PART 2: This Might Be the Closest a Sasquatch Has Ever Been to a Camera Without Knowing
THE TRAIL CAMERA — PART 2: THE SECOND SHADOW
The first thing Alex noticed was the silence.
Not darkness.
Silence.
The electricity had disappeared so completely that the house seemed to stop existing around him.
No refrigerator humming in the kitchen.
No computer fan.
No air conditioner.
Nothing.
Alex remained frozen beside his desk, staring toward the window.
A few seconds earlier, something had moved outside.
He was certain of it.
He had seen a shape cross the glass.
Tall.
Too tall.
Too slow.
And now there was nothing.
Alex reached for his phone.
The screen illuminated his hands.
3:17 a.m.
He unlocked it and checked the last message again.
It’s not alone anymore.
He read it for perhaps the tenth time.
Then he noticed something he hadn’t noticed before.
The message had been sent forty-three seconds before the power went out.
Alex stared at the timestamp.
Forty-three seconds.
Exactly forty-three seconds.
He opened the conversation and began typing.
What do you mean it’s not alone?
The message failed to send.
No signal.
Alex walked toward the window.
He stopped several feet away.
Every instinct told him not to look outside.
But curiosity won.
He moved closer.
The glass reflected his own face.
Behind the reflection was darkness.
Then lightning flashed somewhere beyond the trees.
For a fraction of a second, the forest became visible.
Trees.
Rain.
The fence.
The edge of his property.
Nothing else.
Alex exhaled.
“You’re imagining things.”
He said it aloud because hearing the words made them feel more convincing.
Then another lightning flash came.
This time, Alex saw something.
Two figures.
Standing between the trees.
One was enormous.
The other was smaller.
Alex stepped backward.
The darkness returned.
He waited for the next flash.
Nothing.
Then—
Another flash.
They were gone.
Alex grabbed his jacket.
He didn’t know why.
Maybe because sitting inside the house suddenly felt worse than being outside.
Maybe because he needed proof.
Maybe because he had spent years telling other people to verify what they saw.
Now it was his turn.
He opened the front door.
Cold air rushed inside.
Rain had begun falling.
The yard was empty.
Alex stepped onto the porch.
“Hello?”
The question sounded ridiculous the moment it left his mouth.
He immediately regretted saying it.
The forest offered no response.
He turned toward the tree line.
Nothing.
Then he noticed something on the ground.
Mud.
A trail of footprints crossed the edge of the yard.
Alex’s heart stopped.
He walked toward them.
The prints were enormous.
Five toes.
Deep impressions.
Bare feet.
They came from the woods.
Crossed his property.
And stopped directly beneath his window.
Alex crouched.
The mud around the prints was fresh.
Rain had not yet washed them away.
He touched one.
The depression was still soft.
Warm.
Alex pulled his hand back.
Warm.
That was impossible.
He stared toward the forest.
Whatever had made these prints had been here moments ago.
Then he saw another footprint.
Smaller.
Not human.
Not a child’s.
It was shaped differently from the larger tracks.
Four toes?
Maybe five.
Alex couldn’t tell.
The smaller tracks ran beside the larger ones.
Together.
Two creatures.
One large.
One smaller.
He stood slowly.
The words from the message returned.
It’s not alone anymore.
Alex backed toward the house.
He suddenly understood why the sender had stopped answering.
Maybe they hadn’t disconnected the call.
Maybe something had happened.
He ran inside.
The electricity returned thirty seconds later.
The lights flickered.
The computer rebooted.
Alex immediately opened his email.
The attachment was still there.
HOUSE.MP4
He played it again.
This time, he watched every frame.
The creature approached the house.
Stopped.
Looked toward the camera.
Then raised its hand.
Pointing.
Alex paused the video.
He zoomed in.
The creature’s finger wasn’t pointing toward the house.
It was pointing toward something behind it.
Something hidden among the trees.
Alex advanced frame by frame.
There.
For less than a second.
A second shape appeared.
Smaller.
Standing behind the larger creature.
Alex froze.
He rewound.
Played it again.
There it was.
A second figure.
Almost completely concealed by darkness.
It was not as tall.
Not as broad.
But the silhouette was unmistakably upright.
