Surprisingly, Mike found sleep. It was the sounds of people moving supplies that awoke him. He could see his breath as he headed into the great room. The only source of light came from the open door.
“Just like you to wait until we’re almost done.” BT had his arms full with three cases of water.
“It’s a talent,” Mike told him. “Everyone else already over there?”
“Everyone except Trish. She says she’s staying here, that she’ll be safer. That girl's a model of altruism; you should listen to her reasoning for yourself. She’s not shy about being an asshole.”
“You don’t need help?”
“No sarcasm in this at all, my friend, but you did enough yesterday. Try and take it easy today.”
“Appreciate that. Where’s Trip?”
“I think the man might be part mule. He’s hauled over more supplies than I have.”
“That guy isn’t natural. So where’s Trish?”
“Office bedroom.” BT headed out the door.
The young woman was sitting on the bed; she was holding her dead cell phone. “Old habits,” she said as she placed the device on the table.
“I hear you’re not making the move with us. Can I ask why?”
“Safer here.”
“How do you figure that? You’re only one person.”
“That’s the point. I’m only one person. When they come back to eat, do you think they’re going to bother with the appetizer or the buffet?”
“Wait, so let me understand this right. Your preferred method of survival is to hope for the deaths of others? Pretty selfish, don’t you think?”
“Why? I don’t know any of you, none of you mean anything to me.”
“Maybe because we’re all humans, and we’re going through this together. I would think that would be enough.”
“Oh puhlease!” The word dripped with derision. “Don’t give me that shared experience crap. My friends are dead, okay? All I have left is me, my safety, my life, and I’m going to look out for that most precious of commodities.”
“Wow, I came in here thinking of talking you out of this craziness, that being with people was your best chance, but holy shit if I don’t prefer the idea of you staying right here by yourself. Here’s an FYI, miss all-for-one: predators, which the yetis are, will always go for the easiest kill. The young, old, weak, injured, and yep, the loners. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. Good luck, Trish.” Mike was almost out the door before he stopped. “Oh, and if we should all make it out of this and have annual reunions to celebrate that fact, you’re not invited.” Fucking spoiled brat. Mike stewed the entire walk across the campgrounds, happy, at least, that with so many previous trips before him, compacting a wide, flat trail, the walk was relatively easy.
“She’s not coming?” Tracy was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips.
Mike shook his head. He’d taken two more steps when Gus, having heard Mike’s voice, rounded the far corner of the cabin and came barreling straight for him. “No, no, no!” Mike repeated as he turned and tried to escape. He hadn’t made it ten feet when he was planted into the ground, barely able to get his hands up in time to keep from eating snow. Gus stuck her nose under Mike’s shoulder and flipped him over like a beached salmon before licking his face. Tracy shooed the animal away, laughing as she looked down at her husband, covered in bear spit.
“Can we keep her?” Mike asked as he sat up.
“I’m sure the HOA won’t have a problem with us owning a grizzly, or, I guess, a grizzly owning you.”
“Har-dee-har. She thinks it’s hilarious; one of these times, she's going to kill me.” Mike gently pushed Gus’s face, the bear mockingly bit on his arm. Mike was impressed and terrified as he watched the entirety of his upper arm disappear into the grizzly's maw. “Anyone think to feed her today?”
“Looks like she’s about to take care of that particular problem.”
“Comedian, huh? I’d like to say you’re here all week, but I sincerely hope that’s not the case.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more.” She helped him to stand. “Trish is standing in the doorway. She looks pensive.”
“You know I hate those big words.”
“It’s two syllables. She looks deep in thought. Are you sure you asked if she wanted to come over? And not in the normal Talbot tone, either. The words that come out of your mouth and the tone you convey them in have to synch up.”
“Give it a go. She’s fun to talk to.” Mike headed to their newer, but much more cramped, accommodations.
“Trish.” Tracy walked over to the woman. “Why don’t you come on over, I’ll get you some tea.”
“I already told your husband I wasn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Which are?”
“As I said, I already told your husband.”
“Could you tell me?”
“I could," she said as she closed the door.
“He wasn’t lying about that one.” Tracy shook her head. “At least the sun is kind of out.” She had to shield her eyes as she looked up into the clouds. It was the brightest it had been since the day they’d arrived.
“Howdy, neighbor!” Tim waved over his back. He was walking backward and urinating in a track he had shoveled out.
“Do I want to know what’s going on?” she asked him.
“I’m marking my territory. It’s a warning for everything to keep out.”
“You think that’s going to work?”
“Wasn’t my place that got destroyed. Shit, I’m about on empty. Do you have to go?”
“I'm sorry?”
“I’m kind of getting sick of drinking so much water. You look like you’d have some strong piss in you.”
