Sinister Countdown- A Moot

“This isn’t happening,” Sam said in disbelief, “it’s impossible!”

“Shut up, Sam- someone shut him up.” Andrew his as he turned to look back down the path.

“Did you see it too?” said the third member of their party as the four men crouched in the underbrush. Chris brushed his long brown hair out of eyes and held the binoculars back up to his eyes.

“I thought it was just a moose,” croaked Sam. Hank clapped a hand around Sam’s mouth, preventing his friends’ hysterics from rising.

“Sam, pull yourself together,” whispered Hank, his dark eyes flashing with terror and excitement, “this is what we’ve been waiting for! We’ve found it, we found Him!

“Will you both shut up?” hissed Andrew now pulling out his own binoculars and tracking alongside Chris.

“Damn, I’ve lost Him.” Muttered Chris. Pulling the binoculars away from his narrow face to reveal startlingly green eyes.

“Already?” Hank said, sidestepping a small bush and kneeling down next to his two friends.

They were at the crest of a ridge, running between two peaks. The four of them, best friends since the third grade, had long since left the trail. Below them, a wide canyon opened between them and the next small mountain ridge. The pace was filled with thick bushes and tall pines all aflame with the setting sun.

Hank, Chris, Andrew, and Sam all had traveled to the exact place throughout the years.

Obviously, after experiencing their one sighting as teens, the four could never really give up on seeing it, Him again.

And there they were, losing Him in the underbrush.

“Wait,” Chris paused binoculars glinting in the sunlight, “There’s definitely something moving down there.”

“Is it the one we saw?” Sam said, kneeling down as if he were upon a bomb.

Chris didn’t bother looking back, “I thought it was our one, but it’s lagging behind where the first one was.”

Andrew’s eyebrows knit together, “what do you mean?”

” I mean, this one isn’t as far away as our location, and it’s traveling slower.”

Sure enough, as all four puke four their binoculars they too found themselves looking at another distinctly different line of movement.

“We’ve got two?” Sam said, trying to show his calm.

“Yes and now they’re taking different paths,” scowled Hank hiss annoyance getting the better if him.

He was going to add another comment when Chris called our softly, “there’s more.”

All four stopped moving, silence flooding the now-vacated silence.

“Four, five, nine- there’s so many more,” Hank said in awe.

“Like fifty?” Hissed Sam as spit flew from his already twisting mouth.

About the wind shifted, sweeping across the canyon pushing air up the side and bring with it the smell of unwashed, hairy bodies.

Suddenly Chris ducked back under the edge, his eyes wide and wild.

“We need to hide,” he said, looking around at the brush before hind, “they just shifted, we need to go.”

“What do you mean?” Andrew said thickly, “how are we suppose to study Them if we don’t observe-”

“You don’t understand, ” Chris they’re going to be walking over us, who knows what they’d do.

Below the ridge rustling was wafting you. Branches whispering around while rocks and dirt where the four friends were now scrambling to find cover in.

Each grown man threw himself into a bush, burrowing down like prey. The smell grew more intense and it felt like they were suddenly in a void, no sound existed.

Except for what was coming up beyond the ridge. Fumes of rot and I cleaned coats of fur rose into the air permeating everything.

Someone dry heaved but no one else moved.

Sam flinched as a snake slithered without a sound by his head.

That was when the first hairy and very inhuman foot came down between Hank and Sam.

All around them bushes, branches, and pines raised their voices as creatures moved relentlessly onward.

All four men laid or squatted immobile from their spots, unbelieving.

And then silence.

When it sounded like they were alone, Hank extricated from his bush saying, “we’re going to be so famous.”

“Or even more insane,” Andrew said with a rueful smile.

Sam finally untangled himself and sniffed, “what do we do now?”

Chris gave Sam a wink and smiled.

“We, my good friend, follow.”

-M.E. InkOwl

This is the Sinister Countdown. If you liked this descent into maddness be sure to like and follow this month’s macabre passage. These stories, words, and poems come from the darker recesses of the mind behind the InkOwl. If you’d like to read past Sinister Countdown posts, follow the link below.

Past Sinister Countdowns

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