Alex zoomed in.
The image became a mass of pixels.
Still, he could see two bright reflections where the eyes should have been.
He stared.
Then the second figure moved.
It stepped sideways.
And disappeared behind a tree.
Alex sat back.
There were two.
At least two.
But the message had said:
It’s not alone anymore.
Not there are two.
Not I saw another one.
It’s not alone anymore.
There was something about the wording that bothered him.
He called the sender again.
Nothing.
He tried a second time.
Nothing.
Then he noticed something strange.
The sender’s phone wasn’t going to voicemail.
It simply rang.
Over and over.
Alex checked the time.
3:26 a.m.
He opened the original footage.
The first clip.
Then the second.
He compared them side by side.
The same creature.
Same size.
Same fur.
Same feet.
Same route.
But now he noticed something he had overlooked.
In the second clip, just before the creature disappeared behind the tree, it turned its head.
Not toward the camera.
Toward the forest.
Almost as if it had heard something.
Alex watched again.
The creature’s posture changed.
Its shoulders tightened.
Its head lifted.
Then it moved away.
At first Alex had assumed it was simply continuing down the trail.
Now he wasn’t sure.
It looked like the creature was responding to another presence.
Something nearby.
Something Alex couldn’t see.
He opened the third camera file.
The one the sender had mentioned.
CAMERA4.MP4
The file was seventeen minutes long.
Alex stared at the duration.
The previous recordings had been ten seconds.
Trail cameras usually captured short clips.
Why seventeen minutes?
He clicked play.
The forest appeared.
Rain fell through the infrared beam.
Nothing moved.
One minute.
Two.
Three.
Alex fast-forwarded.
At 6:42, something appeared.
The creature entered the frame.
But it wasn’t alone.
A second figure followed.
Alex stopped breathing.
The smaller creature walked behind the larger one.
Its body was thinner.
Its arms were proportionally longer.
The fur appeared darker.
It stopped beside the first creature.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then something happened that Alex had never seen in any alleged Sasquatch footage.
The smaller creature reached out.
It touched the larger creature’s shoulder.
The larger one turned.
They appeared to communicate.
No sound was audible in the recording.
But their movements were deliberate.
The smaller creature pointed toward the left.
The larger creature looked.
Then both disappeared into the forest.
Alex watched the sequence five times.
He wasn’t looking at a random encounter.
They were together.
They knew each other.
They were communicating.
And if they were communicating, then everything changed.
Because that meant they weren’t just animals wandering through the forest.
They had social behavior.
Relationships.
Perhaps families.
Alex returned to the original sender’s message.
It’s not alone anymore.
Maybe the sender had seen something else.
Maybe they had discovered a group.
Alex typed another message.
How many did you see?
This time, the message sent.
Immediately.
Three dots appeared.
Someone was typing.
Alex waited.
The dots disappeared.
Then returned.
Then disappeared again.
Finally, a message arrived.
I don’t know.
Another message appeared.
But I think they’re watching each other.
Alex frowned.
What does that mean?
No response.
He waited.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Then his phone vibrated.
A photograph.
Alex opened it.
It showed the trail camera.
The same camera from the original footage.
But something had changed.
The camera had been turned around.
It was no longer facing the trail.
It was facing the person who owned it.
Alex zoomed in.
The photograph appeared to have been taken from several feet behind the camera.
He could see the back of the trail camera.
And in the darkness beyond it—
A face.
Alex nearly dropped the phone.
The creature was standing directly behind the camera.
Close enough that its face filled the upper corner of the image.
It was looking down.
Not at the camera.
At the ground.
At the camera’s mounting bracket.
Alex enlarged the photograph.
There was something in the creature’s hand.
A piece of metal.
He couldn’t identify it.
He called the sender.
This time, they answered.
Neither spoke.
Alex heard breathing.
“Are you okay?”
Silence.
“Where are you?”
Still nothing.
Then the sender whispered:
“I’m in the house.”
Alex’s heart sank.
“Are you alone?”
A pause.
“No.”
Alex stood.
“Who’s with you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I heard something outside.”
The sender’s voice shook.
“I locked the doors. Turned off every light.”
Alex listened.
Then came another sound.