“Not that I would, but I don’t even know how I could.”
“I think there’s a funnel in the kitchenette. Want me to get it?”
“No.”
Tim pulled up his underwear. “Oh, I see what you’re doing.” He was looking at her. “I give you the idea, and now you’re going to save up your piss to do your own cabin.”
“I can assure you, that is not what I’m going to do.”
“Fine. But don’t come over here trying to borrow our funnel.” He stomped inside.
“Are these people cracking from the stress, or are they just naturally this crazy?”
Mike was outside placing mugs of steaming liquid into a snowbank.
“Not you too?”
“Not me too, what? You know I’d rather have iced coffee.”
“We're in the middle of an Alaskan blizzard, weirdo.”
“So? How’s Tim and the rest?”
“Whatever you do, don’t ask to borrow his funnel.”
“What? Yeah, I’m the weirdo. Come on in, we’re about to talk about what our next move.”
“I’ll be there in a minute. It's just nice to be outside with some sunlight and not having to wear a mask.”
“Oh! That’s what’s different! Couldn’t put my finger on it. The snow must have put out all the fires.”
Tracy felt a glimmer of hope as she saw a patch of blue sky far off in the distance. That didn’t quite equate to rescue, but it was the first sign that things were breaking their way.
“No Trish?” BT asked as Tracy came in and closed the door. She shook her head in response.
“How much trouble would we get in if we kidnapped her?” Mike asked. “I mean for her own good," he added as BT scowled at him.
“I’ll talk to her later, but ultimately it’ll be her decision,” BT said. “Let’s get down to it. It would seem that the yetis are nocturnal; everybody in agreement with that?” There was no dissent. “That means we have all day to get as far away from here as possible. My vote is, as a group we head to the motorsports store.”
Mike groaned. “Bud, the trek about fucking killed me, and now there’s more snow. How are Paul and Mrs. B going to make it?”
“It didn’t click last night because we were busy doing other things, namely trying to survive, but there are two toboggans in that utility shed. We could leave right now. Pack up and do it.”
Mike’s head bowed. “I don’t think you’re realizing just how hard those five miles are, and pulling people behind is only going to add to that misery.”
“It’s only five miles, Mike, we’ll take turns.”
“They may be nocturnal,” Linda stated, “but if I had to guess, I would think they keep a watch during the day like we do at night. If we’re spotted all leaving, there’s no reason to believe that they wouldn’t attack.”
“We don’t know that, hon. Mike and Trip were on their own out there; if they wanted to attack them, they could have. There’s no way they could have known they were coming back.”
“Great, I didn’t even think of that. The whole time out there, we could have become a snack. Let’s get these sleds, see what kind of shape they’re in.”
As BT and Mike were heading back across the lot, Trish opened the door and shrieked. “I’m not coming with you, quit asking!”
“Not here for you,” Mike told her evenly. She slammed the door.
“Don’t say anything, Mike, she’s just a kid. She’s been through a lot, and she lost all her friends...in the worst possible way.”
“Great. I went from pissed at her egocentric tendencies to now genuinely feeling bad for her. I don’t like having mixed feelings, BT.”
“God forbid you should have to go deeper into your conscience than the desire to eat and have sex.”
“What's wrong with sating my base desires? It makes for a very uncomplicated life.”
“You don’t wish to go higher? No self-actualization?”
“What for? Are those people fundamentally better off? I’d argue they’re among the most miserable people on the planet, always trying to achieve higher levels of enlightenment. Answer me this, bud. Let’s say it’s a Saturday afternoon. The previous evening, you just had fantastic sex with your wife and then you just cooked and ate some incredible barbecue. With me so far?”
BT nodded.
“So you had sex, just ate, and are now sitting there with your bestest friend drinking a beer. Tell me, could you possibly be more content than at that very moment?”
“Just help me get these out,” BT grunted as he moved some cinder blocks out of the way.
“Thought so.” Mike grabbed the first large sled BT handed back. “Umm, bud, we have a problem.” Mike was looking at where his hand held the toboggan.
“What?” BT stood up, holding another.
He rocked his fist back and forth slightly; where he did, the wood came away. “Dry rot.”
“Stop destroying it,” BT told him when Mike grabbed another piece and tore it free as easily as he would have a few panels of toilet paper.
“Okay, because someone sitting on it isn’t going to do more damage.”
“Shut up about it,” BT told him.
“Or where the rope is attached. I’m sure they won’t pull out of their moorings under tension.”
“You’re fucking this plan up!”
“Me? I’m gonna go with three decades of improper storage doing the trick.”
“Fuck it. I’ll carry Paul, Tim can carry his grandmother.”
