Back in my twenties I was what you might call an ‘adventure girl’. About ten years ago, give or take, something happened that changed that. I moved to the city, got a boring job and a boring apartment, and became decidedly averse to the outdoors. I haven’t really told anyone about it in all that time, save my now-wife, because, well… for one, they’d think I’m crazy, and for two, I don’t want to think about it. I’m finally putting it here, though, because you all deserve to hear it. After all, you probably saved my life.
At the time, I had just graduated college and moved from Texas to Alaska, out of a desire for - you guessed it - adventure. I had a job doing stuff I liked. It paid well and gave me enough vacation days to get out and do something really adventurous every once in a while. One thing I’d had on my bucket list since moving north was driving the Dalton Highway. For the unfamiliar, that’s a (generously) highway that goes from Fairbanks to Prudhoe Bay on the Arctic Ocean. It’s a 500 mile, 11 hour drive in the Summer, but thanks to work realities I wasn’t able to get out there until early autumn.
By early autumn, the snow had started, but the plows were still able to keep the highway pretty clear, and I was driving a ‘95 Toyota Land Cruiser kitted out for expeditions (I fucking loved that thing). Besides that, I was an adventure girl. I was prepared. I had camping gear, emergency gear, a satellite phone, plenty of food and water, enough jerry cans for the trip there and back, and Sam Colt’s greatest invention in the center console - just in case. For the unfamiliar, that’s the 1911 (I fucking loved that gun).
I was planning to make the trip in two days, sleeping in the back of the Land Cruiser halfway. I had enough blankets to keep warm, and I had a nice comfy space back there that I could fit in. I’d have to drive slower because of the snow, I wanted to enjoy the scenery, and the sun was setting pretty early by that time of year.
I had a good start that day and the driving was fine. By the time shit went down it had been dark for about an hour and I was getting into the foothills of the Brooks Range. That’s good scenery and also terrain I didn’t want to be going through in the dark, so I was just about ready to pull over for the night when I saw caution flashers up ahead.
For the unfamiliar, a hard rule for any Alaskan is that you always, always pull over when you see someone in distress on the side of a remote road like that, especially after the snow starts. If they aren’t prepared for an emergency, there is a very good chance that you could save their life. So, that’s exactly what I did. I pulled over next to a Nissan SUV - not as nicely kitted out as mine, but not bad, either. I figured they were doing the same thing I was. Small world. By the jack under one axle and the wheel sitting next to the car, they’d blown a tire. What I didn’t see, though, were the people.
I got out of my Land Cruiser, crunching down into the snow and looked around. There aren’t a ton of trees that far north, but there are quite a few patches of evergreens that, while not quite forests, can be pretty dark and thick on a snowy night. “Hey!” I called, my voice going dead a few yards away as sound does in snowy woods. “Y’all need help?!”
No answer. Dead silence, save the faint clicking over the flasher from inside their Nissan. I shouted again. “Anybody there?! I’ve got tools!” No answer. Dead silence.
I considered myself a pretty brave bitch back then, but I’ll admit that I was creeped out at this point. This vehicle definitely hadn’t been here for all that long, but there was no one to be seen. Besides that, the dead quiet and the darkness of the night were unnerving. It wasn’t that weird for it to be silent on a snowy night like this, that far north, but still - creepy. Creepy enough that I hopped back in the car and grabbed my .45, storing it in one of the big pockets in the front of my jacket. Just in case. There were bears up there.
I approached the Nissan and saw footprints in the snow (okay, not a ghost car). One pair had been crouched down at the removed tire, and the other had been standing a couple feet away, by the rear of the SUV. The latter pair had then, at some point, headed off toward the treeline. It stopped a few yards down, paced around a bit, then continued into the woods. The pair near the tire had then - presumably later - gotten up and ran after the first. I was no tracker, but it’s not hard to tell when someone was running in snow.
Now I was really creeped out. I was tempted to hop back in the car and keep driving for a good long while, but - like I said - this could easily have been life or death up there. Besides, I had my .45. It could handle a grizzly. Probably. That was the worst I’d find up here. Probably. So, off I went, following those two sets of footprints into the woods.
It was fucking dark, but don’t worry y’all, I had a really nice flashlight. SureFire, baby. Adventure girl, remember? The dead quiet seemed to get even deader and quieter as soon as I passed the treeline - as sound does in snowy woods. Probably. The only thing comforting me that I hadn’t gone deaf was the sound of my breath and my boots crunching in the snow.
