A rasp of something hard on a branch directly above him saw the fear, which he had subdued but not conquered, ascend to new heights. Though hesitant to do so, his head turned to observe the slivers of dislodged bark land on his shoulder. His absolute terror rooted him to the spot as securely as the tree he stood beneath. His legs shook and his heart pounded so fast he would not have been surprised if it burst from his chest.
Although it was the last thing he wanted to do, Richard tilted his head back and gazed up the tree trunk. Something crouched on a branch entered the weak beam of light and stared down at him. It was something that should not exist. Something covered in brown and grey, mottled, wet-looking skin adorned with tubes of various sizes as if its blood vessels were on the outside. Vine-like tubes attached to its cheeks, chin and throat, hung down and entered its chest. Richard focused on its open mouth, the half-inch long teeth within and the larger teeth protruding from its lips. It was a monster. It was death. The monster’s small yellow eyes with pupils the colour of human blood, focused on its prey as it skulked slowly down the tree.
It shrieked.
A whimper escaped from Richard’s trembling form. He now knew what a blood curdling cry was, a phrase described in many horror books; it no longer sounded like a cliché. Warm liquid soaked his groin and ran down his legs to seep into his boots. Richard spied his petrified form reflected in the monster’s evil orbs. The globule of saliva that dripped from the creature’s teeth-lined maw seemed to fall in slow motion before it splattered on his forehead with a wet smack. Terrified, he watched pain and death approach.
Though Eli had been the first to see the Hunter monster in the foliage-choked corridor, he was the last to escape. He held no blame against the others for abandoning him. He would have done the same in their position. In all but the bravest, when confronted with such a fearsome horror, self-preservation dominated any sense of loyalty to others. The fear and guilt in Theo’s eyes had been plain to see when he’d fled and glanced back at his friend caught in the creature’s grasp.
Eli had screamed as much in fear as pain when claws had dug deep into his shoulder. In his panicked attempts to break free he’d fallen to the floor, temporarily hidden from the Hunter’s murderous gaze by the thick layer of stagnant mist. When he scrambled away, his hand landed on something hard, a short, thick branch. His fingers curled around it when the monster dipped its sadistic head into the fog to search for its victim. Though he’d doubted the blow would do it much damage, Eli was one meal who meant to fight back. Eli swung the club.
The Hunter monster screeched.
The image of ancient tombs and rotting corpses crowded Eli’s thoughts when the stench of the creature’s foul breath assaulted his senses. He bent his knees and shot his feet forward. The blow connected with the creature’s chest. The force of the kick erupted pain from his leg wound and sent the monster flying backward. It crashed into the undergrowth a short distance away, giving him the few seconds he needed to crawl away.
Eli followed the others’ trail through a doorway into a room that seemed large, but was impossible to tell as he’d lost his torch when the monster attacked. Using outstretched arms to lead the way through the darkness was an unnerving experience. More than once he imagined his fingers brushing a monster’s skin. He hurried away from the doorway and the monster he was certain would follow as soon as it recovered. At first, he rushed with abandonment as fast as he dared blind to his surroundings. His priority was to put as much distance between himself and the creature as swiftly as possible in his wounded condition. When he gauged he was for the moment safe, he slowed his pace. A few deep breaths returned a slight calm to his frayed nerves. Aware any noise he made would alert the monster to his position, he proceeded cautiously. The blood seeping from his wounds caused him to wonder if the monster would be able to smell it above the overpowering stink of rotting vegetation. A terrifying screech diverted his attention. It had sounded close by. The Hunter was coming. A whimper halted his reaction to flee in the opposite direction. It had sounded human.
It must be one of the others.
The thick foliage made it difficult to detect from what direction it had originated. Though loath to attract attention to his position, the opportunity to rejoin his friends overrode his caution, and he softly called out, “Is anyone there?”
Richard knew he should run, but fear rooted him to the spot.
The monster halted its descent. Its head darted toward Eli’s voice.
Though risky, Richard’s devious brain quickly formed a plan that might save his life. Hope kick-started his courage and in a strained voice, little more than a frightened croak, he responded. “Over here, Eli, by the black tree.”
A rustling of leaves and branches announced the man’s approach.
Richard glanced up at the monster. Its attention was momentarily focused on Eli’s approach. It gave him the slim chance he desperately required. One small cautious movement at a time, he sidled around the tree.
Eli expressed a look of relief when he emerged from the bushes and glimpsed a familiar face in the glow of Richard’s headlamp.
“Richard! Am I glad to see you.” Eli’s relief quickly changed to concern. Something was wrong, very wrong. Richard, his back pressed against the side of the tree, trembled and gazed heavenward. Eli tilted his head to allow his eyes to follow the track of Richard’s light. He gasped on seeing the Hunter monster perched on the trunk and noticed the blood on the side of its head. They had met before. Its eyes focused on the blood oozing from Eli’s wounds and sniffed the seductive aroma.
The Hunter leapt from the tree.
Eli knew he wouldn’t escape a second time and he would never see his wife or son again. The Hunter landed on his chest, knocking him to the ground. Eli screamed.
Hardly daring to breathe, Richard shuffled silently around the trunk. Eli’s cries of mortal agony mingled with the creature’s savage shrieks when his body was torn apart were terrifying to witness. The screams faded when death finally claimed the man.
Richard felt no remorse for his actions. He was alive. That was all that mattered. Grotesque sounds of flesh being chewed and blood slurped filled the air. Richard peeked around the tree. The creature hunched over Eli’s corpse, its feasting head thankfully hidden within the ground hugging mist. Red splatters stained the surrounding bushes, orange and purple leaves dripped globules of blood. His eyes fell on Eli’s rucksack poking out from the mist; it lay just beyond his reach. The camera was inside and probably other stuff he would need. Though indescribably terrified, greed for the valuable camera images goaded his actions. He leaned forward and hooked his shaking fingers around a strap. His eyes never wavered from the creature’s back. Flesh ripped. The monster’s head appeared above the mist. Richard froze. The monster chewed the gory, blood-dripping morsel, but didn’t turn its head. When its face disappeared into the mist to claim another chunk of the dead man’s flesh, Richard snatched up the bag and ran.
The Hunter’s head darted out of the fog. It stared in the direction of something fleeing through the forest. Detecting no threat, it turned its attention back to its meal.
Richard ignored the branches slapping at his face as he fled from the monster feasting on Eli. Though he hoped it would have sated its hunger, it didn’t seem the type of creature that only killed for food. Movement to his right demanded his attention. His light fell across a trembling pale form. Only a mass of creepers he’d disturbed. Something struck his head, knocking him to the ground. Dazed and through fog-filled eyes, he stared up at the branch he’d run into highlighted in his headlamp, now set skew-whiff on his brow. His hand went to his head and felt the bump forming, but no cut leaking blood to attract the forest dwellers. He straightened the headlamp and directed it at the rustling mass of creamy vines. They seemed closer.