Author's Note: Hi all! It's been over a year since I first started this story, and it's been on the backburner but never abandoned for that time. I wasn't happy with the trajectory of the story after I posted the first few chapters, and since then I've done significant rewrites and really hammered out the direction of this story. It's still a work in progress, but it is now completely outlined and there should be no more significant rewrite in the future.
If you're new to this story, please read on and enjoy. If you were a fan of this story before, I hope you'll appreciate the improvements I've made to the first few chapters, and then the rest of the story as it's posted.
I am a dead body moving, I've got lightning in my hand
I won't be here for long so you've got to understand
You can dance with the demon, look him dead into the eyes
I've already been where we go when we die
-Dead Body Moving, The Devil Makes Three
Nell thought she could die happy right then, staring out over the Grand Canyon.
The late summer sun warmed the scattered needles around her campsite, spreading the scent of them all around. The sun was just setting over orange and gold cliffs, creating dramatic silhouettes of light and shadow in the canyon. Birds chirped. Wind whistled. Woodsmoke mingled with the smell of pine as the sky turned pink and purple.
Nell took a deep breath, savoring the smell, the sight, the sounds. The deep satisfaction of breathing clean air. Of breathing at all.
She'd taken places like this for granted, before. She'd always thought there'd be plenty of time to visit them, later. Once she was further along in her career. Once she'd found someone to settle down with. Some of the best years of her life had been spent hunched over a computer, far away from sunshine and the smell of pine needles.
But now Nell's time was short, and she was determined to cram as much living into what time she had left.
More out of habit than anything else, she fished her phone out of her pocket to take a picture of the sunset. It didn't measure up to the real thing in the slightest, and she frowned at the image for a while, considering.
She wanted to call. She did, really. Even if she would get an earful from her mother, she wanted to hear her parents' voices and let them know that she was still okay. In some ways, better than she had been in years—though she'd never tell them that.
But it was best that she didn't. Not if she wanted to live the last few weeks of her life free, like this.
Instead, she switched to the front-facing camera. For a second, before she pressed record, she hesitated. The golden light of the setting sun softened the visible signs of her sickness, but Nell could still spot them. The sharp jut of her collarbone. The gauntness in her cheeks. The purple bags under her eyes.
With a shake of her head, Nell pushed away her dissatisfaction with the image and pressed record.
"Hi all!" Nell made an effort to put some cheer in her voice, hiking her lips up into a smile as she continued. "I made it to the Grand Canyon safe and sound, and it's beautiful. My campsite's right on the edge, look—" Nell flipped her phone around to get a view of the sunset over the cliffs, then turned it back around. "You guys will have to come here sometime. Maybe when Will's kids are a little older. And there are some nice cabins up here, too, so Mom wouldn't even have to sleep in a tent if she didn't want to."
Nell trailed off for a moment, wondering what else to say. "As for me… I'm doing okay. Getting some light hiking in, nothing too strenuous. I'm taking lots of pictures for you all, so hopefully they turn out okay…" Nell shrugged. "Anyway, I won't stay here too long. Another few days, then I'm moving on."
Nell opened her mouth to say her next stop, but stopped herself. Instead she said, "If I'm still up for it when I hit the Pacific I think I'll drive up the coast. Maybe I'll make it to Canada. Or even Alaska." Nell chewed her lip thoughtfully, trying to think of anything else to say that wouldn't be too much information and coming up blank.
"I think that's all, for now. I love you all." Nell blew an awkward kiss at the phone camera and ended the recording. Her phone pinged at her irritably, alerting her that all of her backlogged video messages were in danger of making her run out of storage space. She'd have to upload them soon. And actually send them to her family, she supposed.
Behind her, gravel crunched and car doors slammed. Nell glanced over her shoulder, noting a car pulling into the campsite to the right of hers. The polite thing to do would probably be to greet the newcomers and say hello, but… Nell glanced at the sky.
She could be polite later. No sense wasting the last rays of this beautiful sunset.
Nell turned back around, intent on watching the sun sink down fully behind the cliffs and appreciating the watercolor sky. One of the newcomers, though, had other plans. Leaves crunched loudly, and Nell heard a startled shout of protest. Nell craned her head around again—just in time to get a faceful of fur.
Nell couldn't help a startled laugh. The offender was a very enthusiastic dog, an ambiguous labrador mix with a tail wagging so fast it blurred. Nell pushed the dog away from where it was attempting to lick her face, still laughing as its apparent owner jogged over, babbling apologies.
"Roxie, no! Down!" An older man jogged forward and took hold of the dog's collar, gently pulling her away from Nell's camp chair. He looked mortified, and exhausted. "I am so sorry. She's usually not like this, but she's been in the car all day..." Roxie, for her part, was entirely unapologetic, wriggling in the man's hold excitedly.
Nell wiped slobber off her face with her sleeve, but smiled at the man to let him know she wasn't bothered. "It's fine." She cast her gaze over her shoulder at the supplies poking out of the bed of his truck. "You camping here tonight?"
The man smiled, relieved at her dismissal, and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. We'll be your neighbors all through Friday." Still gripping Roxie's collar, he glanced over Nell's shoulder, catching sight of the sun setting over the cliffs, and heaved a tired sigh.
Nell took pity on him. "Why don't you get your tent set up while there's still daylight? Roxie and I can play fetch."
The man's shoulders sagged in relief. "Are you sure?"
"Of course I am. Aren't I, Roxie?" The dog practically writhed in excitement as Nell addressed her. The man chuckled and released her collar. Roxie immediately rushed Nell again, and Nell held her back, laughing. "Alright, no jumping. You wanna play fetch?" Nell grinned as the dog's ears perked up attentively, eyes wide with anticipation. "Bring me a stick!"
There was something relaxing about spending time with dogs. They were simple. Easy to understand, easy to please. All Roxie wanted in the world was food, shelter, and someone to throw sticks and scratch her tummy for her.
