"Son of a.." Hutch trailed off, his voice thick with disbelief, as he slumped against the shattered window. Jason stood beside him, staring off into the dense forest, his expression shock filled. I felt numb, paralyzed by the unfolding nightmare, but I forced myself to move. He couldn't be dead... Flashbacks flooded my mind, memories of when we first met.

"Hey, man, what's up?" Wade had introduced himself with a casual tone like that. It was at an old cafe, a nondescript spot that might've been named Jay's or something equally forgettable. I had taken his hand and shook it firmly. "Glad to have you here. Seems like you know how to record?" I had asked him. Wade rubbed the back of his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yes. I guarantee if you hire me you'll get some amazing shots." I released his hand, nodding. "This right here is Jason. I'm just the clickbait guy." Wade chuckled warmly, his eyes bright with enthusiasm as Jason approached with a confident stride. He eyed Wade thoughtfully. "You seem a bit tough. You done any sports?" Wade's smile faded slightly, his voice betraying a hint of reluctance. "Something... for a little bit." Jason could sense it was a sore subject and quickly changed tack. "Well, we're gonna test if you're a good cameraman, then if we like it, you're on board." Wade nodded appreciatively. "Thanks for the opportunity." With a fluid motion, he placed his camera on the table. "You won't find anyone better." Those memories, once filled with promise and camaraderie, now felt like a cruel juxtaposition against the gruesome reality before us.

Jason dropped to his knees beside us, his voice choked with sorrow. "No... Wade..." I curled my hand into a fist and smashed it as hard as I could against the floor. Pain shot through my knuckles, but it was nothing compared to what Wade had endured. With trembling steps, I approached the wreckage of the beds, searching desperately. Underneath the splintered wood, I spotted Wade's laptop, the USB still plugged into it. Carefully, I retrieved it and tucked it securely into my pocket, zipping it shut to ensure it wouldn't fall out. Jason's voice broke through the silence, a whisper of realization. "Oh... the USB." "You... fucking..." I yelled, my anger overriding any caution for our safety. "Wade died because you wanted footage!" Jason didn't meet my eyes, his shame skyrocketing. Hutch, silent and stoic, stood nearby, his expression unreadable. "He died trying to prove Bigfoot's existence!" I continued, my voice raw with emotion. "Wade will be remembered as the hero who finally captured it on camera! His name will live on!" I glanced up, my eyes pleading with the heavens for some semblance of justice or meaning in this tragedy. Jason spoke softly, his voice heavy with regret. "When we met him a few years ago, I didn't know it would end up like this... This hurts me too, you know."

Hutch finally interrupted the heavy silence, his voice resolute. "They're gone. This is our one chance." I nodded, finding the strength to keep moving forward. "You're right..." Jason's determination surged, his voice filled with newfound resolve. "Yeah, yeah, yeah! You're right! I will make it up to Wade's family... to everyone." He seemed in a redemptive mood, his words a promise echoing in the gathering dusk. I pushed the front door open slowly, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows across the forest floor. "Sun's going down. Let's go." Jason and Hutch followed closely behind me, their steps cautious and deliberate. We each gripped our knives tightly, and the shotgun, still holding three precious shots, was a weighty reassurance against the unknown. I whispered, barely audible even to myself, "The moment we sprint, they will probably hear us. You ready?" Hutch and Jason both tapped me on the shoulder, their nods silent but determined. We shared a brief moment of solidarity amidst the looming reality that another one of us could also die.

I pivoted my foot and sprinted down the trail that led us into this nightmare. I wished fervently that we had never come here. Jason and Hutch proved to be great sprinters, keeping pace behind me. The forest around us remained eerily quiet, devoid of the earlier ominous footsteps. The first twenty meters were swift, aided by the downhill slope. Hutch's voice broke through our panting breaths. "Use everything you have... It'll be tough, we haven't eaten in a bit... but push it!" We hurdled over rocks and pushed through the thick carpet of leaves with disregard to our future conditions. Suddenly, a loud noise echoed from the direction of the cabin, jolting us into even greater speed. They were here. The first deliberate footstep, heavy and purposeful, registered in our consciousness, urging us to move faster. Jason sighed in acknowledgment.

