Chapter 14 – What Followed the Silence
The scream tore through the mountains like a wounded animal, raw and broken, echoing between the snow-covered trees before dissolving into the freezing air. Hana didn't realize it was her own voice until her throat burned and her lungs refused to pull in more air.
The sound felt like it had been ripped straight out of her chest, dragged through something sharp, something cruel. It didn't sound human to her anymore. It sounded ancient. Wrong. As if the mountain itself had screamed through her.
Her eyes were fixed on the shape lying near the edge of the clearing, her vision blurring, sharpening, blurring again, as her mind desperately rejected what her eyes were forcing it to accept. Marty lay motionless, half-buried beneath fresh snowfall, his body twisted unnaturally, limbs bent at angles that made no sense, as if gravity itself had betrayed him. It looked like the mountain had taken him, broken him apart, and left him there deliberately—an offering placed just far enough away to be found, but not saved.
Snow clung to his hair, his jacket, his frozen skin, slowly claiming him inch by inch. Each falling flake felt intentional now, like the world was trying to erase him. His guitar lay several feet away, shattered completely, the neck snapped clean in half, strings tangled and lifeless, embedded into the snow like veins torn from a body. It didn't look like something that had fallen. It looked like something that had been destroyed. Violently. On purpose.
It looked less like an accident and more like a message.
Hana's legs gave out beneath her.
She didn't even feel herself falling. One moment she was standing, frozen in place, and the next the snow slammed into her knees, the cold biting straight through her jeans, stealing the breath from her lungs. She collapsed forward, her hands clawing uselessly at the frozen ground, fingers scraping over ice and packed snow as if she could anchor herself to reality. As if gripping the earth hard enough would wake her up. As if this nightmare would loosen its grip and let her go.
Her breath came in sharp, painful gasps, each inhale burning her chest, each exhale fogging the air in frantic bursts. Her heart hammered so violently it felt like it was trying to escape her ribs. "No… no… no…" she whispered over and over, the words tumbling from her lips without meaning. A broken chant. A denial that refused to turn into acceptance. Her voice cracked until it was barely sound at all, just breath shaking through frozen lips.
Laura stumbled backward, boots slipping slightly in the snow as if the ground itself wanted her to fall too. Her eyes were wide, unfocused, pupils blown with shock, her face drained of all color. For a moment, she looked unreal—like someone painted into the scene by mistake. Her hand flew to her mouth, but it was too late. A violent gag tore out of her throat before she doubled over, vomiting into the snow.
Her body shook uncontrollably as if something inside her had broken loose. Tears streamed down her face, hot against the cold, her breath coming in ugly sobs as she wiped her mouth with trembling fingers. Her legs barely held her upright. Every few seconds, she looked back toward Marty's body and then away again, as if even a glance might shatter her completely.
Luna stood frozen.
Completely still.
She hadn't stepped back. She hadn't fallen. She hadn't screamed.
It was as if her body had forgotten how to move at all. Her arms hung stiff at her sides, fingers curled slightly, numb and pale. Her lips trembled faintly, her breath shallow and uneven, fogging the air in front of her face in thin, fragile clouds. She couldn't scream. She couldn't cry. Her mind hovered somewhere between disbelief and terror, trapped in a narrow space where neither could fully form.
If she accepted it, she would break.
If she denied it, she would suffocate.
Michelle's chest tightened painfully, like invisible hands squeezing around his heart. The cold no longer felt external—it lived inside him now. His hands shook so badly he had to clench them into fists, his fingers numb not only from the freezing air but from the fear crawling through his veins. His jaw locked, teeth chattering faintly, though he couldn't tell if it was from the cold or something deeper.
His eyes kept darting between Marty's body and the dark forest beyond the clearing, between what was already dead and what might still be alive. The trees felt closer now. Taller. Watching. Every shadow between them felt heavier, as if something could step out at any moment.
Sam pushed forward through them, his movements sharp and frantic, almost aggressive, as if speed alone could undo what he was seeing. Snow crunched loudly beneath his boots, the sound too loud, too wrong in the sudden stillness. "Marty?" he called out, forcing a laugh that cracked before it fully formed. The sound collapsed instantly under the weight of reality. "Bro… stop messing around."
His voice trembled, thin and fragile, breaking apart mid-sentence. "This isn't funny," he said again, weaker now. "Get up."
Marty didn't move.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
It pressed in from all sides, thick and heavy, swallowing every sound except the faint crackle of the fire behind them and the whisper of snow falling from the sky. No wind. No animals. No life. Just the quiet certainty of something irreversible.
Sam took another step closer.
Then another.
Each one felt like walking deeper into something he couldn't escape. The truth revealed itself slowly, cruelly, piece by piece. The blood had frozen dark against the snow, thick and ugly, staining the white ground beneath Marty's body in uneven patches. It didn't look fresh. It looked settled. Final.
Marty's head was tilted at an angle that made Sam's stomach twist violently. His neck looked wrong—unnatural, broken in a way that didn't happen by accident. Sam's breath hitched sharply, pain slicing through his chest. His vision blurred, and for a split second, the world tilted dangerously.
His knees buckled.
He barely caught himself from collapsing beside the body.
Then he saw it.
The buggy.
It wasn't where it had been earlier.