Nell enjoyed that simplicity, and she was happy to help. She threw the stick until Roxie exhausted herself, laying down at Nell's feet and panting. By the time the sun had finished setting and Roxie's owner returned, Nell had acquiesced to Roxie's wordless, puppy-dog-eyed request for a belly rub.
"She's got you wrapped around her paw already, I see."
Nell didn't bother denying it, smiling as she found the sweet spot on Roxie's belly which made her leg thump against the ground. "Who could say no to this precious face?"
"Thank you for watching her while I got set up." The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder, where there was now a tent and the beginnings of a crackling fire. "Can I thank you with a beer and some hot dogs?"
Nell thought about turning him down, but all she had in her camper right now were some instant noodles, dehydrated food, and trail snacks. The idea of a cold beer and a hot dog cooked over an open flame was too tempting.
Finally she nodded. "I'm not one to turn down beer and hot dogs."
Henry, as the man introduced himself, was a wedding photographer by trade, but preferred nature photography as a hobby. He worked most weekends, which is what brought him to the north rim of the Grand Canyon in the middle of the week. He was hoping to get some good wildlife shots, though he didn't hold out much hope of sneaking up on animals with Roxie by his side. Nell nodded and smiled and asked questions, enjoying listening to the man talk while she roasted hot dogs over the fire and slowly peeled the label off her bottle of beer.
"So what's your story?" Henry asked as he carefully eased a hot dog off his roasting fork and into a bun. "What brings you out to the Grand Canyon on a Wednesday? Vacation?"
"Vacation," Nell lied with a nod.
"Alone?" Henry asked, sounding simultaneously concerned and self-conscious, like he thought he might be rude by asking.
Nell shrugged easily and repeated her go-to lie. "Hadn't taken a vacation since I started work. My boss basically ordered me to use all the vacation days I'd built up, so I figured I'd drive around and do some sightseeing."
Henry asked about her work, and where she'd been so far, and Nell told him about a few of the oddest roadside attractions she'd stumbled upon and some of the best diners she'd discovered on the way. Henry recommended a few good places to visit within a few days' drive, and Nell wrote them down eagerly. They talked for a few hours, sipping beer and roasting hot dogs and marshmallows over the fire, before Nell excused herself and turned in for the night.
The next morning, as Nell prepared coffee with her camp stove, Roxie invited herself into Nell's campsite. The dog was far too energetic for so early in the day, and Henry followed her, apologizing again for his dog's energy. Nell noticed his eyes linger longingly on the coffee in her french press, and so with a roll of her eyes and an amused smile, she dug out another camp mug for him and poured two cups when it finished steeping.
"You are a saint," Henry declared after a sip, sighing contentedly and watching Roxie chase a butterfly. "I'm hoping today's hike will tire her out."
"Somehow, I suspect it'll be the other way around." Nell hid a teasing smile behind her mug, looking between the liberal amount of gray peppered in Henry's hair and the rambunctious dog. Henry, following her gaze, sighed, resigned. "What trail are you taking?"
"The Overlook."
Nell hadn't hiked that particular trail, though she had a good idea of where it was. It went right along the edge of the canyon and would probably have spectacular views—hence the name—but she had crossed it off her list for some reason.
"How long's that one?"
Henry scrubbed a hand over his stubble, eyes scrunching up at the corners as he thought. "Well it's an out and back, a little over six miles long… so, about thirteen, total. And it's about a mile to the trailhead from here, so fifteen, really."
And that would be why she ruled it out. Nell could manage one mile, maybe two, before she exhausted herself and had to rest. Even getting to the trailhead would be a challenge for her.
"Well it sounds exhausting, alright," Nell agreed.
The hike would take all day, and Henry needed to get started early if he wanted to get back to camp before dark, so he quickly finished his coffee, thanked Nell, and packed his things to head out with Roxie.
Nell, then, was free to spend the day as she liked. She took a leisurely stroll to the lodge for breakfast and lingered in the visitor's center gift shop for nearly an hour. She spent a good long while rifling indecisively through racks of postcards, wondering whether she should send one to her family. Many of the cards read "Wish you were here," which sounded nice but wasn't strictly true. Eventually she bought a fairly generic card with a picture of the cliffs which said simply "Greetings from the Grand Canyon," along with a stuffed toy mule deer and bobcat for her niece and nephew.
Outside, she once again took the time to admire the beauty of the canyon. All around her retirees and families with young children walked about, snapping pictures with cell phones and professional cameras alike. Nell had already snapped all the pictures she wanted to take when she'd first arrived, though, and so she simply looked. Looked, and tried to commit this place to memory.
Being here brought Nell a strange sense of peace. The enormity of it, the sheer amount of time it took for water to carve away the rock and form the cliffs, was so vast Nell could barely comprehend it. It was truly grand, in a way that made her feel small and insignificant. A mere blip in the lifetime of an ancient natural wonder.
After some time pondering the ageless canyon and her own mortality, Nell made her way back to the lodge for a hot lunch, napped half the afternoon away, and then ate re-hydrated curry by her campfire as the sun set. As the sun dipped down below the horizon and Nell doused her fire, she noticed with some concern that Henry and Roxie hadn't returned to their campsite yet.
Nell was a worrier by nature. The absence of Henry and his dog unsettled her, and gave her an uneasy feeling. But the older man had seemed experienced, and prepared. As Nell had learned the night before, Henry had been hiking and camping for longer than Nell herself had even been alive. He probably had a flashlight with him, and it was still pretty early. They'd be back soon.
"They're fine," Nell assured herself aloud, quietly, in hopes it would ease the worry in her gut. It didn't, but her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. She couldn't stay up to wait for them. Telling herself she was being ridiculous, and that she'd see the kind man and his dog in the morning, she crawled into her little teardrop-shaped camper and let the whistling of the wind in the canyon lull her to sleep.
The next morning dawned chilly. Nell cocooned herself in a blanket and set about preparing coffee immediately. She got out an extra mug for Henry, who would almost certainly need the caffeine after yesterday's hike. Curling her fingers around her warm drink with one hand and holding the blanket around her like a cloak with the other, Nell wandered over to Henry's campsite.
