It was Mia's idea to go camping. In fact, most things we do start
out as one of her ideas. Neither of us were exactly
outdoor enthusiasts, but we had both grown up in rural towns and
did our share of hiking and fishing growing up, so I wasn't
exactly daunted by the idea of spending a few days in the
woods. But I wasn't excited either.
School had just let out for spring break, and after another
semester of getting kicked by midterms, it was very tempting
to give into my body's desire for a few days of uninterrupted
sleep. Uninterrupted sleep,
unfortunately, was not Mia's idea of a good time.
She had been suggesting the idea to me for weeks beforehand, and
I had always brushed her off by claiming I had other things
coming up. But by the time the brake rolled
around, I had run out of excuses and she had already prepared
everything with me in mind. So it was decided we left on
Sunday. Despite Mia making me wake up
before the sun even rose to get on the road, I found myself in a
strangely good mood. I had spent most of the previous
day either eating or napping, the most uninterrupted rest I
had gotten since Christmas. We drove up from Bakersfield,
her truck bathed in the light of the desert sunrise.
At first, we spoke of classes and tests, and then of a camping
spot that she had found in the forests of the Sierra Nevada.
It wasn't actually a campground, she informed me.
It was something called dispersed camping, which means
you register a permit with park services and then pitch a tent
wherever you like. This also meant no water, heat
or electricity. Leave it to Mia to make sure
everything we do is to the extreme.
By the time the desert scenery had bled into the Browns and
greens of the Sierra foothills, I had rifled through all of our
packs. I trusted Mia with the planning,
but now that I realized we were going to be a little more off
the grid than previously anticipated, I just wanted to
make sure we each had our own private tents and sleeping bags,
along with a few days supply of food and water.
Cooking utensils, first aid kits, and other items were
divided up between our 2 packs, which were already stacked high
enough to peek over my head when they were on my back.
I recognized landmarks near Sequoia National Park in King's
Canyon, but Mia took us farther north and I lost track of the
terrain. She turned on a trail that led
us deeper into the mountains and pulled over when it ended at the
foot of a hill. I was out here last week looking
around for spots, she said, opening the car door.
If we hike around this hill here, there's a sort of little
valley with a lake at the bottom where we can set up.
I groaned a little as I shrugged on my pack.
How long a hike? I asked.
I took a step forward and winced at the sound of pots clanging
together. Next time I'm packing my own
bag. Maybe half an hour or so.
A little cardio never hurt anyone, I guess, and I bumped
the pack higher before tightening the hip strap, trying
to keep the weight from dragging on my shoulders.
Mia was right. Just around the hill.
The terrain dropped dramatically towards a lake at the center of
the valley, almost like a caldera, though I doubted there
used to be any active volcanoes around these parts.
Mia led the way down through some steep ground where I
worried I might slip and roll all the way down into the lake,
but the firm dirt made good footing and the trees made good
hand holds. Mia suddenly stopped.
I heard the rushing of water. I peeked around her shoulder and
saw that in front of us lay a stream, almost a small river if
I was being generous. It also LED towards the lake,
but a bend in the trail meant we had to cross it to continue.
The snows up in the mountains must have begun to melt, because
the stream had swelled in size, and the log that lay across it
was already submerged by a thin layer of water.
Only a few more minutes of walking after we cross this.
Mia said, nudging the log with the toe of her boot.
It seems sound enough despite being underwater.
I'd watch out. I said, leaning over the stream.
There were tiny ripples at the surface, but it looked Placid.
They say that streams like these only look calm on the surface.
Mia snorted out a laugh and stepped onto the log.
Yeah, that's why I don't plan on swimming in it.
She began to shimmy across, and after a few moments I shrugged
and joined her. It wasn't a far crossing, maybe
20 feet, and we were making fast progress, but in the end it was
always the little things that got you a little more than
halfway across. Mia's foot slipped and she
leaned forward to regain her balance.
Her sleeping bag, tied to the top of the pack, broke loose
from one of its straps and fell forward over her shoulder until
it was caught mid air by the remaining strap.
That little momentum was enough. Mia tottered for a split second
and then fell. I was right, the current was
fast. She reached out a hand to grab
onto the log, but by the time she resurfaced she was already
too far downstream. I began to scramble across,
hoping to get to the other side before she was pulled too far
away. I guess some luck was on our
side that day. The stream was fast, but it
wasn't deep and it couldn't pull her under.
Some 20 yards downstream, her pack had caught onto a fallen
tree and that was how I found her gasping and sputtering.
Maybe it was a combination of the adrenaline and the ice cold
water, but by the time we stumbled to the spot where we
were going to set up camp, Mia was laughing hysterically.
She had rolled her ankle during her stint in the stream and was
limping on ahead of me while I stumbled after her with her pack
in addition to mine strapped to me.
I don't plan on swimming in it. Mia giggled from ahead of me and
then I fell right into the damn thing.
Even I had to smile at that, despite being stuck with around
60 lbs of supplies. Maybe I did need some more
action in my life now. I really had a story to tell
when I got back home. It was just about noon by the
time we finished pitching our tents and hung our wet clothes
out to dry. Mia began digging a fire pit to
cook our lunch as we had neglected to bring a jet boiler.
I took this moment to take stock of my surroundings and was
pleasantly surprised that we found a genuinely beautiful spot
to set up camp. We were by the edge of the lake
where the mountains flattened out and the tree line ended a
few yards from the shore. After being in school dorms for
nearly a year, the amount of quiet was almost uncanny, the
only sounds being the wind in the trees and the waves breaking
against the sand. It was alluring, like a lullaby.
Mia cussed beside me and I looked over.
She was struggling to get the fire going.
Her hands shook as she tried to light another match.
A small pile of used ones already lay by her knee.
Let me try. I said, sitting up.
She had almost been pulled away by a stream an hour ago.
I reasoned, sometimes the shock only hits you after the
adrenaline has gone away. I had more luck and after the
fire got going, the rest of the afternoon and evening went by
pleasantly. I rummaged through my pack and
found that Mia had packed marshmallows and chocolate for
s'mores. I tossed the packaging on the
ground and jokingly said. I see my pack was so heavy
because it was full of all these essential supplies.
