Steam rises from the shower, coating Caspar in a fine mist. Hot water gathers in his palm until it starts to spill out the sides and trickle through his fingers. 

Ugh. Where is his mind? Contemplating the damn texture of a stranger's hand—what’s wrong with him?

It’s just the isolation, he rationalizes. People are social animals, no matter how much he wants to deny it. That animal part of his brain is going haywire, trying to make connections. Trying to understand this newcomer. Fill in the gaps where his family and friends are lacking.

Caspar grits his teeth. Fuck. More shame runs through him, stabbing like a lance. He shouldn’t be looking to replace his loved ones. They’re doing the best they can with the world as fucked up as it is. Caspar’s the one who needs to get with the program.

He’s the one who’s trying to run away. Who can’t look people in the eye but still wants to be seen. 

He sighs. He’s overthinking everything, isn’t he? Wasting hot water, too. 

He starts fiddling with the bandage on his neck, the steam assisting in loosening the glue. The shower takes on a strange scent, like iron and herbal tea, as the poultice is washed away.

Caspar watches a red tinged line travel down his body, swirling down the drain with specks of herbs and dried scabs. Delicately, he touches the bite mark on his neck. It’s still tender, but he can feel that it’s not overly warm or weeping. He’s healing, all thanks to Malakai.

Caspar wonders what will happen after all this is over. Maybe they could exchange numbers and meet up for another hunt.

Caspar recalls their earlier discussion: “Well, obviously, I’d go too. I wouldn’t just let you fend for yourself.”

Malakai is a good person, huh?

Caspar sighs, cursing quietly. Shit. His mind is wandering again. 

He redirects himself to his soap, hastening to finish. After he’s scrubbed pink and smelling of dollar store body wash, he turns the shower knob. He quickly towels off, applies his deodorant, and pulls on his black sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. 

As he steps out of the shower, he has to side step Malakai. He’s pouring something into a bowl, the scent of which is making Caspar’s stomach loudly protest that it’s not already in his mouth. “What is that?” 

“Frito pie.”

Caspar’s eyes widen. He grabs a bowl. Shit! He hasn’t had a Frito pie since he was like, 8! “Dude, how did you MacGyver this? It looks great!”

“You had all the ingredients, I just had to look in the back. You even had powdered sour cream.”

Caspar pauses. “I think that's, like, a decade old. Is it still good?”

Malakai shrugs. “Tastes fine.”

“Good enough for me.”

He carries it back to his bed, perching on the side. After stirring it up thoroughly, he takes a hearty spoonful, sighing happily at the taste. But he jolts as he feels the bed dip beside him: Malakai has joined, sitting cross legged on the other end.

Caspar tries to hide his surprise. He bet on Malakai sitting at the coffee table. 

“So, do you have any good hunting stories?” Malakai asks after a stretch of comfortable silence.

“A few,” Caspar replies, taking another spoonful of Frito pie. “Once you’ve been doing it long enough, though, they all start blending together. How about you?”

“I've had my fair share of weird encounters, but the most interesting cases are the ones where it's just something normal. I’ll never forget the time the poltergeist I’d investigated for a good two weeks turned out to be a family of raccoons hiding in the walls.”

They share a laugh. Caspar feels the tension in his stomach begin to wane. It’s been a long time since he’s sat down to a meal and just relaxed around someone.

“So…do you usually hunt alone?” Caspar asks.

“These days, yeah. It’s been nice to have someone around again. I get lonely out on the road if it’s just me for too long.”

Caspar averts his eyes. He wishes he was as brave as Malakai to say the truth out loud. “Yeah. I can imagine.”

They finish their meal in companionable silence. When Caspar’s scraped the last bit of Frito from his enamelware, he stacks the plates on the counter. 

He leans back in bed, feeling unusually content. He glances at Malakai, who’s now letting his hair down and brushing through it carefully. Out of the ponytail, its long, the ends kissing the base of his nape. 

Somehow, it seems endearing. Caspar is so focused on surviving, he never does much beyond that. Things like self-care begin and end with the basics, for him.