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We sprinted so fast that the world around me blurred into a frenzy of motion. Hutch stumbled, but his years of agility training kicked in—he rolled smoothly and quickly regained his footing, keeping pace with us. The ominous sounds of pursuit drew nearer, a relentless reminder of the danger on our backs. Jason's voice cut through the rush of wind and pounding footsteps. "I'm going to fight them." he declared with a will that brooked no argument. Hutch's voice cracked with urgency. "No, man! We can make it!" Jason shook his head, his tone resolute. "No. We only made it the first time because you fought and saved us. It's time I returned the favor." Worry rose in me. "No! I want you to live! You can't beat them!" I pleaded, but Jason's expression was one of acceptance and resolve. "There's no need to worry. I can handle myself." he said calmly, planting his hand on the ground and spinning, using the knife as leverage. "Go!" I looked back briefly and saw the two Bigfoot and Jason sprinting towards each other. Tears welled in my eyes, but I forced myself to face forward, unwilling to witness the brutal fate that awaited my best friend. A single tear escaped, trailing down my cheek as swiftly as Jason had disappeared into the fray.

Behind me, I heard the chilling sounds of struggle—slicing, cutting noises that filled my soul. But we kept running, putting distance between us and the horror unfolding behind. The distant truck lay still, a silent beacon of hope. Hutch's voice cut through the now silent forest. "I'm turning it on!" He fumbled for the keys in his pocket, eyes fixed on the truck. With a twist, the engine roared to life, a lifeline in our desperate escape. But in the midst of our mad dash, a horrifying sight disrupted my focus—a large, circular object hurtled down the path like a malevolent force of nature, reminiscent of the boulder that had nearly ended us earlier. As we ran alongside it, the ghastly truth came into sharp, horrifying focus: it was Jason's disembodied head, rolling gruesomely with a trail of blood in its wake. The realization fueled a rage unlike anything I had ever felt before. Hutch's urgent voice snapped me back to the present. "Don't get distracted! We're right there!"

With trembling hands, he unlocked the car doors and shouted, "Catch!" I reached out, my fingers closing around something solid—it was the shotgun. With the truck now just a few feet away, I leaped into the bed, adrenaline just about done secreting. Glancing back, I saw the monstrous figures emerging into the clearing behind us, their lumbering forms grotesque against the fading light. The shotgun felt heavy in my hands, a weapon of both defense and retribution. It had wounded one of them before; now it was my turn to take aim. I raised the shotgun, my vision narrowed to the sight, my finger curling around the trigger.

Hutch yanked the door so forcefully it threatened to break the hinges, then slid into the driver's seat and twisted the key. The truck fully roared to life, its engine a powerful thrum of readiness. With a quick shift of gears and a heavy slam on the pedal, Hutch maneuvered the truck in a wide arc, aiming us down the logging road. The smaller Bigfoot continued its relentless pursuit, while its larger counterpart watched from a distance. As we sped away, the truck's tires churned up mud, leaving deep tracks in our wake. The smaller Bigfoot, undeterred by my aimed shotgun barrel, leaped into the air, attempting to intercept us. It moved with terrifying speed, aiming to land on the truck and halt our escape. I squeezed the trigger, the shotgun bucking in my hands as the deafening blast filled the air. The pellets tore through the creature's flesh and muscle, disrupting its leap. It staggered mid-air, the impact delaying its momentum. With a strong crash, it collapsed to the ground, motionless. In the distance, the Bigfoot that had taken Wade's life seemed to mourn its fallen companion. It roared and growled in frustration but made no move to pursue us further. In a gesture of triumph, I raised my middle finger, offering the ultimate signal of defiance to the creature that shouldn't exist.

Hutch continued to drive down the road, our escape gaining momentum with each passing second. I struggled to catch my breath. Then, abruptly, the truck jerked to a halt. Confusion and fear gripped me. What now? I cautiously peered over the roof of the truck and saw a surreal sight—five sleek black cars surrounded us, each filled with men in black suits. My heart sank. How many of these people were there? Had our ordeal with the Bigfoot creatures led us straight into another nightmare? One of the men noticed me and gestured, curling his finger in a beckoning motion. I did not move as another man stepped forward with a loudspeaker. His voice was cold as he made his ominous declaration: "You're government property now."