Mia grinned and then shrugged innocently.
She grabbed the package of marshmallows and began
unceremoniously shoving them into her mouth.
Aren't those for cooking? I asked, and Mia looked up at me
with a very well acted look of confusion.
I laughed. When the sunset, both of us
agreed to retire early so we could wake up at sunrise to
explore the area in the morning. I shimmied into my tent and
pulled the zipper closed. I checked my watch one last time
before letting the sound of waves lull me to sleep.
I woke up in the dark and something was wrong.
The air was heavy and my skin was clammy, as if I had just
broken a fever. Nothing was disturbed inside my
tent and the outside was still quiet.
There was nothing reasonable that could have caused this
feeling. It's hard to explain.
Thinking back on it, the only conclusion I could come to is
that we as a species are old. Younger than the forests and
mountains of course, but still old enough.
And in that time, we have seen many things.
You can conjure up your life experiences and logic all you
want, but deep down there is a part of you that simply knows
when something is wrong. And in that moment, I knew.
Suddenly there was a light tapping on the flap of my tent,
and then a voice. You need to come outside.
Mia whispered, and she sounded terrified.
I took a few deep breaths and clenched my pocket knife in a
white knuckle grip. In a flurry of motion, I
unzipped the flap and stuck my face outside.
I came face to face with Mia. Her hair was dishevelled and she
looked to be on the verge of tears.
I opened my mouth, but she clamped a hand down over my lips
and motioned for me to be silent.
For a few moments neither of us spoke and the only sound to be
heard was our heavy breathing as we stared at each other.
But then Mia's eyes slowly drifted away from mine towards
the lake. I saw her pupils dilate until I
could barely see the color of her eyes.
Run. She whispered, I didn't have
time to question her. She leaped up and sprinted into
the woods. I didn't waste a second before
getting up and following her. The two of us crashed through
the undergrowth. Perhaps Mia was clearing the way
in front of me because it was strangely easy.
Maybe I was simply scared. Mia.
I called to the shape in front of me, but there was no answer,
only the sound of her breathing and the cracking of branches.
Mia, what's going on? Still nothing.
And then the adrenaline in my system began to run out, and
suddenly I stopped. It was dark, almost too dark to
see. We had left all our lanterns
back at the camp, and the canopy practically blocked out any
moonlight. We'd been running for several
minutes, but there were no cuts on me or branches clinging to my
hair. It was like I hadn't been
forcing my way through the trees at all.
It was as if they were welcoming me.
Ahead of me, Mia had stopped too.
She was standing still and I couldn't hear her breath
anymore. We have to keep going.
She said, her voice strangely level.
Not until you tell me what's going on.
I called back. Mia shook her head.
It was even darker where she was standing and I couldn't make out
her face, but behind her was some sort of clearing, and the
light coming through silhouetted her against the trees.
We're almost out of the forest, She said, and I saw that she was
right. There was nothing I would not
give to be out of this God forsaken forest.
But no, it couldn't be. It took us half an hour to hike
here, and that was downhill. The forest could not end here.
I was being reeled in like a fish chasing a worm on a hook.
Mia turned around and as she did, she took a step towards me,
an impossibly huge step. She had been several yards ahead
and now we were almost face to face.
I ran. I turned around and I ran like I
was being chased by the devil himself.
If the trees had been welcoming on the way in, they were the
opposite. On the way out, branches caught
on my clothes and cut my arms and face.
I kept on stumbling over tree roots and rocks, but I was
undeterred. Behind me, I heard her running
after me, but it didn't sound like Mia any longer.
It sounded like like it had four legs.
I wasn't even tempted to turn around, I was too focused on
running and my eyes stayed locked on the light that marked
the end of the tree line. I practically dove onto the
beach and fell hard onto my hands and knees.
I felt the bones in my wrist crunch at the landing.
I continued to crawl until I was almost in the water before I
turned around. There was nothing there.
I wasn't far from our tents and I watched in wonder as Mia's
tent unzipped from the inside and she stepped out.
What are you doing? She asked groggily.
I ran towards her and practically tackled her into a
hug. It was thanks to Mia that we
both didn't fall, because in that moment my knees gave out.
There's something in the forest. I said, and to her credit, she
immediately grew serious. Did you see someone?
She asked, scanning the dark line of trees looming over us.
No, I said. Well, yes, but I, I don't know.
And at that moment I didn't want to tell her what I saw, because
Speaking of it makes it all the more real.
Something tried to lure me into the forest.
I said at length. But I don't think it's human.
Mia just stared at me. For a split second I thought she
was going to call me insane, but it never came.
We need to get to the truck. She said.
If she had any questions, she refrained from asking them.
No, I replied, regaining some of my composure.
It wants us in the forest. We're as good as in the forest
right now, Mia reasoned. The truck is right there.
We need to leave. I looked up and I could see the
glint of the truck in the moonlight at the top of the
hill. It seems so close.
I outran at once. We could do it again, and
there'll be two of us this time. Once we're there, we'll drive,
and we won't stop until this freak show is ours behind us.
We could be in Bakersfield by morning, but no, no we couldn't.
Because the truck is more than a mile away, tucked behind some
hill. We shouldn't be able to see it
from here. It was simply impossible.
Whatever it was, it was a good hunter, I admit.
Because good hunters don't chase you with drums and torches.
They come at night, and they come quietly, disguised as
everything you could want. When you are in the dark, they
are a light, When you are trapped, they are escape, and
when you are lonely, they are company.
I pushed Mia away. Why didn't you wake up when I
ran into the forest? I asked.
She shrugged and her facial expression clearly showed that
she thought I was being an idiot.
You were quiet. She replied.
But you heard me when I came back.
She looked me in the eyes. I guess you were louder.
There was a tense moment between us where no one spoke, then Mia
threw her hands into the air in exasperation.
What use is this? She shouted.
