After a year of sitting around gathering dust, you’ve decided it’s finally time to get rid of that old Crown Vic in your garage. You bought it on Craigslist, and you thought it would be fun to try and fix it up. You don’t know how to fix cars, but you’ve always wanted to be someone who knew how, and you thought you’d finally have to learn if you had one waiting for you. Plus you liked that it looked like an old detective car. But you had finally admitted defeat, you really need the garage more for storage. You decide to do one last sweep to see if there’s anything neat in the car, and you find a little photo album under the back seat. You start flipping through and the first page is a smiling blond woman with the name Martha written under it. Page two reveals Martha giving the camera a stern look, like she’d faking being mad, with her head shaved completely bald, not a hair left on it. It’s when you turn to Page three that you realize that something is very wrong, and by the time you get to page 10 you’re feeling sick, your face twisted in disgust. You are only Halfway through the book, but already there’s only half of what remains of Martha left in each picture, you close it shut with a snap. But there, on the back, far worse than anything you’ve seen inside is: The Podcast Inside Your House

This was years and years ago, and I was just eleven when it happened, but I’ll try and remember it as best as I can. We were on a family vacation, well really a two-family vacation, it was us and the Ralstons. They had two children, a daughter about my age named Angie, and a baby named Candy. Angie and I both had a mom and a dad still in the picture. My dad couldn't get off work though, so I was supposed to protect my mom and be the man of the family during the trip. 

We were going to Yellowstone. It looks like a beautiful place, but I’ve never been, not after what happened. 

Since there were six of us we took two cars, me and my mom in one, and the Ralston family in the other. We could have crammed into one if we had to, but it would have been noisy and crowded, and when me and Angie were in a car together on a road trip, our parents could have expected at least two hours of ‘the song that never ends’ and enough punch buggy to drive anyone crazy. 

Me and Angie had little radios to call each other though. We’d coordinate rest stops and food stops. It was going to be a two-day drive, so we were less worried the first day as we had plans to stay in a motel that night anyway. But on the second day we wanted to make sure that when we got to Yellowstone, we were following each other closely so we could stop and sightsee together. 

We lost them halfway through day two. 

Me and Angie had been on the radios, talking about the animals we were going to see, and which ones we thought would let us pet them.

I remember Angie saying “I’d like to pet a bear, I think they’re cute. Over.” 

I didn’t want to burst her bubble, even though I thought that might be a bad idea, so I suggested “The buffalos might be nicer. And they look soft. Over.”

My mom didn’t burst either of our bubbles about that, though I’m sure she would have lost her mind if we actually tried.

“Are you scared about sleeping in the woods? Over.” Angie asked, and I remember passing their car as she said this. They were slowing down but I wasn’t sure why.

“Nah, I’ve been camping before. It’s not scary. ” But I didn't say ‘over’ just yet.

I watched them slow even more behind us and I wondered if they had a flat tire or something. Or maybe Mr. Ralston needed to pee. But I remember it was a particularly thick area of brush and I was worried about animals. We were on a smaller highway and the trees were actually bending over the road, making it deceptively dark. I remember I hadn’t noticed that at all until I started to worry about them.

“Why are you guys stopping? Over” 

“I don’t know, Dad is being silly.” Then, louder “Dad! I said what’s going on?” I heard the voice of Mrs. Ralston in the background, she sounded like she’d just woken up. Angie was holding the button down until she had an answer for me, so I could hear everything. 

“Dad! What-” and then she cut off. Her voice anyway, but she was still holding down the button. The conversation that came next is something I’ll never forget. They were out of view, so I didn't get to see any of what was happening. The car door opened, and I heard Mrs. Ralston speak more clearly. 

“What are you doing Jared?! Jared? Don’t go out there!”

Then Angie spoke up “Mommy, what is that?” 

But Mrs. Ralston was too entrenched in whatever was happening outside to listen to her daughter. “Oh lord. Oh God!” She yelled. 

Then I heard her scream, and I heard Angie say “Daddy?” and with the creak of the car door Angie’s finger lifted off of the button. 

