The Shuddering

down as they crossed the exact place Lauren had died, didn’t dare mention that she’d been sprinting down the hill after she saw April’s scarf rolling across the driveway. Ryan tasted blood at the back of his tongue. His chest heaved. He was sure April was dead. There was no possible way she could have survived this long. But he couldn’t bring himself to solidify Sawyer’s loss. To shatter Sawyer’s already dwindling hope. He’d shut down, and then Ryan and Jane would lose him too.
    Reaching Sawyer’s car, they piled two backpacks and a duffel bag onto the top of Jane’s board, winding the straps and handles around the boot bindings to keep them in place. Sawyer grabbed his snowboard off the roof rack and secured the leash to his wrist.
    “Okay, let’s go,” Ryan said. There was nothing else they could salvage that was of use to them.
    “Wait.” Sawyer leaned into his car and grabbed at a small voodoo doll that hung from his rearview mirror. Its lasso snapped with a firm tug. Ryan didn’t ask, but he assumed it was a memento, a token of lost love.
    But Sawyer wasn’t given the opportunity to succumb to his emotions. A distinct, guttural rumble sounded from behind the nearby trees. It was followed by a bizarre cry, a whooping bark that was unmistakably some sort of signal. They stared at each other for a moment, frozen in place, before they pivoted and began to run as fast as the snow would allow.
    That was when they saw it: one of those things had emerged from the trees, and it was blocking their way back to the cabin, watching them with that sick curiosity. Ryan’s entire body felt like one giant, throbbing heart. This may have been the exact creature that tore Lauren apart, back for more. But he couldn’t allow himself to think about that now, couldn’t allow himself to simply stand there and stare.
    “Keep walking,” he said into the cold. “Don’t be afraid. We’ll burn this fucker down if he doesn’t move.”
    The creature watched them for a long while, but its posture changed when Ryan and Sawyer continued toward it, refusing to back down. Ryan watched it hesitate, taking a few steps backward as it growled deep within its throat, those beady black eyes flashing with uncertainty. Ryan swung the torch in front of himself, jutting the flame outward to breach the distance between man and beast. The demon reeled back, then opened its giant mouth in a hiss, saliva sliding down its protruding teeth.
    “Get the fuck back,” Ryan warned, waving the torch at it while the rest of the creature’s family watched from behind the trees. He was waiting for them all to spring into action at any moment, to fall on him all at once, leaving him without a shred of a chance. But they didn’t move from the shadows. They were cowards, seeing whether their prey was aggressive, whether it would attack in return. They were scared of people—that was why the one Lauren had screamed at had bounded away—but their hunger was forcing them to face their fears. They were all in the same situation, man and monster, left with no other choice.
    Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he pushed forward, more determined than ever, his legs burning with effort. And then he lunged forward, jabbing the torch as far ahead of him as he could. He felt it connect, and the moment it did the thing bolted backward with a screech.
    “Jesus!” Sawyer yelled from behind. “Are you trying to piss them off?”
    But they didn’t all lunge out into the open. Ryan could see them slither backward as their wounded comrade fumbled up the hill before leaping into the trees.
    “Did you see that?” Ryan asked, looking back at Sawyer with a victorious grin. “I burned a hole right into that asshole’s chest!” But Ryan’s smile faded as soon as his eyes found Sawyer’s torch. It had gone out, and his victory fell flat when he spotted one of those creatures lurking just a few yards shy of his friend. In their effort to scale the drive, Sawyer had fallen behind. It wasn’t far—just a dozen feet or so—but it was enough, and before Ryan could react he watched a gray-skinned demon leap out into the open behind his friend, lift an overly long arm over its head, and draw its wide, clawed hand through the air.
    Ryan couldn’t breathe.
    He couldn’t scream.
    He couldn’t move.
    Sawyer stared at his best friend, wide-eyed, before sinking to his knees, collapsing into the snow that was now up to his waist. The torch he held disappeared beneath