We need to leave. I shook my head and took a step
back. No, I said, I'm staying here.
She looked at me like I had finally gone insane, but I
wouldn't budget. Mia took a step toward me, and I
flipped my pocket knife open and pointed it at her.
She stopped in her tracks and stared at me.
You couldn't say she looks surprised.
So it's going to be like this, huh?
I nodded, and the two of us lapsed into yet another silence.
After a while she sat and I followed suit.
She talked to me all night. At first she tried to convince
me that we needed to leave. She begged me.
In fact. She talked about how close the
truck was and how dangerous it was to be out here.
Then, as the night dragged on, she spoke of stranger things.
She asked me if I was tired and I didn't reply.
You never have to be tired again, she said.
I don't just mean tonight. What will you do once you leave?
Go back to your life? Work.
You will be tired for the rest of your life.
You will die tired. She made a sweeping gesture with
her hand that encompassed the expanse of trees behind her.
You can stay here forever. She said.
I promise you will never be tired again.
When I didn't answer, she began to speak of her sisters.
I knew for a fact that Mia had no sisters.
She talked about how they would gather berries for me and how
they would make me a crown of oak leaves to wear.
She told me that they stitched clothes with no seams and made
fabrics from the foam of the sea.
I was in a trance. She painted pictures in my mind
of how they would fashion me flutes and harps, and how we
would go dancing through the forest during winter, leaving
behind only footprints in the snow.
When you sing, she said, smiling, the snows will melt and
you will bring in the first flowers of spring.
And Even so, I did not move, and I did not sleep.
Finally, just before dawn broke, Mia stood.
So this is it. And her voice didn't even sound
like Mia's anymore. A marvellous hunt comes to an
end. And she bent at the waist in a
mock bow before turning around and walking into the woods.
You may leave. She laughed over her shoulder as
she melted into the shadows. Her laugh echoed across the
valley, making ripples in the water and shaking the trees like
the wind. I didn't trust her.
I waited until the sun was high in the sky before leaving
everything but my knife, and I ran for it.
I encountered nothing in the forest on the way back, but I
also didn't stop to look. By the time I reached the truck,
my legs were burning and I could feel my heartbeat in my ears.
I am not lying when I say I did not touch the brake pedal even
once driving out of those mountains.
I never looked behind me either, but the trees cast shadows on
the ground as I passed them, and just before I reached the edges
of the foothills, I swore I saw one in the shape of a woman.
And I saw it waving. I called park services at the
nearest town and gave them a polished version of what
happened. They searched the area and found
Mia's body face down in the lake, carried there by the
current. I don't know what I pulled out
of that stream, but it wasn't her.
It might sound twisted, but I was relieved to hear the news.
I had thought that well, that maybe Mia had never been there
with me, that it had planned this whole trip from start to
finish. I'm still in shock, but I will
mourn for my friend when the time comes.
I saw the stream. I knew how shallow it was.
Mia should not have died, but it killed her.
It got her, and it would have got me.
So, as beautiful as its words sounded, I did not stay.
It has no power outside. It lives in the forests.
I will say it again. It lives in the forests.
And when you see it, you will know.
The morning was crisp, the sort that bites at your cheeks and
reminds you why a thermos full of coffee is a hiker's best
friend. I'd set out early, aiming to
break in a new pair of boots on an unfamiliar trail I'd scouted
on an old coffee stained map of Washington state I kept rolled
up in my truck's glove compartment.
There's something about the quiet solace of the wilderness
that always drew me in, away from the noise and clutter of
everyday life. As my boots crunched over the
frost hardened path, the sun broke through the canopy in a
lazy, dappled pattern, lighting up the vibrant greens and deep
earthy Browns of the forest. I was alone, or at least I
thought I was, in a landscape where towering conifers
whispered ancient secrets and the air smelled sharply of pine
and damp Moss. Deciding on a whim to veer off
the marked trail, I ventured deeper into the woods.
The further I went, the more the forest seemed to close in around
me. The sounds of civilization faded
until all that remained was the rustle of leaves and the
occasional distant call of a hawk about 20 minutes in.
I found myself in a sunlit gully that promised new discoveries
and perhaps a view worth capturing on my camera.
That's when I saw it. Half hidden by a low shrub, a
rusty metal ring, jagged and menacing.
A bear trap, old and cruel looking, lay in wait.
My heart skipped a beat. One careless step more and I'd
have been in a world of hurt. Instinctively, I took a step
back, surveying the area with a new found wariness.
The hell you doing out here? The voice shattered, the serene
silence gruff and laced with suspicion.
I spun around, my hand instinctively reaching for the
bear spray on my belt, only to find nothing but air.
Who's there? I called out, trying to sound
more confident than I felt. He emerged from the brush like a
ghost of the forest, a tall figure, his presence as rugged
as the wilderness around us. His long Gray beard tangled with
his dreadlocks and his skin was weathered like leather, the
scars and lines telling stories I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
His eyes, intense and unblinking, fixed on me as he
cradled a bolt action rifle in his arms.
I asked you a question, son. What are you doing here?
His tone was commanding, leaving no room for a weak response.
Swallowing hard, I managed. Just hiking, Sir.
I didn't realize anyone was living out here.
He eyed me for a moment longer, his gaze piercing.
Then, unexpectedly, his expression softened slightly.
You see that trap back there, son?
He nodded toward where I had just been standing.
I nodded, unable to hide the tremor in my voice.
Yes, I saw it. He spat a wad of tobacco into
the dirt, his eyes never leaving mine.
Guess that means I got to hide him better.
For a moment, his deadpan expression made my heart plunge,
but then, without warning, he burst into a raspy, deep
throated laugh. Oh, I'm just kidding, son.
He wiped a tear from his weather beaten cheek, still chuckling.
The tension broke and I couldn't help but let out a relieved
laugh, though it sounded more nervous than I intended, as he
slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped closer.
Extending a rough, calloused hand, he introduced himself.
Names. Mark Hastings.
I took his hand, the grip firm and unyielding.
