“Whoaaa!” laughed Wikman, as Sydney jumped him and wrapped her legs around his midsection. He dropped the cooler he was unloading from the trunk so his hands could be put to better use as a seat.

She hugged him around his neck and gave him a kiss. “I missed you.”

David tucked his car keys in his pocket as he shut the driver's side door. A snow, fresh that morning, had him ankle deep in powder. “He couldn't tell.” London was right behind her. He looked at her and gave a smile. “Hey, beautiful. Any vacancies?”

London smirked up at him. “Hey, douchebag. Sorry, but you'll have to sleep outside. We all agreed.”

“Is that so?” he asked. He took a step toward her, so they were only a couple inches apart. London did not back off, accepting him into her personal space.

“Do I at least get room service?” he flirted.

“Hmm,” she replied. “Maybe we can arrange something.”

“Daaaavid!” came Brooklyn's melodic voice from the direction of the cabin. David and London both jumped in surprised. Guiltily, David stepped away from the tan-skinned girl. Brooklyn approached without seeming to notice their closeness. She gave him a big hug. “Isn't this romantic, David? You and me, in a remote mountain getaway? Snow on the ground, frost on the windows...a wisp of smoke from the chimney, curling into the cold winter sky?”

“You know it, babe,” said David, giving her a kiss.

“Well, we're going to need your help with some of that,” said London, giving him a kick in the back of the legs. “Why don't you go start a fire in the fireplace, loverboy?”

“At your service, ma'am.”

There was a fire pit out behind the cabin that the others thought shouldn't go to waste either, so while David and Brooklyn went inside to start a fire in the fireplace, Paris and Henry started gathering firewood in the surrounding forest.

Henry crouched to put a log on the bundle accumulating in the crook of his arm. “Are you okay?”

Paris looked down at the boy's back. The hollow 'clunk' the log made as it joined its brethren punctuated his question. She bit her lip. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, standing back up. “You look like you're thinking about something. In a bad way.”

“No...nothing in particular,” said Paris.

The boy turned around. His eyes were sensitive as they found hers. “Are you sure? Did you and one of the other girls have a fight or something?”

Paris shook her head. She felt a grateful smile come upon her. He was really empathetic. She appreciated that about him. It was hard to find a guy like that.

“Nothing like that...” she said. “I guess I'm just worried about London's parents finding out we're up here.”

Henry gave her a quizzical look, then turned and walked over to a dead tree. He tried one of its branches, and it snapped off dry and easy in his hand. “It's about the cheerleader, isn't it?”

Paris felt her blood go cold and her eyes widened. Her hands balled into trembling fists. “Cheerleader? What cheerleader?”

“The one who died. Rachel, right?”

Paris breathed again. It was a testament to her guilt that she assumed he was talking about Caitlin. Of course there was no way he'd know about her. “Rebecca,” she corrected.

“Right,” he said. He turned back to her. “It hit close to home, right? It's the Satanists. You're scared.”

Paris stared at him in silence for a moment. The tears caught her off guard. Suddenly, she was sobbing. Shocked, Henry dropped his burden and rushed to hold her.

“I am scared,” Paris cried into his arms. “I am scared...”

Henry clutched her. “Hey,” he whispered. “It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. Wikman and David are here. The other girls are here. You're safe with us. Nobody can hurt you here.”

He removed one of his arms and tilted her chin up to look into her soft brown eyes. “Let's just forget all of that tonight, alright? You've got your friends, you've got me...and Wikman brought an absurd amount of alcohol. For tonight, those Satanists don't exist.”

She had no choice but to pretend his words were the right ones. She had no choice but to pretend they were a comfort to her. She fought back her tears, wiped away the few that made it out before she closed the vault door on her troubled, unresolved emotions. She forced a smile. “Thanks, Henry.”

On their way back to the campsite, they found Sydney and Wikman setting up a tent at the edge of the forest.

“No, no, just hold it there,” laughed Wikman.

