My bear snarled inside me, and that deduction was the last clear thought I had.
Before I could stop it, my bones swelled, and the sound of ripping fabric tore through the cold air as fur erupted from my skin. Every muscle in my body surrendered to the shift, and my snarl turned into a roar as I charged up the trail.
5/
a super-bad idea
holly
Within less than five minutes of walking, all the light from the main part of town disappeared behind me.
You know how every other reel around the holidays is some dude with a beard dressed up like a woman to parody how stupid it is for so many Christmas movie girlies to give up their former lives and boyfriends to move in with some rando small-town guy she met over the holidays?
Yeah, well, I’d like to submit an entry for what’s even stupider: Her grown, oughta-know-better sister following some vague instructions up a pitch-black road farther into the creepy mountain village where that sappy holiday movie cliche relocated.
Like I just wanted to live the stereotype of being the first person to die in one of those counter-programming holiday staples, the Christmas horror movie.
As much as I loved Noelle, this search to find her suddenly felt like a bad idea. Like, a super-bad idea. Look, I wasn’t the outdoorsy type. My happy place always featured a thermostat and reliable Wi-Fi. This? This was the opposite of that.
But I’d chosen my (scary, cold, forest-lined) path, and if it led to my sister…
Doing my best to suppress my growing unease, I brought out my phone. If it wasn’t going to give me even a bar of reception or Wi-Fi access, the least it could do was act as a flashlight.
However, the phone light didn’t help with the total horror movie vibes this scene was throwing off–like, at all. If anything, the little bit of light made it worse.
The shadows between the trees became even darker somehow, squeezing like a coffin around me. And the crunch of snow under my Hoka Ones sounded unnervingly loud in the eerie quiet. Yet not loud enough to drown out the feeling that the forest of barren winter trees was holding its breath. Watching me.
Also, the waterproof spray I’d doused my shoes with for Vancouver’s notoriously rainy winters completely noped out on this unexpected trek up a frosty mountain trail.
The snow seeped in, leaving my feet cold—both literally and figuratively.
I heard a scraping sound behind me. Like a car shifting into neutral to roll over winter snow. But quieter. And accompanied by the soft, menacing crunch of booted feet.
I froze.
Then slowly turned with my heart pounding in my ears. The wheels and boots came to an abrupt stop with my movement. Maybe I’d just imagined them?
Please let it be my imagination, I prayed as I completed the turn.Please let it be my—my…
My thoughts stuttered, then gave out when I saw two shadowed figures beside shapes I could only just make out as motorcycles.
It hadn’t been my imagination.
It was the other two bikers from the bar—the ones who hadn’t fought over me and gotten arrested. I couldn’t make out their faces, but I knew it was them. They stood between me and the road back into the main part of town, their eyes catching the dim light with an eerie gleam, almost like an animal’s night shine.
On their side of the path? Size, double my number, and an f-ton of silent menace.
On mine? One flashlight app, a pair of shoes better suited for walking than fighting, and a dimly remembered self-defense workshop I’d taken during nursing school—over ten years and twenty-five pounds ago.
Okay, no more horror vs. holiday movie comparisons. This had officially turned into one of those films where every Black woman in the theater starts yelling,“Run, girl, run!!!”
So I ran—ran like a plump rabbit that had just spotted two wolves in the forest.
“Where you going?” one of them called out, his voice a nasal whine behind me. “You didn’t even give us the chance to invite you back to our clubhouse!”
“Yeah, we’re always looking for girls like you,” the other one added, his voice sharp and gleeful like he was holding back a cackle. “Don’t you wanna keep us warm through the long winter?”
No, thank you!—I thought but didn’t say because I was too busy hauling butt to get away from them.