Nice to meet you, Mark. That handshake sealed the
beginning of an unlikely friendship forged in the remote
wilderness, where the shadows held secrets and the trees stood
as silent witnesses. Mark's cabin was a patchwork of
salvage wood and stone, a testament to the rugged
resilience of a man who chose wilderness over civilization.
Over time, I'd grown accustomed to the crackle of the fire and
the earthy smell of rabbit Stew simmering on the hearth whenever
I visited. These visits had become my
retreat, a place to escape the unending grind of the city.
One evening, as shadows lengthened and the sun dipped
behind the jagged peaks, Mark and I sat on mismatched wooden
chairs outside his cabin. The air was cool, carrying the
promise of night as Mark poured 2 glasses of his homemade honey
ale. The amber liquid glowed in the
fading light, and I took a sip, appreciating the subtle
sweetness that tingled on my tongue.
You ever seen anything really creepy out here?
I asked, curiosity piqued by the isolation and wild rumors I'd
heard about these parts. Mark's face, usually an open
book of hard lines and weathered expressions, closed off
momentarily. He set his glass down with a
deliberateness that made me tense.
Zach, I tell you, there's things in these woods that would make
your skin crawl. He began with the tale of the
Whistler, a phantom sound that seemed to drift through the
trees on nights just like this one.
Started off as just whispers on the wind, you know?
But one night he leaned closer, lowering his voice.
It was like it was calling to me from the darkness.
Saw it too, up in the trees. Not human, not animal.
Something else. The fire popped, a spark
shooting up into the night as if punctuating his words.
I shivered, not entirely from the cold.
It gets weirder. Mark continued, his eyes
reflecting the firelight as he described finding mutilated
animals near his cabin. Rabbits, squirrels, even a deer
once. And then one morning, a Puma.
Not killed by any beast. I know it's something cunning,
something bad. The tails spun into the night,
each one more unsettling than the last.
When he spoke of government men in the woods, his voice dipped
to almost a whisper, tinged with a blend of fear and anger.
They're up to something out here, Zach.
Seen em with my own eyes doing things they shouldn't.
Makes you wonder who the real monsters are.
His stories filled the crisp air, weaving a tape House of
conspiracy and supernatural that was hard to dismiss outright
given the setting and the solemn sincerity in his tone.
It was during one of these conversations that Mark
mentioned the tunnels. There are places out here deep
below that ain't on any map. Old tunnels long forgotten.
I reckon that's what they're after.
Or maybe they put them there in the 1st place.
Curiosity overcame me. Can you show me?
Mark's gaze turned steely, his jaw set.
It's dangerous, Zach, but I suppose it's better you see with
your own eyes. We agreed to go the following
morning, and as I left that night, the forest seemed to
close in around me. The usual nocturnal sounds were
there, but so too was a silence that seemed laden with the
weight of unspoken secrets. I couldn't shake the feeling
that whatever lay hidden beneath these woods was not meant to be
disturbed. The sky was a bleak tapestry of
greys as I followed Mark through the dense underbrush, the chill
morning air biting through my jacket.
His stride was purposeful, his shoulders tense beneath the old
brown coat he always wore. The deeper into the woods we
went, the more I felt the oppressive weight of the unknown
pressing down on us. We rounded a bend and there it
was, hidden away behind a thick Grove of trees, an ancient stone
line tunnel entrance partially collapsed, it's dark maw like a
warning. Mark stopped a few feet away,
his face unreadable. This is it.
He said, his voice low. One of many, but the only one
I'll dare to show. The opening was blocked by
rubble and earth, as if the forest itself had tried to
swallow it back up. I approached, peering into the
shadows, feeling a mix of thrill and dread.
What's inside? I asked, my voice echoing
slightly against the stone. Bad things, Mark replied simply,
turning to scan the surrounding trees.
Things forgotten and meant to stay that way.
I studied his profile, the lines deepened by years of solitude
and secrets. Why show me this?
Because you ought to know what's out here, especially if you keep
coming back. His gaze was stern, almost
fatherly. There are things in these woods
that don't take kindly to intruders.
We didn't linger. Mark seemed anxious, his eyes
darting to the shadows that clung to the trees as we walked
back. The silence of the woods was
oppressive, the usual sounds of wildlife strangely muted.
Mark's stories replayed in my mind of creatures, government
conspiracies, and whispers of the supernatural.
Back at his cabin, the fire crackled, a warm welcome, but
the comfort it offered felt shallow.
Against my unease, Mark busied himself with skinning the
rabbits he'd caught in his traps.
But there was a tension between us that hadn't been there
before. Mark, have you ever thought that
maybe these stories, these things you've seen, are just
your mind playing tricks? I asked, the question hanging
awkwardly in the air. He stopped his work, looking up
with a wry smile. You think I'm crazy, huh?
Not crazy, just isolated. It can do things to a person's
mind. Mark nodded, considering this.
Maybe, but I know what I've seen and heard.
The conversation shifted then, as if the mention of hearing had
reminded him of something urgent.
If you're ever out here alone and everything goes silent all
of a sudden, hit the ground. Stay down until the sounds come
back. His tone was so grave, so
earnest, that a chill ran down my spine.
And if they don't come back? Mark looked at me, his eyes dark
pools of warning. Then, God help you.
We ate dinner mostly in silence. The Stew was rich and filling,
but my thoughts were elsewhere, digesting not just the meal but
also the enormity of what lay hidden both in the woods and
within Mark himself. Later, as I prepared to leave,
the air between us was thick with unasked questions and
unspoken fears. At the door, Mark placed a hand
on my shoulder. Be careful Zach, not everything
out here is as it seems. I nodded, stepping out into the
twilight, the echo of his warning mingling with the
whispering Pines. As I drove away, the cabin
disappearing behind me, I couldn't shake the feeling that
I was leaving more behind than just a friend.
I was leaving a mystery that was perhaps better left unsolved.
I'll never forget the drive back from my uncle's funeral.
It was a long, solitary journey across state lines with nothing
but my thoughts to keep me company.
