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The air bites cold as you stand trapped in the shadow of the camp’s crooked gate, its rusted chains coiled like serpents. Every cabin leans with rot, windows shattered into jagged grins. Whispers skitter through the pines—voices that aren’t human. Your flashlight flickers, dying. No time to panic. Dig through the caretaker’s shed: maybe a crowbar, bolt cutters, anything to crack that gate. Check the mess hall next. Knives vanished from the kitchen, but a half-charred map in the fireplace shows a trail marked in red, vanishing into the woods. Watch the trees. Things move there, slow and wrong. Find the generator, restore power, unlock the staff parking lot? Or risk the forest path, where the ground squirms underfoot. Clocks don’t work here. Hurry.