Sydney was struggling with the tent pole, holding the hole in the end on the spike driven in the ground, and feeling quite skittish when Wikman bent the pole to do the other end. “It's going to break and hit me!”

“It's not gonna break. They're made to bend. They're flexible like that.”

“You can't be serious,” said Henry, looking down at them with disbelief.

“What?” grinned Wikman, looking up and brushing his shaggy hair out of his eyes.

“You guys are gonna go camping out here when there's a nice warm cabin over there? It's freezing,” Paris replied.

“Hey, there's a lot to be said for privacy.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

“And I'm sure we'll find ways to keep warm,” Sydney replied. Wikman bent the pole again. “Eeek!” she screamed, jumping away. “You do it, Henry! You do it!”

Henry sighed and rolled his eyes. He dropped to one knee, set down the load of logs, and grabbed the pole. By the time he and Wikman got the tent assembled, the others had gotten a campfire roaring. The sun had finished setting, and all was dark, still and quiet.

As if to combat that stillness and quiet, the group gathered around the campfire and began filling the forest with the sounds of raucous, carefree youth. Denver brought the pizzas outside, and they passed around the boxes helping themselves one slice at a time. There was no combating the dark, however. The night was present all around them, and though the fire warmed and lighted their fronts, the depth and darkness of the woods applied an even, constant pressure to their backs.

“Hey,” said London to the group, her hushed voice and dark smile compelling her friends to let her speak. “Maybe we should keep it down.”

“Why?” asked David. His arm was around Brooklyn's shoulders. The blonde was snuggled against him, watching the fire.

“Well...” said London ominously, “We don't want...HER...to hear us.”

“Her who?” asked Wikman.

“You mean you don't know?” asked Sydney. She looked at London. “They don't know.”

London nodded. “Alright,” she said, in a spooky voice, “I'll tell you the whole story.”

She paused, as if trying to decide where to begin.

“It was twelve years ago,” she finally said. “A group of high schoolers, just like us, were camping here in these woods. It was supposed to be a short trip. Just for the weekend. But come Monday morning...none of the teens showed up at school.”

Pops and cracks from the fire were an immolating punctuation to her words. “The police searched the woods. After a day's search, they found the campsite. It was...a bloodbath. The entire group was dead, slain in the most horrific and gory ways imaginable. All except one girl. She was found covered head to toe in blood, holding a butcher knife.

“No one knows why she did it. Maybe the isolation got to her. Whatever the case, she snapped. Killed everyone. As soon as the police arrived, she fled into the woods. She was never found.

“They say that girl still roams these woods...and that her lust for blood has not abated. It will never be quenched. She will keep killing, keep killing, keep killing. And what's more...they say if you go into the woods, and say her name...no matter where you are...she'll hear you. And if she hears you...she'll come for you. And at that point...it's only a matter of time.”

“What's her name?” asked Paris nervously.

London looked at her. “I dare not say it too loud...but if I whisper, it should be fine. Crazy Carla...Crazy Carla...Crazy Carla.”

“RRRAAAAAAAAHHHH!” roared a woman, leaping out of the darkness and grabbing Henry around the neck and shoulders. She had a burlap sack over her head and a knife in her hand.

“Aaah!” he and Paris exclaimed, jumping in surprise.

The female let him go, snickering. She pulled off the sack, revealing her identity.

“Venice, you bitch,” exhaled Paris. “Fuck.”

“Jesus Christ,” concurred Henry.

“Got you, got you!” Venice giggled. London high fived her. “Oh man, that was great.”

As the night settled in, people started getting cold and began migrating into the cabin. Sydney and Wikman moved to their tent, leaving Paris and Henry alone by the fire.

“You're sure you don't want to go inside?” Henry asked her.

“Nah...I'm not cold yet.” She was, in fact, quite warm in his arms.

“I was just thinking about what you told me before. You're not scared out here? You wouldn't feel safer inside with the others?”

Paris shivered, but kept her voice neutral when she answered. “No. I wouldn't.”

The fire burned, smiting all the darkness and uncertainty in its reach. When it got too low, Henry would get up and throw another branch in.

