Free That Which Should Not Be by Brett J. Talley

we got only one choice, and that is to stop him here.  You think you can still get that mirror?”
    I looked back at my wrecked tent.  I couldn’t be sure.
    “I can try, Tom, but I can’t promise it.”
    “Well, then,” Tom said firmly, “that’ll have to do.  Let’s get down there.  If he doesn’t notice you, all the better.  If he does, I’ll distract him as best I can.  You get that mirror, and do what needs to be done.”
    I nodded.  Tom held out his hand.  I grabbed it, and he shook firmly.  And then reluctantly but quickly, we made our way down the hill and into the camp. 

 
    Chapter
    9
     
     
    We stopped at the edge, and Tom motioned for me to go on.  He would remain in the shadows.  If we were lucky, he would stay there.  I stole quietly across the grounds, taking cover behind a lonely tree whenever I could.  But it didn’t take long till there was nothing but open ground between me and my tent.  It was still ten yards off.  Not a long distance on most days, but an eternity with a beast like the Wendigo in your sights. 
    I sat there for a good minute, watching him.  He was oblivious to me, his hands working a string of Travis’s intestines like it was a line of sausage.  Travis wasn’t screaming any more.  He just moaned.  I doubt if he was in his right mind.  I thought about what I would do, what was the best I could hope for.  That thought sent a chill to my bones.  Even if I found the mirror, it would mean confronting that thing.  And if it didn’t work, death, and probably not a quick one, was assured.   
    Now I could wait no longer, I took a deep breath and moved towards my tent as fast as possible while still staying silent.  It was no easy task.  Seven yards away.  There were pots and pans, traps, boxes, and everything you could imagine you might need on that kind of trip, strewn about all over the ground.  I dodged them as best I could.  If he heard me then . . .well, I didn't want to think on it. 
    Now I was five yards from the tent.  I looked back at the Wendigo.  He was still hunched over, still consuming his meal.  Three yards.  What was left of another tent had been thrown clear across the field and lay in between me and my destination.  I walked around, but it just meant more time I was in the open. 
    Finally, I reached the remains of my tent.  But the ordeal wasn’t over.  I crouched at the side where my shaving kit should be.  I sat there, for God and all his angels to see, feeling blindly under the canvas, trying not to make a sound while also looking with my hands for a small object I didn’t even know was there. 
    I could hear the sickening sound of the beast, not more than fifty feet beyond, his teeth ripping through flesh.  I looked over at him.  Still he continued to feed.  The sound of his mouth working bloody meat grew louder and louder till I thought it would steal my mind.  On I worked, feeling about, trying to find the one thing that might save me.  That noise continued, like a drumbeat in my brain.  Then, finally, blessedly, it stopped.  I said a quick prayer of thanks and searched on with new vigor. 
    But then I felt cold fear fall over me.  I looked over at the Wendigo.  There it sat, blood and muscle hanging from its mouth and hands, its demon red eyes locked on me.  I froze, but the low growl that started deep in the pit of its flesh-gorged stomach spurned me into feverish action.  I made no attempt to be quiet now, feeling desperately for my mirror. 
    The roar grew louder until finally it burst from what had been Andy’s mouth in a hellish, deafening sound.  It loped toward me, running like some primordial beast, pushing with its legs and thrusting with its knuckles off the ground in great bounding leaps.  All the while it screamed at me in a voice no human mouth ever made.  It was upon me, and I knew it was the end. 
    Then there was a flash in the corner of my vision, and the beast, in mid-spring, was