It was only then that I thought to tell my mom there might be trouble. I told her what had just happened, but I don’t think I was making very much sense.

I pleaded with my mom to turn around, to see what was happening, but she just told me “We’re not going to do that honey, but don’t worry, they’ll be okay.” 

As an adult I understand now. I was just a kid back then, and this was before cell phones. If there was some kind of real danger happening, she had opted to get me to safety. I remember her being decidedly tense but trying not to show it. She pulled over at the next rest stop. To me, it felt like an eternity, so really I have no idea how long we were driving for after Angie cut out. I tried to radio her a few times on the drive over, but nothing happened. 

I asked my mom if we should call the police, but she said she just wanted to give it a little time first. Looking back now she probably just thought Angie’s parents were having a fight. She probably didn’t want to get involved. We sat with our car pulled into a spot facing the road, and my mom assured me that if we got separated, the plan had been to meet at the next rest stop, so they should be checking in anyway.

 I vowed not to take my eyes off the highway, just in case. But the hot afternoon sun beat down as the minutes, and probably hours ticked by, and pretty soon I was dozing. 

I woke up to my mom shaking me, and feigning excitement. Even as a child, I could recognize the insincerity. “Look!” She said “They're back.”

It was sunset now, and the van was pulling up next to us. Mom was nervous, now I think because she was expecting to see Mrs. Ralston with a black eye, or hiding some bruises. I don’t remember if there was any indication of abuse with Angie’s parents, or if mom had just latched onto what would have made sense. What I’d heard over the radio could very well be interpreted as the start of a fight. 

But that’s not at all what came out of that van. 

I think we must have been in shock, and that’s why we didn’t do anything. I don't know. I mean, what the hell are you supposed to do when you see something that just doesn't seem to fit within the rules of our world?

The driver’s side door opened and Mr. Ralston stepped out. I only knew it was him, or thought I knew it was him because he was so much taller than Mrs. Ralston, and of course the children. But he was covered head to toe in bandages. He looked like a movie mummy or someone from a soap opera about to reveal a brand new face. He didn’t have sunglasses though, just a dark gauze or fabric covering his eyes. It was wrapped under the white gauze that covered his face making it look like he had two misshapen, solid black eyes. 

The passenger door opened, and the rest of the family walked out. Mrs. Ralston was holding Candy, and they were bundled up as well. Angie stumbled out, her bandages particularly sloppy. 

Mr. Ralston opened the door to our car and I felt a chill creep up my spine. “I’ll drive, thank you.” He said to my mom. 

I started laughing. It had to be a joke, some kind of elaborate prank. I mean, what other explanation was there? 

“Oh hah ha, yeah, very funny.” My mom said, but she didn’t sound amused. 

“I said I’ll drive.” Mr. Ralston repeated again. “Thank you.” and with that he grabbed my mother's arm. 

“Oh, Okay, sure.” my mom got out and said to Mrs. Ralston with feigned levity “I didn’t know Jared was such a jokester.”

Mrs. Ralston did not respond, instead she opened the passenger door, and grabbed my arm. I got a closer look at the bandages and realized that they were dirty, and near the starts of her arms and legs, there was a tiny bit of brownish red seeping through. 

I didn’t know what to think about that, so I just got out of the car. She took her place, and me and my mom exchanged looks. My mom forced a smile, and we piled into the back. Angie followed suit, stumbling. Her eyes were similarly blacked out. 

Mr. and Mrs. Ralston took their seats up front, and I sat in the back, my mother and Angie in the middle. Mrs. Ralston handed Candy back to Angie, who handed her back to me. We didn’t have a baby seat, so I just held her. But very quickly, I realized that something felt wrong with Candy. The best way I can describe it is that she felt very solid. Like you know when you're holding a cat or a dog or a baby, you feel the joints pressing at the elbows, and the skin shifts over the bones. You can feel that it’s a living creature with moving parts. You might not be aware of this when you’re holding something living, but what I was holding had none of that, and it stood out. Candy’s arms did not feel like skin, that was attached to muscle, and could move. They were just like solid, unmoving lumps of meat. 

