The camp was eerily silent, except for the screams of the other campers being slaughtered by an unseen force. Greg hid inside a cabin closet with Bertram while Damien hid underneath a bunk bed. They had been hiding for twenty minutes at this point, not sure if they were sitting ducks the longer they stayed or if they should have kept moving.

Bertram didn't like being confined to such a small space with someone who farted when they were nervous. He whined, but Greg shushed him. Bertram let out a sigh and readjusted his sitting position at his owner's feet.

The longer he stood in silence, the more anxious he became. He didn't realize he was hyperventilating until Damien commented, "Could you please breathe louder? I don't think the killer can quite hear you."

"I'm sorry! I'm not used to being hunted by a creepy shadow creature, okay?" Greg tried to slow his breathing, but his heart was beating so fast, he needed the oxygen. "Besides, this is all your fault!"

"What? My fault?" Damien almost got out from underneath the bed to confront his boyfriend, but the screams outside reminded him why he was hiding in the first place. "What do you mean, this is my fault?"

"You know damn well why it's your fault!" Greg opened the closet to better express his anger. Shouting through the door was no good. He wanted to look Damien in the face when he said this. "Gee, Greg, let’s go camping! Let’s invite Ned and Stacey! We'll have a few laughs, eat some s’mores! What could go wrong? THIS!"

"Shut up! You’re gonna get us found!"

"I don't give a fuck!" Greg shouted. He intentionally raised his voice to further raise the stakes. "You know damn well, I hate camping! Being outside is awful. The bugs, the dirt, the mysterious killings! Nature is awful, and I hate it." He fished his cell phone out of his pocket and shook it angrily. "There’s no fucking signal. I haven't been able to check Facebook in two days. Two days!"

Damien crawled out and faced Greg. "If you don't calm the fuck down…" He wasn’t above knocking him out to silence him if push came to shove.

"Ned and Stacey are dead! They're dead, Jim!" He suddenly broke down and cried. He fell into Damien’s arms and wept. Damien held him and whispered that it was going to be alright. Bertram joined them and rubbed against his daddies' legs.

"I'm sorry, Greg. I thought you’d enjoy some fresh air. I mean Bert loved chasing the animals and drinking their blood." Damien looked at Bert and smiled at his lolling tongue. "But you’re right, this is my fault. I will get us out of here. I promise."

"You better." Greg no longer sounded angry. He gave Damien a hug before heading back to the closet. He stopped and sighed. "I don't think we should stay here. I made too much noise during my tantrum. The killer is probably on its way here."

Damien flexed his arms and shook his head. "No. No more running and hiding. We kill this fucker right now! Kill it dead."

Greg smirked. It was so hot when Damien took charge. He agreed about not hiding anymore. Hiding wasn’t his style, especially in a closet. "So what are we doing?" Bertram barked, ready to get the show on the road.

Drawing from memory, Damien did his best to recreate a devil’s trap, something he’d learned from watching many seasons of Supernatural. When it was all done, he stood up and admired his handiwork. “Looks good, right?” He saw Greg’s critical look and rolled his eyes. “I mean, it looks good for being drawn in pink sidewalk chalk, right?”

“Whatever. Can we just get on with it? I’m so over the screaming.” Greg went back into the closet and shut the door.

Damien returned to his hiding place under the bunk bed, leaving Bertram alone in the open. “Okay, boy, speak!”

Bertram had been waiting for this all night. He stood proudly beside the devil’s trap and barked his happy little heart out. He even threw in a couple of long howls. His daddies underestimated how much of a ham he was, but they learned tonight.

The screaming outside halted just enough to hear the wind change direction. It hit the cabin with such intensity, the boys thought it was going to fly away. They knew the killer was on its way.

Bertram stopped barking to give Damien a concerned glance. Daddy Damien gave him permission to keep making noise. He howled with such delight he low-key didn’t want to stop.

The barking quieted down when Bert heard something approach the cabin. Something evil stood at the door. He tightened his muscles and haunched close to the floor, ready to pounce. His spinal spikes stood up straight, aching to do some damage.

The door flew off the hinges and landed flat on the floor, throwing dust into the air. In the doorway stood a tall, thin shadow man with a hockey mask and gloves with knives for fingers. He flexed the blades menacingly, allowing them to clack against each other. A soft, evil chuckle escaped wherever his mouth was. There were no distinguishing features to see, just darkness.

Damien watched as Bertram gave the shadow man a piece of his mind. It was then he realized that he messed up. Bert was trying to lure the shadow man into the devil’s trap, but it was plainly visible in all its bright pink chalkiness. If the shadow man wasn’t stupid, it clearly wouldn’t fall for something so obvious. He cursed silently to himself for neglecting to cover it. Dean and Sam Winchester always managed to find a rug or at least a coat. Amateur Hour for sure, he thought.

The shadow man continued to stand in the doorway. The chupacabra barked angrily at him, saying some filthy things about his mother. He debated whether or not it was worth his time going in there to kill it. Did he really have to stand there and take this? No, he didn’t. He had to kill some motherfuckers who read a Latin spell and woke him from his nap. He had no beef with an ugly dog. He turned around and wandered into the forest.

Damien and Greg waited five minutes just to make sure the shadow man was really gone before they came out of hiding. Did that really just happen? Did Bert single-handedly scare the boogeyman away? They both got down and gave Bert hugs and belly rubs. They told him what a good boy he was for saving them. They promised to give him all the fluffy animals he could drain when they got home. Life was good.