space, lost in some sort of a trance. "Mike!"

Sam grabbed Mike by the shoulder and shook him violently. This time, Mike flinched and jumped a couple steps away from her. It happened so quickly, Sam had no time to react. Mike bared his teeth and glared at Sam, a murderous look in his eyes.

"Woah, woah, woah," Sam quickly backed away. "Cool down, Munroe. It's Sam. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Mike continued to glare at her for a moment before his expression abruptly changed. It happened in less than a second—the murderous look melted away to reveal Mike, back to normal. His eyes seemed to clear, and he straightened himself up, looking surprised at Sam's cowering position.

"What's wrong, Sammy?" Mike asked, holding his arms up in surrender. "What happened?" He glanced behind him, searching for danger.

"What do you mean—Wha—" Sam spluttered, at a loss for words. Mike genuinely looked confused as he watched her. Was it just my imagination? Sam wondered. I've never seen Mike glare at anyone like that. He never would have. It was probably just my mind messing with me... I'm too paranoid. "Nevermind, I thought I saw something."

"Okay then," Mike replied with a shrug. He went over to the bins, as if suddenly remembering what he went outside to do, and shut the lid with a thump. Mike dusted off his hands and turned to Sam, a strange smile on his face.

"So, um..." He started, "actually—"

A sudden crash came from inside the house, followed by the sound of Chris cursing. Mike turned towards the direction of the house, surprised.

"What—" Mike exclaimed. "Was that Chris?"

"Uh," Sam tried to explain. "They were atta...Actually, you know what, they'll explain. Just get back inside and you'll see."

With that, she pushed Mike back towards the house without waiting for his response. He tried to protest, but stopped abruptly when he saw Chris, Ashley, and the mystery man on the ground.

"Jesus!" Mike began. "What—" He seemed at a loss for words. "I—you—who—what the fuck?" He exclaimed loudly. "Why is there a dead guy on the floor?"

Startled by the noise, the man suddenly opened his eyes wide and sat up, his movements resembling a revived corpse. Mike screamed—a girly squeal of fear that would have made Sam laugh if she wasn't feeling so heavy and scared. The man turned and fixed his eyes on Mike and Sam with a snarl.

"Oh, great, there are more of you?" He muttered, and surveyed the house. He frowned. "Where the fuck did you kids take me?" He started to get up, then cursed when more blood spilled out of his wound, making Ashley gasp. "Fuckin'—" He lay back down again with a thump.

"He needs help!" Ashley cried, turning to Mike. "Mike, you need to call doctors or something!"

"Ah! Ho-hold on there! Hold on there, Mister." Mike said as he retreated and turned towards the man. "You better explain who you are and what the hell you're doing in my pla—my girlfriend's place."

"Your, uh, friends—they didn't tell you?" The man turned and raised an eyebrow at Chris. Chris was about to object when Sam cut in.

"Uh, no, he was outside and didn't hear them." Sam explained. The man furrowed his eyebrows and muttered to himself...

"Outside..." He studied Mike with a strange, even a little fearful, look on his face. "You feelin' okay, son?"

"What—Yeah, why?" Mike responded a little too quickly, his eyes darting around. Hm, Sam thought. It's like he hasn't spoken a single full sentence tonight. The man simply scrutinized him for a second longer before he shook his head and turned away.

"Nothin', nothin'." The man muttered. "So y'all know about Wendigos, yeah?" He was going to continue, but winced as a fresh wave of pain rushed through him. "Ugh..."

"We brought you here so you could get medical help, um, sir." Ashley quickly said, shooting another look at Mike, like, can you get this man help already?

The four others in the room turned to watch Mike, who was gaping at them openmouthed.

"Hold up..." He said, staring at them wide-eyed. "Did he just—did he just say—fucking Wendigos?" Mike seemed to just notice his friends' bloodied clothing and the soot on them. "Holy shit!"

Ashley and Chris exchanged glances, and launched into a shortened version of everything that had happened. Mike listened silently, shaking his head in denial and disbelief. When they finished, he slowly made his way towards the couch and practically collapsed onto it, holding his hand in his hands.

"I can't believe this..." Mike muttered. He looked up. "You're telling me that, all this time, Jess and I have been living r-right next to Wendigos?" He suddenly glanced up the stairs. "Oh, shit, I forgot she was here... Goddamn..." Mike rubbed his temples. "Jess is sleeping, so lets try to keep the volume down, yeah?"

"Sure, kid, and yeah," the man gestured out the window at the mountain. "That's Blackwood Mountain right there." Sam was surprised he was still awake, not to mention being able to speak. He gave everyone an appraising look. "How do you know about the Wendigos, by the way? What were you doin' messin' with them? They killed a lot o' my friends, you know—one actually died last year."

"We were stuck in this mountain last year..." Sam stated as all her friends paled, remembering everything. "My f-friend's family owns—I mean, um, owned—" her voice cracked. "The estate. W-we visited him l-last year t-to, uh, to—"

"We went there last year to visit him," Chris interrupted quickly, glancing at Sam. Thank you, she mouthed at him, and Chris shrugged. "We went through a lot of shit, killed a lot of the Wendigos, blew up a couple houses, and... Most of us made it out, anyway." His eyes saddened and his shoulders visibly slumped. Ashley patted his arm comfortingly.

"Huh," the man simply said. He seemed a little surprised—maybe he didn't expect anybody, particularly random teenagers, to survive a night on the Mountain.

Chris turned to look at the old man. "How do you know about Wendigos, then?" His eyes narrowed.

"Well..." the man shuffled around and took a deep breath, seemingly realizing that the teenagers around him weren't going to give him the medical attention he desperately needed until he explained himself. "It's a long story."

"We've got time," Sam snapped, eyeing the man with distrust. He just shows up randomly at the right moment and saves Chris and Ashley? The more I think about it, the more suspicious he seems. Ashley gave Sam a look of warning—she seemed protective of this random injured old guy. Chris shook his head, trying to signal for Sam to be nicer. Mike watched the man with the same impassive look on his face as Sam.

"I'll start simple, then, girl," the man huffed and propped himself up on an elbow. "My name's George Murphy. I've lived 'round this mountain for almost all my life and fought a shit ton of Wendigos...But there's a reason why I know so many of 'em and their weaknesses..." He seemed reluctant to continue.

"See, I've been here for a long time and...I..." George cleared his throat. "Well, I... I used to be one of 'em."

The room was silent after his unclear "confession", an air of confusion inside. Sam was about to open her mouth to ask "Wait, what?"—

—But she was interrupted by a pained and horrified scream from outside the house.