Camp Antler Point

Chapter 21

Mr. Davis had been a hunter, and a good one at that. A stuffed moose head overlooked a mountain lion frozen mid-snarl, and a bobcat hissed at a flock of pheasants that remained forever out of reach. The post-mortem menagerie observed Amy and the boys with wary eyes as the intruders tiptoed inside Mr. Davis's cabin.

"This place is a hell of a lot creepier than I remember," Lucas said. "The dude who used to own it was more of a birdhouses and flowers kind of guy."

Traces of the former owner lined the cabin's windows, although the flowerpots had long since been separated from their original occupants. Instead of blossoms, an assortment of animal teeth gleamed from within. Whether they were castoffs from botched taxidermy attempts or just fangs Mr. Davis had happened to find while hiking, one thing was certain: they somehow weren't the most disturbing thing about the cabin.

No, that honor belonged to the moose outside.

Amy sat vigil by the window while the boys searched for the phone. The moose hadn't stirred since they'd arrived inside the cabin. Resting on its side right on the border between the camp and the untamed wilderness, it would have looked peaceful if not for the remains of Jessica's sweater still caught in its antlers.

Oh God, the antlers! Even at a distance, Amy could still see the warped bones. Twisted points arched over bulging knobs, with fresh growths coated in velvet sprouting from the base at unnatural angles. One hit from those, and it would be over.

Yet, the moose showed no signs of stirring.

"Are moose even supposed to lay like that?" she asked.

"Sometimes," Carson said. "They can do it standing up too, but I guess he's feeling especially comfortable around here."

"That's just what we need," Lucas said sarcastically. "He's the only thing that feels safe here."

"Honestly, I'm just glad he's not coming after us," Amy said. And more than a little grateful for the chance to give her feet a break. Their aching had faded to a dull throb, but boy would it feel amazing to get home and finally peel off her sweat-soaked socks.

But then she'd have to tell her mom about what had happened to her dad. Her throat closed around a sob, trapping it just before it could reach her lips. They hadn't been on the best of terms since the divorce. Cordial enough, but not above making jabs at each other.

She never thought she'd miss their arguments, but now even their eternal debate over whether she should be coddled or treated like any 'normal' kid would be music to her ears.

"Guys, I found the phone." Carson's voice was equal parts relieved and disgusted as he pointed to a beady-eyed raccoon clutching the old-fashioned, corded phone in its tiny hands. "Ugh, Lucas, could you—"

"Alright, you big baby." Lucas plucked the phone from the raccoon's outstretched grasp. "You do realize it's dead, right?"

"It's a dead animal that's in a creepy ass cabin full of other dead animals. And look at its teeth!" Carson gestured to the raccoon's grimacing mouth. "I've had enough murderous animals for one summer, thank you very much."

The moose's legs twitched. Its muscles spasmed as it pushed itself onto its feet with a low grunt. "Guys," Amy hissed, "you'd better hurry up. We might have company soon."

"You've had enough?" Lucas puffed out his chest as he stared Carson down. "I broke my arm, and you're the one who's had enough?"

"Jessica died! We almost did too thanks to you and your shitty driving."

"So I should have just let you two walk by yourselves in the rain with no clue where the fuck you were going?"

"Just dial the phone!" Amy yelled. The moose was tossing its head now, smashing its antlers at any branches that dared to grow too low. It wasn't hard to imagine bones splintering instead of wood, blood flying instead of sap.

"Alright, sheesh!" Lucas punched 911. "We have a bit of a moose problem at Camp Maplewood, and they're at Camp Antler Point, too. No, I'm not talking about the stupid statue! Real ones with anger management issues and—"

"Move!" Amy tackled Carson as the moose charged.