Chapter 2
“Stop that. You’ll upset people.” His voice was low, rumbling, and he was oddly firm with her. His golden eyes shone in the low dusk light pouring through the window, and his stark white hair seemed strange and otherworldly on a man as young as he was. “I’m Samuel Richards. The house at the top of the mountain is mine. Am I to assume you’re a new resident?”
Marcia managed a soft nod, her eyes still wide with terror. How had this man managed to get in? Why did he care? Everyone said he was a recluse, that he never came down the mountain, having supplies delivered to him only occasionally via helicopter.
“Stop looking at me like that. You look like prey.” He turned and walked to the kitchen, then pouring a glass of water and downing it quickly. With a sigh of satiety, he spoke. “You don’t want to live in this house.”
Marcia motioned around. “This is... this is all my stuff! I’ve been living here for like two weeks! What are you talking about? What are you doing in my house anyway? You need to go, now.” She pointed to the door.
This only drew a hard, mocking laugh from him. “Gods, you’re... no, no. I won’t be going anywhere. Not yet. Didn’t you see the state of this place when you moved in? There’s a reason no one’s lived here in a long while. Putting the house here was a stupid idea to begin with. I should’ve had it knocked down.” Another quickly filled and drained glass of water.
Marcia looked at him incredulously, a long moment of agape disbelief before she spoke. “I’m going to call the cops if you don’t get out of my house, now.” Her heart was thumping hard in her chest, her breathing shallow and rapid.
“No, you won’t. They won’t come up after dark, and it’s...” He looked through the kitchen window. “...just about time. Say it’s dangerous, with all the fog.” A low, somewhat sinister chuckle sent prickles over Marcia’s skin and a shudder through her body. “You’re going to listen to me, and listen close. If you don’t move out of this house, you’re going to have some serious problems.” He pulled some sort of small device from his pocket, pressing a button and returning it.
“Is that a threat?” She moved as if she intended to take a step forward, but her fear drove her back toward the door.
Samuel simple walked toward her, and she let out a little whimper as he pushed past He stood outside of her door, arms outstretched a bit. “I’m telling you, if you don’t move, there will be problems. That’s it. Move.”
With a grunt of frustration, Marcia slammed the door in his face. She scrambled for her phone to call the police, but she faltered and stopped when she thought about what she could even possibly tell them. Some strange handsome strange broke into my house and vaguely told me I should move for no particular reason other than potential “problems” that might occur? They'd laugh all the way down the mountain. No, that was no good. Still, she should let someone know about what had happened. Maybe one of the residents knew something about this man. She could only assume by the descriptions she'd heard that she'd just seen and spoken with Samuel Richards. She reflected that it may not have been the best idea she'd ever had to slam the door in a billionaire's face, but she shrugged it off and returned to the couch.
Forget him, she thought. I'm not bowing to some huffy, self-important, egotistical rich boy.
Her brow furrowed, and she looked back to the door. Why did he seem so young? People said he retired young, but she was sure he didn't retire the moment he turned 18 or anything, and he'd been up on the mountain a decade or more. He didn't look any older than his late 20s.
Marcia shooed those thoughts away, settling in for a night of movies and relaxation.
She awoke to the sound of a bestial roar and the sound of her door splintering. Marcia lept up, intending to go and confront whatever was at her door. When she saw the door shaking and buckling as if it was about to come off the hinges, she thought better of it. Sprinting to her room, she ducked down into her closet, curling up tight in the corner, peeking out through the small slats. The ripping and tearing at the door continued, and she eventually heard the heavy thunk of it hitting the floor in her living room. The beast was in her room within moments. She heard its heavy breathing, the heavy thud of its footsteps on the wooden floor, the dragging of claws as it walked.
She clutched her hand over her mouth, eyes wide and terrified, hoping she wouldn't be seen—and she wasn't. She was smelled.
The hulking beast's clawed fist splintered the closet door, ripping through it like tissue paper. As she was pulled out kicking and screaming, she caught sight of the beast's face. Some sort of bear, by its long aspect and razor sharp teeth. The hand was positively massive, thickly padded at the palm and along the underside of the fingers. As it pulled her up to face-level, she kicked and struggled, shortly passing out in nothing short of absolute terror.
Marcia awoke in a daze. She could make out the faintest halo of light in front of her, but it was definitely still night. The moon's glow was the only illumination in what she soon realized was a cave, sending a chill down her spine.
Oh, god. That monster... he took me! She clasped a hand over her mouth, but the sound of her clothing sliding over the rough stone echoed through the chamber. Only moments later, she saw an approaching light, scrambling back toward the wall of the cave, holding her hands up.