One time, as he did this, he noticed Paris out of the corner of her eye. She was looking over her shoulder at the line of trees barely illuminated by the campfire.

“What are you looking at?” he asked her, as he sat back down. He put his arm around her thin, feminine shoulders. “Did you hear something?”

“No...” said Paris. “I just feel like...never mind. It's stupid.”

“What's stupid?”

Paris hesitated. She sighed, and turned her eyes back to the fire. “I felt like...someone was watching us.”

Henry smiled. “It's just your imagination.”

........

Inside, some hip hop was blasting from Venice's phone and her portable speakers. Brooklyn and David were dancing: a very grindy dance with a lot of pelvic contact. In the fireplace, a lively little fire was dancing as well. Denver and Venice sat on the couch, chatting about school.

“I dunno. It's kind of hard. They're still giving me a lot of homework,” said Denver.

“Want me to do it for you again?” asked Venice. “Same price as before.”

Denver looked at her, then at the coffee table. There was a pizza box there, and she took a slice. “Thanks, but...Mrs. Antonelli says she thinks I can do it. So I'm going to try and do it...”

Venice stared at the giant in surprise, then smiled. “Hey, good for you. I think you can do it too. But, you know, let me know if you change your mind.”

The song that was playing ended. Brooklyn caught her breath. “Whoo.”

“Want to take a break?” asked David.

“Nah, I'm good,” said Brooklyn. She looked at Venice. “Can we change the music though? I'm feeling like something a little more upbeat!”

Venice gestured at her phone. “Be my guest.”

Brooklyn swept her hair back behind her ears and leaned over the phone. She scrolled through her music, then smiled. “I know! How about something a little festive?” Before anyone could protest, Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree was blaring from the speakers.

“Alright!” cheered Brooklyn, starting to dance. David laughed and danced alongside her.

London appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, drying her hands on a paper towel. She sighed and put a hand on her hip. “Seriously?”

“Get out here, London! Don't be a Scrooge!” teased Brooklyn, rocking as if a Christmas tree was really there.

London looked at Venice. “Why do you even have that on your phone?”

“I don't...she must have found it on Spotify.”

“Did you guys know the girl who sang this was thirteen at the time?” asked Brooklyn.

They stared. “Are you making that up?” asked Venice.

“No, it's true!” Brooklyn replied.

For a moment, Denver and Venice listened in silence. “Serious pipes,” Denver commented.

London sighed and returned to the kitchen. “You guys are hopeless.”

David saw her leaving, and left the impromptu dancefloor. “Need help in the kitchen?”

The volleyball captain looked at him over her shoulder, surprised. She glanced at Brooklyn, who was still totally absorbed in the music, then back at David. “I could use some, yeah.”

David gave a suave smile. “I'm there.”

After watching them leave, Venice yawned and put her hands behind her head. “No fair. Wish I'd brought a guy too. Looks like the real fun doesn't start until tomorrow morning, huh?”

“What happens tomorrow morning?”

“You know. The cheerleader in the basement.”

“Oh,” said Denver. She took a bite of pizza. “I guess I don't really see that as fun. Killing people.”

Venice looked surprised. “You don't? You don't think it's fun...giving them such a big scare? The biggest scare of their lives?” She grinned excitedly. There was an almost erotic thrill to the way she said it.

“Not really...it's just something we have to do.”

“What do you think Sydney and Wikman are up to?”

“I dunno.” Denver thought about it. “Probably having sex.”

Sydney laughed. “Yeah, something like that.” She stood up. “Well, whatever they're up to, I think they could use a good scare too, don't you? C'mon, let's get out of here.”

“Are you guys gonna sit on the couch all night or are you gonna dance?” beckoned Brooklyn cheerfully.

With a couple crunchy bites, Denver finished off her pizza crust and stood up. “You go ahead,” she told Venice. “It's freezing out there.” She walked over to Brooklyn, grabbed her hand, and twirled her around. Brooklyn laughed in surprise.