The first thing Nell noticed was that Roxie was nowhere to be seen. But it got chilly in the night, Nell thought, so maybe Henry had brought her into the tent to sleep with him? The tent was still zipped closed—maybe they were both still asleep.
Certain that that must be it, Nell started to quietly creep back out of the campsite, determined not to wake them from a much-needed lie-in. But something stopped her on the edge of the campsite, and she glanced back.
Was it just her worried imagination, or did the campsite seem untouched?
Chewing her lip, Nell backtracked, peering at the tent. In the dim morning light it was difficult to tell if anyone was inside.
"Henry?" She hazarded, standing just outside. Silence. "Roxie?"
No matter how tired she was, Roxie wasn't the type of dog to sleep through someone calling her name. Still, just to be sure, Nell unzipped the tent flap a few inches to peek inside.
Empty.
Last night's worry bloomed anew in Nell's gut, and she mumbled possible explanations into her coffee cup. They might have come in late and left early, before Nell woke up. They could come back any minute, back from breakfast or a morning walk.
Nell want back to her own campsite to wait, casting anxious glances at Henry's empty site as she drank the rest of the coffee she prepared. After thirty minutes, she'd drained the entire french press and couldn't stand to sit still any longer. If only to put her worried mind to rest, she'd ask the other campers nearby whether they'd seen Henry and Roxie come or go.
But talking to the other campers only made her more concerned. No one else in the campsite had seen or heard from man or dog since they left yesterday morning. At this news, Nell decided that perhaps she was not worrying for nothing. She made for the ranger's station to file a report.
The window was occupied when she arrived, so she hung back, fiddling with her shirtsleeve as two men is cheap suits talked with the ranger on duty. Nell didn't try to eavesdrop—she just wanted it to be over quickly so she could file a report on Henry—but she couldn't help overhearing some of the conversation.
"So Dave Carter, he was the first one to go missing from this campsite?" Asked the taller one. Based on the suits, Nell guessed they were government officials of some sort—though the tall one did have much longer hair than she'd expect from a government official. But maybe she was just used to the more tightly-laced bureaucrats of the D.C. metro area.
"I don't know about the first," the ranger hedged. "You have to understand, people get lost on the trails all the time. Search and rescue's a regular thing around here. But Carter? His things were packed up and his car was gone. People forget to deposit their check-out slips all the time."
The tall one shook his head. The shorter of the men explained, gruffly, "His car was recently found abandoned at one of the nearby trailheads."
The ranger paused, and when she responded she sounded much less defensive. "I'm sorry to hear that. But that was two months ago. Sorry to say it, but if he hasn't been found by now…"
"We understand," the tall one placated. "We're just trying to find a pattern, see if we can figure out what's going."
The men proceeded to throw out several more names—more campers and day hikers who'd gone missing in the park over the last few weeks. With each new name, Nell's worry grew.
She'd already been concerned. It got cold out here at nights. Henry could easily have suffered from hypothermia if he'd gotten lost on the trail and spent the night outdoors, even with Roxie to keep him warm. But from the way these men were talking, it sounded like a good half dozen people had gone missing in this area of the park over the span of a few months.
The ranger was right—people got lost all the time in National Parks. Usually, they were found pretty quickly. A few hours, a few days. A week or two, maybe. But these others had been missing for weeks, some of them for months, and none of them had been found.
And now Henry and his dog dropped off the map? Nell couldn't dismiss that as a coincidence.
"Excuse me, ma'am." Nell jolted a little. She'd been too distracted to notice the men in suits wrap up their talk with the ranger and approach. The shorter one, with shorter hair and a strong air of authority, had addressed her. "Everything alright?"
"Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop—" Nell hesitated. "You're investigating disappearances in the park?"
"It's nothing to worry about," the man said immediately, in a confident, assured voice that made her think of politicians. "Just a routine investigation."
The taller one, though, was watching Nell's face carefully, and furrowed his brow. "Do you know something?"
"The man camping next to me never came back last night," Nell blurted immediately.
A silent exchange occurred between the two, serious and meaningful, and Nell's stomach lurched. The shorter one reached into his jacket, and the taller one mimicked the motion, both flashing badges with solemn faces.
"I'm Agent Ford, this is Agent Hamill," introduced the shorter one, evidently Ford. "Tell us everything you know."
Nell rushed out all the details she could think of: when Henry arrived, the trail he planned to take, the state of his campsite in the morning, and her questioning of her fellow campers. "No one saw them come back last night, or leave this morning," Nell finished.
The men traded another meaningful glance, which apparently decided something, as Agent Hamill turned to her and addressed her the way one might address a skittish rabbit. "What's your name?"
Nell's lips twisted a bit at the idea of giving her name to law enforcement, but she pushed away the concern. It was pretty low on her list of priorities right now. "Eleanor McNamara. But I go by Nell."
"Right, Nell," Hamill said, "Could you show us to Henry's campsite? Let us take a look around?"
Nell nodded, almost jogging back to the campsite she walked so quickly. She stood back apprehensively when they arrived, hesitant to enter or touch anything in case it ended up becoming evidence. The agents wandered around the site while she matched, poking around the tent, examining the fire pit, and muttering to each other.
"You said Henry told you which trail he was going on?" Agent Hamill asked, pulling away from the tent. From the tense set of his jaw, Nell guessed he hadn't found anything out of the ordinary.
"Yes. The Overlook."
"You got a map?" Nell fetched it from her trailer and spread it out on her own camp site's picnic table for the two agents. Hamill traced the trail line with his finger, studying the map thoughtfully. "This is the one?"
"Yes. The trail guide said to budget five or six hours for it." Nell had checked and re-checked that in her worry. "Henry's a photographer, so accounting for time to stop and take pictures he could have been out all day, but he still should have been back before dark."
"Dean, look at this," Hamill said urgently. Nell guessed whatever he'd found on the map had jolted him out of keeping up formalities. "Cave."
"You think that's something?" Ford peered down at where his partner was pointing on the map.