A low vibration through the phone.
The sender whispered:
“Do you hear that?”
Alex held the phone against his ear.
At first, nothing.
Then he heard it.
A deep sound.
Slow.
Almost musical.
It rose from somewhere outside the sender’s house.
A long, low call.
Then another answered from farther away.
Alex’s blood turned cold.
The sender whispered:
“There’s one behind the house.”
Another call came.
Closer.
“And one near the creek.”
Another.
Farther away.
“And another on the ridge.”
Alex closed his eyes.
Three calls.
Three locations.
Three creatures.
Maybe more.
“How many cameras do you have?”
“Six.”
“Check them.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
The sender whispered:
“Because something is standing outside my bedroom window.”
Alex looked at his computer.
The CAMERA4 footage was still playing.
The smaller creature appeared again.
This time, Alex noticed something in the background.
At first he thought it was another tree.
Then the shape moved.
A third figure.
Farther away.
Then a fourth.
Alex leaned toward the screen.
One by one, the shapes appeared between the trees.
Not two.
Not three.
There were several.
Alex counted them.
Seven.
Maybe eight.
They weren’t walking.
They were standing.
Watching.
All facing the same direction.
Toward the house.
Alex grabbed the phone.
“How far are they from you?”
The sender didn’t answer.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then a whisper.
“They’re not watching the house.”
Alex swallowed.
“Then what are they watching?”
The answer came so quietly Alex almost didn’t hear it.
“Me.”
The call ended.
Alex stared at the phone.
Then the computer screen flickered.
The footage changed.
The trail camera image disappeared.
A new video appeared.
Live.
Alex’s face went pale.
He had never received a live feed from the sender.
The camera showed the forest.
Rain.
Trees.
Darkness.
Then something walked into view.
One creature.
It stood directly in front of the lens.
Alex recognized it.
The same face.
The same brow.
The same enormous shoulders.
It looked into the camera.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then the creature slowly lifted one hand.
It raised a finger.
And pointed directly toward the lens.
Alex stopped breathing.
Behind the creature, another figure appeared.
Then another.
Then another.
They emerged silently from the forest.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
The screen filled with shapes.
And then the first creature stepped aside.
Something much larger stood behind it.
Alex stared at the screen.
He had thought the creature in the original footage was enormous.
This one was bigger.
Much bigger.
Its head nearly reached the upper branches of the trees.
It stepped forward.
The camera shook.
Not because of wind.
Because something had touched it.
The image tilted.
The creature leaned closer.
Its face filled the screen.
Alex saw the eyes.
Not glowing.
Not reflecting.
Watching.
Intelligent.
Then the creature did something that made Alex’s blood run cold.
It smiled.
Not like a human smile.
The mouth opened slightly.
The teeth became visible.
And from somewhere beyond the camera came a sound.
A deep voice.
Not a roar.
Not an animal call.
A word.
Alex couldn’t understand it.
But the creature said it again.
This time louder.
Then the live feed went black.
Alex sat alone in the darkness.
The computer screen reflected his face.
His phone vibrated.
One final message appeared.
Not from the sender.
From an unknown number.
There was no text.
Only a photograph.
Alex opened it.
His blood turned cold.
The image showed his own house.
Taken from the forest.
His bedroom window was visible.
And standing outside it was a massive figure.
The photograph had been taken from less than twenty feet away.
Alex slowly looked toward the window.
Nothing was there.
Then his phone vibrated again.
A second photograph.
This one was closer.
The creature was standing directly beneath his window.
Its face was turned upward.
Looking at him.
Alex stepped backward.
His phone vibrated a third time.
The final photograph appeared.
It showed something Alex hadn’t noticed before.
Behind the creature stood another figure.
Then another.
And another.
The forest behind his house was full of them.
Alex stared at the image.
Then, somewhere outside his bedroom window, something knocked three times on the glass.
Alex didn’t move.
Three knocks.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Then a fourth.
Alex’s phone screen went black.
And from the other side of the window came a whisper.
A human voice.
His own voice.
Saying his name.
“Alex.”
He turned toward the glass.
And the story should have ended there.
But then he saw the reflection.
There were two figures standing behind him.
And neither one was human.
