Among Monsters

—The… the Hohchifos… They're the cannibalistic Hohchifos demons!!

Old Phil wasn't crazy.

They're real.

No. No. This can't be happening.

One of the men, panicking, jumped out of the carriage. But instead of escaping, his body was crushed by the hooves of the horses the masked men were riding. There were crunches of bones and a muffled scream that died away in the mud.

Only one remained. A man younger than the others, maybe thirty-five. Tears streaming down his face, his skin pale as a phantom.

"I... I don't want to die... I don't want to die!"

The carriage continued to shake violently. I noticed something strange. There was no coachman. But I remember seeing him when I got in. Where was he?

Suddenly, some of the masked men began to climb up the sides of the carriage. I aimed my revolver, my hands shaking. I didn't want to shoot. I didn't want to carry that weight again. But I had no choice.

I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. One. Two. Three shots. I felt the recoil, the crack of the gun, the metallic smell of gunpowder. Some fell.

The remaining man hid behind me.

"Please... save me. Forgive me... I was just an employee..."

For a moment, I felt compassion. Despite everything, their threats, their laughter... I was still human. And I was afraid.

"Give me your gun," I told him.

He obeyed. Now he had two revolvers in my hands. I took a deep breath. My traumas resurfaced with force, but I couldn't stop myself. I wouldn't let those hellish beings devour me.

I fired without missing. One shot, another, and another. I wasn't thinking anymore. I was just acting. The experience of war had left me scarred... but also sharpshooting.

I thought everything was going to be okay.

Then, the carriage overturned.

Everything spun. We hit the ground and rolled among branches and weeds. We landed in a grove of trees, covered in mud, splinters, and blood.

I managed to get to my feet, dazed. I helped the man up, and we started running. The screams of the Hohchifos' horses grew ever closer.

We ran with all our might, between branches that scratched our skin and leaves that crunched under our feet. The forest seemed endless. There were no hiding places. Only bare trees, damp moss, and the shadow of death approaching us.

"Wait!" I yelled. "I have an idea!"

"Idea? What idea?"

"I detected something..."

"What did you detect?"

"Water. A pond. I smell it."

"And how the hell will that help us?!?"

"Trust me. Follow me if you want to live!"

He didn't reply. But he followed me.

We ran toward the smell. The air was getting thicker, and a familiar stench rose among the roots: stagnant water. Finally, we saw it: a dark, thick pool, covered in mosquitoes and rotting leaves.

The man stopped dead in his tracks, his face pale.

"No... I'm not going to get involved in that

shit."

"Would you rather die?"

"What if they find us?"

"The Unionists didn't find me before. Maybe these won't either."

"But they're not human!"

"It's that or die now!"

He took a step back. The demon riders were already close. I could hear their guttural growls, the clatter of their weapons, their hooves hitting roots.

Without waiting any longer, I jumped into the water.

The cold was like a slap in the face. I covered my face with seaweed and rotting grass, barely leaving room to breathe. I submerged my body as much as I could. The surface rippled above me. Mosquitoes surrounded me. The water smelled of old blood and rotting flesh.

The seconds dragged on.

The other man, amid shaky whispers, said,

"Oh, my God..."

And he jumped in too.

We stood still. Absolute silence. Only the pounding of our bated breaths, mixed with the buzzing of insects and the creaking of branches in the distance.

Then... they arrived.

I heard the hooves stop. I heard alien breaths, deep and raspy, as if inhaling through bone teeth. The shadows of the horses passed by the water. I saw their black hooves splashing in the mud inches from me.

One of them spoke in a hollow whisper, as if speaking from the depths of a cave:

"They're close…"

My heart was pounding so hard I thought they'd hear it.

Then a blade whizzed through the air… and plunged into the water.

Another. And another.

One passed so close it grazed my ear. I didn't move. I didn't breathe. I thought only of death. And home.

The air in my lungs grew thick. My eyes watered from the burning. I felt like I might faint. But I still clung to the idea of ​​making it out alive.

Finally… they were gone.

The footsteps faded. The cracking of branches sounded again, now increasingly distant. We waited another minute. Then another.

Only then did I emerge.

I took a deep breath as if it were the first time I'd ever breathed.

Beside me, the man was coughing violently.

He was spitting up water and mud, trembling.

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

"Y-yes... I think so..."

Then I saw it.

A blade was stuck in his side. Deep. And his skin around it was turning purple.

I moved closer. The wound had rotted away in a matter of minutes. It wasn't bleeding much, but the smell was foul. As if the blade had taken... something else.

"Oh, no..." I murmured.

The man was panting. He was pale, his eyes unfocused. I shook him, but he didn't respond.

It was as if the blade had been cursed.

I thought of Phil. Of how he'd saved me. But now we were too far away. And without horses.

I had no choice.

I carried him on my shoulders. My wound burned. Every step was a stab in my abdomen. But I kept going. Why did I do it?

Out of compassion? Out of redemption?

Maybe just because I wanted to believe that someone like him… could still be saved. Like me.

I deserved to live, too. And I did. By my own means. With help. With suffering.

And if he could live, too… then all of this was worth it.

I had to find shelter. Fast.

Before the demons returned.