"Could be. It's the only thing on the trail that isn't just woods." Hamill tapped the map thoughtfully. "I'll have to do some more research on the trail, see what I can dig up."
Nell stared between the two men, confused. "Aren't you going to call in search and rescue?" Hamill's head jerked up, eyes wide and looking sheepish, which Nell interpreted as a resounding 'no'. Baffled, Nell said, voice rising, "Henry and Roxie could be injured out there, or worse. It got really cold last night, and they wouldn't have even had a sleeping bag for warmth. They need search and rescue as soon as possible."
"Hey now, calm down." Agent Ford put his hands up in a pacifying gesture that only served to further raise Nell's hackles. "We'll find Henry, alright? And his dog. But we need to know what we're dealing with first."
"What you're dealing with is a missing hiker and his dog," Nell said slowly, cautiously. She didn't follow his logic, but she also didn't want to step on the toes of law enforcement. "What else is there to deal with?"
The two agents traded significant looks again. Hamill took over, explaining quietly, "We have reason to believe Henry's disappearance might be connected to the others we've been investigating."
Nell had almost forgotten. "What happened to the others?"
"We're not sure," Hamill admitted. "We haven't found any bodies yet." Hamill hesitated, looking unsure whether to continue. Nell, meanwhile, fixated on his use of the word yet.
"Bodies? Yet?" Since when did this rescue mission become a recovery mission? Or was it ever a rescue mission to these two? From the sympathetic, almost pitying expression on Hamill's face and the hard set of Ford's jaw, Nell could tell they believed, wholeheartedly, that Henry was already dead.
"We haven't found bodies," Ford said, grudgingly, "But we have found a decent amount of blood."
Nell swayed a bit and grabbed the picnic table with a white-knuckled grip. Hamill, looking started, twitched like he was preparing to catch her should she faint.
Her first thought was an animal attack, but that didn't make any sense. There would be more than just blood left behind, for one thing. And surely other hikers would have reported any animals that posed a significant danger to humans. No animal native to the Grand Canyon could kill half a dozen hikers over the course of a few weeks unnoticed.
No, if the bodies couldn't be found, then that almost certainly meant something intelligent had killed them. Something purposeful that identified hikers who wouldn't be missed, then hid the bodies so they couldn't be found.
It had to be a person.
Nell sank onto the bench of the picnic table, no longer able to stand. She opened her mouth to ask the question, to confirm her train of thought, but all she could manage was a strangled, "Jesus Christ."
Henry was probably dead. The agents already thought so, obviously. And if it was a person killing hikers, instead of an animal or treacherous terrain, that seriously hurt his chances. But there was a chance. Nell knew the statistics. There was still a chance that Henry was alive—but not for much longer.
Nell gathered what strength she had left and used it to say in a firm voice, "It's barely been 24 hours. Henry could still be alive." The agents traded doubtful looks, and Nell raised her voice. "If there is any chance he's still alive, isn't it your duty to try and find him?"
Ford shushed her hastily and cast a wary glance around the surrounding campsites. Once satisfied that no one had paid any attention to Nell's minor outburst, he said, fierce but quiet, "Look, we want to find this guy safe and sound as much as you do, alright? But going in unprepared won't help anybody."
"You know the trail," Nell argued, though she kept her voice down this time. "And you must have some idea who's doing this. How much more prepared can you be?"
"Nell," Hamill said, firmly but gently. "This is our job. We know what we're doing, okay? If Henry is still alive, I promise we'll have him back safe and sound by this time tomorrow. You've just got to trust us."
Nell wanted to trust them. Really, she did. She wanted to believe that they'd bring Henry back alive, and that in a day this would all be a bizarre, worrying nightmare, and she could move on with her vacation, and what little was left of her life.
But Nell was too used to government bureaucracy to believe them. Nothing ever got done in a timely or efficient manner. Maybe the agents were right and Henry was already dead. But on the off chance that he wasn't, he almost certainly would be by the time those agents got around to finding him.
And looking at the confident, self-assured men in suits, Nell knew that nothing she said could convince them to go after Henry now, before it was too late. So she nodded, and she lied.
"Okay. I'll trust you."
Agent Hamill's shoulders visibly relaxed. "Good. Thank you."
The agents left, talking urgently in low voices. Nell watched them wind their way back toward the ranger's station until they disappeared from sight, and then got to work.
First, she dug out her computer. She attached the videos and photos she'd taken over the last week in an email to her family. She hesitated over the 'send' button for a long moment, wondering if it was a good idea to send it before she left the Grand Canyon. But then, if this went very wrong, she might never leave the Grand Canyon at all.
Nell didn't want to die. She wanted very much to live. That's what inspired her to take this extended road trip in the first place—cramming as much living as she could into what little time she had left.
Maybe, if she had her whole life ahead of her, she would trust the agents. If she had a future, she might hesitate to do something as reckless as she was about to do.
But she was going to die soon, one way or another. She might as well do it with a clear conscience, knowing she hadn't just sat around while the kind man who shared his hot dogs with her died a painful death, alone in the woods.
She hit send, and packed her day bag as quickly as she could.
"You find anything yet?" Dean set the phone on speaker and started the Impala, chucking a roll of bright yellow police tape in the passenger seat.
"Nothing unusual so far, beyond the disappearances." Even over the phone, Dean could practically see the annoyed look on his brother's face. "And no previous patterns like this before, either."
"So it's not a wendigo?" That's what Dean's money had been on, on the drive down. The number of disappearances, all clumped together so closely in remote, rugged terrain had wendigo written all over it.
"It still might be. The lore isn't clear exactly where they come from. Some sources say they're humans who resort to cannibalism, who then become wendigos, but other sources say wendigos can be created from normal people who become possessed by a 'cannibalistic spirit.'"
"What, like a demon wendigo?" Dean asked, skeptical, as he pulled out of the visitor center parking lot and started winding his way toward the trailhead for the Overlook.
"Not that kind of possession," Sam corrected absently. "But if that is true, then maybe the first guy who went missing—Dave Carter?"
