Chapter Text
Samson G. Spamton wasn’t successful in life. Everyone knew that and everyone had to remind him of it. Every day of his life, he was working his ass off to make it big.
Every day, he got into his car and got the job done.
He didn’t even care about the kind of job, whether it be building computers, plumbing, garden work or car repairs - which were his favourite - he’d do anything to make money, to hone his skills and be independent. Sometimes he’d even deliver packages or did IT support.
Was he the best? Probably not.
But he was a jack of all trades, he could take any job at any time. He was free to choose his clients and free to move on at any point.
It might have been hard work but it was honest work. He had dabbled in business like his brothers but had never been a good salesman. Something that was still weighing on him but not as much as it once did, even if it was the main reason for his lack of success.
He wanted to be free to choose, free to make his own deals without the strings of his family attached to his life.
To them he was a failure who lived in a shabby apartment that he could barely afford but this was temporary, he knew that his luck would turn around any day now. He simply had to be patient.
To his misfortune, today wasn’t that day.
In fact, today was an absolute disaster.
It had all started with that delivery.
The first mistake was likely accepting a deal that every normal delivery service vehemently declined.
The second mistake was trusting Ramb with a job like that and not asking for all the details.
The third mistake was not laughing in Ramb’s face after learning of the six hour drive into nowhere and never telling him to find a different idiot.
But the pay was incredible and he could hopefully get a generous tip out of the jerk that decided to build his cabin in the woods.
Spamton’s mood was bad to say the least and getting his car stuck was certainly not helping. He had just looked at the map for a moment when some deer ran past his car in the middle of the day and he swerved off the road. Granted, you could hardly call the dirt track he was on a road but the ditch besides it was just adding insult to injury.
The only saving grace was the fact that he at least didn’t hit a tree and his car was technically still working, he simply had no way to get it out and back on the clearly abandoned trail.
He had cursed at the physical map, no one used those anymore but he quickly realised that his destination wasn’t on any digital map to begin with and his signal had been terrible since he entered the woods.
He checked his car for anything he should take with him like the map, his phone - no signal - and his wallet, not that he had a lot of money but his ID could be useful if he found someone. If it wasn’t for the beautiful weather and the liveliness of spring, this was the exact scenario an idiotic horror story protagonist would find themself in.
And something about being lost in the wide, seemingly endless labyrinth of trees didn’t help. Especially when he already lost his orientation shortly after he left his car.
Before he went on his way, the human grabbed a water bottle as well in case he needed it. “Stupid deer…” He mumbled while locking the vehicle. Better safe than sorry, even if it was unlikely for the squirrels to break in.
Spamton really hoped that he wasn’t too far away from his client but the map had been entirely useless for at least an hour now, so he wasn’t too confident about this. It would also probably be the best to stay on the path, both to avoid getting even more lost and to find his car again. Without it, he was done for.
While he walked deeper into the forest, his thoughts returned to the night before.
-
“A new job?” Spamton asked before downing his drink and putting the glass back on the counter. It was cool to the touch and condensed air clung to tye transparent surface before finding its way on Spamton’s impatient fingers. “The kind of jobs you give me are usually… ya know…?” He squinted for emphasis.
Ramb shrugged. “You don’t have to accept.” He waved a piece of paper in front of the other man. “But the compensation might just make it worth your while.”
Spamton watched with a frown, it was tempting him as if the paper was a white flag that signalled his defeat; for giving up before he even tried, let alone listened to the offer.
Samson G. Spamton wasn’t a quitter.
He didn’t give up on anything, especially not his dreams, any hardship was merely a challenge to overcome and one day he’d get rewarded for it. Giving up and admitting defeat even once would mean that he might miss out on the opportunity that could get him ahead of the competition.
This could be the opportunity that lead to him becoming big one day in the future and he wasn’t about to let it slip between his fingers.
His lungs filled with air, while his soul pounded with determination and perseverance. He bit down on his cigarette while a grin tugged on his lips. “Fine… what’s it about—?” He asked, only for the door’s bell to ring and two skeletons to enter the bar.
One of them was tall — though lanky described its build even better — and the other was short — a rather stout monster compared to his companion.
