By Katie Arminie 

Sarah wants to get married, so, even though, camping is not her thing, she is trying to impress her boyfriend, Jamie; his sister, Ann; and her husband, Nick. She is following the four wheel drive truck as it easily passes over the remote Arizona stream. She stops. This is insane, there is no way she is driving her Nissan Sentra across it as visions assail her of its petite frame being sucked downstream with them trapped inside.

Jamie is staring,“What’s wrong? Cross the stream!”

He is smiling ruefully at her, thinking it is funny, not understanding. At the same moment, Ann, gets out of the truck with Nick, both are waving impatiently at them to continue. Everybody is giving her a hard time, but she refuses: every fiber of her being knows she should not follow. Ann and Nick have to re-cross the stream to get them, she tries not to care about their disappointment.  Better to be safe than sorry. Right? Down in her gut she knows it would be a mistake, perhaps fatal. Crossing in the truck is scary enough, which she tries, but fails to hide. They laugh at her dismal reaction, and yet things do not get easier. As soon as they set up camp, the sky opens and rain pours down on them. 

Getting a fire started is hopeless, so they retreat to their own tents. For three hours straight, each couple drinks beers and plays cards until finally, the downpour relents. Seconds later, Ann yells over from her tent,”Let’s go for a hike and stretch our legs a bit.”

Sarah wants to sigh, but forces herself not to. Although she enjoys hiking, she is already cold. It has to be wet outside. Plus, Ann makes her nervous. If she is being completely honest, she thinks, “She’s a bitch, who has something against me.” Sarah wonders if, perhaps, Ann wants her brother’s attention all to herself, which is weird, almost incestual. She feels a little sick.

The telltale tent zipper sound rips through the air as their tent and other’s throughout the impromptu campsites opened up. Outside, the air feels damp as if it is not finished with the rain. Sarah does not want to say anything and be judged yet again. The couples are quiet as they walk, concentrating on not falling on the slippery rocks. After an hour and a half of hiking, Ann and Jamie, not being the healthiest people alive, need a break. Just then, the sun peeks out and everyone seems happy while they search for a dry spot to sit down on beside the rock encrusted mountain. Soon everyone in their small group is talking and laughing with time happily ticking by. Sarah thinks that, maybe, the tide has turned, and it will be a nice trip after all.

Then they hear it, to the west, an engine’s low rumbling, the pop of (what can only be) firecrackers, and the frenzied cries of male excitement. Something about it does not sound right, and everyone is silent. The din becomes closer and they get their first glimpse of the noisemakers. In an older, 1980s, faded, and topless Jeep Wrangler sit three of the wildest looking young men they have ever seen. Huge grins spread over their dirty, homeless, mountaineer visages. They could be brothers, since they all have identical long, tangled curly blond hair with the crazy drug induced gleams in their eyes being all their own. Their maniacal smiles are directed at the women. Sarah gasps as she sees the rifles each man is in possession of.

“How’s it going?” The driver slows down and yells, but it does not sound friendly.

No one says a word. The trio drive in fast loops around the vicinity, while shots are fired skywards in the air. Then they speed off yelling with maniacal laughter. Sarah’s blood has become ice cold sludge in her veins.

Sensing this, Jamie puts his arm around her and says, “Don’t worry we aren’t the first campsite they’ll come across.”

Everyone agrees with nervous laughter, except Sarah. Visions of gruesome rape and murder play out in her head. She thinks,” It’s like a horror movie spoof, too ridiculous to believe.” Her life has not played out like this. Good fortune has always followed her and yet… She thinks, “They could slaughter the whole campground and get away with it. Nothing is near here for fifty miles.”

 To match the gloom they all feel, the weather turns sour with its blustery wind and heavy rain. Everyone is cold, wind beaten and a little afraid of their isolation, when they see, to their collective relief, the last hill before the campsite. Sarah is in the back of the line, when she hears Ann exclaim, “Oh no!”

She hurries to see what is happening for Ann does not scare easily. The campsite is deserted: not only are they the first campsite to come upon, they are the only site. She feels the hair on her body rise in horror. This is not good. 

“Nick and I are going to check out the stream to see if it’s passable.”

A flooded waterway, a thought that had not occurred to Sarah, now compounds the heavy weight of fear already pressing down on her chest. She was right about her Nissan, which hardly matters anymore… Mere minutes pass when the truck pulls back up. 

“It’s too high. Everyone else got out just in time. Two weeks ago a couple died crossing it. Even my truck is useless now. We’ll be able to leave tomorrow if it stops raining.” Nick explained and then added with forced humor, “If we’re not murdered.”

A groan escapes Sarah’s lips. Her instincts were correct and now the wildmen’s blood lust filled faces keep replaying in her brain.  

“I have a hunting knife,” Jamie offers weakly.

No one else says a thing. The group feels trapped and defenseless and wondering, “What terrors does the night hold?” As the night grows darker, the red moon stares down at the campers with forewarning and pity.