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the car starting. I grabbed Candy closer. 

“Okay, yeah very funny.” My mom said as Jared started the car. Mrs. Ralston was still silent, and holding that baby that was so wrong in such a strange way, I began to worry. But it was all so strange that I also thought that maybe I was dreaming and that made me worry less. 

Jared started pulling the car out of the spot. “Jared!” mom yelled, “stop that, this isn’t funny anymore.” 

I should have been worrying about if he could even see, or if that even was Mr. Ralston under there. But all I could focus on was the very, very wrong baby I was holding my hands. She wasn’t moving at all. I brought her closer to my chest, and said softly “Candy?” Then I put my hand on her chest and felt neither the gentle rise and fall of breathing or the soft beating of her tiny heart. I pressed firmer still and couldn’t feel even the suggestion of ribs under there. It was like someone had carved out just a baby-shaped hunk of meat from some larger creature. 

“Angie!” I grabbed her shoulder, she was in the seat in front of me. “I think somethings wrong with Candy.” 

My Mom was pleading with Mr. Ralston now “Really, this is dangerous, this has gone on long enough. Debbie, tell him this isn’t funny!” We were pulling out into the road, but that all felt distant to me. 

“Angie!” I grabbed her shoulder harder, and noticed a splash of reddish brown liquid seep out into the bandages right where her arm connected to her torso.

Mr. Ralston was taking a left turn now, taking us back to where they had stopped. Where whatever had happened to them was waiting to happen to us. 

“Listen, it’s fine. Just driving back.” Mr. Ralston said, and I struggled to remember if that had been what he’d sounded like. He didn’t talk much.

 “Just driving back, no worrying, okay?” Mrs. Ralston parroted. 

With that Angie finally turned around, the black misshapen gauze of her eyes looked completely opaque. I didn’t know how Mr. Ralston could see. The voice that spoke from her form was that of a young girl, but it did not sound quite like Angie “Baby is fine.”

“I really don’t think she is Angie. I think we need to go to a hospital.”

Angie’s black-wrapped eyes looked at Candy, or whatever I was holding. “The baby is for scientific research.” 

“What the fuck.” I didn’t even think about swearing in front of my mom, and that somehow made the whole thing feel even more dire. “Mom, what’s going on?” 

“It’ll be fine sweety, don’t worry.” My mom replied. Then she turned to the thing pretending to be Mrs. Ralston “Debbie, what’s my birthday?” 

She grabbed her, and looked concerned, no doubt feeling the same inhuman texture I’d felt under those bandages. “When is my birthday Debbie?!”

“It’ll be fine sweety.” The thing answered. As I got a closer look at Mrs. Ralston for the first time, I noticed that something was absolutely not right about her head. It went on for, well too long. From the top of her crown to where her chin should be looked drawn out, and stretched. But maybe her hair wrapped tightly on the top of her head under there was just giving that illusion. 

Though looking at the rest of her, I realized it looked as if she wasn’t wearing any clothes under the wrappings. I looked over at Angie and noticed the same thing. She always wore baggy hoodies and loose jeans and her form should have been much lumpier under there. 

The idea of them stripping down to their underwear, or even less for this joke, disturbed me greatly. 

All I could see of Mr. Ralston was the back of his head, and I became aware of how large it seemed. And very round, almost perfectly round. As if underneath those bandages, someone had cut off his head and placed a basketball. 

I picked at the bandages on Candy’s face and was able to peel them up over one eye. Her skin was sickly looking but the eyes were blue, like Candy had. I was sure she was dead at that point. 

“Mom, what do we do?” I asked as the trees crept closer on the highway. I felt like if we got to the place where the trees bowed over the road, the place where the Ralston’s had stopped, it would all be over.

“Just sit still honey, it’ll be fine.” My mom said, but she was unbuckling her seatbelt. I looked down at Candy, ready to tell my mom that I thought, well, that I thought she might be dead. But then that blue eye blinked. 