"Maybe he's our wendigo." Dean grimaced at the mental image of how that might have come about.
"Yeah." Sam sighed. "I'll keep digging, but I don't know how much more I'm gonna get. The National Park Service doesn't exactly keep stellar records on this stuff."
"Well, keep at it and let me know if—" Dean cut off as he turned into the small parking area for the Overlook trailhead. "God damn it!"
"What? What's going on?"
"That friggin' Nell chick, is what's going on. Her car's here at the trailhead." Dean shot out of the car, phone in hand, and jogged over to peer in the window. "It's empty. She must have gone ahead. Come on, lady, you couldn't wait two hours?!"
There was a clatter and a rustle at the other end of the line. "We've gotta go after her."
"Obviously we've gotta go after her, but I don't have to like it," Dean barked angrily, storming back towards the Impala. "Hang tight at the lodge, I'm coming to pick you up."
There was something wrong about just how beautiful the trail was. The birds sang, squirrels ran about in the undergrowth, and from the path Nell could see breathtaking glimpses on the vast orange-gold canyon. It didn't fit with the cold fear and worry writhing in Nell's gut. It was like the world didn't even know what might have happened, might be happening, to Henry at this very moment. Or worse, it didn't care.
Nell trekked on with difficulty. She had packed as much water as she could carry, some protein bars, and a first aid kit, just in case she found Henry. In total the pack couldn't have weighed more than five pounds, but to Nell's weak, tired body it might as well have been fifty. Climbing up the gently sloping path felt more like climbing a steep wall, and every few minutes Nell had to stop to catch her breath or drink some water.
But she kept on. It took her nearly 35 minutes just to walk the first mile, and another 20 to walk another half mile. It was just as Nell stopped once again to sip feebly at some water that she finally saw something out of the corner of her eye.
A crow. Big, and black, and tearing at something with golden-brown fur just off the path ahead. Nell's first thought was a dead mule deer, but the carcass was too small, even for a baby. And then, with dread, she remembered where she'd last seen that particular shade of golden-brown.
Roxie.
Nell walked forward slowly, dreading the sight of the dead dog. But she had to look. She waved the crow away with frantic arms, and the crow cawed at her irritably, but backed off to a nearby tree, watching attentively as Nell approached his meal.
The dog lay completely still. Other than where the crow had dug at her, Roxie's body had no visible wounds. Her collar was still in place, her leash next to her, as if Henry has simply dropped it. But her chest did not rise and fall, and her neck stuck out at an odd angle. Broken.
A sob rose in Nell's throat, but she couldn't afford it. She swallowed it back, heaved a rattling breath, and swiped at her eyes to collect herself. She turned purposefully away from Roxie's body and set out looking for Henry.
Nell combed the area around the path, walking forward and back and peering around trees, but there was no sign of him. Nell wasn't sure whether that was a good sign or not. Had someone killed Roxie, causing Henry to run off? Or had someone attacked Henry and been forced to deal with Roxie when she came to her owner's defense? With the scattered leaves on the path, Nell couldn't begin to guess what had happened. There would be no footprints, no clues either way.
She didn't know how long she searched, eyes darting quickly and heart pounding. She was too wary of becoming lost to step too far off the path, but there was no sign of Henry anywhere on it. She didn't even consider going further down the trail—if something had happened, it surely would have happened here. And if Henry had run, he would have run back, not forward. Right?
Nell stopped at the edge of the trail and gazed out into the sparse trees, uncertain. He could have run off the trail, she supposed, if he was really panicked. But with the scattered brush all around, there was no way to tell which direction he might have gone.
It was in this moment of tense contemplation that Nell heard the noises. Not the quick, harried dart of a squirrel through the underbrush or the knocking of a branch in the wind, but heavy, booted footsteps through the leaves.
Nell's heart stuttered. Was it Henry? Henry's maybe-attacker? Or just another hiker? Panicked, Nell stepped off the trail and next to a tree, out of sight of the trail's bend, so she could see who approached without being seen. She held her breath as the tromping footsteps grew closer, closer…
It was the agents. Nell couldn't contain a sigh of relief, though she regretted it immediately when both men jumped and turned on her with—
"Are those flamethrowers?" She could understand a gun, for all that she wouldn't want one pointed at her, but she did not see the logic of bringing flamethrowers into a wooded area like this. And what sort of law enforcement had flamethrowers, anyway?
Both agents dropped the nozzles they'd aimed at her. Agent Ford scowled. "What the hell do you think you're doing out here? We said we'd handle it!"
"Yeah, I didn't believe you," Nell admitted frankly.
Ford looked ready to chew her out some more, but Hamill cut him off. "Did you find anything?"
Nell winced and swallowed, then nodded in the direction of Roxie's body. Hamill's brow furrowed and he walked slowly over to investigate the dog's still form. After one last harsh look at Nell, Ford followed him.
"What have you got?"
Sam maintained his faux-professional stoicism, but Dean could read his brother as well as always: he was tense, and worried. Sam gestured at the dog's still form. "Notice anything unusual?"
Dean examined the dog with the cool detachment of someone far too used to seeing dead bodies. It was still, unbreathing, and though it looked stiff, it hadn't been dead long enough to develop any strong odors. A bit of flesh had been plucked away, seemingly by some sort of carrion bird, but otherwise its glossy coat was undamaged. The dog could have been alive, if it wasn't so unnaturally still, and its neck didn't twist at an odd angle.
Dean's eyes fixated on the neck, frowning. Voice pitched low so Nell wouldn't overhear, he asked, "You ever known a wendigo to snap a neck instead of chowing down?"
Sam shook his head, thoughtful. "They usually don't go after animals at all, though. Only humans. Maybe Roxie was just in the way?"
"I don't like it," Dean said bluntly, standing up from his crouch. "I want us out of these woods, now."
"Dean, wait." Sam stood quickly and darted a glance back at Nell, who stood watching them warily form a good distance away. Lowering his voice, Sam continued, "I think we're pretty close to that cave."
