The sunrise in Timber Creek was as peaceful as ever. The way it climbed up the back side of the mountain and rolled down the face like magma, inching across the town. The mist, still hanging around. Refusing to leave. But it won't survive the day. The cool night air evacuates soon. Late August gets warm.

Coming up through New Brunswick was a desolate route, but it wasn't nearly as bad as coming in from the north, and battling that war-torn gravel road for thirteen miles in the middle of the night like last time.

Main street was quiet. Empty. Coffee shop was open. He never needed it more, after weathering that four hour drive. Between three a.m. and now, those back roads got pretty lonely. But he couldn't stop now. No, the last cold sip of the one he picked up leaving St. Louis would have to suffice. The historic part of town ended, as did the asphalt. Tommy hit that old dirt. It was only a few miles up the mountain from this end of Forest Hill to reach the cabin. 

What the hell? His brother's jeep. Parked in the middle of the road. Abandoned. The headlights were on. Tommy parked and got out curiously. Hmm...still running. 

"Travis?" He eyed the woods from the open door of his vehicle. Hesitantly, he approached the jeep. The glass was shattered all over the road. More inside. He investigated a jagged shard sticking out from the slit in the door. Blood. He transitioned into a more defensive, alert, posture. "Travis," he called out to the forest, reaching through the open window to turn the engine off. 

He followed the nearly unnoticeable scuff marks, from the jeep to the ditch. Then, into the ocean of vegetation. Green and shadows. He shoulder-and-elbowed the branches and leaves away from his face as he hunted. "Travis!"

Somewhere out there in that vast wilderness, Tommy heard his name swirl through the trees. A transparent echo. A whisper. A persuasive beckoning. "Tommy..."

That's enough. He hustled back to his car. His tires spit gravel into the air and chomped away at the ditch-line, as Tommy squeezed past his brother's jeep. He power-slid into the driveway and came to an abrupt stop when he reached the cabin. The small dust cloud floated off into dissipation. 

Tommy didn't jump out of the car and rush to the cabin like a hero. That was the idea. He had every intention of doing so. But, the creature on the porch put a pause on that plan. Instead, he sat in the driver's seat and observed. 

It was a deer. Big. It's hooves clunked on the wood as it moved about the porch. What the fuck is it doing, Tommy wondered as he watched. The massive animal was seemingly unbothered by Tommy's arrival. Eventually, it walked down the steps and into the grass. 

Tommy would've been more aghast to see the missing hide from the skull, if he wasn't so distracted by what it had in its mouth. Tommy squinted and leaned toward the windshield. Is that a...Indeed. It was a severed hand. The magnificent, scalped stag was carrying the decomposing appendage between its clamping teeth. Gripping it by the ribbons of meat and flapping skin, the beast hauled it off into the forest. 

Now, he wasn't exactly comfortable getting out of the car. He had to. Fuck it. He swung the door open and tore toward the cabin, clearing the steps. Banging on the door. "Travis! Travis, open up!"

He could hear his brother inside, muffled, "Go away."

Nope. He kept beating the door. "Travis! It's Tommy!"

More muffled words. He couldn't make them out. Tommy took a step back and powerfully kicked the door open. He entered hard and fast like a solo raid. "Travis?" He could've sworn he'd heard his brother's voice. Regardless, he wasn't there. Tommy quickly advanced to Plan B. The most logical next step. 

The door bell jingled on the Sheriff's door. Deputy Trevor Yates laid down the newspaper and stood at attention. "May I help you?"

"Maybe," Tommy answered, a little pessimistic. "I'm looking for someone."

"Well," Trevor answered enthusiastically. "That's a common theme around here lately."

Tommy only wore his what-the-hell-does-that-mean face momentarily, before deciding not to  waste any additional time. "My brother. He moved up here kinda recently. An old cabin up on..."

"You talking about Travis?"

That has to be a good sign. He's heard of him. Tommy exuded a bit more hope, "So you know him?"