What happened next is all a blur. I know my mom jumped up and tried to grab the wheel from Mr. Ralston after that, but I don't remember it. I just remember waking up after the crash.  

Angie was dragging me through the woods. Or whatever was underneath those bandages was dragging me. The way she was walking, it looked as if one of her legs was longer than the other. 

I blinked the blood out of my eyes, and wiped my wet hair off of my forehead. It all came back fast. I looked around, and Mr. Ralston was dragging my mom into the woods alongside me, she looked like she was asleep. Mrs. Ralston was limping behind, carrying Candy loosely by one leg, holding her dangerously low to the ground. I craned my neck and I could still see the car smoking up against a tree not too far away now, the road was still in sight. 

I struggled against the thing holding me, much stronger than Angie had been. She had a firm grip on my shoulders, making it difficult to turn around. Then I remembered the bloody liquid that had come out of her shoulder. I struggled up closer to her, standing up for just a second and punched blindly behind me, hoping I’d hit the joint. She stumbled on her misshapen legs and let me go. 

“Mom!” I yelled, trying to wake her as I stumbled towards her. Her eyelids fluttered, but didn’t open. I went for Mr. Ralston’s knees, kicking out the back of one and he fell. I grabbed mom and shook her. 

Her eyes shot open, and she looked at the thing that had been dragging her. “Oh god” she said, the events of the past few minutes no doubt coming back to her. I watched a sickly brown-green liquid come out from the area where I’d kicked Mr. Ralston’s knee. 

“Come on!” I grabbed ahold of my mom's hand and we sprinted to the road. The creatures either didn’t follow or were too slow to catch us. We made it to the highway and sprinted across. We ran on the shoulder flagging down cars but also trying to put more distance between us and those things. 

Being a mother and her child someone stopped for us quickly and took us to the police station. They didn’t question me, I don't know what my mom told them. But I know they never found the Ralston’s car, and the Ralston family has been gone ever since. 

That was twenty years ago now, and really, I don’t think about it too much. After a while, I started to think that maybe something else had happened, and my brain decided to make it more strange, more abstract as some kind of trauma response. My mom passed away a few years after, so I could never revisit what she remembered. I never really liked dwelling on the whole thing.

But the reason I’m delving back into this, and why I wanted to try and tell someone else is because of something that happened just yesterday. 

I’ve been dragged on a few camping trips through the years, but always with big groups, and always, always in crowded spots. And I think that helped me start to think even more that I’d imagined what had happened, and that there wasn’t anything to be afraid of in the woods. That there wasn’t anything sinister lurking off of the side of the road on long car trips. 

I still didn't like the idea of camping, and the woods never really felt safe to me, but I’d grown more used to it. I even let my girlfriend convince me to go winter camping with her. She thought it would be romantic, and I was not about to turn down a romantic night in a tent with her. It was only one night after all, and we both loved the snow so I thought it could be fun. I begrudgingly agreed to finding a walk-in site in the forest south of us. This was in the midwest, and though the trip to Yellowstone did cross my mind at the prospect of a more secluded trip to the woods, I was thinking, whatever happened that day, it was on the other side of the country. 

But when we turned off the highway, and onto the winding country roads things felt different, The foothills and their encroaching trees felt somehow more sinister. And although it was the middle of the day, and nothing bad is supposed to happen in the middle of the day, I felt exceedingly nervous when we entered the forest. The car behind us turned off, and suddenly we were alone on the road. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong. 

The hills cut the reception to our radio and static crackled out. I reached over to turn it off but before I could, we heard a voice come through, and it took me a second to recognize it. The voice said “Are you scared about sleeping in the woods?” and those words brought back all those terrible memories and I slowed the car down, processing what I’d just heard. Then the static cracked once again for “over” and with that I turned around. 

My girlfriend started asking what was wrong, and I shushed her. She obliged, seeing how serious I was.

Quietly then, as we reached the forest’s perimeter we heard “Don’t go, please don’t leave me here.” 

And as we passed the start of the trees, we heard her voice once again. Angie said softly “I’m still scared of sleeping in the woods. I’m still so scared.”