Dean thought he could see where his brother was going with this, and didn't care for it. "So?"
Sam suppressed a frustrated sigh. "You know wendigos like to keep their prey alive. Henry might still be out there. Maybe even some of the other hikers, too."
"And what, you want to check it out with our tagalong?" Dean asked harshly, not bothering to disguise his anger as he jabbed a finger in Nell's direction. "Are you crazy?"
"Yeah, I do," Sam pressed insistently. "Our only other options are to make her wait here, alone, or to leave and come back tomorrow. We don't have time to walk her out and come back, Dean—if we don't go now, we'll lose the daylight."
Dean considered that. He didn't like any of those options, really, and he did not want Nell trailing behind them and asking uncomfortable questions, but his brother was right. If it was a wendigo, then Henry and some of the other hikers might still be alive—for now.
"Dammit." Dean turned and stalked over to Nell, who eyed him warily. "Okay, here's what's gonna happen. We are gonna find that cave we saw on your map. You are going to come with us. You will stay between us at all times, and you'll do exactly what I say, no matter what happens, no matter what you see. Got it?"
Nell hesitated, eyes darting from Dean to Sam and back again. Finally she nodded. "Got it."
"Good," Dean said, voice almost a growl. "You better not be lying this time."
He turned, tromping off the trail and into the brush. Nell shot Sam an uncertain look, and he offered her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. Still looking wary, Nell adjusted her backpack and followed after Dean. Sam fell in behind her, and they walked.
It was tense. Dean's shoulders were taut with tension as he took point, watching carefully for any movement in the trees. Sam, too, kept a watchful eye, not just on the woods, but on his brother and Nell. The woman tensed at every small rustle of leaves or snapping of twigs. Sam couldn't tell if it was the shadows of the forest or her own nerves, but Nell looked almost sickly pale.
Dean smelled it before he saw it. Even before he was able to make out a dark opening in the rock wall, he caught the familiar stench on the air. Blood, and death.
Dean stopped at the treeline and turned solemn eyes on his brother and their tagalong, considering. The girl looked like a strong breeze would knock her over, so Dean wasn't about to hand her a gun, but he didn't want her defenseless, either. He reached into his boot and withdrew a long knife, presenting it to her hilt-first.
Nell eyed it, and then him, with disbelief. "Take it," Dean insisted. "Anything runs at you, stab first and ask questions later, alright?"
Nell's brow furrowed, and she opened her mouth—to question Dean's slip of anything rather than anyone, maybe—but seemed to reconsider. She shut her mouth and took the knife in a white-knuckled grip, nodding.
"Good." Dean eyed his brother, who had watched the exchange in silence, and hoisted his flamethrower into a ready position. "You ready?" Sam nodded. "Then let's go."
Together, they crept toward the mouth of the cave, as quiet as possible on crunching leaves. Then, slowly, cautiously, they entered.
It took a few moments for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Though the passage was narrow, the cave was much deeper than one might have guessed from the small marking on the map. They could only see maybe twenty yards before it became too dark to see. But just before the light completely disappeared, there was something… a dark shape crumpled on the floor. Not rock. Something else.
"Dean." Sam rushed forward, kneeling down to the huddled form. Dean hovered behind him, flamethrower at the ready, eyes darting around the darkness.
"Henry," Nell breathed in recognition as Sam propped the prone figure upright. He was out cold, and covered in dirt and brush, like he'd been dragged through the woods. His hands and feet were bound with hiking rope, and dark blood crusted on his shirt.
"Henry?" Sam tried at Nell's confirmation. "Henry, come on, wake up."
"He still got a pulse?" Dean's voice was practical and gruff. Nell held her breath while Sam reached up to Henry's neck to check. Almost immediately Sam cursed. "He's gone?"
"No, he's still got a faint pulse—Dean, vampires."
"Vampires?" Nell repeated, disbelieving. Agent Ford shot his partner an annoyed look.
What the hell had Nell gotten herself into? Was that supposed to be a code name for some sort of murderous cult, or did these two seriously believe in vampires?
Now that Nell thought about it, despite the official-looking badges they'd flashed, neither of the agents had even been specific about what sort of agency they were supposedly working for in the first place. And then there was the fact that they were carrying flamethrowers.
There was not a small possibility that these two were nut jobs. But they had found Henry, who was alive, if badly injured. As long as they didn't turn out to be the sickos who'd done this to Henry and the other hikers in the first place, Nell would resist the urge to run as fast as possible back towards the trail and the safety of camp.
"Okay, new plan," Agent Ford said, slinging his flamethrower across his back and withdrawing another long knife from his boot. Hamill produced a smaller one, hastily cutting through the ropes binding Henry."We get him up, get back to the car, get the big knives, and get back before night falls."
Hamill nodded absently, gently slapping Henry's face a few times. Finally Henry let out a pained groan, blinking rapidly, and Nell sighed in relief. Henry, meanwhile, flinched back from the sight of Agent Hamill looming over him, bringing his hands up defensively, as if anticipating a blow.
"Hey, it's okay. It's okay, we're here to help," Hamill said lowly, soft and reassuring. Henry slowly lowered his hands, staring. "You think you can walk?"
Henry hesitated, but nodded, slowly levering himself up using the wall of the cave. He stumbled some, and Hamill looped his arm over his shoulder for support. Slowly, they limped out into the sunlight, Ford casting wary glances into the shadows of the cave until they were safely in the bright afternoon sunshine.
Once in the light, Henry squinted at Hamill, then Ford, then finally Nell, eyes finally lighting up in recognition. When he spoke his voice was hoarse. "Nell? How did you?..." He trailed off, looking back at Hamill. "And who are you?"
"My name is Agent Hamill, and that's Agent Ford," Hamill said, nodding towards Ford. "Nell told us you went missing and where we might find you. We're gonna get you out safe."
For a long moment Henry simply stared between them, still a little disbelieving. Finally he nodded, sagging a little against Agent Hamill's side. "Okay."
