They Dwell Among Us, part 1

They Dwell Among Us.jpg

A short story by L M Glegg

Last night it took Kevin. It baited us both into leaving the house, and it took him down hard. By the time I found him sprawled out in the snow, his throat had been ripped wide open and the rest of his body mangled – exactly the same thing that happened to Linda. They're both now lying side by side under a canvas tarp at the rear of the cabin, nothing more than two frozen remnants of the tragedy that has struck us.

We had planned this vacation for months. It was supposed to be two full weeks in a mountain cabin away from the hustle and bustle of this modern world we all mistakenly refer to as “real life”. Everyone agreed – no cell phones, no laptops, no tablets – nothing but fresh air and good company. Even the forecasts calling for heavy snow weren't enough to keep us away from our much-anticipated rendezvous with Mother Nature. It was going to be a couple of lifelong friends, with plenty of firewood, food, and wine, alone with our fiancees in a secluded, wilderness setting – how could it get any better than that?

The first snowflakes started to fall about halfway through our road trip, and we began singing. I was in the driver's seat with Linda at my side, and we were on top of the world. Not long after, we had to shift into four-wheel drive to negotiate the treacherous roads, but that just added to the sense of adventure. We were still singing and joking like a group of sailors on shore-leave when we reached the cabin and finally stowed away the last of the supplies, and we didn't stop until we passed out from sheer exhaustion in the first hours of a new morning.

For two solid days it snowed, and when the blizzard finally ended, my SUV was little more than a mound of white powder in the driveway. The wind raged outside the cabin walls while the fireplace poured its warmth upon us from within. There were no phones ringing in our ears, no urgent e-mail or text messages that had to be answered, and no deadlines to meet. The next nearest house, we had been told by our temporary landlord, was almost five miles further up the mountainous road that snaked through the thick pine forest enveloping us. The sweet music of animal calls and friendly human voices were all that lingered in the air. We were still marveling about our good fortune in such a romantic setting right up until midnight of the fourth day. A couple of short hours later, our fortunes were set to change.

......to be continued......

Author's Note: When this story is finally compiled with several others into a single volume, it will be credited to R J Spencer, an alternative pseudonym used to distinguish my “Disturbia” from the other genres in which I write.