The Trespassers

Don’t go into the woods. 

Warning bells ring repeatedly in my head. Yet, I'm drawn to this place, like a moth to a flame. “Tribal Park, No Trespassers Allowed.” The placard in front of the trail reads.

 “We can’t go in?” I ask my fiancé Brian and his group of friends. They all laugh at my expense.

 “Lilly, don't start already.” Toby rolls his eyes in my direction. 

“Every year we do a group trip. Any newbies must pass this initiation. Just like Candace. What, two years ago now?” John adds, pointing to a blonde woman I met only a few hours ago. She nods empathetically and gives her husband, Harris, an exaggerated kiss on the cheek.

 “Gotta prove you are the one. A little trespassing never hurt anyone. Plus, I have my lucky hat.” Don adjusts the red hat on his head and grins in my direction. “Don't worry I also have a satellite phone and we have maps, just in case.” Don pats my back reassuringly as the group steps over the rope of chain links meant to keep people out.

Five hours of hiking later, I watch through the sycamores as a fawn, white spots and striped tail prominent steps into the afternoon sun. The mother pokes its head through the trees, evaluating us for a moment. Her onyx eyes meet mine. 

“Deer!” Candace gushes, taking out her camera. “So cute!” 

“You don’t usually see those in the middle of the day” I remark. I shake my head as the mother and fawn gallop away. A trepidation slithers through my belly, trespassers don't belong here, it warns. 

We hike until dusk falls then set up camp. Drinks and ghost stories flow until exhaustion hits. The familiar crunch of footsteps wake me from dreamless sleep. Brian is softly snoring next to me and it’s as pitch black in our tent as it is outside. I grab my flashlight. It’s probably one of the guys trying to scare me. The sound of the tent zipper rips through the quiet campgrounds. Around me, five dark domes of tents stand, silent and still as tombs.

  I shine a beam of light into the woods and shudder. I swallow the lump in my throat as I walk a couple steps into the woods. 

“This isn’t funny.” I call out. A rustling to my left startles me. Leaves crunch and a stick snaps, raising goosebumps all over. The breeze whistles as it snakes through branches. It’s a siren song pulling me closer. My flashlight swings wildly through thick twisted branches stretching like claws of a massive beast. The beam lands on bleach white antlers, forked and jagged, sticking up from a skull, long and pointed in the front. Gnarled vines wrap over its deer-like body. It stands on hoofed feet, with long, claw-like fingers extending from its arms. I lock eyes with it’s empty eye sockets. My heart pounds as fast as my feet on the ground. The stampede of hooves is close behind me as I scramble back the way I came. A scream tears loose from my throat just as a jagged rock catches my ankle. 

Morning sunlight radiates through our tent as I startle awake. It must have been a nightmare. 

“It’s about time, sleepyhead.” Brian chuckles at me. My heart is still pounding and my head aches, but otherwise I am alright. There is a lingering sense of dread knotting in my stomach, but I push it down and away. 

 “Hey Lilly, you survived the first night!” John jokes as he pops his head in the tent. Despite my body feeling bruised from sleeping on rocks, I force a smile.

“Yeah, slept like a baby,” I lie.

John laughs, his blue eyes disappearing under freckled cheeks. 

“I think Toby went ahead again.” John adds as he packs his gear. “Every year he has to be first to the peak.” John rolls his eyes. 

“Is it safe to be hiking on your own out here?” I whisper in Brian’s ear. He rubs a finger along his beard as if contemplating. 

“Nope, definitely not,” he has a serious tone, but I catch the twinkle in his brown eyes. I elbow him playfully, and he laughs. The group heads up the mountain once more.

 By the time we reach the next checkpoint, a blush pink brushes the sky. A hawk soars in the distance, its impressive wingspan floating on the mountain breeze. It screeches into the wind—it sounds like a warning.

“Toby! God damnit, where are you?” John yells out into the woods. The campsite is a flat plateau with no sign of Toby. I glance over and through the trees I spot a flash of a deer prancing away. We shouldn’t be here. 

“Maybe he went to the next site?” Harris says with a shrug. Candace worriedly puts her arms around his broad shoulders. 

“You okay?” Brian asks. I nod yes, but my stomach flips and my teeth grind in a no. The group shrugs Tony’s absence off, content to let beers and laughter drown their worries. I head to bed early, citing the headache throbbing between my temples. 

Sleep comes fast and hard. Visions of the white skull with empty eye sockets chase me. Branches whip against my skin as I run through the trees faster and faster. Green leaves turn red. A whistle rips through the woods, startling me awake. 

“Did you hear that?” I ask, but when I shine my light on Brian’s spot, it is empty. My heart hammers in my chest. “Brian?” I squeak. I jump up and out of the tent. The light in my hand clumsily lights the trees. I want to scream, to run, to do anything at all, but I am frozen in fear. A dark silhouette towers in between the trees. My blood turns to ice, sending shivers through my skin. A branch cracks snapping me out of my daze and I yelp. 

