The Return To Wayde Woods

"How the fuck does he know you're Suzette's dad?" Megan questioned, fear clouding her mind.

"He doesn't," Dusty replied with a sigh. "He remembers you."

"Well isn't that wonderful," Megan replied, creeped out at the thought. She began pacing around the floor. "This is fucking crazy. We never should have come here. Now he's playing fucking mind games with us! We should leave now while we have the chance!"

Megan looked up at Dusty. He was just standing there looking down at the bracelet. His bottom lip was trembling in a slight but noticable way. His thumb was slowly moving over the jewelry.

"I'm sorry," Megan said.

"No, you're right. It's clear he ain't going anywhere. Let's go get help."

Much to Dusty's surprise Megan lunged forward and hugged him. Tears moved from her cheeks to Dusty's jacket as she pressed her face into the leather. Relieved to be able to leave with Dusty's full consent was a dream come true. No guilt, no death.

After gathering Dusty's stuff from the cabin, the two were ready to get out of there. Dusty slowly opened the front door once more, carefully looking over the outside. The car was extremely close. Everything seemed to be clear, but they both knew how quickly that could change.

"Okay," Dusty whispered to Megan. "Here's the deal. We are going to run like hell to that car. Understand?"

Megan nodded.

"Okay then, let's go."

Dusty swung the door open quickly, gun drawn, and the duo ran for the car. The newly rising sun just barely lighting their path. The race to the vehice was suprisingly uninterupted. The doors were flung open and they got inside. Megan in the passanger seat, Dusty as the driver. Dusty jammed in the key and turned. Nothing happened.

"What the fuck?!" Dusty exclaimed. He tried again with no luck.

"Shit," Megan cried. "Not again."

"What do you mean?" Dusty requested, looking at her.

"Last time I was here we couldn't leave because the bastard fucked up our cars!" she exclaimed.

"No," Dusty said in disbelief. He quickly exited the car and walked to the front, lifting the hood. He looked down for a moment before closing the hood and looking through the windshield at Megan. "No battery."

Megan exited the car and moved next to Dusty. The two just stood there in silence, looking around at their surroundings, unsure what would happen next. They were trapped here. No escape.

* * *

The sun had risen, waking up the many creatures that called the woods their home. It cast a blanket of light over the area, as it did every morning. It also shined onto little Timothy, who had made the mistake of lying in the direction that welcomed the rising sun to his eyes.

Waking, Timothy stretched and rubbed his blurry eyes. He was always exhausted the next day when he went on these camping trips with his grandpa. All the excitement was extremely enjoyable to his sister and him, who otherwise had rather boring, uneventful lives.

And, actually being in the woods this time, this trip was the most enjoyable one yet. He loved everything about these woods. He loved the pond he had gotten to go fishing in, he loved the little creatures that one could spot occasionally and probably most of all he loved the mystery of what was in the deeper part of the woods. Timothy figured most kids were probably scared of the woods, but not him! He felt completely safe here.

Timothy lazily crawled out of his sleeping bag. Standing, he raised his arms to the sky in a stretch. His sleepy head down and feet shuffling, he slowly made his way over to the end of the clearing to use the "facilities."

As he reached the clearing he saw something on the ground. In the fog of his mind, it took him a moment to understand what it was. Finally it came to him, it was a large boot. The boy started looking up, a trail of brown overalls, a dirty camoflauge jacket, a brown mask. The boy looked at the giant for a moment, who just stood there. It was then that Timothy saw what was in the giant's hand, a machete.

The scream that came from the boy was unbelievably loud. So loud that a flock of birds flew from the nearby trees. It awoke Timothy's fellow campers, who jolted up to see Timothy sprinting toward them.

"What's wrong?!" Bob asked his grandson in alarm.

Timothy ran over to Tina and threw himself beside her, always feeling better next to his sister. Bob wasn't watching him though, he was looking at the monster of a man who was standing at the edge of the clearing.

"What the hell?" Bob mumbled in shock.

He stood cautiously, as did Alen. The masked man just stood there and watched them.

"Who the fuck are you?!" Alen yelled, but the man took no notice.

"Kids, get in the car! NOW!" Bob ordered his grandkids, who were quick to follow his demands.
Bob took a fearful step forward. "Look, uh, just get the hell out of here!" He yelled. Again, to no response.

"What do we do?" Alen quietly asked Bob without taking his eyes off the man.

"We protect the kids," Bob answered.

Alen nodded. "Hey bitch!" he called out at the giant man. This time he took notice, moving his gaze over toward Alen. "That's right bitch, I'm talking to you! Get the fuck out of here or I'm going to shove that machete up your ass!"'