Sam knew that with absolute certainty. He remembered parking it closer to the cabin, remembered the way the tires had crunched over ice, remembered slamming the door shut harder than necessary. Now it stood farther back, angled strangely, one wheel slightly off alignment. The door hung open just a crack.
Just enough.
And behind it, barely visible in the fading firelight, stood a shadow.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
Sam's entire body locked up.
Every muscle went rigid, every instinct screaming at once. His pulse roared in his ears so loudly it drowned out everything else. For a moment, he couldn't even breathe.
"Everyone… stop," he said suddenly.
His voice came out sharp and commanding, slicing through the panic like a blade. It didn't sound like him. It sounded older. Harder.
Luna flinched and turned toward him, tears finally spilling down her cheeks, silent but unstoppable. "Sam," she whispered, her voice shaking, "Marty is—"
"There's someone here," Sam whispered.
The shadow shifted.
Not much.
Just enough.
A subtle movement. A change in shape. Proof.
Something inside Sam snapped completely.
"We failed him!" he shouted.
His voice exploded through the clearing, raw and unrestrained, bouncing violently off the trees and back at them distorted and broken. Everyone flinched. The sound felt like it tore the night open. "We failed him! Every single one of us!"
Michelle took an instinctive step back, his heart slamming against his ribs. Laura began to sob openly now, her hands pressed hard against her face as if she could erase what she had seen. Hana rocked back and forth in the snow, whispering Marty's name over and over like a prayer that had already gone unanswered.
"We let him go alone!" Sam continued, pointing wildly—toward the cabin roof, the forest, Marty's body, anywhere but himself. "We laughed! We joked! We ignored every warning! Every sound! Every sign!" His voice cracked, fury twisting into agony. "We shadowed him out! We shadowed him out like he didn't matter!"
"Sam, stop!" Luna cried, stepping toward him despite her fear. "This isn't helping!"
"I should've dragged him down from that roof!" Sam screamed, tears finally spilling freely down his face. "I should've forced him inside. I should've stayed awake. I should've—"
His voice broke entirely.
The words dissolved into a raw, broken sob that ripped out of his chest, ugly and uncontrolled. He bent forward, hands gripping his knees as if the weight of guilt might crush him otherwise.
A branch snapped in the forest.
Not loud.
Not accidental.
Deliberate.
Every head turned at once.
The fire crackled weakly behind them, its light flickering, shadows stretching unnaturally across the snow. The warmth that once felt comforting now felt thin and fragile, like it could disappear at any moment. Luna wiped her face with shaking hands, forcing herself to breathe through the panic clawing at her throat.
"We need to leave," she said shakily. "Now. Or call for help. Police. Rangers. Anyone."
Sam shook his head immediately.
"No."
"No?" Michelle repeated, disbelief and terror twisting together in his voice.
"If we leave," Sam said quietly, his eyes never leaving the treeline, "if we make noise, if we call someone… and he's still here…"
Slowly, deliberately, he gestured toward the buggy.
"He'll kill us too."
The words settled over them like a suffocating blanket.
No one argued.
Snow continued to fall, heavier now, muffling the world as if the mountain itself was trying to bury what had happened. Time stretched painfully, thick and wrong. Every second felt distorted, stretched thin like it might snap at any moment.
Sam turned toward Michelle. "Come with me."
Michelle swallowed hard, his throat dry. "For what?"
"We need to know how he died."
"No," Luna said immediately, her voice sharp with fear. "Don't."
"We need to," Sam insisted. "If we don't understand what we're dealing with, we're already dead."
After a long, painful hesitation, Michelle nodded.
Together they approached Marty's body again, each step heavier than the last, each breath shallow and strained. Up close, it was worse. The cold had claimed him fully now. Marty's eyes were half-open, frozen in an expression of pure terror, his pupils dull and glassy. His mouth was slightly open, lips pale and cracked, as if he had tried to scream but never had the time.
Sam crouched carefully, brushing away snow with shaking hands, his fingers numb as they exposed the wound. It was unmistakable.
Deep.
Precise.
Brutal.
"His neck…" Michelle whispered, his voice barely audible.
"This wasn't an animal," Sam said hoarsely. "This was someone strong. Someone who knew exactly what they were doing."
They didn't look any longer than they had to.
Backing away quickly, hearts pounding, they returned to the cabin, panic settling fully into their bones. Inside, the walls felt tighter, the ceiling lower, the shadows darker. Laura paced back and forth, whispering frantic prayers under her breath. Hana sat curled on the couch, staring at nothing, her face empty, hollowed out by shock.
The lights flickered once.
Then stabilized.
"Where's Luna?" Michelle asked suddenly.
Sam's blood ran cold.
"Luna?"
They rushed to the bedroom.
Luna was there, stuffing clothes into her bag, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. Her hands shook so badly she dropped half of what she tried to pack. "I'm leaving," she said without looking up.
"You can't go alone," Sam said urgently.
"I won't stay here and die," Luna snapped, finally turning to face him. Her eyes were wild, red-rimmed, desperate. "Marty is dead."
The cabin lights flickered again.
Outside, something moved.
The front door creaked softly.
No one breathed.
And in the silence, the mountain listened.
And in the dark shadows someone was waiting for them
A dark entity a killer Wipehead ....