“Lilly?” Brian asks. He’s shielding his eyes from my light, his face twisted in annoyance. I try to laugh, but it gets tangled in a sob and comes out in a choke. Brian wraps his arms around me. 

“Sorry,” is all I can say. 

“Harris? Candace?” John’s voice wakes me and I look over to see an empty spot once more. I emerge from the tent to find the guys wandering around. 

“You think they went to find Toby?” Don asks, adjusting his lucky hat. 

“I don’t know man, first Toby, then this. Maybe we should call park rangers just in case.” Brian interjects.

“Why would they leave their tents if they went after Toby?” John asks, his hand dusting the top of the tent the couple shared. 

“Maybe they thought they’d catch up to him faster without the gear and figured we would pick up their crap,” Don complains. 

“What if they are in trouble, though?” Brian asks in almost a whisper. 

“What if they are up there laughing at us?” Don retorts. His eyebrows wince together in a scowl, and I can tell he is pissed. The guys decide to take turns carrying the extra equipment, and our progress for the rest of the day is slow. A gloom settles over the group like a heavy fog. 

Soon we reach the next camping ground, but none of the missing friends are anywhere to be found.

“They wouldn’t go to the peak without us, would they?” Brian asks, running a hand through his hair. 

“Who knows? Nobody is looking for anyone tonight. We stay together.” John commands. This time no drinks are handed out or stories told. Instead, we all head to our tents for an early night. 

“Do you think something happened to them?” I ask.

“No, it couldn’t. This isn’t bear country, and they aren’t stupid enough to get lost.” Brian assures me. Still, the gnawing sense of unease is chewing a hole through my stomach and my brain pounds against my skull once more. 

“Did you hear whistling last night?” The question pops out.

“What? No. You of all people should know you never whistle at night.” 

“I should know? Why?”

“You are Native,” he shuts off the tent lantern and zips up the sleeping bag. I don’t understand, but exhaustion is heavy on my eyelids and I drift to sleep. 

The click clack of hooves galloping on rocks and dirt reverberates through the surrounding forest. Then a whistle rushes through the cypress, not a tune or a pattern, but a haunting sound like winds speeding through the thicket. Louder and louder, the whistle blows until it is howling. I sit up, sweat drenching my body and my chest heaving like I’d run a marathon.

“Brian?” My hand reaches out for him but finds a cool spot in his wake. My fingers search until they find the lantern and I flick it on. The light wraps me like a blanket, shielding me from whatever is lurking outside. A shadow grows larger as it approaches the tent. I pull my knees into my chest and debate turning the light off, but I can’t. The light is my lifeline and I am sinking fast. The zipper slides open and Brian’s face is staring at me with one eyebrow raised up in question. 

“Did I wake you?” He asks. 

“No, bad dream.”

“It’s early but there is a storm headed this way. Don is heading up with the extra equipment in case we find the others.” 

“Oh,” is all I reply. 

We pack in record time. The air is heavy with humidity as the sky darkens. I head just outside of eyesight to relieve myself when I see it. A piece of bright red felt. I grab it, curious if it is trash or perhaps something from our camp that blew away. I flip it over and spot a golden embroidered S and F on top of each other. It’s from Don's lucky hat. The hat that he never takes off. My heart squeezes tight, my lungs constrict. I can’t breathe. My heart thumps loud enough that I’m sure the others can hear it. What if Don is dead and the murderer is still out here? 

A ghost of a memory plays on my fingertips, feeling cold empty blankets next to me time and time again. Not Brian, it can’t be. 

“Lilly, you almost done? We gotta go before the storm gets worse,” Brian calls into the woods after me. I shove the scrap deep into my pocket and take a deep breath. Dark clouds continue to build, mimicking my worry, heavy and ready to bust. 

I wait, biting my tongue until John is far enough ahead of us to ask the question that’s been burrowing through my thoughts since last night. 

“What did you mean about the whistling at night?” I ask.

“Oh yeah, I’m surprised you don’t know. My grandma told me a story of an Indian friend of hers that scolded her for whistling at night. The whistle calls evil spirits, Skinwalkers.” The name sends chills down my spine.

“What the heck is a Skinwalker?”

“It’s an inhuman creature that can shape shift. Its true form is a deer creature with a skull head that walks on two feet.” 

I freeze as a drop of summer rain splashes on my face. 

“It can shift into anyone, sound like them and look like them…” Brian continues, then trails off. “I heard whistling last night, I thought someone was messing with me. I saw Don in the woods, he said he was heading up early, ” Brian says. I remove the scrap of hat and offer it to him. 

“I don’t think that was Don,” I offer. Our eyes meet and fingers intertwine, holding onto each other tight as a lifeline. 

