Anima: The Camping Trip Chapter 1

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#1 of Anima: The Camping Trip

Taking place years before The Bird House, two friends take a trip deep into the wilderness. But something in the world has changed, nothing will be the same again.

This takes place before Anima: The Bird House and doe not require that TBH be read before, but it is recommended!


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The droning sounds of the airplane's engine and my fear of heights were not helping the situation. Motion sickness had me lying back with my eyes closed, wishing the fight would end soon.

A muffled and distorted voice called over the radio, "About 10 minutes from the LZ. Make sure your belt is strapped in well, I haven't landed here in a few months, and the gravel is probably pretty rough."

The pilot speaking was a friend of Russell's dad. After Russell had the grand idea of taking a five-day camping trip in the woods, he convinced Andre to fly us out to an old spot Russell and his dad would camp. I was more interested in going to a state park for a few days, but Russell insisted on camping as he and his old man would. I had never camped beyond an RV park so it would be a new experience.

The plane banked hard to the right as we circled the rough gravel runway. The old high-winged airplane bounced in the turbulent, mid-day air. The runway was far from any towns or any signs of civilization. The gravel looked wavy, possibly from the recent snow melt. As the pilot lowered the flaps, the plane leveled out and began to rock lightly.

"Hold on to something," Ted called over the radio as he leaned back into the seat. The plane touched the rocks as he carefully set us on the ground. As the aircraft rolled, the entire frame bounced and shook until coming to a stop. The engine cut, leaving an eerie silence before the headset spoke.

"Welcome to Martin's runway. The finest gravel runway on this side of the river, if only because it's the only one on this side," Russ shouted excitedly into the headset. He quickly unstrapped himself and exited the plane.

Looking out the window, we are surrounded by trees on all sides--only small patches of grass on the edges of the gravel. My hands struggled with the seat buckle, still shaking from the landing. I slid across the back bench seat and grabbed my blue backpack while exiting the plane. Dropping the short distance to the ground as the gravel gave way.

"May, uhh, what's today?" Ted asked as he wrote in a notebook against the side of the plane.

"The twenty-fourth," Russ shouted from the back of the plane, "you'll be here at twelve on Thursday, right?"

"That's the plan. If you need me sooner, call on the sat phone, yeah?" he said, closing up the notebook.

"Can do. Catch you in a few days, then. I owe you one for this," Russ turned away from the plane after Ted gave a short wave of his fingers. As we walked to the edge of the gravel, the plane roared to life. After a short drive down the runway, it was gone.

"So we are stuck here then?" I asked, glancing over to Russel as he bucked the straps on his bag.

"Nah, we can call Ted whenever. It just takes a bit for him to get out here," he pulled the last strap tight and turned to the trees, "we have a ways to go before we reach the lake cabin. So we may as well get started."

Pulling my straps tight, I followed Russ into the trees. The path, or what existed of one, was rough. The slight semblance that someone or something had walked these woods did not inspire confidence. Russ continued to walk without a second guess, so one can only assume he knew where to go.

"So you and your old man used to take trips out here? Any specific reason, or was it just a thing?"

"The whole family would go three times a year. My old man had friends who would share the cabin on other weeks. It was secluded and quiet." Russ shouted from the front, only slightly turning his head to face me, "Ted has been up here a few times recently. Say's the cabin is still in good shape."

"I would hope so. Sleeping in a tent for the next week would suck."

Russ chuckled, "worse if the wood stove isn't working. Open fire cooking all week," Russ spun around and pointed around the ground, "keep an eye out for anything we can cook up to. I have a few ready meals but not enough for the entire week."

"Wait, we didn't pack enough food for the trip?"

Russ glanced, looking confused, "well, no? There is plenty to eat out here. I brought my fishing and trapping gear. You have nothing to worry about," as he turned away, his eyes caught something at the base of a tree. Ripping four mushrooms from the ground, "Like these babies! They are-uhh, I don't know their name, but I do know they are safe to eat!"

"You're sure? The last thing I want is to get poisoned out here."

"One hundred percent! We used to cook these up all the time. Just fry them, and you're fine," he placed the mushrooms in his jacket pocket. Along the rest of the walk, Russ gathered many random berries and possibly edible things. Figuring he knew what he was doing, I never interjected.