“Listen, man, I realize you’re a beast, but he’s gotta be pushing two bills, and I can’t think you jostling him around is going to do his ribs any good.”
“We could use the plywood, attach some rope to the front, use it like a sled!” BT was excited about the idea.
Mike was thinking on it then shaking his head. “Won’t work. The weight will push the wood into the snow; it’ll like be pulling a plow.”
“You’re only saying no, Mike. I need to hear yeses, some solutions.”
Mike looked around, ran his gloved hand over the top of his hat-covered head. “The RV!” he said triumphantly.
“How’s that going to work?”
“The aluminum siding! We peel it off, reinforce it with some wood on top, curl the front end to look something like a toboggan, then we get the hell out of Dodge.”
“When we first met, I figured you to be mentally challenged. I mean, sure, you were a functional idiot, but an idiot nonetheless.”
“And now?”
“What’s just above idiot on the intelligence scale?”
“Moron.”
“Should I be concerned that you knew that off the top of your head?”
“When you’ve been called as many derogatory names as I have been, you tend to catalog them.”
“What are you doing to Chuck’s RV?” Tim was pacing back and forth in front of the cabin, a large jug of water in his hands. He was wearing his SpongeBob boxers and an oversized, purple robe. “You’re not trying to salvage evidence, are you? That could be problematic for you.”
“Did you slice his throat outside?” BT asked.
“Don’t think so. I might have punched him once or twice, though. So I’m going to ask again, what are you doing? I realize we need to stick together and all, but I don’t need you two, follow me? We've been doing just fine on our own over here.”
“Did he just threaten our lives?” Mike asked.
BT feigned fear. “I...I think so.”
“Relax, Your Majesty. We’re trying to make a sled,” Mike told him.
“Whereas I deserve being called kingly, I feel like that was a slight of some kind.”
“Just referring to the color of your robe.”
Tim looked down like he was noticing it for the first time. “It is regal, isn’t it? Need some help?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Cool,” Tim said as if he’d never alluded to the fact that if they caused him any problems, he would end their existence. “I’m going to get some pants on, I’ll be right back.” He sounded as if he was just darting home to grab his mitt for a pickup game of baseball.
“Is this really a microcosm of society, you think?” Mike asked.
“Sure, got your stoner, murderer, stud,” he pointed to himself, “then your not stud. I mean you.”
“I figured that’s where you were going with that.”
“What do you figure our odds of getting out of here are?”
“I think pretty good. Just got to make it through the night; been thinking about that. We should set up a few surprises for them, in case they decide to press the issue.”
“You know something I don’t?” BT stopped what he was doing to gauge his friend’s response.
“They want us trapped here, no doubt about it. They’re either building up the nerve to confront us directly or they're waiting until they’re hungry enough.”
“What, so we’re like the pantry or something?” BT asked.
“Yeah, but more like the corral, I guess.”
Tim waved to them as he put his boots on. When he was done, he purposefully strode toward them, a large knife in one hand, a pry bar in the other.
“That is one scary motherfucker,” Mike said under his breath as Tim bent down to tie his laces.
“Keep that to yourself. Bullies are weird like that; they feed off the fear they create. If there’s none available, they are almost like regular people. It’s a weird dynamic. If he thinks he’s getting to you, he won’t stop, he’ll press further, maybe to the point of even causing physical harm.”
“That’s not helping me hide the willies he gives me. Now I have to constantly monitor myself and how he perceives me; that's terrifying in its own right.”
“Give him that fake smile you gave Linda the time we invited you over for dinner, and you found out it was ham. That was terrifying. You’ll completely throw him off his game.”
“It showed?”
“Didn’t you wonder why Linda and I were in the kitchen so long? We’d just met you and figured it’d be nice to get to know the neighbors kind of thing. I made sure to put my service revolver on, told Linda the last time I’d seen such an insincere smile was when a suspect said he had nothing to do with a double homicide. You have no idea how close I was to escorting you out the door.”
“Wish you had. Only so many rolls you can eat for dinner.”
“It was a honey-baked ham; you realize how much that cost?”
“Anything above free was too much.”
“And the green beans? What was wrong with them?”
“Besides being green? Nothing.”
“I’ve seen three-year-olds that are less fussy about what they eat.”
“Move, if you two hens are going to talk all day. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Mike and BT stepped back as Tim stabbed the side of the vehicle then pulled down, cutting through the siding easier than he had a right to. Mike wondered if it was because the blade was that sharp or Tim was just that strong. Either way, it gave him a chill.
“No wonder he about took that dude’s head off.”
BT nudged Mike with an elbow. “Shut up.”
“You say something?” Tim looked up just as the squeal of metal died down.