I had been dreading this trip for weeks, as Uncle Pete had
been fighting a losing battle for some time, but as I hit the
open Rd. I felt a sense of relief wash
over me. The funeral had been a difficult
ordeal, and I was just glad to be leaving it all behind.
The drive itself was relatively painless, though it took a long
time. I had to cut across several
state lines in numerous counties for a total of a 10 hour trip.
Not the worst thing in the world, but for an older guy like
me, I found none of it appealing.
Texas, New Mexico, and many other southwestern states are
mostly flat and ugly, with nothing really to look at and
huge stretches of straight highway that seemed to go on
forever. I will say though, I was in
better spirits than normal because it was the return trip
and those always feel shorter for some reason.
As I drove, the landscape outside my window changed from a
bustling city, to rolling hills and finally to the vast expanse
of the Texas desert. I had been driving for hours,
The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the
landscape, and I was making good time.
I expected to be home a little before midnight.
I settled in, cracked open a soda, and prepared for the most
boring finish to a drive I could ever imagine.
As I approached the border, I noticed a sign for a newly built
rest stop. Having been driving for hours, I
could use a break. I pulled off the highway and
into the parking lot, expecting to find a clean and welcoming
facility. But as I stepped out of my car,
I couldn't shake the feeling that something was just off.
It was sundown at this point and the glow was rapidly fading,
leaving me in heavy twilight. The external lights of the
facility kicked on and showed me the different routes to the
bathroom. The rest stop itself was
completely deserted, except for a few cars parked sporadically
around the lot. The building was modern and
sleek, but it seemed to loom over me, casting an unending
shadow in the fading light. I tried to shake off the
foreboding feeling, telling myself I was just tired from the
long drive. But as I approached the
entrance, I noticed something that made my heart skip a beat.
A group of men were lounging against the wall, eyeing me with
a mixture of curiosity and hostility.
They weren't dressed in costumes or representing a specific
color, but it was obvious that they were gang related.
Tattooed shaved heads, a mix of Latino and white, with bandanas
draped around their necks or hanging out of their pockets.
This was definitely the root of the dreadful sensation I had
upon arriving. I nodded a brief hello that was
not returned. I tried to avoid eye contact
after that, but I could feel their gaze following me as I
walk toward the entrance. I quicken my pace, my heart
racing with anticipation. I'd heard horror stories from
different folks over the years about border encounters that
could be fatal, but the gangs and cartels were all over the
towns and cities, not just confined to the area I was in.
I made it my mission to get the hell out of there as quickly as
possible. I pushed open the creaky door
and stepped inside the bathroom. The fluorescent lights overhead
flickered like fireflies in the darkness.
The air inside was stale and heavy, thick with the scent of
disinfectant and something else, something sweet and acidic.
I wrinkled my nose, trying to place the smell, but it lingered
just out of reach. Honestly, it was probably vape
exhalation. I just hadn't placed it yet.
Vaping was still kind of new when this happened to me.
As I made my way to the urinal, I looked around and found I was
alone, Thank God. Not that I have a shy bladder or
anything, but if there had been anyone waiting for me in the
restroom, my only option would be to run.
I figured the crowd outside was waiting to snatch me up.
No one in the bathroom meant there wasn't any kind of plan in
place. I remember I saw an average Joe
out in the parking lot and just hope to God their presence would
keep the peace. I stood there for only 30
seconds, but it felt much longer.
The whole time I was just waiting to hear gunfire sparked
to life beyond that brick wall and that metal door.
I imagine the gang shooting up the whole property, every
building, every car, before peeling onto the highway and
just disappearing forever. What I heard wasn't gunfire
though. It was even scarier.
The door behind me banged open and I could hear a couple of
people speaking in Spanish. I didn't even bother to turn
around. If they were those gang members
and wanted my attention, they would get it.
Still, I could see them in the reflection of the mirror.
They were dressed in black, their faces obscured by bandanas
and sunglasses. They seemed to be sizing me up
like a piece of meat. They leaned on the wall and just
stared holes into my back. What's up old man?
One of them asked me. I didn't respond, just did my
best to ignore them. Hey Poppy, don't make that
mistake again, I asked you a question.
The guy repeated, just stopping to use the bathroom.
On my way back from my uncle's funeral.
I explained, hoping to score some pity points for why I was
out there in the 1st place. Oh, a funeral?
We had no idea. He said back, his voice dripping
with sarcasm. At this point I knew I was in
trouble. I zipped up and checked my
pockets, but no dice. Nothing about my car keys, which
I guess was a small victory in itself.
Still, I wasn't even sure I'd locked my car in that moment.
We're going to mess you up, Teo. That same kid said.
His friend spoke to him quickly in Spanish and they both had a
quick laugh. My stomach turned to mush.
The 1st open thread I received in a long time, and boy was I
sure these kids were going to be good for it.
I was kicking myself over and over saying what the hell, why
would you even stop here in a place you know is dangerous?
I felt like I had created this entire situation myself, and
honestly, I was right. Look at me.
One of them sneered. I did as I was told.
In that moment I saw my only option on the backside of the
bathroom door was a deadbolt, A big heavy one.
I looked over the door at a glance and it seemed like thick,
heavy metal. Locking the door was going to be
my only ticket if this didn't clear up immediately.
I shook my head, just trying to play it cool.
Just stop for a break, guys. I replied, my voice steady
despite the fear creeping up in my throat.
I have no idea why I repeated my earlier statement, probably just
a result of the panic pulsing underneath my skin.
They said some more stuff to me, but I don't remember any of it.
The blood pumping in my ears was way too loud.
The men nodded, their faces expressionless, then turned and
walked out of the bathroom, leaving me feeling uneasy and
unsure. I waited for a moment, hoping
someone else would come in, but the bathroom just remained
empty. The only sound was the hum of
the vending machines and the distant rumble of cars on the
highway. In this moment, I completely
forgot about my plan with the lock.
I just wanted to get in my car and leave.