They shuffled through the trees and back towards the path as quickly as possible. Hamill and Henry went first, setting the pace, followed by Nell and then finally Agent Ford, who watched the treeline behind them warily, knuckles white on the hilt of his knife.
After the first minute of walking, Ford said urgently, "Okay, Henry, I need you to think. How many of them were there? The things that attacked you?"
Things, not people, Nell noted uneasily. But Henry didn't correct him. In fact, he shuddered against Sam's shoulder. "I don't know," Henry breathed, almost too quiet to hear over the sound of the leaves crunching beneath their feet. "It was so dark, I couldn't see…" Henry's left arm, the one not draped over Sam's shoulder, made an aborted motion towards his neck. "This is gonna sound crazy, but they drank my blood."
Nell stumbled a little on a root, distracted by that. Ford shot her a scolding look, as if to say that there was a time and place to be shocked about maniacs drinking the blood of hikers in the Grand Canyon, and it wasn't while they were still on this trail. Nell rather agreed, and picked up her pace as much as she was able.
"Did they give you anything to drink?" Ford asked, voice oddly distant.
"What?" Henry's steps faltered for just a moment, but he shook his head before Ford could repeat the question."No. They were a little busy drinking my blood. Did I mention they drank my blood?"
"Here." Hamill fumbled in his shirt pocket for a moment, retrieving a silver flask. Henry made no move to take it, and while Nell couldn't see his face, the rasping breath he rattled out sounded skeptical. "It's water," Hamill clarified, almost embarrassed.
Henry hesitated, but took the flask with a murmur of thanks. He downed it quickly, and soon after Nell watched as he leaned more and more on Hamill for support, his head sagging and feet dragging on the ground.
Ford noticed it, too, and from the tension around his eyes he wasn't pleased. "How much further?" He asked his partner.
Hamill glanced back, looking resigned. "Another half hour, maybe, if we can keep up this pace."
As if on cue, Henry stumbled a little. Ad Hamill steadied him, he admitted, "I don't know if I can."
"You will, 'cause you have to," Ford ordered, voice harsh but quiet. "The thing, or things, that got you are still out there. We're lucky they're not chasing us now." Ford darted a glance behind them at the trees, as if concerned that his words would summon whatever pursuers he was worried about. "We cannot still be in these woods at sun down."
"He's lost a lot of blood, Dean. It's amazing he's still awake, let alone walking," Hamill defended quietly. Ford—first name Dean, apparently—jogged forward to get a better look at Henry's situation. Nell followed, wincing at Henry's paper-white face even as Ford cursed.
"Here, you take this." Ford thrust the long knife he'd been clutching since the cave into Hamill's hands. "You, take this, but don't touch it." Ford took off his flamethrower and handed it to Nell, who very reluctantly slung the strap across her body. That done, Ford dropped to a kneeling crouch on the ground, speaking to Henry over his shoulder. "You, hop on."
Henry blinked tiredly at him. "You joking, son?"
"Do I look like I'm goddamn joking?" Ford bit out. Henry mutely shook his head, and Nell privately agreed that no, the angry man with the flamethrower and the big knives did not look like was was goddamn joking. "Shut up and hop on."
They made better time once Ford was carrying Henry. No more than twenty minutes later, they hustled down the last few feet of the path, emerging from the trees as the sky turned sunset orange.
Hamill rushed immediately for the trunk of the Impala parked near the trailhead, but Nell followed Ford as he headed straight for her Outback. "Get that door open," her ordered, and Nell hurried to comply, opening the passenger door as Ford manhandled the now-unconscious Henry into the seat. "Head back to the ranger station and get him taken care of."
"Right." Nell hesitated. "What about you?"
"We're going back in." Ford looked past her, and Nell turned to see Hamill approaching with two long, gleaming machetes. He handed the spare to Ford handle-first, eyes dark. Nell stared, wide-eyed.
"What the hell are those for."
Nell meant it to be an incredulous demand, but instead it came out breathless and scared and disbelieving. She was exhausted and in pain, and a large part of her hoped this whole bizarre ordeal was a fever dream, and she'd wake up soon in her little teardrop camper and be able to tell Henry all about it over coffee while she scratched Roxie behind the ears.
Ford turned back to her, eyes cold and serious. Nell inched back, pressing against her car to put more distance between her and his knife. "Listen to me. The… person, or people who did this to Henry? They're still out there. We have to go after them, now, before they realize he's gone and come after us." He paused, eyes darting across her face, as if making sure she was following his logic. "And you have to take care of Henry. Drive back to the ranger station as fast as you can and get him help. Got it?"
"Got it," Nell forced out. She shrugged off the flamethrower and slung her backpack off one shoulder, digging for her car keys past water bottles and protein bars. With a triumphant noise in the back of her throat, Nell seized the keys and re-zipped her bag.
But the rustling didn't stop when her searching did. Warily, Nell turned to the path the four of them had just vacated. The path no other hikers had taken today. The path where rapid, rustling footsteps were getting louder and louder as they approached.
Ford cursed. "Sam!" Hamill, or Sam, or whoever he was, ran to cover the entrance to the trail, knife raised. Ford followed after him, shouting over his shoulder at Nell to, "Go, now!"
Nell didn't need telling twice. She rounded the car jumped in, wincing a little as her discarded backpack jostled pale, unconscious Henry. She jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life just as two figures hurtled out of the woods at Sam and Dean, moving so fast they nearly blurred.
"Holy shit." Nell didn't allow her surprise to paralyze her, slamming the car into drive and peeling away, completely disregarding the posted speed limit. In the rearview mirror, Nell saw Hamill get thrown into a tree like he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes, while Ford gave a mighty swing of his massive knife. One of the assailant's heads went flying. "Holy shit!"
"Language." Henry, conscious once again, groaned in the passenger seat, eyes fluttering.
Nell's eyes darted between him and the road, her shoulders sagging in relief. "Thank god, you're alright." Nell jerked the wheel, pulling into the parking lot in front of the ranger's station and stopping the car. "Hold tight, I'm going to get help."