“Hey!” I called again, maybe twenty yards into the woods. “Is everyone okay?!”
This time, I got a response. It was a woman’s voice, and it sounded afraid. “Over here!” it called. “Help!”
I got a spring in my step at that, jogging toward the sound of the voice, shining my light through the trees to try and catch a glimpse.
“Over here!” it called again, much closer. “Help!”
Remember when I said y’all probably saved my life? This is when that happened. I stopped. The hair on the back of my neck had stood on end and a chill had run down my spine. Something was off about that voice. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was just slightly wrong. I pointed my light toward where I had heard it.
“Are you hurt?” I said - voice raised, but not quite shouting anymore.
“Help!” the voice called again - only it was even closer this time. I hadn’t heard the crunch of any footsteps. “Over here!”
My grip on my flashlight tightened and my heart started to hammer in my chest. This was not right. I’d read a lot of nosleep back then, and had watched and listened to my fair share of spooky stories. At the time, I didn't think any of this stuff was real, but what was happening to me felt way too familiar, and it was setting off alarm bells. Something about this exact situation was tugging at the back of my mind as something I should be terrified of.
I tried one more time. “What’s your name?” I asked cautiously.
“Help!” the voice called, and it couldn’t have been more than a few yards off.
That was enough for me to swap my light to my left hand and bring out the Colt with my right. I pointed both in the direction of that voice, and finally caught a glimpse of something besides trees. Off in the distance, barely visible, I could see a bundle of something laying in the snow. It was human-sized, and the snow all around it was stained dark. My head was in the middle of processing what it was seeing when I saw movement between me and the body. Oh shit, that was a body! I pointed my flashlight and gun at the source of the movement.
It was humanoid, with two arms and two legs, but it was all wrong. The limbs were too long and it was too tall. Its hair was thin and wiry, it had antlers - fucking antlers - and its face, which was also, I assure you, really fucking wrong, was stained dark with what I can only assume was blood. I fired two shots and hauled ass.
I don’t know if the bullets slowed it down. I don’t even know if I hit it. I ran faster than I’d ever run before, and by the cracking branches and crunching snow behind me, it was giving chase. My heart felt like it was going to explode out of my chest and my lungs burned from sucking in the frosty air. Once or twice I saw death flash before me as I nearly lost my footing in the snow, but I managed to stay upright. As I ran, I heard more snapping, more crunching - not just behind me now, but all around. There were more.
I got really fucking lucky that night. I was lucky to have spotted the body, lucky to have run just fast enough and not fallen on my face, lucky none of the whatever-they-were (I have a guess, but I’d rather not hazard it) were just a bit closer or faster. I was lucky that I had dabbled in enough spooky stories that my alarm bells had gone off, and I was lucky that the poor couple (maybe) in that Nissan had gotten stranded there and suffered the grisly fate they suffered. After all, I was planning to stop just as I saw those caution flashers. I’d have been right there, in those same woods, asleep. I don’t want to think about what would have happened to me if that had been the case.
I made it to my car, which I was again lucky to have left running, thinking I wouldn’t go far. I leapt in, slammed and locked the door, and threw it in reverse as I saw dark, lanky shapes coming out of the trees. As I got moving, the headlights revealed what had been chasing me. I can’t say exactly how many it was - at least half a dozen. All of them were similarly stretched, pale to the point of being almost white, with various forms of antlers and primitive-looking clothing. I reversed down the road as fast as I dared (without risking going off and dooming myself to certain death) for a good half-mile before I finally got the nerve to turn around, then I flew down the highway all the way back to Fairbanks, only stopping once I found a nice, well-lit hotel in the middle of the city.
The next day, I was back in Anchorage. I thought about calling the State Troopers. Someone was going to find the Nissan, probably find the bodies. They’d find my casings, my tire tracks. I could end up a murder suspect. I decided against it, though. If I ratted myself out, I’d be a murder suspect anyway, and then they’d know it was me. Better to bet that no one could tie me to that scene, especially being as far from local as I was. Over the next week I packed my shit, bailed on my job and my lease, and moved back to Texas.
I never ended up with police banging on my door, so I guess I made the right choice. I still have nightmares about those wrong, elongated things chasing me. I probably have PTSD, but it’s not like I can talk to a therapist about it without ending up in a looney bin. I’m not an adventure girl anymore. I never go anywhere at night, and I stay in the city as much as possible. I didn’t get out of there unscathed, but I got out of there alive, which is better than can be said for the folks in the Nissan. I was lucky.
[deleted] t1_jdu431v wrote
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