Igor, Froderick
10-13-2016, 11:14 PM
Big Bear Lake, California, embraced him like an old friend. It’s small town feel, boulders and pines, campgrounds and cabins beckoned him each year for one last summer hurrah, before the days grew short and the nights grew long.
The campground sat near the shore of the declining lake. Over the drought of the past few years, water levels had dropped significantly. Docks and jetties at the backs of lakeside homes looked out of place sitting on dry land, the waves churning well before their planks.
The sun was setting, the nascent campfire glowing. He looked out over the water in the distance, just a few hundred feet from their tents.
“Want a hotdog, babe?” His girlfriend said, opening a bag of Ballpark buns.
“Mmm,” he said. “Sure. I’m gonna head down to the restroom first.”
“Okay, but hurry. It’ll cook real quick.”
The flames sprouted as their friends, another couple, squirted lighter fluid on the logs.
He walked down toward the waterfront and the public restrooms. Mountain gales swooped over the pass and he shivered. The scent of fresh pine filled his nose and he took a big, appreciative breath, cherishing the gift of the forest as he maneuvered the trail to the lake.
He’d wondered why the campground was practically deserted. This same time last year, the place buzzed with families and Coleman gas stoves. Perhaps it was the disappearances. On his Facebook page over a month ago, he’d read a post from Big Bear News, a page he followed in his feed. Apparently a couple staying near the shore at Serrano Campground vanished without a trace. There were signs of a struggle, the article said. Chairs turned over, drinks spilled, cookware littering the ground. Big Bear P.D. found no trace of the couple. The odd thing was, their car was still parked at the campground. It was rumored they were either kidnapped for ransom, or by the mob. The families said they’d received no demands, nor were the couple involved in any illicit dealings.
The sound of waves hit his ears as he neared the shore. He could see the public restroom past the tree line to his right. He wondered what the locals thought about the missing couple. He’d asked a grocery clerk when getting provisions. The man simply demurred. He looked as if he had something to say, but had stopped himself and shrugged.
After exiting the restroom, he noticed camp site #99 a few feet from the shore. He wondered if that was where the missing couple had stayed. The sun had set, and the sky was now a darkening gray, that time at dusk when you could still see things nearby, but know they’d soon fade to darkness.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Did something move from the lake to the shore? He squinted and walked closer. If it was someone swimming, he or she picked a weird time. The water at this hour usually cooled a few degrees.
The shape of whoever was leaving the lake disappeared amongst the trees near the rise of the shore. He shrugged and headed back towards the camp, then hesitated. He realized the trail he’d taken was over where he’d seen the shape enter the forest. He shook his head, reprimanding himself for the tinge of fear in his chest.
He neared the trail entrance and suddenly a shadow rushed out of the woods toward him to his left. He started and ran. It had to be a large man. Maybe a vehement drunk. He ran down the trail, turning to see if the man was still behind him. He wasn’t. It was in front of him. And it was no man.
He spun around and sprinted in the opposite direction toward the shore, to get further from whatever it was that pursued him. He could hear the low, almost inaudible growl of the thing behind him. Just as he reached the end of the tree line, he felt a shove into his back and fell from the lip of the shore, splashing into the lake. The water was cold and deep here, and he swam back toward the shore. He didn’t care to be drowned by whatever this thing was. It had to be a costumed maniac, a sick twisted man playing at the ultimate early Halloween prank.
He swam closer to land, the waves wanting to take him further out. He scanned the shore. His pursuer wasn’t there. Just then, he felt a tug at his leg. He turned around and looked into the gill-filled face and needle teeth of a creature. It lunged and bit his shoulder. His body shuddered in pain and he cried out. He elbowed the thing hard in the head and it released it’s bite. He felt the shore and heaved himself up. “Help!” he cried, looking up toward the trail. He felt weak and that he was losing lots of blood. He began to crawl forward, but it caught him by the leg again. The last thing he remembered was being dragged under.
# # #
He’d been taking way too long. By now his hot dog was cold, and they’d already eaten theirs. She walked down the trail and to the restroom, calling out his name. Nothing. She looked out over the lake, and for a second, thought she saw someone floating in the water. She looked again and it vanished. She went back to her friends at the campsite. After an hour of looking around the campground, talking with the few other campers and calling out his name, they called the police.