The fact that they weren't kicking me seemed like a good
sign, right? I washed my hands and, believe
it or not, washed my face, did everything I could to just shake
off my nerves. Finally, I emerged from the
bathroom, my heart racing with anticipation.
As I stepped out into the evening air, I was met with a
sight that made my blood run cold.
The parking lot was empty except for my car, which was now
surrounded by that same group of men, their faces twisted with
cruel grins as they rummaged through my belongings.
Hey, what's going on here? I demanded, trying to keep my
voice firm despite the fear creeping up in my throat.
Looking back, I have no idea what I was thinking, just kind
of rolled up on autopilot throughout that chaos.
I'm not a tough guy, pretty non confrontational, but I'll be
damned if I was going to stand idle and be robbed without at
least saying something. I said it loud, hoping I could
get the attention of some of the other folks that I saw around
earlier. Somehow, in just the 60 seconds
I was in the bathroom, that entire parking lot had cleared
out end to end. Not a soul stirred in my
direction. None except the gang bangers
prying through my stuff. The men then turned to face me.
Their eyes lit up like it was Christmas Day.
Just having a look around, amigo.
One of them sneered, holding up my wallet.
I kept it in the center console on long drives, as it's a thick
old leather thing and starts to upset my back if I sit on it for
too long. I felt the surge of panic as I
realized the extent of their thievery.
Give that back. I shouted, trying to sound
braver than I actually felt. Sweat started to bead and run
down my brow, cheeks, and chest despite the cool evening air.
The men just laughed, their voice echoing off the walls as
they continued to rummage through my car.
I knew I had to act fast, but my mind was blank, unable to come
up with a plan as the men closed in around me.
All right, I'm calling the police.
I shouted. This time I got their full
attention. They immediately fanned out,
started closing in on me. Apparently my threat was enough
to turn their full attention on me now, at least until they
could check me for a cell phone or just beat me into the ground.
I raised my hands in front of me and started to backpedal as the
last form of defense. Too late for that man.
You know what's going to happen now.
I turned and ran at a full Sprint.
For an old fart like me, I was hustling pretty good.
I think I even surprised the gangsters because they all froze
up for a second before they started chasing me immediately,
giving me enough time to get ahead of them.
I retreated into the bathroom, locking the door behind me as
the gang members continued to chase me.
They pounded on the door, demanding I open up, or they
started smashing it with big rocks that they found outside.
The door didn't bend inward or anything, but it buckled with a
constant barrage of pressure. Soon the stones started flying
through the upper windows and skylights, glass shattering all
around me. I'm still partially convinced
they were discharging firearms, but the place was so loud and I
was in such a panic I couldn't really say for sure.
Fortunately, the building was all brick and cinder blocks,
concrete in between, so I was actually kind of safe in there
as long as they didn't get that door open.
I moved into the back stall and just hunkered down in the
cleanest place available, just in case any stray rounds
ricocheted in. Eventually they must have gotten
bored and moved off from the building, but I could still hear
their voices at a distance, could hear them laughing and
shouting, the sound of glass shattering and metal crunching
as they tore through my belongings.
I felt a sense of hopelessness just wash over me.
Trapped and helpless, I listened to my car being destroyed.
My threat to call the police was a bold lie.
My phone my whole life was inside that car, so I was doomed
to wait it out for as long as I had to.
Some of them came back to the bathroom door, banging on it
with their fists and hollering insults and threats again.
You think you can hide from us? Another one of them sneered.
Come see your new car. Another one hollered.
Then another string of insults. Come on, Tio, you can't take a
crap all night. If you open up the door, we
won't pop the tires. I cowered in the corner, my
heart racing with fear as the banging and shouting continued.
It seemed like an eternity before they finally gave up and
just took off, leaving me shaken and alone.
This time, though, there weren't any distant voices.
It actually sounded like they loaded up and left.
I could even hear a vehicle drifting out of the parking lot.
I still had my keys in my pocket, so it couldn't have been
mine. Someone must have come to pick
them up, or they had a car hidden somewhere.
Either way, I was very glad to experience silence beyond those
block walls. I waited for what felt like an
hour, listening intently for any sign of their return.
The parking lot was silent, the only sound the distant hum of
cars on the highway outside. I took inventory of the
bathroom, the shattered glass all over the floor, the rocks
resting among the carnage. It was a crazy amount of damage,
so I figured my car could be way worse.
Finally, I worked up the courage to open up the door and survey
the damage. It was dark, but the rest stop
was lit up with blinding light poles, or at least a few of
them. Some were dark with broken glass
pooled at the base. Those guys had managed to break
some of the lights. There was graffiti too, all over
the rest stop building and signs around the area.
I took very quiet steps as I navigated my way back to my
vehicle. My car was a complete wreck.
The windshield was smashed and half of my belongings were gone.
One of the tires was flat and the body was dented and
scratched. They even hit my interior with
cans of spray paint, writing messages for me all over the
seats and dashboard. Most of it was in Spanish, so I
couldn't even read it. I just stood there, looked over
the wreckage for a long time, unsure of what to do.
I didn't want to leave before making a report of some kind,
but I didn't have a way to do that.
I felt a wave of despair wash over me as I realized the extent
of the destruction. The thing probably wouldn't even
start, and that was if I could even get the key in the
ignition. As I stood there trying to
process everything that had happened, other cars began to
pull into the parking lot. The drivers got out, eyeing my
car with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.
I felt a sense of shame and embarrassment knowing I had been
so helpless to stop those gang members, but they were also
eyeballing the destroyed rest stop building behind me.
They probably assumed that I was the culprit, being the only
person here. I mean.
I looked out of my mind, I'm sure I did.
One of those bystanders, a kindly looking older man,
approached me and offered me his phone to call the police.
I took it gratefully, then explained everything that had
happened to the dispatcher on the other end.
But as I waited for the police to arrive, I couldn't shake the
feeling of dread that settled over me.
The old man listened as I explained everything and just
nodded along. He had an old revolver and a
leather holster on his hip. Probably just a 22 or a 38, but
still what I would have given to have that old man there with me
just an hour or two earlier. When the police finally showed
up, they took a statement and looked over my car, but I could
tell they weren't taking it seriously.
