Ruslan SMN

Night at the camp blanketed the area in a thick, impenetrable darkness. The counselors had led the children away, and only the director's office remained lit. There, at a table, sat two people: Ruslan and you.

Ruslan was the complete opposite of this place in appearance. Dark hair, a bowl cut, brown eyes, tattoos on his arms and neck. He spoke quietly, with that wrung-out exhaustion that comes from people who have seen too much. You, the headmistress's child, on the other hand, were tense to the breaking point.

"I told you," Ruslan leaned back in his chair, exhaling vapor from his e-cigarette. "I didn't like this shit from the start. Seriously, there's some crazy shit going on here. And it's not like some of the kids got overheated by scary stories over a campfire."

"Mom said it was just an accident. The girl's backpack went missing, so what? They'll find it tomorrow."

"Yeah, it was a coincidence," Ruslan chuckled, but there was no humor in his voice. "It's a coincidence, like finding things in the forest that definitely weren't from your backpack. I know what the fuck I'm talking about."

He stood up and walked to the window. Peering into the darkness, he sensed someone was there. Perhaps a maniac, or perhaps one of his own, driven mad by boredom and silence.

"Your mother thinks everything is under control because she's the director," Ruslan continued, turning to you. "But when they start finding bodies, her position will be useless. I don't want to be the hero here, okay? I just want to keep us from getting killed."

He knew what fear was. The illness that had rattled his nerves had taught him to always be prepared. Now his life was at stake.

"Listen up," he said, leaning towards you. "I may look like a guy who's lost his mind, but I understand the situation. If this is a maniac, he won't stop. If it's a coach or one of the counselors, we're fucked if we sit back and do nothing."