"Oh, yeah. Me and Travis, we...wait. Who are you?"

"I'm his brother, Tommy. He's missing. He's not at the cabin. His truck was running, in the middle of the road. I found blood."

Trevor didn't hesitate. He grabbed his keys from his desk. "C'mon. You can ride with me."

"It's right around this corner," Tommy advised, as they made their way up Forest Hill. Or...it was. Maybe he was confused. Perhaps it was the next one? No..."Shit ain't adding up." He looked back, forward again, back. "It was...right...back there."

"Maybe he came and got it," Trevor thoughtfully speculated.

"No. There was blood. Broken glass. Someone came and got it, but it wasn't him." 

"Trevor, you copy?" The radio. It was Tuck. 

"I gotcha, Sheriff. Come on back."

"I need you over here at Bobby's right now."

"10-4."

Trevor turned the car around. As he rerouted them, he noted, "Things sure have gotten busier around here since your brother moved in."

Deputy Yates returned Tommy to his car and followed Tuck's orders over to Bobby's impound. Tommy didn't go anywhere, though. He took advantage of the cell service. 

"Tommy?"  

"Yeah. Look, Amy, I'm sorry to bother you. I know we agreed that...I said I wouldn't..."

"Tommy, what's wrong?"

"Travis. Something's going on with him. He's acting really strange. Kinda crazy."

"Crazier...than when he found out that..."

"Amy, he's gone. Or someone took him, or...fuck, I don't know, maybe killed him."

"You don't think he tried to hurt himself again?"

"I don't know. The cops out here, they think he's a murder suspect. I talked with the deputy. He says the sheriff is convinced that he's been out here on a killing spree or something. Not like a victim or two, like your average murderer. Like a whole fucking mess of people. Real serial killer shit."

"What?" She was suddenly struggling to follow.

"I found his jeep, abandoned. Fucking blood, Amy. I don't know what to do, where to start. I know it's a lot. I had to talk to someone. And I didn't know who else to call."

"It's okay. Do you want me to, I mean, do I need to...come out there?"

Tommy's pause was extended.

"For support?"

"I'll text you directions to the cabin. I'll be there."

The wind-chime alarm at the convenience store sounded off when Tommy walked in. Old Vic looked at him with his nose, sniffing the air, with no bother for eye contact. "You smell...familiar." He turned the page in his magazine. "You related to Travis?"

"How the hell did you know that?"

"You smell alike."

How odd. "Well, we quit wearing each other's clothes and sharing soap like twenty years ago, so..." 

"Well, you share something else."

He wouldn't be talking about...How could he know about that?

"Is this some kind of a riddle or something?"

Classic Old Vic. Awkward silence, disrupted by the slow crinkle of a page. Almost as if he'd forgotten Tommy was standing there.

Tommy reminded him that they were in the middle of a conversation. Even though it was an unusual one. "What do we share?"

Victor looked up at him. "Blood." Then, he hit his encore smile right on cue.

How did this old man, who he had never met before, leave Tommy feeling like he'd been left out of an inside joke? This obviously, demented, old turd appeared to hold a secret answer to an unasked question. 

"You can smell my blood?"

"I have all kinds of...peculiar talents." Victor melded back into his magazine. "Take what you need. I'll put it on your brothers tab. We all know he'll end up paying for his shit, don't we?" 

As bad as Tommy wanted to back out of the store like he never walked in, he did need some things. He picked up a flashlight and some extra batteries. Piss warm pop. He alluded to the guns behind the counter. "You wanna put that .45 on his tab?"

He was half joking, so he was a bit surprised when the old clerk brought it down to the counter for him and gathered a box of shells from underneath. 

Tommy let him know, "Where I'm from, you gotta fill out some forms. A little paperwork. Ya know, a back round check."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing you're not there. Isn't it, Susan?" 

The most unorthodox convenience store experience he'd ever had. Tommy looked at the brown, paper bags. Then his items. Then Victor. The bags again. "Are you gonna..."

