Evelyn fired again.The muzzle flash lit the fog in bright, violent bursts. The sound of gunshots echoed through the trees, sharp and desperate. One of the shambling burned figures stumbled as the bullet struck its shoulder, spinning it sideways.
But it didn’t fall.
It simply turned back toward her, twitching like a puppet with broken strings.
Delaney grabbed Evelyn’s arm. “Stop wasting ammo! RUN!”
Evelyn didn’t want to run. Every instinct screamed to stand her ground, to fight, to do what she’d been trained to do. But training didn’t cover this. Training didn’t cover a thing wearing a melted mask that refused to die.
They bolted into the trees.
The cruiser disappeared behind them almost instantly, swallowed by fog so thick it might as well have been a wall. Evelyn’s flashlight flickered weakly, illuminating only brief flashes of trunks and roots. The beam bounced wildly as they stumbled over uneven ground.
Delaney cursed, panting. “This isn’t right! The road was right there!”
Evelyn didn’t answer. She was too busy trying to make sense of the impossible. They had reached the entrance. They had been almost out.
And yet the forest had closed.
Like it had shifted around them.
Like the woods were alive.
They ran until their lungs felt like they’d tear, until their legs ached and their uniforms were soaked with sweat despite the cold. Finally, Delaney tripped on a root and slammed hard into the ground.
Evelyn dropped beside him, grabbing his collar. “Get up!”
Delaney groaned, face pale. “My ankle… I think—”
A dragging sound cut through the fog.
Slow. Heavy.
Coming closer.
Evelyn’s blood froze.
Delaney scrambled upright, limping. “We’re dead. We’re dead, Ev.”
Evelyn forced him forward, half-dragging him as they moved. “No. You’re not dying here.”
They broke through the trees and stumbled into another clearing.
Evelyn stopped dead.
The clearing was filled with objects—rusted camping gear, broken coolers, melted lanterns, charred sleeping bags. A graveyard of the campground’s past. The remains were scattered like someone had collected them and dumped them here.
In the centre stood a tall wooden pole.
And hanging from it was something that made Evelyn’s stomach drop.
A jacket.
A police jacket.
It was scorched and ripped, but the patch was still visible.
PROVINCIAL POLICE.
Delaney stared at it, his mouth hanging open. “That’s… that’s our uniform.”
Evelyn stepped closer slowly, her pistol still raised.
Beneath the hanging jacket, nailed to the pole, was a badge.
Blackened.
Warped.
But readable.
The name engraved on it made Evelyn’s breath catch.
CONSTABLE MARCUS FENN.
She recognised it instantly.
Fenn had been part of the original investigation months ago. One of the officers who went into the woods and never came back. They’d said he’d gotten lost. They’d said the fire took him.
But the badge was here.
Displayed like a trophy.
Delaney’s voice was barely a whisper. “They never found him…”
Evelyn’s eyes scanned the clearing.
And then she saw them.
Bodies.
Not fresh, not whole, but… shapes half-buried in the dirt around the edges of the clearing. Charred skeletons. Burned clothing. Remains tangled with roots.
The forest had been feeding on them.
Preserving them.
Keeping them.
Delaney gagged and turned away, vomiting into the fog.
Evelyn stood frozen, her mind reeling.
This wasn’t just a killing ground.
This was a shrine.
Then she heard it.
Not dragging.
Not footsteps.
Whispering.
Low voices, overlapping, coming from every direction at once. They sounded like human voices, but broken and strained, like they were coming from throats filled with smoke.
Evelyn turned slowly in a circle.
The fog moved.
Shapes formed within it.
Figures stepping forward, one by one.
Burned men and women.
Campers.
Officers.
Search volunteers.
Their faces were half-melted, their skin cracked like charcoal, and pieces of blackened mask clung to them like infected growth.
But their eyes were the worst part.
Their eyes were empty.
Not dead.
Not alive.
Just hollow, as if something else looked out through them.
Delaney backed up, limping, voice trembling. “Ev… those are people.”
Evelyn raised her pistol with shaking hands. “Stay back!”
The figures didn’t rush.
They approached slowly, like sleepwalkers.
One of them lifted its head.
Its mouth opened.
And the voice that came out wasn’t its own.
It was Travis Mullen’s voice.
Clear as day.
Help… me…
Evelyn’s heart clenched.
Delaney stared, horrified. “That’s the guy we were looking for…”
The burned figure stepped closer, reaching out with a cracked, trembling hand.
“Help… me…”
Evelyn’s eyes filled with tears she refused to let fall. “Travis?”
The figure twitched, like it was fighting itself. Its head jerked sharply to the side, and suddenly its voice changed.
It became a rasp.
A deep, familiar rasp.
Cropsy’s voice.
“You… belong… here…”
The other burned figures echoed it, their voices overlapping into a chorus.
“Belong here… belong here… belong here…”
The fog thickened around the clearing.
The trees leaned inward.
Evelyn grabbed Delaney and pulled him back.
“We’re leaving,” she hissed. “NOW.”
But the ground beneath their feet shifted.
The soil softened, turning almost liquid.
Evelyn looked down in horror as her boot sank.
Not mud.
Ash.
Warm ash.
It clung to her like hands.
Delaney screamed as his leg sank deeper.
“They’re pulling us down!”
Evelyn tried to yank him free, but something beneath the surface tightened like roots wrapping around them.
And from the far side of the clearing, the tallest shape emerged.
Cropsy stepped into view, slow and unstoppable.
Its mask glowed red like embers.
It raised its head, breathing deep.
As if smelling them.
As if tasting their fear.
And in that moment, Evelyn understood something chilling.
These weren’t just victims.
They were Cropsy’s collection.
And soon…
They would be part of it.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
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