Nell's left hand reached for the door handle, but she was stopped from leaving when Henry's hand closed over her right wrist like a vice. His grip was bruising, and Nell flinched involuntarily, trying unsuccessfully to pull her hand away. "Henry, I'm not leaving—I'll be right back with help, I promise."
"I don't need help."
For the first time since he woke, Nell got a good look at Henry's eyes. They were painful just to look at, red and ruddy, like the iris had spilled over into the white. The sight of them shocked Nell into silence for a moment before her brain caught up. "Of course you do," she said slowly, wondering if the shock of everything had disoriented him, "you're covered in blood. And have you seen your eyes?" Nell paused, unsure. "Can you even see right now?"
"Yes," Henry said, unsettlingly calm. "More clearly than ever." His grip on her hand grew even tighter. Gritting her teeth, Nell twisted her hand, painfully wrenching her arm from his grip and pressing back against the driver's side door, nearly falling out of the car in her haste. But then Henry was out of the car, too, and behind her.
His left hand covered her mouth. His right arm pressed against her throat. He began to drag her backwards, away from the ranger station and back towards the treeline. For a few steps Nell stumbled backwards, shock and momentum pulling her along, before her fight-or-flight instincts finally kicked in. Praying the half-forgotten maneuver from a college self-defense course was enough to take down a man nearly twice her weight, Nell clutched the arm around her neck as hard as she could, planted her feet, twisted, and bowed.
Success. Part momentum, part surprise, Henry toppled to the ground with wide eyes, releasing her neck. Nell backpedaled away immediately, then turned to run to the safety of the ranger station.
She didn't make it.
Henry was fast, too fast. He caught her in a second, tackling her to the ground and dragging her back to the shaded area of the wood. Nell struggled, but now Henry was wary of letting her get hold of him, and he pinned her carefully into the bed of dirt and pine needles. He bent down, ruddy eyes fastened on her neck, and inhaled deeply. He sighed contentedly and licked his lips, looking at Nell's pulsepoint like it was a freshly made pie.
Hadn't he lost a lot of blood? Just minutes ago he was unconscious, hardly able to stand on his own two feet, and now Henry was sprinting and tackling like a star quarterback, not a dangerously injured Baby Boomer.
Struggling was useless, so instead Nell screamed, as high and loud as she could manage. Henry jerked back in shock for just a second, hissing through his teeth, before he clamped a hand over her mouth the muffle the noise. "Ow." Glancing back warily, Henry dragged Nell further into the trees, until the parking lot and the ranger station were no longer in sight. Nell kicked and writhed on the ground, trying to get loose from his hold, or even just dislodge his hand so she could try to scream again, but his grip was too strong. She was dragged back through the leaves, panicking more and more as the safety of the parking lot shrank away.
"Shhh…" Henry shushed her. His horrible eyes were bright and crazed, and he was drawing in deep lungfuls of air, eyes wandering over Nell with obsessive attention. Nell glared, jaw working in an attempt to bite or gnaw at the hand clamped over her mouth. Henry shook his head a little, as if to clear it, then re-focused and nodded to himself. "I can't wait any longer."
Pressing his left hand firmly against Nell's mouth, Henry pinned Nell to the forest floor, kneeling on her legs to prevent her from struggling away. He leaned forward, gruesome eyes half-lidded, and opened his mouth.
Time stopped. Slowly, with an odd, quiet squelch, Henry grew a whole new set of teeth. They descended over his normal ones, sharp and jagged and deadly, like some kind of demented shark. They crowded his mouth, pushing his lips back in a horrible grimace of a smile. Henry bent closer, and Nell pressed back into the dirt in an attempt to put as much distance between her neck and those awful, awful teeth.
In the back of her mind, Agent Hamill's words from earlier clanged like church bells. Dean, vampires.
Then, pain.
Nell screamed against Henry's hand as he tore into her neck. Hot blood gushed, soaking her clothes and the leaves on the forest floor. The pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt, and she tried desperately to buck or roll Henry off, hands scratching and scrabbling at any part of him she could reach, but he wouldn't budge. She could feel Henry's dagger-teeth embedded in her neck, feel him lap up the blood that oozed out with every pump of her heart. Henry slurped as he drank, drank her blood—
They drank my blood, Henry had said. Did they give you anything to drink? Dean, vampires.
Voices echoed in Nell's mind, but not loud enough to drown out the wet gulping sounds as Henry sucked and drank her life away.
It didn't take long for Nell's movements to grow sluggish. It would have been near impossible to toss him off under normal circumstances, but now, with Henry's mania and her own rapid blood loss, there was no chance. Defeated, Nell rested her head on the forest floor and looked at the orange and purple splashes of evening sky she could see through the tops of the trees.
She was going to die. She had made her peace with death already, months ago, but as her vision turned gray at the edges, she couldn't help being disappointed. This wasn't the way she'd intended to go. She closed her eyes, resigned.
And then Henry was gone. Nell blinked at the lack of weight pinning her down, turning her head to see Dean or Agent Ford or whoever he really was tackling Henry to the ground. Henry was snarling like a rabid animal, but Dean didn't hesitate, raising his massive knife and swinging it down. A wet squelch sounded through the trees, and Henry's head rolled.
It was kind of anticlimactic, Nell thought, sighing. She turned her eyes back to the sky. No sense missing her last sunset.
"Nell!" Hamill's face—or was it Sam's?—hovered over her, eyes wide as he pressed his hands to the still-weeping wound at her neck. His voice seemed far away, even delayed, as if the audio and video in Nell's view on reality had gone out of sync.
The pain had mostly faded, now, replaced by a sort of numb, cold feeling. It was relaxing, in a way, though Sam's panicked face and rushed words were kind of killing the mood. Nell let her eyes flutter shut, tuning him out. Maybe if she let herself drift, dying would be just like falling asleep. That wouldn't be so bad, she thought…
A firm pressure squeezed her face. A solid slap the the left side of her face, then the right. She thought about opening her eyes, but what was the point? She sighed one last time, then let herself drift away.