1934, Little Hill, Oklahoma
Frank watched the woods from inside, waiting for a sight of lifeless eyes to stare back at him. Nothing. He didn’t expect much more, but the forest had been proved deceptive. Stuck in a broken home, with his only companion a broken man, the odds of him surviving the night seemed to be stacked against him. Raymond was a hardened veteran of course, but family was what kept him in line. Without them, could he still be dependable, and determined? He didn’t know for sure. He backed down from the kitchen window and closed the curtains. The kitchen was painted a pale yellow with checkered tiling covering the floor. The vibrance within the house starkly contrasted with the dark, quiet night. As Frank recognized before, the absence of sound appeared to indicate the presence of something within the forest… the presence of a merciless killer.
“Raymond, I need to ask you something, concerning…our current situation.”
“Hell, go ahead Frank. Lay it down.” Raymond sat at the kitchen table, leaning his shoulder against the wall. Frank walked over to him, with a serious look in his eyes. He put his hands on the table.
“I need to know if you’re truly willing to… to help me go through the night. If you think you could have my back, well–I’d have yours.” Raymond chuckled a bit, putting his head down, then looked back up at him.
“Jesus, Frank. Are you asking about whether I have the will to live? To move on? Coulda just told me plain.” He stood up from his chair, then stepped closely to Frank. The look on his face seemed sympathetic, yet stricken with pain, with anger. “I’ll be honest. I don’t want to live. I really mean it…But I’d be a fool to wait here and die. I didn’t die in the war. If I had, then I’d have considered it part of God’s little scheme. And I didn’t die from that thing in the forest, so I’m not sure what He has in store for me. Apart from letting me bury my own wife and son…I don’t know.” his face switched to a grim expression. “Anyway, I don’t see how a cripple is going to be of much use for you.”
“Well, do you have any shells for your shotgun?”
“In the cupboard upstairs.”
“Then that’s a start. I’m going to need them.” He smiled faintly, then went to the stairs and up to search the cupboard. Raymond followed him from behind.
“So, what are we going to do then? Bunker down?”
“Well, it’s our only option, ain’t it?”
“Besides running through the forest, I suppose so. Leaves us in a bad spot…”
“Yeah! No kidding.” Frank begins rummaging through the bedroom cupboard upstairs.
“Y’know, if we’re lucky enough, the damage done to it will deter them from comin’ back.”
“So, we’re betting on whether it’s dumb enough to come back,” Frank concludes, “or if it’s smart enough to kill us later.”
“Seems that way,” Raymond affirms. “But more importantly, let’s hope we’re clever enough to survive the damn thing.”
Yeah, let’s hope, Frank thought. He needed Raymond’s help, with that he was sure. But at the same time, Frank couldn’t help but consider him a possible liability.
Hell, he said it himself. He’s a cripple…
He grabbed the box of shells then picked up the shotgun with his other hand. He laid both items on the bed, then pulled his service pistol out of its holster. He offered it to Raymond, who, in a desperate effort, didn’t dare to look at his dead wife.
“One soldier to another, eh?”
“I suppose so, thanks.” He grabbed it with his good arm, then tucked it into his waist. “I guess I won’t be too defenseless now, but reloading oughta be a bitch.”
“Hate to say it, but if six rounds doesn’t put it down, nothing will. Best to use it only when necessary.”
After their brief exchange, they prepped the house for another attack. For every room, Frank closed the windows and shut the curtains. He propped all of Raymond’s furniture against every entry. Now vaguely aware of the size of the creature, and with Raymond’s own personal account, they unanimously agreed to hide in the cellar, which had a narrow entrance and was smaller than head-height for the both of them. They turned off all the lights, and waited silently for another step, weapons in hand.