The cabin was welcoming when he got back there. But, when he parked the car, he noticed him there. Sitting on the front porch in his brother's chair. It wasn't Travis. This guy held an ax upright between his legs, using the handle to assist his rocking. Weirdly, he paid no mind to Tommy's arrival at all.

Tommy started filling the clip. He slapped it into his weapon. Fuck it. He got out and advanced toward the stranger. 

"Hey there," he addressed the man, concealing the gun behind his back. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. "How's it going?"

The rugged looking fellow didn't answer. Not a solid indication that there was a positive outcome imminent. 

"You mind telling me what you're doing here?"

"Waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"You're about to find out."

What the...His attention was being nipped at by movement off to the side. A girl. Nude. Coming out of the forest. Then, over to the left...a boy. Maybe twenty-one. 

Soon, he could see more figures appearing just inside the wood line, drudging closer. They were surrounding the cabin. Similar pacing, as the forest was birthing them out into the yard. A few, at first, quickly turned into dozens. Where were they all coming from? Who were they?

He looked back at the rocking chair. The stranger was no longer sitting. He was standing right at the top of the stairs, holding that ax in a battle ready position. Tommy hopped up the steps and hunkered behind him. He aimed that .45 out to the crowd of swarming upright bodies. Low murmurs and wordless sounds. They shuffled languidly across the well-overgrown lawn.

"Who are they?"

"Tommy?" His brother's  voice came from behind him. He whirled around. What a relieving surprise. Travis was standing in the doorway to the cabin. "Bro, you made it!" 

Tommy snapped back around to face the mob. They were gone. The guy with the ax was gone. There was nobody there. He turned to Travis in a panic. "What the fuck is happening?"

Travis patted his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, then led him inside. "You alright, Tommy? You don't look all that good." 

Not the same Travis who was leaving frantic messages on his phone. No, this Travis had an unrecognizable twinkle in his eye. His demeanor almost seemed mischievous. A little...crazy.

It was real. Wasn't it? 

"Travis, there were, uh...people...um, everywhere. And a guy with an ax..." 

Wasn't there?

"Oh, them?" Travis looked out the door. Emptiness all around. "Those are my friends. They come over all the time. Even when I don't want them here, they just keep showing up." He started to giggle. "Yeah, never a moment's peace, Tommy."

He sat Tommy on the couch. His concern was escalating. And the more it grew, the more it took on a different form. Fear. His brother was obviously losing his mind. But, wasn't Tommy himself seeing things that weren't there? Perhaps his brother wasn't the only one. 

It must be the land itself. "Travis, I think we need to get out of here."

Travis had a permanent grin plastered on his face. Sheer joy. "What? No! I want you to meet someone!" He was overly excited. 

"Something is really wrong here, Travis." 

Travis leaned into his brother's ear and whispered quietly, "Shh. They can hear you." 

Tommy's eyes widened. He couldn't react, carrying the chilling weight of what he just heard. 

Suddenly his brother began laughing loudly. Obnoxiously. His mouth gaping open, the artery in his neck protruding. Showering Tommy's face with his humid breath and spit mist, as the hysterical laughter ensued. 

He stopped abruptly. "I wanna show you something." He picked up his guitar and sat down in a kitchen chair. "You can sing along if you want to." 

Tommy just sat on the couch petrified. A fear induced sweat beaded up on his face. His hair, dampened over it. The last controllable part of his brain, was actively being using to prevent an anxiety attack. 

Travis' wild eyes never left his brother, as he played the notes. That song. The one he'd been working on since the divorce, as Tommy once put it. The melody was hypnotic. The soothing lullaby of tranquil possession. Settling in like a trance. When the humming beside him on the couch melded in with the song, he almost hadn't noticed. 

"What the fuck!" Tommy jolted to the side and looked to the other end of the couch. Genevieve was humming along, gifting him a smile that felt like Mother Earth herself was blessing him. The song played on. 

