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No matter how he much he tried he couldn’t shake the idea that this intruder into their cabin was wearing someone else’s skin.
Poor sucker. He had no idea what was going on or who they were.
“Funny you say the trails are to die for,” Emeril repeated.
I’m wondering if you’ve mentioned this incident to any of the previous renters?” “What’s it matter?” Andy said, shaking his head. “People can be murdered anywhere.” “Hmm, I see you dodged the question.”
“I am a paranormal investigator, Mister Cameron. My partner here is a documentarian. We investigate the odd, the mysterious, and the unexplained. These woods that your cabin is in, and the disappearances of these people, happens to fall into all three categories.”
“Why did the police write off the Lang incident as a murder-suicide? From what I’ve read, the wife’s body was never found.”
There’s not really any one department assigned to the woods.
He was adamant and stern about his beliefs in the supernatural, told her he was convinced that there was no way the five senses humans had could discover everything this planet had to offer.
Ignacio was as fascinated with his father’s ability to change faces as he was with the sight of the blood.
He hoped to grow up to be like him one day and be able to wear many faces.
They were glad that it was summer. Glad to be alive. Glad to be young. And thought it would be like this forever.
Varias Caras—Many Faces. It was a name that was fit for a luchador, but eventually became the name of the monster that lived inside of Ignacio.
His hearing was so sensitive he could hear the heartbeats of large predators—such as bears and bobcats—miles away.
The better part of that was that he could hear the heartbeats of prey, too.
Because somewhere deep down inside, maybe in the deepest recesses of his heart, Emeril didn’t believe in this paranormal stuff. But this one… This one had a possibility. This was the Moby Dick he’d been chasing.
Gavin was right, there sure was something different in the air out here. Something that told him they were part of a small number of people who’d ever ventured this far into the wilderness.
because as Mamá had always said, he was a special boy with a special brain like no one else had.
“Everything in life is temporary. Only thing that’s forever is death.”
“No, no. Must’ve been the humidity of the place,” he lied.
Eventually, everything ends. Don’t you ever forget that.”
If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the two conspired this behind his back.
it was what was going to find them that they should have worried about.
It was a sign that he was on the path of his destiny.
but they were heading to a part of the Earth where spirit energy was collected.
Emeril and Molly were headed into haunted lands, to put it in simple terms.
these grounds were awakening something in him rather than creating them.
Fred Meyers didn’t know this, but it was the power of these campgrounds—of Camp Slaughter—channeling through his body and twisting his emotions into a bottleneck that was about to pop.
He waited…waited for the reveal of the joke to come. But it never came.
Molly flipped a bitch on the road and started back to Camp Slaughter, flooring the accelerator.
Ummmm ok??
These woods were haunted, and they’d brought Rachel’s ghost to come help her.