Brian opens an umbrella as the rain pours down on us. We don’t let go of each other. By the time we reach the next campsite, the rain stops, leaving our boots and the path thoroughly muddy. It doesn’t shock the three of us when no one is here this time. John doesn’t even mention it as he sets up his tent directly across from ours. As soon as he leaves to relieve himself, I huddle close to Brian. 

“What if John is this Skinwalker thing?” I ask in a whisper. 

“I’ve known John for twenty years. It’s something else.” 

“What do we do? Can we leave?” My voice raises more than I intended and I cover my mouth with my hand. 

“Damnit, Don had the satellite phone. The map showed an old ranger station with a phone at the peak. It’s only one day away.” 

“So we just keep going?” 

“What else?” 

“Hey guys!” John’s voice causes us both to startle, and he chuckles at our expense. 

“Why the whispering? Is Lilly chickening out on finishing the hike?”

“Come on bro, you know being split up like this isn’t normal.” Brian interjects, but John scoffs at him. 

“We are all adults. They can go off on their own if they want. It’s all about the peak, anyway. Make it to the peak and earn your spot in the group.” John’s dark blue eyes meet mine. They remind me of the ocean during a storm and I’m drowning in their waves. 

“Whatever. Let’s rest and get there tomorrow. If we don’t find them, I’m calling the ranger.” Brian turns his back away from his friend and starts unpacking our tent.  

“It comes at night. It doesn’t want us here.” I whisper in Brian’s ear. 

“It’s okay.” His voice quivers. “It'll be alright.” I don’t believe him.

We leave our lantern on and place hunting knives close by. Fear keeps me from being sleepy until it’s so late, it’s almost early. My eyes close then fly open, then shut until a whistle blaring through the forest wakes me. I look over and Brian has fallen asleep sitting up. I shake him and his eyes fly open. 

“It’s the whistle, it’s John!” I cry. We both dart out of the tent, knives and flashlights in our hands.

“John?” Brian calls out, silence answers. He pushes open the door to his tent, it's empty. 

“John?” He cries out, the panic palpable in his voice. A loud snap sounds from the woods and Brian dashes into the darkness. 

“No!” I call after him. The whistle calls again, a long somber note hissing through the trees. 

My heart is beating like a drum in my chest. Panic runs through me as I rush into the darkness after Brian. I don’t want to lose him. The pounding in my temples becomes stronger, faster—my world goes black. 

Screams wander through the woods. The words of a man crying and begging for his life fall among the foliage. Blood spills like rain, making the earth muddy in its wake. 

“Please be alive.” Brian's long arms wrap around me as the world swings back and forth. I cough, trying to say something. He wipes the hair out of my eyes. Blood stains his hands.

“I thought—I thought it got you, too.” He stammers. My eyes fall to the forest floor, drenched in blood. Pieces of John lay scattered around like garbage from a knocked over bin. 

A shriek escapes me and Brain shields my eyes from the grotesque scene. “We have to get to the ranger station. We have to go!”

We abandon our gear, taking only our knives and flashlights. 

“Toby, Don, Harris, Candace, Eddie, John,” Brian mutters their names repeatedly as we walk. 

“It’s going to get dark before we get there,” I say looking up to the peak in the distance. “It’ll come for us.” 

“No. We are going to make it.” Brian assures me. He grips his knife, blade extended. We hike with urgency but long shadows stretch out like arms trying to grab us. They swallow everything around us into their darkness. 

“Just a little more,” Brian says. Wind rustles the leaves around us and we both freeze. A lone tear rolls down my cheek. I glance up the dirt path into the abyss of night. Then a whistle blows through the trees ahead of us. I bite my lip so hard the iron tang of blood fills my mouth. “Run!” Brian screams at me.  

I hold fast my flashlight and knife, darting up the path. Trees thin and an open space sprawls before us. A ranger station sits off to the side and I rush forward with everything I have. Brian beats me there.

“Hello? Is this the ranger station? Hello?” Brian screams into the receiver, but there is no response. I shine my light over him, from the fear etched into his face to the wall where the telephone line lays, sliced clean through. The light glints of his blade, still tight in his hand. His eyes follow mine and the corners of his mouth crumple into a frown. 

“You were the one that knew about the Skinwalkers. Every time the whistle called, you were gone. You had blood on your hands,” my voice trembles and my legs go weak. 

“I was always out looking for you. Every time you were gone. I wiped the blood off of you.” His eyes grow wide and the light in his hands wobbles as he trembles. 

Don't go into the woods — or you’ll remember. No Trespassers allowed.

Images of crimson blood flowing over skeletal canines rush through me, shreds of clothes and limbs flying through the air like feathers of a bird. I forget when I’m away, but I am home now. This is my home. They don’t belong here. 

A shiver runs through my body, shedding my flesh, revealing the deer hide underneath. Ebony eyes sink into my skull, an empty abyss where my soul should be. The whistle gathers in my throat and hisses its way out of my bone teeth. It’s a tune I’ve sung for millennia. It's the last sound the uninvited ever hear.