The trees towered over us as we walked deeper and deeper into the forest. The ground looked untouched, a massive difference from the small woods back home. The light wind would blow, and the trees creak and groan. After over two hours of walking, the trees cleared, revealing a small lake. The lake looked no more than a half mile across, and a small wooded island stood in the middle--a small log cabin peeks from behind the foliage to the western side. Looking abandoned, as if no one had touched it in years.

"There it is!" Russ shouted as he ran toward the cabin, "it's just like I remember it!" Attempting to follow Russ was a lost cause, and I fell into the dirt, tripping myself on the ground and the thick grass. When I caught my bearings, he was already at the door.

Walking up to the cabin, it was clear no one had been inside for a long time. The door was swollen from years of paint flaking off, making opening the door tricky. But once inside, the cabin was in decent shape, albeit dusty. Relieved, we threw our bags to the ground, and Russ quickly cleared the tiny counter of dust using an old towel.

The dust flew into the air, making the room slightly hazy. The small cabin was covered in a thick layer of dust that would need to be removed before it was liveable again. Probing the door open helped alleviate some haze, but a fan would have helped more. Russ dug under the counter until he found a green canister. Giving a hard shake, he smiled.

"We've got gas. No campfires tonight!" he proudly held up the propane tank, "I say we celebrate. You wanna fry those mushrooms we found?"

Continuing to open windows and air out the cabin, I declined, "I'm good. I need to air this place out. You can cook if you want, though."

Russ wasted no time screwing the tank into the stove, "I'll cook 'em, but you have to try them at least. They are amazing when they are fresh."

Exploring the cabin more, it consisted of three rooms. The main room combined the kitchen, living space, and dining space- with a balcony sitting over the top of the other two rooms. The room on the left was storage, and the room to the right was a basic bedroom. Empty shelves covered in dust gave the space an eerie feeling to the sleeping area. The upper balcony had a small flat camping mattress with a battery-operated lamp, which had been long dead.

"You said your family stayed here, right? Isn't it a little small?" I asked from the balcony, climbing down.

Russ prepping the now-sliced mushrooms, responded happily, "It was tight, but we were also young. My sister and I would sleep up top, and our parents in the bedroom. We never spent much time inside, though. Our fun was in the lake," something sparked in his eyes as he ran out the front door and around the side.

Following him, we reached the back of the cabin. Among the tall grass was a green canoe sitting on two saw horses. Russ quickly flipped the canoe onto the ground and began to drag it around the cabin.

"Is that thing seaworthy?"

"Seas worthy? No, but it's a lake, not an ocean," Russ drug the boat to the edge of the water and removed three oars from the side, "We gotta take it out later. It may be weird with only two people, but we will figure it out!"

He walked back into the cabin without me, and I instead looked around the outside. The cabin looked cheerful and depressing; you could tell it was a place filled with fun memories in the past, but now it was shabby and worn. Russ always talked about the fun times his family had here, but looking now, it seemed like the world moved on without it. Pulling back, some grass revealed the sides, covered in dirt and years of dead leaves. But just the simple act of stomping the grass down at least helped it look nicer.

"Grub is done!" Russ shouted from inside. Meeting him at the doorway, he held the pan up to me, "you can be the first to try them!" Reluctantly pinching the mushroom, I placed it in my mouth. The taste was almost woody, sweet but woody. I wasn't a massive fan of it, but Russ enjoyed it.

"They taste like they may be overcooked, maybe overripe?" he finished the piece and threw the rest in the woods, "I'll get the next ones just right."

We continued to clean the cabin, getting most of the dust cleared from the sleeping areas. Not realizing how long it had taken, the sun had begun to set. Russ started building a fire outside while I unpacked the sleeping bags. My neck had a slight itch that was most likely from the mosquitos, but slowly the tingle traveled to the back of my head. I tried spraying some itch relief and bug spray onto the back of my neck, but that gave minimal results. I would need to remember to spray up next time before I was bitten.

The sun was fully down, and walking out of the dark cabin, the warmth of the fire met my face with the soft glow lighting up the front of the cabin. Russ sat on a log and stared into the fire, his eyes locked onto the burning logs.