“Mike was saying how when we get back to the lower forty-eight he wanted to hire you for his grandkid’s birthday party.”
“Oh yeah? How old is the little fucker? Oh wait, I’m not supposed to say it like that. How old is the precious child?”
“Not born yet,” Mike said, hoping to end that thread of the conversation.
“Yeah, it’s a good thing to plan ahead. I’m booked up for a while. Let me get this panel off, then I’ll pencil you into my appointment book.”
“Dick,” Mike said as Tim pried and pulled a section of aluminum down the entire length of the vehicle. “This’ll work,” Mike said as he gripped the material. “Plywood to sit on, bend up the front, should work.”
By the time they had one working sled ready to go, the sun was not long for the hemisphere.
“Thanks for the help.” BT put his hand out for Tim.
Tim looked at the proffered hand. “Help? I fucken' did it all, bro.”
“If you say so.” BT pulled his hand back.
“Yeah, I fucking said so!” Tim’s voice was sufficiently loud enough that he’d gathered an audience. Even Trish across the way was watching.
“Done?” BT didn’t flinch or look away.
A hyena-worthy smile pulled the edges of Tim’s mouth up, giving him a sinister sneer. “Ah, I’m just fucking with you.” He clapped BT on the shoulder.
“We’ll be leaving in the morning.” BT clapped his hand on Tim’s shoulder; both titans stood that way for a few more seconds.
“Isn’t that getting awkward?” Trip asked. “I feel awkward.” That was enough to disperse the tension.
“Shit, man, you’ve got to learn to relax.” The smile stayed, plastered on and not reaching his eyes. Tim’s hand finally moved off. “See you in the morning. Provided, you know, nothing gets you in the night.” He pointed to the woods with his knife.
“Why would I be worried about them when I have this?” BT pulled the revolver free from its holster.
“Fair enough.” As Tim headed back to the cabin, Mike couldn’t help but notice the man’s shoulders looked slumped over, as if he’d suffered a defeat. It should have made him feel better, it didn’t. Bad people didn’t take losing with any measure of grace.
“I don’t think it’s only what’s out in the woods we need to be wary of tonight,” Mike said.
“What do you mean?” BT was pulling the sled inside.
“I think he’s pissed.”
“Tim? Who cares? He’s not going to do anything.”
“Oh, I think you’re wrong on this one.”
“He’s a bully; I taught the bully a lesson.”
“This isn’t an after school movie. That dude is touched, and I think you gave him enough fuel to stoke the dumpster fire in his head.”
“Tomorrow at this time, we’ll be in a hotel in Anchorage, looking for flights out of here, and Tim will be a distant memory.”
“I hope you’re right. In the meantime, I’m going to make a little something in case we get visitors tonight.” Mike grabbed an extra piece of plywood, the hammer, and a box of three-inch nails.
“Anyone seen Gus?” Mike asked once he was done with his side project.
“She was watching us all day; I figured she got bored and went back to the cabin.” BT was looking around like somehow the hundred-pound bear was playing hide and seek.
“It never came in here,” Stephanie replied.
“She's a wild animal, Mike. She’s better suited to the woods,” Tracy offered in comfort as Mike looked longingly out the door.
“Just a cub.... Shit.” Mike finally closed the door. “Gonna miss the little gal.”
“You think that’s actually going to work?” BT was looking at the throw rug right outside the front door.
“I’d rather have it there than not,” Mike told him.
“Becky’s going to be pissed about the nail holes in the porch. That’s not coming out of my pay,” Trip said.
“Tell you what, if she comes looking to collect, I’ll take care of it,” Mike told him.
Trip paused. “I’ll draw up some papers.”
“You do that.”
“Seriously, man, nobody’s going to fall for that. Looks like something the coyote scored from ACME.” BT closed the door.
Mike shrugged. The sled was tucked into the corner of the living room, in case the yetis came back. If they were going to destroy their ride this time, it was going to have to be up close and personal, something Mike sincerely hoped didn’t happen.
The group had agreed to not make a fire and not to light any candles. They were going to run dark, like a submarine in enemy territory, hoping that they could escape detection.
“It’s going to be a cold night.” Tracy hugged her shoulders.
They had three-season sleeping bags and plenty of blankets; they’d get through all right, though it might not be the most comfortable. The cabin only consisted of one floor. They’d pulled the couch away from the window and placed the two mattresses in the center of the main room. It was going to be a communal evening; the only plan they had in place was to make it through the night and, at first light, hike out.
Trip was sitting on the couch, a fishing rod in his hands. He looked to the side of the cabin when he heard some rustling. He licked his pointer finger, bent down, and stuck it in Mike’s right ear. Luckily, Mike had yet to fall into a deep sleep as he slapped the digit away.