Genevieve rose gracefully and stood above Tommy. He stared back up at her. The thickness of the air, weighing heavy inside the room, was like a blanket around him. He was thoughtless. It was almost as if she was taking everything out. Her head slowly cocked slightly to one side. She was making a determination. 

Travis watched on, with his guitar in his lap, beginning to strum into the chorus. The intensity was building. The notes becoming fuller, the pace quickening!

Knock...Knock...Knock...the cabin fell silent. Genevieve was gone. Travis remained seated in the chair with his guitar. 

Tommy was snapping out of it. He sprung up from the couch and answered the door with a brave disregard to whomever may be on the other side. 

The old man from the store? Tommy's face contorted in astonishment. "What the...what are you doing here?" Victor stood silent. 

Tommy looked back at Travis, but...he was gone. "Trav?" Tommy's head darted right and left. Travis wasn't there.

"Can I come in," Victor requested with his sandpaper voice. Was he real?

Feeling certain that he was losing it, he stepped out of the way and hand gestured Vic inside. Victor took a seat in the same chair that Travis had been sitting in moments before. 

Tommy was shaken. No wonder his brother's messages have been pretty out there lately. This place had the ability to break you. "What the hell's happening?" 

"Your brother's in trouble," Victor rasped. He'd mentioned...that he'd made contact...with Genevieve."

Tommy said matter-of-factly, "Yeah, I think I did to."

"Genevieve has haunted this mountain for a very, very long time. Over a century ago, her family lived in this spot...right...here." He cleared the rattling from his throat with a forced cough and dusted off his voice for the story. 

"Her daddy and her two brothers were fiercely protective of her. One day, there was a drifter. He got lost up here on his way to Timber Creek, coming in from the north. 

As fate would have it, he stumbled upon...the cabin." Chasing his breath between sentences, he went on. "Coincidentally, Genevieve was the only one home. She'd happened to be in the yard, handling her chores and whatnot, when this drifter rode through. He asked her if she knew the way to town. He'd been riding around the mountain for a while. So, she offered to take him."

Victor was finding his stride. Telling the tale was invigorating him. It had been years since he'd put his words to such use. "Something about him...she was infatuated. She wanted to see him again. She never had any gentlemen callers. Story goes, she'd never been with a man. Her daddy and her brothers would've killed any man that dared touch their sweet Genevieve. 

So, her and the drifter snuck around. Once he found out how close it was to Genevieve, he never left Timber Creek. They fell in love quickly. Sneaking around for weeks. They were getting away with it, too. Until one night."

Vic was clearly bothered by what he was about to say next. "One of her brothers caught her down in the graveyard with him. He ran back and told his brother...and their daddy. They caught them by surprise, with the drifter on top of her. Unclothed. In that vulnerable moment, her oldest brother buried an ax into the back of her lover. She couldn't get out from under him. The eldest continued to submerge that blade into his body over and over again. Finally, they dragged him off of her...and continued to...chop him up. 

She laid naked, covered in blood and leaves, listening to her daddy berate her for what she'd done. All the while, her brothers took turns...dismembering the poor guy's limbs. Rumor has it, she buried his remains in the cemetery. All but a hand. 

One night, she killed herself...on top of his grave. She stabbed herself...in the heart." Victor stressed that point. "Do you know...what kind of pain you must be in, to stab yourself...in the heart?"

Tommy asked, "Where's my brother?"

"With her, I presume. With them."

"What does that mean? He's dead?"

"Hard to say. But, they are. They all are. This land carries an awful curse. My family's blood...it's cursed."

"What am I supposed to do?"

Victor may have actually held an answer. "Death is forever. If they were buried on this land, they would get to roam these woods...forever. Hell doesn't end. It's suffering, repeated infinitely. But...if they weren't buried here..."

"We have to dig 'em up!" Tommy perked up.

Victor smiled. And it wasn't entirely creepy this time. "We just have to...dig 'em up."