The Odd Family's Book of Bedtime Stories

The Hook

Izzy wasn't stupid. She knew what Mack wanted when he turned off the highway and turned the music down. He wanted to scare her so she cuddled up to him in the car, something that happened a lot with their friends. She flipped through the photos on her newsfeed and tuned him out. Mack was feeding her the same story she had heard a million times. It was a twisted urban legend that everyone in town knew.

Parents used it to keep naughty children in line- another version of a bogeyman. A counsellor had lost his mind and killed several campers before they had stopped him. The story changed a little from person to person. Sometimes he had a machete, sometimes he had a chainsaw. Sometimes he was a zombie.

"... and they cut off his hook-"

"No, they didn't," Izzy cut Mack off and rolled her eyes. Mack looked over at her as Izzy peered through the dark windshield into the thick woods around them. "That's just an urban legend, Mack. It's not real."

"It is real!" Mack argued. He held up his hand to stop her before Izzy could say anything else. He gestured to the phone in her hand and grinned. "Look it up then," he challenged, "google it." Izzy scoffed and did a few quick searches. She skimmed over the articles, only clicking them to verify the sources. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. The stories were true, or at least partially true. He was never a zombie. Izzy sucked in a breath.

"What?"

"I told you!" Mack laughed, putting the car in park. They were outside the entrance to the camp, the sign visible in the headlights. The rotten wood cast eerie shadows on the surrounding trees. Neither of them got out of the car, taking a moment to look around instead. Izzy wasn't sure what to think. She had always thought the stories were only urban legends. Mack glanced over at her. "I don't think they actually cut his hook hand off." He said, searching the trees. Mack's voice had gotten quieter. "It wasn't even, like... an actual hook. He wasn't a pirate. It was one of those hooked things disabled people have." Izzy nodded, still staring out her window.

"Did he kill them all?" She asked.

"Nah," Mack wrinkled his nose and tilted his head toward her, "only three or four of the campers and one counsellor. They stopped him before he could get everyone."

"Oh." Izzy sat up, tucking her phone into her pocket to look around.

"Wanna go check it out?" Mack asked. He was challenging her, and Izzy knew it. It was a somewhat twisted way of flirting for Mack. For a moment, a fire rose in Izzy and she was ready to charge into the abandoned camp head first. She grabbed the door and swung it open, sliding out of her seat. Mack hopped out even faster, looking joyful as he turned on his phone's flashlight.

A slight noise drew Izzy's attention, and she spun, peering into the darkness. She couldn't see anything, but that didn't mean it wasn't there. The shadows were so black they would hide anything. As she listened, she realized she heard nothing at all. The forest, usually full of life, was still and unmoving.

"Mack, wait." Izzy didn't look away from the tall grass where she had thought the noise had come from. A chill settled in her bones, and she shivered despite the warm air. "Take me home, Mack. It's too quiet. I'm not doing this." Mack stopped a few feet from the car, blinding her with his flashlight. Immediately, Izzy made up her mind and hurried back to the car.

An old feeling rushed over Izzy. It was as if something raced up to her out of the darkness. It was the same feeling small children got when they turned out the lights and hurried through the dark. Lurching forward, Izzy slammed her palm down on the lock. Mack slipped into his seat from his side and shut his door.

"There's nothing out there." He told her, rolling his eyes. "Come on, Izzy, you're just spooked."

"No." Izzy said, twisting around to look out the back windows, her heart racing, "I thought I heard something."

"Heard something?" Mack laughed. "you just said that it was too quiet!"

Izzy ignored him, looking out into the trees. She couldn't see anything but the shadows cast by Mack's headlights. Even in the bright light, it still felt like the ghosts of the campers were there. It felt like they were standing just beyond the inky darkness, watching and waiting. She swallowed a scream when she heard a light scratching outside of her door. Izzy's heart leapt into her throat and she jumped back, causing Mack to burst out laughing.

"It's just the weeds-"

Izzy cut Mack off, demanding to go home. She did not let him make any more excuses, and Mack drove off, stomping on the gas. Dust flew and rocks hit the sides of the car. It was obvious Mack was angry, but he didn't speak again. Izzy craned her neck to look back but the dim tail lights didn't reassure her of much.

The closer they got to Izzy's home, the sillier she felt. Mack did not speak again, only drove stiffly with his jaw clenched. Izzy leaned against the door and rolled down her window a bit to get some cool air. She felt ridiculous and childlike for having made Mack leave so quickly. Izzy was certain he would tell everyone at school how she'd backed out. They would all think she was a coward.

Mack reached up and turned on the car's radio, relaxing a bit as they pulled up to Izzy's house. Izzy rushed to get out and go inside, embarrassed now. She didn't pay attention to the radio. She didn't notice how pale Mack had gotten.

"Izzy." Mack sounded shocked, making Izzy turn back to look. He was staring at the radio with wide eyes, hands gripping the steering wheel.

"....continue the search for the missing inmate, today. Officials believe he may still be close by. If any of our listeners spot him, please contact the city police immediately..."

Izzy heard nothing else, the radio said, her own scream drowning out the sound. Stuck in her door handle was a twisted metal hook, its bloody harness hanging limply against the paint.