Camp Horror. Part 3.

Part 1.

Part 2.

“Show yourself!” Bob yelled.  

A rustling sound behind him.  Pointing the shotgun towards it, he fired.  A deep roar came from the forest, no animal sound he had ever heard before.  He cocked the shotgun and fired another round.  Silence.  He fumbled with the gun, reloading cartridges he fished from his pockets.  He jogged towards the camp office.  The screen door was lopsided, hanging off one hinge, glass shattered.  He stepped inside, his boots crunching the glass underneath.  Inside Izzy, the camp owner, was lying across the glass counter; her eyes wide, blood pooling around her face.  Bob turned away nauseous.  He saw the van slowly driving up the trail.

Must have heard the shots, he thought.  He ran towards the van.  Suddenly something large struck the side of it.  Bob froze. It looked like a bear but it couldn’t be.  It had on a tattered shirt, similar to his red and black flannel.  The beast pounded on the van.  Betty was screaming bloody murder.  Buddy was barking frantically, running around inside the van. 

“Duck!”

He fired a round.  The beast yelped and ran off into the woods.  Bob ran to the van and hopped in.  He nestled Betty’s head into his chest.  She was sobbing.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he kept repeating.  

He gently moved her to the passenger seat and started to drive back up to the office.

“This is where we have to make our stand,” Bob said.  

He tied Buddy up inside the office, calming him as best he could.  Betty was crouched down in the corner hugging her knees.  Bob dragged Izzy’s body to the back room covering it with a tarp.  Riffling around the office store he found a flashlight and some duct tape.  Strapping the flashlight to the end of the shotgun he positioned himself behind the counter, shotgun propped up on it.  He crouched there for what felt like an hour, only a few minutes passed.  Buddy whined in the corner as Betty petted him, both trembling trying their best to comfort each other.

“Fuck this,” Bob said.

He strolled out of the office. 

“Come get me!” he yelled.

“Get back here,” Betty said.

“No!  If this piece of shit wants to kill me, then come on, I’m here!”

A loud dark roar emitted from the trees just across the path.  Bob’s stomach tensed into a knot.  He backed into the office, the flashlight attached to the shotgun frantically wavering over the path and trees.

Part 4.