The campground sat near the shore of the declining lake. Over the drought of the past few years, water levels had dropped significantly. Docks and jetties at the backs of lakeside homes looked out of place sitting on dry land, the waves churning well before their planks.
The sun was setting, the nascent campfire glowing. He looked out over the water in the distance, just a few hundred feet from their tents.
“Want a hotdog, babe?” His girlfriend said, opening a bag of Ballpark buns.
“Mmm,” he said. “Sure. I’m gonna head down to the restroom first.”
“Okay, but hurry. It’ll cook real quick.”
The flames sprouted as their friends, another couple, squirted lighter fluid on the logs.
He walked down toward the waterfront and the public restrooms. Mountain gales swooped over the pass and he shivered. The scent of fresh pine filled his nose and he took a big, appreciative breath, cherishing the gift of the forest as he maneuvered the trail to the lake.
He’d wondered why the campground was practically deserted. This same time last year, the place buzzed with families and Coleman gas stoves. Perhaps it was the disappearances. On his Facebook page over a month ago, he’d read a post from Big Bear News, a page he followed in his feed. Apparently a couple staying near the shore at Serrano Campground vanished without a trace. There were signs of a struggle, the article said. Chairs turned over, drinks spilled, cookware littering the ground. Big Bear P.D. found no trace of the couple. The odd thing was, their car was still parked at the campground. It was rumored they were either kidnapped for ransom, or by the mob. The families said they’d received no demands, nor were the couple involved in any illicit dealings.
The sound of waves hit his ears as he neared the shore. He could see the public restroom past the tree line to his right. He wondered what the locals thought about the missing couple. He’d asked a grocery clerk when getting provisions. The man simply demurred. He looked as if he had something to say, but had stopped himself and shrugged.
After exiting the restroom, he noticed camp site #99 a few feet from the shore. He wondered if that was where the missing couple had stayed. The sun had set, and the sky was now a darkening gray, that time at dusk when you could still see things nearby, but know they’d soon fade to darkness.
He caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Did something move from the lake to the shore? He squinted and walked closer. If it was someone swimming, he or she picked a weird time. The water at this hour usually cooled a few degrees.
The shape of whoever was leaving the lake disappeared amongst the trees near the rise of the shore. He shrugged and headed back towards the camp, then hesitated. He realized the trail he’d taken was over where he’d seen the shape enter the forest. He shook his head, reprimanding himself for the tinge of fear in his chest.
He neared the trail entrance and suddenly a shadow rushed out of the woods toward him to his left. He started and ran. It had to be a large man. Maybe a vehement drunk. He ran down the trail, turning to see if the man was still behind him. He wasn’t. It was in front of him. And it was no man.
He spun around and sprinted in the opposite direction toward the shore, to get further from whatever it was that pursued him. He could hear the low, almost inaudible growl of the thing behind him. Just as he reached the end of the tree line, he felt a shove into his back and fell from the lip of the shore, splashing into the lake. The water was cold and deep here, and he swam back toward the shore. He didn’t care to be drowned by whatever this thing was. It had to be a costumed maniac, a sick twisted man playing at the ultimate early Halloween prank.
He swam closer to land, the waves wanting to take him further out. He scanned the shore. His pursuer wasn’t there. Just then, he felt a tug at his leg. He turned around and looked into the gill-filled face and needle teeth of a creature. It lunged and bit his shoulder. His body shuddered in pain and he cried out. He elbowed the thing hard in the head and it released it’s bite. He felt the shore and heaved himself up. “Help!” he cried, looking up toward the trail. He felt weak and that he was losing lots of blood. He began to crawl forward, but it caught him by the leg again. The last thing he remembered was being dragged under.
# # #
He’d been taking way too long. By now his hot dog was cold, and they’d already eaten theirs. She walked down the trail and to the restroom, calling out his name. Nothing. She looked out over the lake, and for a second, thought she saw someone floating in the water. She looked again and it vanished. She went back to her friends at the campsite. After an hour of looking around the campground, talking with the few other campers and calling out his name, they called the police.