“What the fuck, Trip?” he hissed.
“I’m waking you up quietly.”
“You usually place a hand over someone’s mouth.”
“Why would I do that? Do you realize where my hands have been?”
Mike shuddered at that thought. “Thanks, I guess. Now the question is, why did you wet willie me?”
“I heard something.”
“If it was your heartbeat Trip, I’m going to be pissed.”
A scraping sound right outside cut the whispering conversation short. Mike reached over and grabbed the rifle. He slowly extracted himself from the sleeping bag as quietly as he could, which, given the type of material, sounded like he was opening the most oversized bag of potato chips he could find, in a crowded movie theater, during the pivotal suspense scene. Mike momentarily wondered where his hands had been before he placed one over BT’s mouth; with the other, he tapped the man’s shoulder. BT shot up like Mike had zapped him with a cattle prod—his eyes wide, his heart hammering straight away.
Mike leaned in so the words would only fill his friend’s ear, “Right outside.”
A heavy thud of rock against wood; tonight’s assault had begun.
“That’s the lodge,” BT said.
“Sounds like it.” Mike moved to wake everyone up; it quickly became unnecessary.
“That poor girl.” Tracy shuddered, and it had nothing to do with the cold. “Are you going to help her?”
“Fucking idiot is going to get us killed,” Mike swore.
More hits, then Trish screaming at the yetis to leave her alone. She even blurted out that she was going to call the fascist police.
“That ought to stop them. Probably quaking in their murderous furry feet,” BT said.
“I can open a window and take a shot outside, see if I can scare them away, but if it doesn’t work, all it’s going to do is let them know where we are, and our little stealth mission is for nothing.” Mike was looking at the group. “Unanimous or nothing.”
“I’ll settle it then,” Paul spoke up. “No. She repeatedly chose her destiny. If she was set on risking her life, that’s one thing, but her poor decision shouldn’t once again put everyone else at risk.”
Fundamentally Mike knew Paul was right. Tim was a confessed murderer, and he’d only taken one life; how many could be laid at Trish’s feet? All four of the people she was with were either lost and presumed dead or, in Blaire’s unfortunate circumstances, dead with prejudice. Trish screamed again, this one not a warning but the cry of a frightened human.
“Fuck.” Mike moved toward a window. “Okay, so maybe not unanimous, what say the rest of you?”
“I don’t wish to die here, no,” Stephanie said.
“I value the life of my wife, I value my own as I do each of us in this cabin. With that being said, I also value hers. I am sorry my love, I vote yes.”
“There’s the man who owns my heart.” She grabbed Trip’s face and kissed him.
“I’m at the window, so pretty sure you guys know where I stand. Bud?” Mike asked.
“To protect and to serve, no matter how reluctantly. I’m a yes.”
“No.” Linda gave no further explanation.
All eyes turned to Tracy and her deciding vote. “And if I say no?” She only had eyes for Mike.
“I will comply with the wishes of the majority," he told her. Mike felt that his wife was leaning toward no; risking their lives for someone with no regard for others was no easy feat. And just because their children were young adults now didn’t mean she wished to make them orphans.
Just as she was about to answer, there was an explosion of wood being splintered.
“Yes, goddammit it, yes!" she blurted.
Mike immediately flung the window open and fired two shots in succession. All was quiet before a rock blasted through the window right above his head and crashed into the far wall, denting the wood. He pulled back and dove to the side before the next could make it in. BT tipped the couch over the group for protection, and Mike went for the table, attempting to give them as much cover as possible, as the stony projectiles destroyed the inside of the cabin. Linda cried out when a rock struck the top of the couch and careened down into her thigh. The hits they were taking were indirect but still causing pain, contusions, and in Trip’s case, blood, as a glancing blow dug a channel in the side of his head.
“Stop!” Tracy begged as they were getting shelled. Mike felt horrible that he wasn’t able to do anything to ease the terror she was feeling, that they were all feeling. He was getting angry, the impotence fueling the ragged emotion, his wife, his friends in danger, and all he could do was huddle down and hope no one was injured or killed. He was thrumming with the anxiety to do something, anything. There was an impossibly loud scream from the doorway as three-inch nails embedded themselves deeply into the feet of a yeti, Mike stood as the door was slammed in, breaking it completely free from the hinges. It came to a spinning stop in the kitchenette. The entirety of the opening was taken up by the body of the yeti. It had stooped down to see what was causing it so much pain, its face twisted in agony and rage.