Bob turned his attention over to Alen, "I said protect the kids, not to piss off the guy!"

"I am," Alen replied. "The best way to scare off a bully is to stand up to them."

The giant began walking toward them.

"I don't think the bully is scare Alen," Bob replied with fear.

"Alright then, let's do this shit the hard way!" Alen ran at The Hunter with a raised fist, ready to attack. As Alen reached him, The Hunter backhanded him across the face which knocked Alen to the ground. The kids began screaming from the car.

Bob looked back at his grandkids, he had to protect them. He took a few steps to the left to get to the pile of firewood they had gathered. There was a long piece that was thick but not too much that he couldn't use it as a weapon. Which he needed, as The Hunter was moving straight toward him.

"Get back!" Bob yelled, swinging unsuccessfully at The Hunter's head. The Hunter kept advancing, Bob swung again as he backed up. Another miss. The third swing hit, the wood smacking across The Hunter's face. His head turned with the blow, but he seemed unharmed other than that.
The Hunter raised his machete at Bob, who now had tears forming in his eyes.

"AAAAHHHHHH!" Alen screamed as he jumped on The Hunter's back. One arm swung around his massive throat as the other gripped the raised hand.

"NOW!" Alen shouted at Bob.

Bob tightened his grip on the piece of wood. He held it like a baseball bat and swung it at The Hutner, whacking him across the chest. Bob swung again, this time hitting the Hunter in the side. Bob held the piece of wood over his head. With every ounce of strength in his body he swung straight for The Hunter's head. Suddenly a massive boot struck Bob in the stomache, sending him instantly to the ground. The Hunter stomped his foot back to the ground. He then jerked his body to the left, causing Alen to lose his grip and fall. The Hunter quickly moved over toward Alen, raising his leg and sending a massive boot into Alen's chest. Alen screamed in pain, but only a breathless, choking sound came out. Again The Hunter raised his leg and smashed it into Alen's chest. And again. Each time a little more blood streamed out of Alen's mouth and down his cheek. The Hunter raised his leg again, this time stomping Alen's head. As the boot was removed, it was visible that Alen's skull had been partially smashed in.

The Hunter's attention now turned to Bob, who was on his hands and knees. The kick at knocked out all of the old man's breath and he was spitting up blood. Though in his pain it sounded distant, he could still hear his beloved grandkids screaming in horror from the car. He saw The Hunter moving toward him, but could do nothing to stop it as a boot kicked him in the side. It flipped Bob over and he was now lying on his back. A massive hand reached down and grabbed Bob by his shirt. In an effortless motion, The Hunter picked Bob up and stood him on his feet. Bob was barely able to keep his stance and in an ill-fated, last minute attempt punched The Hunter in the chest. The Hunter returned the favor, punching Bob across the face. The hit swung Bob around and into the car. The vehicle was the only thing that kept Bob from hitting the ground. He was now facing the car, leaning into the door with an almost lifeless body. His face pressed hard against the glass. Blood streamed from his mouth, making dark red lines rivers on the window. Tears mixed with the streams as he watched his grandchildren screaming inside the vehicle. He knew he had failed to protect the ones he loved the most.

Timothy and Tina watched in terror as a machete crashed into the back of their grandpa's skull. It disappeared, only to crash down again. Once more it disappeard and reappeared, this time slicing all the way through Bob's skull and shattering the window. Tiny piece of broken glass flyting onto the children.

The Hunter began walking around the car, every door he came to he used his enormous hands and unmatched strength to smash the doors in. Each time made the children scream even louder. By the time he was done, the car was an unescapable cage.

The Hunter walked over to the various supplies of the campsite. Reached down, he first picked up somehting a put it into the pocket of his camoflauge jacket. Then he picked up somehting else from the supplies, a gas can.

The Hunter walked back toward the car. Removing the cap he began pouring the fuel onto the vehicle. He splashed some through the broken window, soaking the interior and showering the kids. The can was full and he poured every drop. Tossing it to the side, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a box of matches. He opened the box and pulled one out. He struck it against the side, creating a fire on the tip. The Hunter put the lit match back in the box. Soon the entire box was on fire, at which time he tossed it through the broken window. Within seconds, the entire interior was on fire. Including its inhabitants.

The Hunter watched it burn for awhile, then turned and headed back into the woods.

* * *

"Alright, we're going to start walking. Take this road back out of the woods," Dusty instructed his companion.

"It's too dangerous, we'll be easy targets in the clearing," Megan argued.

"It's our only choice Megan," Dusty said. "If he finds us, we'll have to fight. Otherwise...maybe we'll just get lucky."

"Luck doesn't exist in this place," Megan replied.