Just a case of vandalism, Sir, one of them said, shrugging.
We'll file a report, but I wouldn't hold out much hope of
catching those perpetrators. I felt a surge of anger and
frustration, knowing I'd been let down by the very people who
were supposed to protect me. As I watched the police drive
away from me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of
disillusionment with humanity. If this was how people treated
each other, then what was the point of even trying?
The other drivers in the parking lot continued to eye me with
suspicion, but still I couldn't shake that horrible sensation
that had settled over me. The world is a dark and violent
place, and I was just a small, helpless part of it all.
And just as I suspected, it wouldn't even turn over.
I had to ask that same old man if he knew of a towing service
nearby, which he did. This guy turned out to be
somewhat of a local. He lived in the next town over.
He called a friend of his who sent a wrecker out to haul me in
the car back to town. $9000 worth of repairs later, I was
able to drive the car out of the shop.
Thankfully, my insurance paid for most of it.
But those punk gangsters were never brought to justice, and
for obvious reasons, I travel much differently nowadays.
As we drove away from the familiar landscape of home, Beth
and I felt a sense of excitement and adventure wash right over
us. We were headed to Vermont to
visit my grandmother, and that long drive ahead of us seemed
like a thrilling journey into the unknown.
But as the hours passed and the miles flew by, our enthusiasm
began to wane. The GPS had LED us off the
highway onto a series of winding back roads.
We found ourselves lost in a sea of identical trees and twisting
turns. We hadn't even crossed into
Vermont yet, and already we were running into trouble.
I put a little too much faith into that GPS navigator.
I didn't question it when it told us to veer off that country
back Rd. and into the middle of nowhere.
The madness really came to light when the navigator failed to
lead us back out into anything familiar.
It just kept looping over and over again throughout that same
area. It was almost like something out
of a nightmare. But this was just part of the
adventure, and Beth and I were just happy to be together for
it. At first we tried to just laugh
it off, joking about our navigation skills and the quirks
of a rural roadway. But as the sun began to set in,
the shadows deepened. Our worry started to boil over
into panic. We've been driving for hours,
our gas tank was running perilously low, and the roads
seem to stretch on forever and ever curving and twisting in
every direction with no sign of civilization.
Insight being lost was honestly no trouble to me.
It was the low gas tank that had me sick with anxiety.
We hadn't seen a house, a farm, or a building of any kind.
There definitely wasn't a gas station out here, and we've been
up and down literally every stretch of the road that county
had to offer. We even tried to use landmarks
like Hillcrest and Tall Trees to guide us, but nothing was really
working. We could have had a map and a
compass, but again, I really don't think that would have
helped us. I gripped the steering wheel
tightly, my mind racing as I tried to figure out our
predicament. We'd taken a wrong turn
somewhere, but where? And how could we possibly find
our way back to the highway? The darkness seemed to press in
around us, making it hard to see more than a few feet ahead.
I could feel Beth's anxiety radiating from the passenger
seat, her eyes fixed on the GPS screen as if willing it to
produce a solution. As the minutes ticked by, our
panic grew and grew. We were truly alone out here
with no phone signal and no hope of rescue.
The road seemed to shift and twist like a living entity
determined to keep us lost. I could feel my heart pounding
in my chest when the gas light ticked on, telling me we were
down to our last gallon, something like 18 miles of
drifting. The car itself literally
jittered when the light came on. Oh my God, Beth whispered.
It's OK, I promise, this could be way, way worse, I said.
Well say that, what the hell is wrong with you?
She shot back. I nodded and said sorry, I'm
just trying to be positive. I promise though, everything is
OK. What are we going to do?
She prodded. Well, I don't know, first we're
going to relax and just think. I explained.
Finally, with a sense of resignation, I pulled over to
the side of the road. We held hands and just took very
deep, shuddering breaths as we watched the woodland around us.
Some rabbits scampered by. An owl seemed to chase them,
then a fox went darting in the other direction.
In the moment it was kind of fun and gave us something to admire,
something to take our minds off the situation at hand.
We continued talking for a bit, then started to reason through
our predicament. It was easy, there were very few
options. We would have to sleep in the
car until sunrise, hoping the light of day would reveal a way
out of this labyrinth nightmare. It was the only thing that made
sense considering how low on fuel we were.
We couldn't really afford to waste it.
Driving back and forth in the dark.
I put the seats down in the back, made us this little place
to cuddle, nestled among our belongings like some duffel bags
and coats. We even had some dry food to
snack on. That really perked up our mood.
As we settled in for the night, darkness continued closing in
around us like a shroud. I couldn't shake that feeling
that we were being watched by something.
The trees seem to loom over their branches, creaking
ominously in the wind. I remembered those animals
earlier, realized that, yeah, we were being watched.
The animals around here probably hadn't seen a car just stop and
spend the night on the road like that ever before.
The animals also offered the sense of security, in the sense
that if there were animals around here, things had to be
pretty normal, right? If there were rabbits and foxes,
there likely weren't any big predators.
Still, we were in the middle of nowhere.
Neither of us was accustomed to that.
We were sleeping in a car, which gave us no sense of privacy or
security, and on top of it all, we didn't know where we were
going and how to get out in the morning.
We were completely at the mercy of the unknown, and that was a
terrifying place to be. We huddled together in the
darkness, trying to get some sleep but unable to shake that
feeling of being watched. Still, silence was oppressive,
punctuated only by the occasional hoot of an owl or the
distant rumble of an airplane overhead.
But then, without warning, the silence was shattered by a
series of footsteps circling the car.
Beth clutched my arm, her eyes wide with fear.
What was that? She whispered.
I, I don't know. I replied, my voice barely
audible. But we need to stay calm.
