mothman series Con't

  "So, what made you think of making mudcakes, way up here?" Jeff asked Corey.
She sat near the fire's edge. Ancient pine wood burned, crackling fiercely. It's frequent popping caused by heavy pitch trapped in its vascular tissue catapulted sparks of bright fire bits high into the air. One carried itself aloft by heat energy and landed on the back of her hand. "Ouch! son-of-a . . . oh, ouch, sorry, I mean dang!"
     "It's okay. I cuss all the time." Dan's outburst stumbled out of his mouth as if to cover her embarrassment.
     "Technically, she didn't cuss," Interjected Jeff. She didn't finish with the b word, right Corey?" He peered at her. From his angle, he thought, it was impossible to tell whether she were blushing, or fire's reflection on her cheek. But he knew her genuine conscientiousness. 
      Corey held her right hand to her lip, engrossed in sucking her burned skin, a resistance against the torrid pain. "Sorry, I don't like to cuss, but sometimes it slips- the mudcakes, I don't know why I made them. It just happened. I was hiking away from that place a couple of days ago trying to get away from the monster. I was missing my family, especially my brother. We used to make mudcakes together. I got to this campsite and it's the first thought I had. You guys came up behind me and scared me."
     "Sorry, we shoulda called out to you from the top of the ridge, but didn't want you to run off, maybe get hurt, seemings as you'd been traumatized. Or so we thought."
     "But we figured it was you. Pretty good guess. We got your shoe size off prints and thought maybe it was a match 'cause of your body size." Added Dan. "This is a pretty good mudcake." He had placed it near the fire, intent on hardening it. "Whadda you think of my improvised kiln, Corey?"
     "It's not a kiln Dan," interjected Jeff. A kiln's a closed oven - "
     "There you go again, always either putting me down, or criticizing - "
     "I think it's very sweet of you Dan. You think it'll harden enough for me to carry around in my backpack?"
     "I dunno Corey, ask Jeff, he knows everything."
     "Hey, hey, don't take it to the butt crack Bro. Not putting you down. I'm just making a comment."
     "Don't argue over it guys." Her voice was broken with emotion. It trembled as she continued, "I'm sorry, but I don't like people who love each other, arguing."
     "See Jeff?"
     "Stop it Dan."
     "I think I'm going to bed." 
     "No. Here Corey. Dan stood and offered his bandana. Jeff grabbed it and crossed it over to Corey. .
     She took it and wiped her eyes. "Thank you." She sniffed. 
     "Please don't go to bed yet," begged Dan. "I'd like to get to know you." He reached in his shirt pocket and grabbed a half smoked joint.
     "Hey, put that away Dude!" Yelled Jeff.
     "Do you mind, Corey?"
     "Do what you want, Dan. It's big country. As long as you don't expect me to take some."
     Dan  lit up and took a deep draw. 
     "That stuff's gonna give you nightmares, Dan. Probably laced with crystal meth, judging from -"
     "K, Mom. I don't rant about you drinkin' whiskey do I? Hey, Corey what are you doin' up here all alone? Don't take it the wrong way, but you're really young and it's dangerous goin' about these places without a partner."
     "It' a long story. I'm alright. I'd just rather be up here than down there. Don't take it the wrong way, . . . just don't mother me.
     "Don't mean to invade yer space. We're the intruders. You mean away from people? I mean, no, don't blame you. Me too. If it weren't for having to make a livin' I'd stay up here."
     "Livin' off the grid isn't easy suggested Jeff. "You must have a lot of skills on survival, Corey."
     "I learned most of what I know off You Tube including internet sites. I'd rather starve to death than go back down."
     "Sounds like you really hate down there. I hate the smog, traffic an' crime, but I like the amenities of civilization, like fine restaurants, movie theaters and creature comforts, especially after a month of backpacking. Man, I'm craving a fat cheeseburger right now!" Dan took another draw of his reefer and laughed as if he had just cracked up to the best Comedy Central one liner.
     "Here, eat this." Jeff tossed him a strip of jerky. "I got the munchies for sure, Jeff. Thanks. See Corey, he does love me."
     "What do you hate about down there, Corey?" Jeff dared a question, fearful she may skitter from further conversation. 
     "I'd rather not talk about it." Corey flushed a pang of uncomfortable memory. His question spawned a barrage of her molester's images. His hand on her throat. His filthy words spat in her ears as he forced himself into her. "I'm going to bed guys."
     A menacing growl emanated from a cluster of boulders. "Oh man! Jeff, smell that? It's the same smell. Sulfur and rotten meat!"
     Corey held back a frightened scream. In its place was a choked animal sound of restrained agony. "It's back . . . the monster! Oh, God!"
     Jeff sprang from his rock chair and bolted for his backpack. He ripped open the top cover and grabbed his 350 Magnum. It was loaded with hollow point slugs. "I'm not gonna quote scripture atcha this time, A*****e!"