The Dead of Winter

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Catherine could see it flickering at the top of the mountain. “We should check the cabin,” she urged as the woods grew dark. “We’ve been hunting here for years, and no one has ever lived there. It must be Maya. Maybe she’s injured and trying to signal us.”

“We haven’t been here since last winter,” Anderson said with annoyance. “Someone could be staying there now. We should head back. Maybe she’s already at the camp.”

Under most conditions, Catherine would’ve followed her brother’s lead, but not when her wife was missing. “We’ve been searching for over an hour,” she said. “We may as well try. Whoever is there can help us. Please, Anderson. It's getting colder, and it’s the only lead we’ve got.”

Her brother sighed. “Well, get on,” he said as gestured up the mountain. “This was your idea; you may as well lead.”

“It’s almost too dark to see in these woods,” Catherine complained. “I knew we should’ve brought the flashlight.”

“Are you still afraid of the dark, little sister?” her brother asked with a hint of a smile.

Catherine didn’t rise to the bait. She normally would have, but her concern was on her missing wife and not her irksome brother. Why would she go off without us? She’s always so reckless and now she could be hurt . . . or worse. I don’t want to think it, but it may be true. She could be worse than hurt.

Catherine had hunted those woods perhaps a hundred times. There was nothing she hadn’t seen. Nothing for her to fear. But something was different that night. She felt a blade’s edge to the cold, cutting right through her winter coat. She almost wanted to cling to her brother’s arm, but she knew he wouldn’t allow it.

The whispering of the wind grew louder as they hiked. The trees rustled as if they were shivering with fear. And the darkness felt more alive than all of them. Catherine couldn’t help but feel it was laughing at her, mocking her even. It hated her.

Anderson inevitably took the lead. Nothing frightened him. At least that’s how the world perceived him. Even when they were young, he was always quick to test his mortality. He was like a cat with nine lives. If it ever seemed he wouldn’t survive a stunt, he would reach in his bag of lives and pull out another, dusting off his whiskers and landing on his feet.

“Stop,” Anderson whispered as he put his arm out in front of her. He carefully drew his shotgun and walked forward. There was something on the ground up ahead. It was large, too big to be Maya or anyone for that matter. As they got closer, it became clear. It was an elk, bloodied and torn apart, butchered without care. “An animal didn’t do this,” Anderson said with anger. “It must’ve been other hunters. Damned savages.”

Catherine covered her mouth in dismay. “If someone was willing to do this and Maya confronted them—”

“Don’t,” Anderson said.

A crow landed on a nearby tree, cawing out into the darkness. Others followed. Soon they surrounded the brother and sister, worrying Catherine that the hunters would find them. “They’re just waiting for us to leave so they can feast on the remains,” Anderson told her. “Let’s keep moving. We’re getting close.”

Catherine paused a moment, staring off into the darkness. The wind whispered terrible tales, tales of death. “Something is wrong,” Catherine warned.

“Of course something is wrong,” her brother agreed. “Your wife is missing. Now, let’s go.”

“No, there’s something else. Can’t you hear it? Listen.”

“Yes, you’re right,” her brother said mockingly. “The wind and trees are very scary. I’d love to sit and listen to them, but we’ll freeze if we don’t keep moving. Now, walk.”

Too frightened to be annoyed, she followed behind her brother. They navigated through a thicket, then started up the slope that led to the abandoned cabin. The candle’s glow sat impatiently in the window, waiting for them, calling to them. It begged Catherine to hurry. And she did, trying her best to tread through the snowy rise.

But then, she saw them.

They were a sudden movement from the corner of her eye, dark figures emerging from the wood. She turned and faced them, six pale men as white as snow, appearing almost . . . lifeless.

She froze.

“Hey!” Anderson called out to them, anger present in his voice. “Are you the jackasses that butchered that elk?”

None of them answered. None of them moved.

Anderson scoffed. “You think you can scare us?” He cocked his shotgun as a warning, pointing it at the ground in front of them.

“What are you doing?” Catherine asked in a frantic whisper.

“What does it look like? I’m going to blow them to kingdom come! You all hear me? I’m going to put a hole in each of you! Same as you did that elk!”

Again, none of them answered. None of them moved.

“That’s it!” Anderson shouted. He stepped forward and aimed the gun in their direction. Catherine opened her mouth, but fear choked the words right out of her. One of the pale men walked toward her brother, tall and cadaverous, not at all dressed for the weather, but he seemed less than bothered. “Take one more step!” Anderson threatened as he looked down the barrel.

The pale man neglected his warning, continuing forward. The others watched.

“Dammit, stop right now!” Anderson yelled. “I’ll kill you! Do you hear me? I’ll kill you!” Catherine heard the uncertainty in his voice, a tone unfamiliar.

The moonlight shone down on the pale man’s face. His skin was gaunt and hugging at his bones, his eyes replaced with dark voids, and his hair all but fallen from his head.

Anderson stumbled back. “What the—”

The pale man’s jaw unfastened, opening as wide as her brother’s head. He fired off two rounds, but the fiend hardly seemed to notice. Not a single drop of blood fell from its wounds. It towered over her brother, shrieking as high a sound as could be heard. Catherine covered her ears and watched in terror. It tore into her brother’s neck, cleaning the flesh off his bones. His screams echoed throughout the wood as he fell to his knees, a puddle of red growing around him. After his struggling came to an end, they turned their heads as one, looking at Catherine, longingly, as if she were their only desire.

Tears streamed down her face as she ran and ran and ran. The hill was steep, but she dug her feet firmly into the snow. There was a trail of blood and footprints that led into the abandoned cabin. She was sure it was Maya. She called out to her, screaming as she rushed inside and shut the door.

And there she was, her beautiful wife.

Maya sat up against the wall, clenching the gaping hole in her arm, a bite mark the same size as her brother’s. The candle burned in the window.

“Baby!” Catherine exclaimed. She grabbed her wife by the face and kissed her cold, blue lips. “Baby, it’s me! Baby, look at me!”

Maya looked up, gray from the blood she had lost. “You saw the candle,” she smiled weakly. “You came.”

“Of course, I saw it! Of course, I came!”

Maya’s eyes began to close. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sor—”

Catherine shook her wife violently, desperately. “Maya! Maya, please! Maya, don’t do this!”

She rocked the lifeless body back and forth, the candle still burning in the window, the wax falling with her tears. Forcefully, the cabin door swung open. A chilling wind blew out the candle as it made its wish—Catherine's death. Heavy footsteps sounded behind her, slow and purposeful. One . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five. She rested her wife on the floor and gained the courage to face him. Icy fingers gripped her by the shoulders. The others watched without eyes from the doorway, patient and still. Behind her, the corpse of her wife reanimated, but she dare not look.

And with his ninth life, her brother bid she join them.