Camp Horror. Part 4.
Behind the counter Bob sat on a chair, shotgun pointed at the screen door. The adrenaline began to ware off. He jolted awake. Buddy and Betty were sound asleep, Buddy cradled between her legs. Bob quietly walked to them. Buddy woke up and looked into his masters eyes. Bob bent down and gently kissed the top of the dogs head. He ruffled and laid the dogs head back onto the girls thigh. Her head was tilted to one side glasses drooping down her nose, her thick dark hair matted and wild. He jerked himself back to the front of the office, surveying outside. Nothing. It had been quiet, too quiet. He stepped out into the fresh morning air. The dew saturated leaves and soil nearby, accentuating an earthy smell. Bob closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. He switched off his headlamp as the sun spread its faint glow over the camp.
They had woken up. He took Buddy outside to relieve himself. Betty had busied herself with cleaning up the glass on the floor.
“Hopefully a ranger comes by soon,” Bob said.
Betty nodded her head. Looking at her face Bob saw she had been through a lot; her features were dim and tired. Hell he had been through a lifetimes worth of shit in the span of a few hours, something no man should experience. Scream. A scream echoed up to them from far off. The scream of a man who had seen something dear to him cease to exist.
“You stay here with Buddy.”
Betty held the dogs leash firmly. As Bob walked towards the sound Buddy whimpered and whined, straining against the leash. Buddy yelped as his master disappeared into the pines. Bob walked slowly, his shotgun tucked into his shoulder, finger on the trigger. He felt the weight of the shells in his pockets. The suns warm glow spread across his face, peaking through the trees. Bob looked at the trees and ferns all dotted with dew. It was a beautiful morning. It was a quiet morning.
His appreciation was shattered as he came across the first campsite and the first body. He could smell it but averted his gaze. He continued past the campsites to the road that linked up to the highway. Across the road he saw a man laid out. The man’s face was pressed into the earth. He wore a flannel shirt with tares all over it. Red and black. Thick swashes of hair clung to it. The man was caked in blood, especially his arms. The man groaned. Bob knelt down beside him and gently flipped him over. Didn’t look like he had any wounds but the blood on his hands was thick.
“What... what happened?” the man muttered.
“Hell on earth,” Bob replied.