Help me

Finding Josh

It was him and a search party of six other people. He offered a position on the team to Sam but she told him that she never wanted to go back to the mountain as long as she lived. Chris could understand that. He hadn't wanted to be back either. Yet, here he was, flashlight in hand.

The six other men and women were all trained professionals and he was not. They knew what to look for. He did not. They all held their guns as if it is just another tool, like an over used hammer. They were all out here for Josh. The day they came down Mike released information that he hadn't seen Josh actually die. All he had heard were screams

Chris had nightmares for a week after Mike had told them. They had left Hannah up there for months and she became a monster. It was worth looking for him, even if he was dead, just to make sure. There was no evidence he was dead and Chris's dreams had become horrific. Sometimes Josh would kill him and sometimes he was the one killing Josh. Sometimes he had dreams about Josh screaming for their help in the mines. He knew that, beyond all reason, his best friend was alive. He could feel it deep down.

It took weeks to get a team together. For all they knew Josh had frozen to death, and that wasn't the best way to get a rescue team together. The police denied any notion that monsters dwelled on the mountain. All blame had been put on Josh's prank. The modified news story told the tale of a teenager off his rocker who tricked his friends into leaving the cabin. The friends then being attacked by wolf's. Traumatized to a fault the kids made the story of wendigos up.

What a bunch of bullshit. None of it was Josh's fault and Chris was traumatized because he had shot wendigos only just inches from his face. These people needed to see him and his friends were right. The old sanatorium towered over them.

"Hey, kid. This isn't the mines." One of the rescuers looked up.

"My friend, Mike, told me theres an easy way down in here." The doors were pulled open and all seven walked in. Chris himself had never made it out into this space before. Mike had told him exactly how to get to the cages, Though, I can't imagine why you would want to see that. Through the big doors out into the recreational hall, far door on the left, first left through the doors through the tables and down the right side hall.

The team followed him without hesitation. "Oh, god." one muttered, the stench was becoming apparent. Rotting bodies of wendigos and flesh from victims. Most of the team covered their noses and mouths. Chris had smelt worse on the mountain. That smell was engraved in his head and he welcomed it like an old friend. Thats how fucked up he was now. Just one night had taken so much.

He could hear them before he could see them. The high pitched scream made his heart race harder then anything had in the past week. Now a days squeaky floor boards made him freeze in place. Nothing could compare to the actual sound. It bounced off walls, followed by guns clattering into a more defensive position.

"Hold on we are hearing survivors."

Chris had stopped walking. "Those are not survivors." He walked slowly. The cages were large, some of them he could see at least three to a cage. All of them shifting and twitching in the dark. One with black eyes like a shark jumped to the bars and screamed, reaching out.

They can't get you. They can't get you. They can't get you. This was the only way to slow his thumping heart.

"Oh dear god in heaven." a man shined a light and the wending sprung away. Eyes too sensitive to the light.

"What are these things?" a girl was trying to sound calm but her eyes showed fear.

"These are wendigos." there was probably about nine all together. At the far end of the room one door was open. On the door frame, a wendigo, free from any cage. "Oh, oh no." he froze but his team didn't. This was going to be like that night all over again. He was going to be the only survivor of this team. The wendigo lunged and he clenched his eyes shut. He heard shots.