“Hey, Malakai,” he starts tentatively, “I wouldn’t mind working with you again, if you need it. I’ll give you my number so you can, uh, call me up if you get a tricky case.”

Malakai runs his hand through his freshly brushed hair “Thanks Cas. I’ll definitely take you up on that. God knows hunters have to stick together when they can.”

“Cool, cool. Alright, I’m going to sleep now. Wake me up in four hours.” 

Casper smiles, quickly turning away and getting into bed to hide his expression. He hears Malakai start to fiddle with the shower, bare feet squeaking against the plastic as he steps inside. 

Quickly, Caspar falls asleep to the sound of water running. He falls into a hazy, indistinct dream. He’s walking through a peaceful, misty forest. Jacob, Duncan, and Delilah are here, just a few paces up the road. 

Caspar approaches warily, fearful of a negative reaction. But they give him a surprisingly cheerful greeting. They walk beside him for a while, the conversation drifting from topic to topic. It’s only when he glances away for a moment that the chatter pauses. He looks back. 

Everyone is gone.

Caspar is alone.

“Mom?” he calls out.

He listens. No response. “Mom? Jacob? Duncan?”

Maybe they walked ahead of him? He speeds up. After 20 minutes of walking, he still can’t find them. His nerves are starting to get to him. 

He reaches a fork in the road.

He studies both paths. The left one is labeled, but Caspar can’t read the nonsensical, twisted letters on the sign. This is probably the right way to go if he wants to get back to civilization, as the one on the right clearly leads deeper into the forest. Before he can make a choice, however, he startles as he hears a distant sound of an alarm. 

It’s the van! Is someone trying to break into it? He takes a moment to listen. It’s coming from the right. 

Anxiously, he measures his options. If he goes to the right, he’s risking getting even more lost. There’s no telling if it leads to the RV. On the other hand, if Mom, Duncan, and Jacob have gone anywhere, it would be there. Caspar starts down the right path, sprinting toward the sound. 

The forest seems to grow darker and darker as he runs down the winding trail. As the alarm grows nearer, the path becomes more treacherous. It starts with roots and sticks, snagging at his jeans and tripping his feet. Next, lightning cracks overhead, and Caspar’s line of sight becomes even more obscured as rain starts to come down in thick sheets. 

Caspar wipes the water out of his eyes, carrying on. The alarm is ringing in his ears now. He’s close.

Finally, he spots the RV in a muddy clearing. Caspar runs to it. Nobody is around. Maybe they’re inside? He reaches for the door, flinching as the alarm suddenly quiets as he touches the handle. 

He pauses.

He opens the door. 

It’s dark inside. Caspar steps in. He taps the ceiling light, but finds it dead. Did the battery just die? He looks around. It seems empty. 

He jumps as something falls from the cot above the driver’s seat. Caspar bends over. It’s… Malakai’s red flannel. Was he here too? Did he go with the others? Caspar holds it up. 

Wait. Isn’t this his? But Malakai was wearing it. Did he borrow it…?

The hairs on his neck suddenly stand on end. Someone—or something— is watching him. Caspar turns around, heart freezing in horror as he spots glowing crimson eyes.

Ruth, the demon, is standing outside the door of the van, looking in through the tinted window. 

Her hair is wet, hanging down in limp strings. Her expression is blank as her head cocks in mild interest. Caspar stumbles back, hyperventilating as she opens the door. 

She steps inside—

“Caspar,” a whisper startles him awake. A dark figure looms over him. It’s her!

Caspar lunges. There’s a gasp and struggle as he pins her down to the mattress, one hand around her neck and another around her bicep. Caspar is about to squeeze when his eyes finally adjust to the dark. Malakai stares up at Caspar in shock, wide eyes illuminated by a sudden streak of lightning outside the window. 

Fuck! Malakai had come to wake him for his shift, didn’t he? 

Caspar immediately shuffles off him. “Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry, I was having a dream—”

“Quiet,” Malakai hushes. 

Caspar goes silent. Thunder shakes the RV, followed by a howl of wind. Malakai’s expression is tense. “I heard something outside.”

“What—”

Thunder shakes the sky like a roaring beast, followed by an eerie scream that chills to the bone.

The hunt is on.