Bo laughed nervously. "A trap for what? Bears?"
Around the clearing stood more of them . A family. Some wore overalls rotted with age. Others wore scraps of uniform—a postal worker's shirt, a cop's badge, a nurse's scrubs. They ranged from a child no older than ten (with empty eye sockets sewn closed) to a patriarch so old his spine curved into a question mark. All of them had the same stretched mouths. The same filed teeth. scary movies like wrong turn
On her nightstand, next to the lamp, was a single hand-forged iron spike. And a scrap of tanned leather, stitched with a spiral. Bo laughed nervously
"That's a trap," Leo said quietly.
It was Bo’s idea to skip the interstate. "GPS says we save forty minutes," he insisted, one hand on the Jeep’s wheel, the other gesturing at the darkening tree line. The radio had dissolved into static two exits ago. Now, the paved road had become a cracked ribbon of asphalt, then gravel, then nothing but twin dirt ruts swallowed by overgrown rhododendrons. A family