MonstrousMay 16. The Monster's Claws

Rory said it must have been a bear. Mark said it didn't matter, that we were screwed no matter what it was. I had a hard time disagreeing with him. Dave lay on the big rug beside the fireplace, his breath shallow.

I had done some first aid, but the slashes across his chest and stomach were deep. So deep I only glanced at them once and didn't have the nerve to look again. Dave's blood was all up my arms and on my shirt. I sat in the floor beside him, one hand pressing down on his wounds, the other palm up, fingers apart, trying not to spread it onto anything else. 

Whatever it was had tried to come down the chimney. So we had a fire roaring. I tried to get the sweat off my forehead but gave up. Before long we'd be out of firewood. 

We all tried to stay calm, which was a lot easier now that the front door didn't seem like it was going to be knocked off its hinges. Rory and Mark had shoved the couch, some chairs and the kitchen table in front of it. The thing outside gave up that route but it took a long time. It felt like we had been trapped sitting still for hours, our heads on a swivel. Of course all of our phones were locked in the car as we "digitally detoxed" on this guy's trip.

I tried to replay the events in my head. We were outside. I was trying to make small talk. Dave had gone to take a piss. We realized he had been gone for a long time. About then, he stumbled out of the woods, holding his stomach and screaming. We rushed inside and that's when the thing started pounding on the door.

What scared me then, and I didn't say out loud, was we had no idea where it was. It could have still been waiting by the door. Or up on the roof. Or maybe it had left altogether, but I didn't think we were that lucky. We all stayed away from the windows, just in case. That left us in the main room, dead deer and boar heads staring down at us with black eyes.

"What kind of hunting lodge doesn't have a single gun?" Rory said, pacing. 

"You bring the guns with you, dipshit," Mark said. "You wouldn't even know what to do with a gun."

"At least I didn't bring us all to the boonies for a bachelor party. Good thinking, Rory! We should be face first in stripper titties right now. Dave doesn't even like camping or any of this shit!"

"Shows what you know. This was his idea, numbnuts." I was newer to the friend group, a co-worker of Dave's, but Rory and Mark had known him since they were kids. I learned quickly, their bickering was near-constant, even outside of disasters.

Dave tried to say something. "Y'all shut up," I said sternly. Rory went and leaned against a wall, far away from Mark. Dave's eyes fluttered open and he held onto my hand. He looked like he was half-asleep. Not scared, just exhausted. I leaned down and strained to hear him. Blood was coming up into the back of his throat. "Help me roll him into his side," I said to Rory and froze. 

The curtains on the window parted, drifting in a slow breeze. A hand retreated from the window, which had been pushed up ever so slowly. As the curtains moved, they revealed a face staring back at me. It was covered in filthy fur, but its eyes were clear and bright. Like it was having fun. 

Before I could say anything, the wall beside Rory exploded, four kitchen knife claws reaching in, grabbing at him. Rory screamed and threw himself onto the floor, the talons splitting his arm open in four red ribbons. Mark grabbed the woodcutting ax and hacked at the arm. It withdrew and something outside howled in pain. Rory cursed and writhed on the ground, blood running down his arm and into the cracks in the wooden floor. The boards seemed to drink it up.

The thing at the window retreated. I wanted to cry, realizing there was more than one of them. I leapt up and slammed the window down, locking it. Mark and I went around the room, lockinf the rest. I smeared Dave's blood on the frames as I latched them and jumped back. They could have come in through the windows that whole time. Had they just not thought of that until now? We had forgotten them in the chaos. But it didn't make sense. Why didn't they just break the windows to begin with?

My stomach sank as I realized each window now had a face looking in, watching us. Dave choked and spluttered. I ran back to him, trying to carefully turn him over. He gritted his teeth and let out an animal wail of pain. Rory crawled over to us and Mark joined as well. We were scared beasts of burden with their backs to one another. I tried to tell Mark how to treat Rory's wounds. He dropped the axe and tried his best. But it was clear Rory was bleeding out.

"S-sorry," Dave said. 

"Don't be sorry, bud," I said. "It's not your fault." A tear fell from his eye. "We're gonna get out of this," I lied. I tried not to look at the faces in the window. But I had to. Seeing their crooked smiles, I regretted it instantly.

"I…" he said, searching my face. "This wasn't…the deal." I looked to Mark, confused. Rory was starting to fade in and out.

"Dammit, Dave," Mark said. He looked at me and stood. "When we got here those things said 'choose one' or we couldn't leave. And sorry, man, but you lost. Rory pointed out you weren't here yet and- well, it doesn't matter now. They're not gonna stop-" He tugged at his hair as something dawned on him. "Rory, you dumb shit!"

My heart pounded. They had hung out with me all day, knowing this was going to happen. I felt rage rise up in my throat.  We could've spent the day working out a plan. Instead we drank beer and threw a fucking frisbee.

Dave let out a long wheeze, hurtling towards death. There was a scrape, nails on a chalkboard, at the window closest to me. I looked over at the smiling face. The thing there held up four claws and wiggled them. It dropped one, then another. Two left.

"Listen, bro. I'm making it out of here," Mark said. He looked at his feet, where the axe lay, its blade coated in red-black monster blood. He moved fast. But I was faster.