Whatever it was, it carried on down the road, stopped, and then
came back to the vehicle. My eyebrows came together in
confusion. It sounded like a person just 20
feet dusting up the dirt Rd. but as they got closer, I was sure
of it. I remained frozen next to Beth,
my head down in the darkness, the windows looming over us like
great wicked magnifying glasses. The thing, the person, whatever
it was, stopped maybe 15 feet away from us, then again walked
further down the road for a second time so we couldn't hear
it anymore. What the heck was all that?
Beth managed to get out right then.
A howl echoed throughout the darkness.
It was a sound unlike anything I'd ever heard before, a Primal
Scream that seemed to come from the very depths of the forest.
No way. It was a person too deep and
throaty, too wild sounding. I said.
We tensed up, but also relaxed. We were relieved it was just a
coyote milling around and not some kind of murderer.
Oh my God. Beth whispered, her voice
trembling. That is terrifying, I know.
I agreed. My mind's still racing.
Should we just go? Just as I said those words, we
could hear those footsteps again, except this time they
were running toward the car. And I mean a full on Sprint.
Then a heavy sounding thump sounded on the roof of the car,
making us both jump out of our skin.
It was as if someone were banging on the car with their
fist, the blows coming in rapid succession.
Who's there? I shouted, trying to sound brave
but feeling anything but that. I was on the verge of
hyperventilating, but having Beth there kept me grounded and
focused. I couldn't let anyone in the car
or hurt her at any cost. Who's out there?
I hollered out again. The thumping then stopped.
For a moment it was just silence, except I could hear
this weird breathing, hot and heavy, and I could see it was
now fogging up the glass. It must have been from the
running and beating up on the car.
Next we heard the sound of someone running away into the
darkness, those footsteps just fading into the distance.
Beth and I looked at each other, our eyes wide with fear.
OK, we need to get out of here. I said, my voice firm.
This time we've got to risk the gas tank.
She agreed, no questions asked. Beth immediately started folding
up all the bedding and organizing it as quickly as she
could. I climbed into the driver's seat
and undid the gear. I fired up the engine and just
waited for Beth. After a minute, she climbed up
next to me and put her seat belt on.
Without another word, we started the car and pulled away from the
side of the road, driving as fast as we could without
headlights. We didn't see anything as we
drove, but we didn't need to. We knew whatever had been
messing with us was still out there watching and waiting.
The moon had lit up the area, we were already sporting pretty
heavy solid night vision as we've been looking through the
windows without light for a couple of hours at that point.
After a few miles we pulled over again, this time in a small
clearing surrounded by trees. We tried to sleep, but our minds
were racing with the thoughts of what had just happened.
We knew we couldn't stay here for very long, but for now it
was the best that we could do. As we lay there in the darkness,
I couldn't shake that feeling again.
That feeling of being watched, that unblinking eyes were
trained on us from somewhere up in the shadows again.
I knew we had to keep moving, I had to keep driving until we
found our way back to some semblance of civilization.
But for now, we were trapped, alone and vulnerable in the
darkness of that forest. I figured driving 4 miles away
without any headlights on was a pretty safe bet.
It'd be hard to follow on foot as it were, but in the dark no
less, it might be impossible. Getting off the main road had
given us a little confidence boost as well.
As we nestled in the car in that tree thicket, there was a road
in each direction that we could use for an exit.
We huddled up in the back and got the worst sleep imaginable,
but ultimately nothing else weird happened the rest of that
night. As we woke up the following
morning, the sunlight streaming through the windshield revealed
a sight that made our blood run cold.
Greasy handprints smeared the glass, a taunting reminder that
someone had indeed been messing with us throughout the night.
Oh my God, they were right there.
Beth said, her voice still shaking.
It's super weird to see. I couldn't tell if it was from
when we parked on the road, or if this weirdo had indeed found
us out there behind the trees. I replied.
I got out with a water bottle and a rag from the trunk.
Did my best to just try to clean it off, but I can't express to
you how grimy and greasy this person's hands had to be.
It's absolutely disgusting. I could see every impression and
imprint from their palm. I started the car, the engine
sputtering a bit as we crept down that dirt Rd.
The fuel light had been on for hours and I knew we were running
on fumes. Maybe 12 miles left to go, but
we had to keep moving. As we drove, the landscape began
to look familiar. We could see the main road
sneaking its way through the hills.
A sign ahead beckoned, promising a town just 9 miles away.
The gas station symbol seemed like a lifeline.
No way, Beth said. How the heck did we miss this?
I have no idea. I don't even think we passed
through here, I said. I don't remember going through
that clearing before. It's OK, we're going to make it,
she cheered. But as we passed the sign, a
figure appeared on the shoulder of the road.
A young man, dirty and unkempt, with a wild look in his eyes.
He made this weird face as we passed, his lips curling up with
a snarl. And then he started to chase us,
no holds barred, sprinting down the road.
He looked absolutely crazy, and I mean literally.
I don't even think he had shoes on, but he was easily clearing
up to 15 mph. Oh my God, he's following us.
Beth screamed. I hit the gas and the car sprung
forward as we speed away from that weirdo, but the low gas
tank had us sputtering to accelerate.
We didn't dare look back, our eyes fixed on the road ahead as
we devoured the miles. Finally we crested a hill and a
town came into view. We saw the gas station, a haven
of normalcy inside the surreal nightmare.
As we pulled into the station, we both let out a sigh of
relief. We'd made it, we were safe.
But as we filled up the tank and grab some coffee, we couldn't
shake that feeling that we just experienced something truly
sinister. That guy back there?
Beth said, her voice still shaking.
He had to be the one that messed with us last night, right?
I nodded, my mind reeling with the implications.
He must have been watching us, waiting for us to leave.
But why? Beth asked, her eyes wild with
disbelief. Why would someone do that to us?
Does he live out there? I shook my head, feeling a sense
of dread wash over me. I don't know, but I know one
thing for sure. We're never driving through
those woods again. We both laughed, got back into
the car, and reoriented the GPSI got a map just to be sure this
time. Even then, we only drove a
couple of hours that day before we got a motel in some quaint
little town so we could actually get some real sleep.
I decided my grandma could wait a couple of hours longer,
especially after that night we just had.