“Holy fuck.” Mike momentarily froze. His primal survival instinct to fight or flight had skipped a gear, locking him into place, accomplishing nothing. A cry as a rock either struck or came close to someone, it was enough to knock the freeze free. The yeti was still howling as it looked at Mike; it was going to come in and exact a measure of revenge. It lifted one bloodied foot from the spike encrusted boobytrap Mike had nailed down on the porch. He shot before it could come completely free, placing a round high up on its chest. The animal seemed unfazed as the heavy, high-speed projectile tore through its flesh and blew through the back of its shoulder blade, a spray of blood and bone misting out into the night. A darker shadow came up behind the other, somehow this one bigger, darker. Mike figured that the one he was looking at that he’d injured was a female, or possibly a juvenile—impetuous. It had come to grab a meal without planning properly.
The yeti Mike had shot staggered back a half step, placing its big foot half on, half off the mat. It again cried out, this time, it was pain and fear. It was a feeling the enormous animal was unaccustomed to as Lord of the Jungle. It had never before had anything to fear, until now. Mike shot again. The animal fell backward, a larger pair of arms wrapped around the thrashing juvenile, pulling it free from its misery. Blood pulsed from the wounds, they were all center mass shots, and it was highly unlikely the yeti would survive the next few minutes. Or so Mike hoped.
The assault stopped as the more enormous yeti pulled the juvenile away. Not more than five minutes later, an unnatural keening sound emanated from the woods. It was a low, mournful sound repeated among the members of the yeti clan.
“Damn! How many do you think there are?” BT said, tending to his wife’s superficial wounds.
Mike was looking down at the blood-soaked mat. Physically, he was standing in the doorway; mentally, he was thousands of miles away. He'd heard that kind of lamenting before. A boot lieutenant had called in an airstrike, and he’d made a mistake, or the pilot had, and a small school had taken the brunt of the missile. The wailing from the village sounded a lot like what he was hearing in the surrounding woods. The battle over the next few weeks had been fought with a ferocity he didn’t think the enemy capable of. Revenge was a powerful champion.
“We’re not going to be able to leave.” Mike turned back, his face ashen.
“What?” BT looked up. “Sure we are. They sleep during the day, we leave at first light, we’ll be long gone by the time they even realize it.”
Mike could only shake his head.
“Yo, fuck faces! You’re going to want to check this out.” Tim was outside in his traditional garb of a robe and underwear. “Well, maybe not all of you. Anyone with a pussy ass disposition is going to want to sit this one out. Or not. I don’t know what kind of deviant shit you’re into. People get off on the weirdest things.” Tim appeared to be having a grand old time. His cousin Stacy let out a strangled scream followed immediately by gagging and then a steady stream of vomit leading to a stuttered splashing of bile, once her stomach was purged of its contents.
“What am I looking at?” Tim gleefully grabbed Mike’s elbow and steered him past the RVs and toward the lodge. He focused a flashlight on the macabre scene. It took a second for Mike's mind to process the unnatural image in front of him. Trish’s head was perched atop the outside light, but that wasn’t quite right and not quite all of it. Her face was frozen in a wretched grimace of unimaginable pain. But even that wasn’t all of it. Her blood-red coated spine hung below, dripping clear, pink-tinged spinal fluid onto the ground. Her head and back had been completely removed from her body. Trish had been filleted; she looked very much like a deboned fish.
“They took the rest with them!” Tim gave Mike a backhanded swat across his chest like he’d just told him a humdinger of a joke. “Her body is gone. I looked. Smart beasts those things, I wouldn’t have taken her head either, chick never shut up, always whining about something or other.”
“What?” Mike turned away and was looking at Tim with a questioning gaze.
“Yeah, when she came back, sometimes she’d hide in the RV and just piss and moan. Oh, I led my friends out to die! Oh, I’m going to die too! It was fucking pathetic, and now that I think about it, I guess it was prophetic. Shit, that’s rich. Should I write that down?”
“What’s happening?” Mike heard Tracy coming and quickly turned to halt her progress. “What?” She shrugged him off. “Don’t you think I can handle it?”
“Not doubting it at all, hon, it’s just not something anyone needs to see.”
“Fuck yeah, it is. I’ve only ever seen it in video games; always wanted to see it in real life.” There was a wet gleam in Tim’s eyes.
“It’s not something that will easily be forgotten, you won’t be able to unsee this" he told his wife.
Tracy pulled away from Mike; he let her. If the woman had a mind to do something, there was little he could do to prevent it. She hadn’t spent more than two seconds looking before she turned back and stomped past him, he got the distinct feeling she was mad at him for letting her get past. Telling her he told her so would only get him deeper into the hot water she had poured.
BT had a fist to his mouth. “We need to bury her," came out in ragged bits.
