That Which Should Not Be by Brett J. Talley Read Free Book Online Page A

blinding light of the morning sun shining through my now open tent.  Outlined in its gleam was Doc Stanley.  If the bitter night had shaken him, the blank expression on his face did little to reveal it. 
    “Get up,” he commanded.  “Joe is missing.”  And with that, he turned and was gone. 
    I pulled on boots and rushed outside to find the entire campsite covered in snow.  I remembered the wolves and immediately walked around to the back of my tent.  I expected to find paw prints, fur, something.  But there was only snow, thick and as untouched as a lamb that had never been sheered.  I told myself it had been all a dream or that, at worst, the snow had covered whatever markings the beasts had left behind.  I told myself that, but even in those early days I didn’t believe it. 
    Then I heard my name.  It was Tom.  I walked back to the center of the campsite to find the entire group gathered around the spot where the fire had been before.  Tom was serious, Doc Stanley’s expression remained as impenetrable as the grave, and Andy looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and hide.  Travis merely seemed irritated. 
    “What’s going on?” I asked.
    Tom sighed and said, “Joe’s gone.  He should have been up making breakfast by now, but he never even started the fire.”
    “Maybe he needed some wood,” I offered. 
    “We cut some yesterday,” Doc Stanley replied.  I knew this.  I had helped break it up. 
    “Maybe something was wrong with it.”  Tom sighed again, and I saw Doc cast a weary look his way.  When Tom didn’t speak, Doc Stanley did. 
    “He didn’t go for wood,” Stanley said.  “His tent is empty, and there are no footprints.  No footprints anywhere.  Not going to it, not going away.  Nothing.  It’s like . . .” Andy whimpered, and for a second Doc Stanley paused.  He looked at him with less contempt than I expected and then said, “It’s like Joe disappeared.  Just up and vanished.  We looked in his tent.  Everything is in place.  Nothing messed up, nothing broken.  And, nothing taken.  It looks like he just walked out of camp with nothing but the clothes on his back.” 
    “Oh, God,” Andy stammered, “Joe knew this trip was trouble.  Knew it was trouble from the start.  And now it’s got him.”
    Doc Stanley jerked his head towards Andy and fixed him with one of the most hate-filled gazes I’ve ever seen. 
    “Who’s got him?” Tom asked.
    “The Wendigo!” Andy cried, oblivious to Doc Stanley. 
    “Oh, not this rubbish,” Doc Stanley said as he turned and walked towards his tent. 
    “Look.”  Now it was Travis’s time to talk.  “Ain’t nobody here who put any stock in Joe.  I don’t even know why you brought him along,” he spat, pointing a long narrow finger at Tom.  “He was always liable to run off, and now he has.  He probably left last night.  He probably got spooked by the storm and struck off into the woods.  The snow covered his tracks, and he’s gone.  If the wolves haven’t gotten him, the snow damn sure did.  He’s probably buried under three feet of it now.”
    “You heard the wolves too?” I asked instinctively. 
    Travis’s eyes went from mine to Tom’s, and as I followed them I saw the answer to my question in both their faces. 
    “No, kid,” Travis lied.  “I was just sayin’ is all.  There ain’t no wolves in these parts.  But Joe is dead either way.” 
    Tom still hadn’t spoken, and I knew given how he guarded his words, he wasn’t likely to. 
    Then Travis continued.  “Look, we got dry wood.  You clean off a spot,” he said to me, “and I’ll get a fire going.  I think I can round up something for us to eat.  And then we can go look for Joe.”
    When I heard that I lost my words.  Travis didn’t do anything for anybody.  Now Tom did speak.  “You don’t cook,” he said.  
    “Yeah, well, looks like somebody has to learn, huh?”
    With that he turned and walked