6. Chapter Six

Chapter six

One minute I’m writing notes, the next the campervan starts to shake violently. The world suddenly lurches and I fall.

What the–?

I scramble to my knees, heart hammering. This isn’t just a gust of wind; it feels like something is deliberately rocking the van.

Thud. Thud.

The entire van shudders with each heavy step outside.

No, no, no. Shit. The Bigfoot must have seen me.

I crawl toward the front of the van, to the compartment where I usually stash my flashlight. I need to see what’s happening. I need light. But my fingers grasp at empty air. Right, the flashlight. I left it outside when I was perving on the Bigfoot. I’ll call for help instead. The signal is plenty good enough. I’ll call the forest patrol.

Another massive jolt sends my phone skittering across the floor. I lunge for it, just managing to wrap my fingers around the edge when the van rocks again, harder this time. The phone slips from my grasp and shoots under the driver’s seat. Damn it!

Panic claws up my throat. I can hear my breath, fast and ragged, barely audible over the sounds of my pounding heart and the ominous thumping outside. Each thud against the van's sturdy frame feels like a countdown to something unknown.

I’m on my hands and knees now, trying to reach my phone. The van tilts, everything goes sideways, and I’m thrown against the wall. Cans and utensils clatter around me. I need to get to my phone, I need to call for help — someone, anyone. But as I stretch my hand further under the seat, the van gives one violent heave, and I’m tossed back, my head hitting the floor. Or the wall. I don’t know anymore. The van has completely gone over. The world spins. I’m disoriented, scared. I brace for another impact, sure that the beast will continue to pummel the van.

There’s the sound of screeching metal. I flinch, my ears ringing as the door of the campervan groans under an unimaginable force. It's a sound of destruction, of bending steel and breaking hinges. A loud, horrific tearing that echoes through the forest like a cry of anger. With a final, deafening crack, the door gives way, ripped clean off its frame. It clatters to the ground outside, tossed aside as easily as a piece of aluminum foil.

The open doorway frames the night, a portal to my nightmare come alive. A giant hand reaches in. It's massive, with thick fingers and rough skin. The hand wraps around my arm. My heart skips. My stomach churns. I try to scream but it’s nothing more than a whimper.

The grip tightens on my arm. It pulls. I resist, my other hand clutching anything within reach — the edge of a seat, the floor mat. But it’s futile. The Bigfoot's strength is overwhelming, effortless. It pulls me from the van, and as it does, time seems to slow down. The air smells of pine and earth. The smell of its fur is musky and almost sweet. The hand that holds me is textured, the skin like old leather. Cool yet somehow alive with heat.

Leaves and twigs crunch under us as the Bigfoot pulls me along through the forest. Its massive strides are sure-footed and unhesitant, even in the dark. The ground is a blur of movement as we pass, the rustle of leaves loud under its heavy steps. My mind spins with fear, panic, and disbelief. My legs are unsteady, and I feel as though I may collapse at any moment. I try twisting my body in a desperate attempt to pull away, but the Bigfoot simply adjusts its grip.

"Please," I gasp, "please, don’t hurt me.”

My voice is breathless, tinged with desperation. The creature pauses, and for a moment, it looks at me. Then we’re moving again. Branches scrape against my clothes. The night air whips my face. Every shadow in the forest seems to watch, every rustle a witness to my abduction. My body trembles, not just from fear, but from the cold realization of my utter helplessness.

As we continue through the forest, a strange calm settles over me. My thoughts are clear. I'm about to die. This is it. And strangely, I'm not thinking about Mark. I'm not worrying about us, or feeling guilty. We're over, and I’m ok with that. My life's work was to find Bigfoot. To prove they're real. And here I am, in the grip of one. I've done it. I've actually done it. Despite the terror, a weird pride swells in me. I smile, just a little. It's a bizarre feeling, being proud while being dragged to your death. I won’t fight it. What will be will be.

My legs are weak. My head spins. The forest blurs around me, a mix of shadow and moonlight. I can barely keep my eyes open.

"I found you," I whisper to the night, to Bigfoot, to myself. My voice is a breath, lost in the rustle of the leaves.

And then everything goes black. My body gives out. I'm fainting, sinking into darkness with the knowledge that I've achieved what I set out to do. My quest is complete, right here in the unforgiving embrace of the unknown.