“At least we won’t have to dig deep.” Tim was positively jovial. “I’ll take care of it.” He went into Charles's RV and came back with a shovel. “Whoo! Stinks in there. Gonna get to use the shovel after all.” He was whistling as he headed to the main lodge. He grabbed Trish’s hair and pulled her free from the sconce; he held her up so that they were face to face. “How ‘bout a little kiss!” He smacked his lips. “Whaddaya mean I’m not your type? Oh, you’re into furries. Sure, I could check with that Talbot fella; he seems like he’d be into that kind of thing.”
“Just bury her, Tim.” Mike was watching.
“Just having a little fun first.” He lowered her head down to his crotch as he dry humped the air.
“Jeesus.” Mike had had enough.
“What?” Tim laughed. “Just getting a little head from a little head!” He was laughing so hard he was having a difficult time catching his breath.
“Are you going to stop him?” Mike asked Mrs. Bennilli, who was standing on the small porch to her cabin. He didn’t wait for a response as he went in. Tracy was sitting on the couch wringing her hands, Linda had an arm around her shoulder. She shook her head at Mike when he went to come over and comfort his wife.
“How the fuck is this my fault?” Mike said to BT as he went back outside.
“She’s just upset. She’ll get to that point eventually.”
On the far side of the main lodge, they could hear Tim whistling an original song punctuated by the heavy strikes of a shovel biting into the nearly frozen earth.
“Do I deal with Tracy’s anger or Tim’s elation? Both are somewhat terrifying.”
BT nodded in commiseration.
“Hey, you hear that?” Tim shouted.
There was a faint knocking as the yetis beat large branches against tree trunks. It was subdued and rhythmic.
“Sounds like funeral drums,” Mike whispered. The sound grew louder in volume, the beat stayed the same. Mike had mistakenly attributed the low moan he heard to the wind before realization dawned.
Tim came running out from behind the lodge and came to a skidding walk when he saw that Mike and BT were watching him.
“Yeah, that doesn’t creep me out at all.” He looked over his shoulder and briskly walked toward and into his cabin.
“Didn’t think anything could scare a psychopath,” BT said.
“You told me he was a bully.”
“Do I look like a psychiatrist?”
“That’s how you’re going to walk that statement back?”
“I’m not ashamed to admit when I’m wrong.”
“You didn’t admit anything.”
“As good as it’s going to get. Are you finding it as creepy as I am, this dirge, I mean? It makes them more human-like.”
“Don’t like it at all because another human-like thing is the desire for vengeance. I’m thinking I killed someone high up the hierarchy.”
“If size is any indicator, it was on the younger side.”
“Okay, the son of someone high up. The alpha female’s son or something like that. I would imagine if they have a pack, there’s some sort of pecking order. And a pissed-off mother isn’t going to stop until we’re all dead,” Mike said.
“I wish I could dismiss your theory like I do so many of your other far-out things.”
“But…? You always seem so interested in them.”
“Only because you’re all too willing to supply beer when you talk about them. I get a kick out of it, then I go home and tell Linda how nuts you are. She thinks it’s a hoot.”
“I…I don’t know how I feel about that. I don’t like being the butt of a joke, especially from those I consider friends.”
“It comes from a place of love…and some concern.”
“If you thought I was nuts before, you’re going to love this one,” Mike continued then paused, putting his hand on BT's shoulder. “I think we should leave now.”
“It’s pitch dark out. It’ll be lighter in about four hours; that’s our window.”
“You’re hearing the same thing I am, right?”
BT nodded.
“I'm telling you, they’re not going to let us leave. We get caught out in the open where they can bombard us with boulders, we’re fucked.”
“We have guns, Mike. They shoot farther than even they can throw rocks.”
“Granted, but part of the path goes through the woods, they’ll have cover.”
“We’ll go around.”
“There is no around; it’s a two-lane tree-lined road. The only around is deeper into the woods.”
“I keep cycling back to 'we should wait here for help' until I remember it’s unlikely help is coming. Can’t stay, can’t go.” BT wanted to say more but was cut short when the tree banging stopped; the ensuing silence somehow more eerie than the moaning beat.
“We should go in.” Mike tapped BT on the arm.
“Yeah, yeah.” He followed his friend inside then propped the broken door up before moving the couch into place to hold it there.
Mike stayed near the window, though he couldn’t see much. The rest of the group were in the great room, some sitting, pacing, in BT’s case.
“How many rounds do you have, Mike?” BT asked.
“Eight. Two for the rifle, six for the pistol.”
“I have eight as well. Is sixteen rounds enough?”
“Considering it takes two or three well-aimed shots to take one down, and by the sounds of it, I’d say there are over a dozen of them…” He didn’t finish the rest when he realized everyone was listening in.
“Even with rationing, we’re down to four or five days of food,” Stephanie offered.
“The horror!” Trip shouted.