"You get bit up too?" I asked, taking a seat on the other side of the fire.

Russ looked concerned, "From the bugs? Yeah," he held his arms under his jacket and avoided eye contact.

"Is everything good?"

Russ pulled his arms from under his jacket, scratching the surface of his skin, "yeah, I think I'm fine. But, uhh, I think something was off with those mushrooms, dude."

"Why do you say that?"

Russ hesitated before whispering, "They weren't completely safe to eat. I'm hallucinating hairs on my hands and arms. I don't think they were the kind I thought they were," he held up his arm and pulled down a sleeve. Growing from his skin was a patch of brown hairs. From the back of his fingers and down to his elbow was thick brown fur.

"Oh, so we are... tripping right now?" Asking quietly, and Russ gave the nod. Looking back to where Russ had thrown the mushrooms, then back to Russ, he gave me wide eyes.

"Woah! Dude! Your neck is covered in white stuff!" Russ shouted and stood up, pointing.

Reaching up, feeling the back of my neck, there was certainly something there. Gripping the object and pulling gave me a sharp pain before it pulled from my skin. In my hand was a small, white feather. Rotating it between my fingers, unable to believe what was before my eyes, I looked up at Russ.

"How long does it last?" I shouted, panicking at the thought of being on any psychedelic.

Russ slowly walked toward the cabin, "Let's try and sleep it off. No sense in getting worked up, right?"

"We are high on shrooms, dude! I never wanted to do drugs, and now I'm tripping. God knows how far from home!" I shouted, pulling more feathers from my neck and winching as every feather left a stinging pain.

Russ kept a calm demeanor but struggled to speak, "I'm going to go to bed, and it will all be over in the morning. I suggest you do the same, Dean."

Following Russ into the cabin, we carefully walked to the two beds. I climbed up onto the balcony, and Russ retreated to the bedroom. Pulling myself into the sleeping bag, I attempted to fall asleep. My heart raced at the thought of being high on some random mushrooms, but eventually, I passed out.

My eyes were met with the soft morning sunlight through the balcony window. Sitting up, remembering we were in the old cabin, I climbed the balcony ladder and began looking for Russ. The front door was still locked, so I opened the bedroom door to find him still sleeping. Unable to see his arms, I called out his name, "Russell!" He jumped awake, trying to pull himself from the bag. His hands peeked out, and I spotted the brown fur.

"Your hands, dude, they still look hairy."

Russell gave a shocked look at me, "Your neck is still covered in feathers. Are we still going on that mushroom?"

Grabbing at the back of my neck, I confirmed that the feathers were still there. Growing up to the back of my head and around the front of my neck. But if we were high, why would we see them the same way? Wouldn't his brain see it differently?

"Russ, I don't think we are high. But I don't think we are normal either."

"Wha... what's going on?"

"I don't know, but we need to find that mushroom."

Bolting out of the bedroom and out the front door, I found the remains of the fried mushroom. Carefully picking up the partially eaten slab and running back inside with it. Russ was digging through a handbook he found in the drawer, quickly finding the mushroom in question.

"It says here it's completely safe! It also says it doe not look like any other mushrooms. So I was right; it isn't dangerous," Rush yelled, pointing at the book.

"So if it isn't the mushroom? What did this?"

Standing in silence, we wait for each other to answer. Hoping one would know why we were like this. Russ lifted his arm; at first, I thought he figured something out, but quickly, his face turned from shock to horror.

"AHHHH!" Russ yelled painfully as his fingers shook, "fuck! What's happening?" his fingers violently convulsed. Each finger pulled in closer, covering itself in the brown fur. Russ continued to yell in agony as his hairy hands widened, and five small protrusions emerged from each digit. Flipping his hand over revealed five padded digits tipped with sharp claws. His palm is nonexistent and replaced by a sixth, much larger pad. His hands stopped their convulsions, and Russ looked over his new paws in horror.

"B..b...b...bear claws?" Russell stuttered, "what the hell is happening to us?"

Russell took a step back, stumbling and attempting to catch himself. But his newly formed claws drug down the side of a cabinet, leaving three deep gorges in the wood. Leading to him yelling again, "AAHHHH!"

Little did we know, this was just the beginning. Not just our changes, but the world itself had just changed and we are alone.