Spamton watched them from the corner of his eyes, relaxing only minutely when they sat down in the furthest corner of the bar. His deprecatory glare was shared by most of the other humans, though Ramb appeared mostly indifferent.
“Don’t cause a scene again.” Ramb spoke as a warning and plea.
“Why do you allow them here?” Spamton mumbled. “That monster scum should have stayed in the underground.” He scoffed and nibbled on his cigarette, it still wasn’t lit and his fingers tapped nervously on the counter while his eyes locked in on the no-smoking sign.
“I get that not everyone is happy with them around but why do you hate them so much?” The bartender asked. “They pay like any other customer. And there are laws in place, can’t discriminate against them just for being different.”
“They eat humans, they can take our souls and use magic. I don’t understand why we are allowing them around at all...” Spamton rolled his eyes. “Just give me the rundown… anything I need to know?” His eyes wandered back to the white paper, seeking distraction from the unwelcome company.
The older man smirked and offered him the letter. “Some guy who lives in the forest a few hours from town. Some wealthy recluse that asked for a private cinema setup, asked for someone who can deliver and install the setup too. Real’ big fan of old movies, so he asked to add some DVDs, VHS and film reels.”
The barely shorter human raised a brow. “So, the customer is some rich collector with an interest in retro technology? I thought everyone was streaming today.” He mumbled.
“Physical media is getting more popular again but this guy seems to have never stopped. He actually sounded surprised that streaming is a thing… kinda doubt he even understood when I tried to explain it.” Ramb laughed.
“How old is that guy? Sounds like he was born in the 1920s…” Spamton mumbled.
The other man shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that he pays well and I need someone to deliver this by tomorrow evening.”
Spamton sighed. “How much?”
Ramb nodded at the letter and tended to some other customers. “You can have 30 percent.”
The human sighed and unfolded it, only to freeze at the sight of the payment. This couldn’t be real. That was enough money to get him through at least two months even after sharing with Ramb. All of that money for at most a day of work and some outdated technology was unheard of.
“Alright, buddy… what the hell is this?” He held it up. “I am really not in the mood for jokes. You’re telling me that this guy is willing to pay this much for a simple delivery job?”
“Including electrical work, yes.” Ramb cleaned a glass once the customers had their drinks. “Too good to be true for you, luv?”
“Too good to be—“ Spamton blinked at him. “I will probably get abducted and sold to the black market as soon as I enter that forest!”
“You ain’t pretty enough for that.” Ramb smirked. “He apparently asked other people before and one of them recommended that he gets in contact with me. You’re the only guy I know who is desperate enough to take this job and has the qualifications.”
“Geez… you’re a really charmer.” The human tapped his finger on the glass and ran it along the rim. “I need to be more drunk to consider this.” He mumbled and watched his bartender fill up half of his shot. “What’s that?”
“All you can afford tonight. Technically, more than that but it’s on the house.” Ramb explained while he turned away from him and got back to work.
“If I am supposed to accept, I want a full glass and 50 percent.” Spamton scoffed.
“I’m not giving you half.” Ramb told him. “35.”
Spamton glared at him. “I do all the work. 45.”
“Without me, you get nothing.” Ramb reminded him. “40. My last offer.”
Spamton grit his teeth. “Fine. You got yourself a deal.” He offered his hand. “45 percent.”
Ramb shook his hand. “40.”
Spamton accepted begrudgingly.
-
He wished that he didn’t agree at all because if he lost his car and all of the equipment; he was going to run errands for Ramb for the next ten years.
That had likely been his plan, this mystery client possibly didn’t even exist.
He groaned and sat down on a rock by the path to check his phone. As if his situation wasn’t enough of a horror movie cliché, his phone still had no signal.
Spamton felt a sudden urge to throw it against a tree, his reason decided against this and he took a sip from the water bottle instead. His throat felt dry but he needed to save as much fresh water as he could.
It wasn’t summer yet — only a few days until spring ended. The weather hadn’t gotten the memo though, tree shadows offered some protection from the solar powerhouse in the sky.
It was simply hot.
Even protection from UV rays didn’t change that fact.