“Why won’t they just leave us alone?” Linda hunched over, placing her face in her hands.
Mike did not tell her it was because they were hungry too, and now he’d made it personal.
“I didn’t think apes ate meat,” came out more like a sob. BT rubbed his wife’s shoulders. Mike was known for storing useless bits of information, one of them was that while not a primary source of food for them, apes did, in fact, eat meat. Chimpanzees definitely hunted for and thoroughly enjoyed the protein. He had absolutely no idea which one the yetis were more closely related to, if either. For all he knew, they were on the human branch of evolution, and if that were the case, meat was definitely on the menu.
All eyes were pulled to one of the only windows not broken out when they heard a shuffling noise outside. Mike moved closer, berating himself even as he did so. His nose was nearly pressed against the cool glass when a large hand smacked it, sending him sprawling backward with a loud gasp.
“That’s fucking hilarious!” Tim shouted as he peered inside. His pale face smeared up against the window, his sizable pink tongue licked up and over half the window.
“What the fuck is wrong with you!?” Mike asked as he got up off the ground.
“Just having some fun, pecker. Ever heard of it?” Tim looked angry.
“I could have shot you!”
“From the floor? Would have been a hell of a strange angle. Let me in.”
“Fuck off,” Mike told him.
BT went to the door and pulled the couch out of the way.
BT shook his head and yanked the propped up door out of the way quickly.
Excuse me“, good people; do you have time to talk about your Lord and Savior?” Tim was smiling.
“People are dying, and you have time to joke?” Linda was upset.
“If not now, when?” Tim genuinely seemed puzzled. Mike could almost agree with him, though this seemed like a horrible time for scare pranks. People with loaded guns and on edge were usually a terrible target to startle.
“What do you want?” an exasperated BT asked.
“We still heading out in the morning? Nonna is running low on her blood pressure meds.”
“We were just talking about that; we’re not sure it’s the best idea anymore,” Mike told him as he sat down on the couch, his heart rate still elevated beyond normal, a lot of that could still be attributed to the fact that Tim was present.
“You’re pussying out? Oh, shit, sorry, women are present. You’re vaging out?”
“I’m not sure that’s better, but we think the yetis are going to attack, and we don’t have the firepower to fend them off in the open,” Mike told him.
“Fuck, I knew it. I was just telling Stacy that I bet they chickened out. By they, I mean you all.”
“Yeah, we got that,” Paul said.
“You shut up. I don’t know you, and as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want to. You’re dead weight, man. Just going to hold the rest of us able-bodied men back. Gimme a gun, I’ll go.”
Mike and BT exchanged a glance. “No.” Mike stood up, waiting for Tim to charge or do something equally unpredictable.
“What’d you say?”
“I fucking said no. I’m not giving up a firearm to you.”
“Aren’t I trustworthy enough?”
“Not what I’m saying. We have less than twenty rounds, total. Not going to divide them out on what is basically a suicide mission.”
“I’m not you; I’ll make it. I just need a gun.” He licked his lips. “I’m not scared of the big monkeys; they’re just stupid animals. Pew pew.” Tim mimicked shooting pistols. “First light we’re leaving, I don’t give a fuck which of you weapon wielders I drag with me, or you’re giving me a gun. Nonna is getting her meds, because if anything happens to her, I’m going to take it out on all of you.” He made sure to point to each individual in turn.
“Yeah, enough of that shit. Get out.” BT pushed his shoulder. Tim braced, Mike took an instant to wonder if he’d shoot Tim if it came down to it, and he decided that indeed he would.
The clown must have sensed that and, like any good predator weighing risks versus rewards, retreated.
“What an asshole,” Tracy said as BT again propped the door up and slid the couch to hold it in place. “Like we don’t have enough going on."
“Trip, any chance that pill stash of yours contains anything to do with high blood pressure?” Mike asked.
“Why would I waste drug space on medicine?” Trip was aghast.
“Just asking, no need to get offended. Don’t need another pissed-off person.”
“Now what?” Paul asked.
Mike shrugged, no one else said anything.
“What did they say?” Stacy asked.
“They’re not planning on going.” Tim made a couple of fast loops around the living room.
“Nonna only has…”
“Well aware, Stacy. I just need one of the guns, and I’ll go myself. I might have to deal with the big one.”
“BT?”
“That’s what they call him, must be short for big tits.”
“I heard that!” Mrs. Bennilli shouted from her bedroom.
“Sorry, Nonna!”
“What are you going to do?” Stacy asked much quieter.
“The less you know, the better.”
She smirked at him. “When you say stuff like that, it just means you don’t know.”
Tim pulled his knife free from its sheath. The candlelight glowed along the edge. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”