“All I’m saying is that I could survive on nothing but Cliff Bars and be entirely happy with my life.”
Megan rolled her eyes and shrugged her pack off her shoulder, letting it fall to the damp forest floor with a thunk. “You do that Laura; see how that one works out for you. I, however, would prefer actual food.”
Laura made a face. “I’ve had three today anyway. But if you’re so hell-bent on fine dining, we better jump on it. The sun’s going to go down in a few hours and Mama needs her dinner.”
“Isn’t the tent the priority here?” Megan asked, already starting to pull out the heavy equipment. “You know – shelter? Protection from the elements?”
“The priority here is that I not starve.”
“You’re not going to starve.”
Laura let out an exasperated huff. “I could die of starvation, Megan, and it would be your fault! On my tombstone, it’ll say, ‘here lies Laura Winters – it’s all Megan’s fault’.”
“Eloquent.”
“Shut up.” Laura huffed a long breath and looked out at the line of trees. “Hey listen, you do all that fun tent stuff. I’m going to go test out those new fishing rods my dad got us. Mama’s having fish for dinner!”
Megan started to object – it was really a hassle to get this tent up with only two hands – but Laura was already gone, snatching up one the fishing rods that had been tossed carelessly on the ground as she jogged away. With a sigh, Megan pulled out the blueprint for the tent.
~~~
It was starting to get dark, and Laura was nowhere to be found. The tent was long since up, the fire was lit, and the sleeping bags were all set up. Megan knew fishing could take a long time, but now it was just getting ridiculous. With a huff, Megan rose from her seat on the ground, brushing her backside to get rid of the dirt. She kept the fire lit as she thrust her arms into the sleeves of her jacket and made for the trees.
When she finally came up on the river after what felt like hours of ambling around the woods, Megan was furious. She looked down at the water, its contents grimy and entirely unhealthy-looking. Looking within, she saw bugs, yes, and even a frog or two. But absolutely no fish. For a moment, Megan thought with defeat that she had stumbled upon the wrong place. She was about to head back into the embrace of the mossy trees when out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Lauren’s jacket, thrown carelessly beside the water. Megan’s rage fueled up all over again, ten-fold.
What the hell had Laura been doing for the past however many hours? Obviously not fishing – not only were there no fish, but there was still no sign of Laura. Just her crummy old jacket, long-since abandoned and already damp from lying on the saturated ground. Heaving in a deep breath, she yelled out into the heavy air:
“Laura! What the hell, man? Laura! What, you just come out here so you didn’t have to help me set up camp? Megan’s an idiot, she’ll just do it all for me! Well congratulations, I did all the work, and you got to frolic around in the woods like a bloody Lost-boy! Now can we just get back to camp because I left the fire lit and if some Smokey the Bear from Hell comes and haunts me for starting a forest fire, that’s on your ass!”
There was no response. Only the sound of the stream beside her. Megan cursed under her breath and snatched her friend’s jacket off the ground, balling it up in her hands and squeezing, pretending for just a moment that it was her irritating friend’s neck.
“I swear to god, Laura,” she muttered at the crumpled fabric. But then something in the stream caught her eye.
Caught haphazardly between two rocks, the brand new fishing rod clattered and jolted around like a caged bird, only partially visible, half-submerged underwater. Her eyebrows furrowed as she made her way to it, releasing one hand from its hold on the jacket as she reached for it – and stopped short.
Her hand was splotched with what she’d thought to be messy brown dirt, but before her eyes now, appeared a syrupy, dark red. Her hands recoiled and the jacket fell to the ground by her feet. Right by the neck of the jacket was a hole in the fabric, surrounded by a circle of sick, red blood – blood that was now covering her hands.
“Oh my god,” Megan began to whisper to herself. “Oh my god.”
She looked into the water, reaching for the fishing rod once more and pulling it gently from the water. Drawing it up slowly from the thin tip, Megan looked at the object as if it would give her the answers she so desperately wanted. Where was Laura?
It was when she saw the hand, tangled within the fishing line that Megan finally screamed, throwing the rod with hand attached as far into the water as possible. The thing was decorated with Laura’s pretty purple nail polish, yes, but there was no Laura attached. Only a stump, cut off at the wrist and left to float uselessly down the stream.
“No, no, no, oh my god,” Megan chanted, eyes widened in horror. “Laura, oh my god.”
She didn’t want to look down. She couldn’t look down. She could see something else floating, rising to the surface now that there was nothing pushing it down. But she wasn’t going to look down. Her breaths were quick and wet as she sobbed, her eyes frozen directly in front of her. Her hand fumbled for her phone in her back pocket, thinking she had to call somebody, she had to get help.
Just as her fingers gripped the device, she felt a gloved hand grasp her shoulder and a sharp pain sting her neck. She didn’t even have time to turn around and see who this hand belonged to – suddenly she was falling. The water rose up to meet her as her eyes met with those of the floating head bobbing directly below her. Megan briefly thought that what was left of Laura’s face looked as terrified as she was, and her eyes closed. She heard a splash.