He might not get a sunburn, that was a positive he tried to think of as Spamton dreaded to drown in his own sweat.
The fabric of his clothes stuck to his skin, clammy and therefore uncomfortable. He felt disgusting and craved a cold shower, the next lake he found would have to do.
He hadn’t seen any sources of water yet, making him wonder whether this forest had any at all. There had to be with how fresh and green everything looked, it might also rain a lot but he just hoped it wasn’t that.
As he kept walking, the path became more grown in and nearly disappeared under a layer of weeds; grass, flowers and roots fought for dominance on the hardly-walkable ground.
Spamton’s frustration grew, barely overshadowing his increasing anxiety as he struggled to figure out the direction.
There was a distinct feeling of being watched in the back of his mind that he decided to ignore
He took another sip from his water, then a second one. Spamton had completely forgotten about time, had barely noticed that the bottle was nearly empty when he swallowed the last drop.
His back hit a tree as support to stay upright, his body sunk slowly to the ground before he hugged his legs and put his head onto his knees. “Fuck…”
He felt like crying.
He was a grown man that felt like a lost child, wishing for an adult to find them and bring them home.
But he wasn’t a child and no one was coming to look for him, he wasn’t going to die and become mountain lion or wolf food.
He really hoped this forest didn’t have any predators, at least not anything that would he dangerous to a human. There were definitely venomous snakes, spiders and plenty of insects. All the things he hated.
Samson G. Spamton wasn’t a nature lover, far from it as someone who spend his whole life in the big city and saw parks as too much of a bad thing. Animals, plants, weather; it was all an inconvenience at best.
Garden work was his least favourite gig for a reason and his last resort if he had no better alternative.
Technology was where it was at and if he never set foot in a forest again, it was too soon.
Spamton closed his eyes for a while and let the wind tickle his dark hair, the occasional sun beam found its way through the leaves and shone onto is hazelnut skin.
He wanted to rest for a moment and would have almost found it peaceful if he hadn’t felt the wind pick up; the rustling of leaves made him perk up and stare at the treetops as they began shaking a little more.
He shielded himself but the increasing wind force subsided before it could cause any damage. “Strange…” The man mumbled and got back on his feet. It didn’t look like rain but he feared that it might become stormy despite the blue sky above him.
He wanted to check the map and noticed that it was gone, the uncomfortable crawling sensation under his skin wasn’t enough to describe the horrifically heart-stopping realisation.
He knew that he was lost but losing the only form of orientation —no matter how useless — truly cemented the reality of his situation.
He was lost and he was going to die here.
Spamton shook his head to get his thoughts straight. He had to get out of the woods, he wouldn’t die here and the map couldn’t be far away. It likely fell out of his pocket because he hadn’t secured it well because of its size and then the winds carried his lifeline along.
He searched the area and finally saw the off-white paper that the map had been printed on. It seemed as if it got stuck on a low twig. Spamton hurried towards it and reached out, nearly touching the object of his fixation before a black bear rose to its feet before him.
Spamton had likely startled it and turned away to run; staying calm be damned when the beast was already provoked.
He ran for his life, forgetting all about the map when his heart pounded and his feet were willing to carry him to the end of the world.
To his surprise the bear wasn’t just catching up, it was passing him and running ahead of the human into some bushes.
The confused traveller slowed down and stared ahead in utter confusion. The bear clearly hadn’t targeted him; it could have jumped him and torn him apart, especially being a comparatively short man but the animal hadn’t done this.
It dawned on Spamton that if he wasn’t the threat and the bear hadn’t been one either, there had to be something else that scared a grown bear enough to choose flight immediately.
Something whose shadow was creeping up behind him and looming over the temporary mailman. He tensed up as if he expected the creature to be as blind as a T-Rex from the Jurassic Park movies.
His legs were trembling and he was breathing in a shallow manner before he clenched his fists, quickly noticing that they were as clammy as his clothes.
Spamton turned around slowly, his gaze wandered upwards until his eyes reached the tall creature’s head. All he saw were claws, too many limbs, fangs, antennae and anything inhuman that he could imagine in his nightmares.
Before he could take a proper look, he was running deeper into the undergrowth.