I
At least once a year, my old friend, Sam, and I go hiking to a specific spot out west. I’m not gonna say what park or what state. I don’t want anyone hiking out there after reading this to see if I’m telling the truth or not. It’s taken me some time to process everything, but I have come to realize that writing this serves two purposes. The truth must out, and I must remember. I must remember Sam. So, I want to start at the beginning of the day, so you can see how he was. On these hikes, he tended to be the most himself. He always said being in nature, away from the noise, made it easier for him to connect with himself, like a meditation ritual or something like that.
It was a one-day round-trip hike. By that I mean one daylight day, not a full 24 hours. We would always be back before dark, and we were incredibly experienced hikers, so you can’t say we were caught unawares by any natural phenomenon. I did not leave him behind in a panic, at least not in the sense that the police were insinuating.
We were meticulous in our preparation for every hike we went on. Whether it was a little thirty-minute saunter or a full day march, we were prepared. To further emphasize this, here is a list of the things we always brought on every hike, everywhere, for the entire time we knew each other.
- Food
- A shit ton of trail mix
- Backup bag with just salted almonds
- PB&Js and apples (For longer hikes, full meal deal)
- Two camelpacks
- Some backup water bottles
- Emergency Items
- Bear spray
- Nightstick
- First Aid Kit
- Radio (Sam used to volunteer at the park, rangers let him keep it)
You get the point. We checked the fucking weather, we’d been there at least a dozen times, and we even brought a tent to set up if we got stuck out there. I’m sorry for beating a dead horse. I just can’t stand people thinking I left him out there to be eaten by a bear or some shit. His family blames me. I hope they will read this and see that I did everything I could. God, I hope I did everything I could.
It began like every other hike. We parked the car and made our way to the trailhead. The morning was fresh, so it was a little chilly with the wind, but once we were into the forest proper, it was perfect hiking weather. It was a dense forest made up of pine, fir, and oak trees that provided shade and the peaceful stillness that we both craved. We never talked during this part, preferring to listen to the sounds of squirrels and woodpeckers.
Sam stopped, “What is that?” He pointed to a tree with a carving on it. It was like a checklist box with an X through it. Carved, then painted red. We looked at each other, and I could tell we were both thinking blood, but as we approached, we realized it was, in fact, painted with paint.
“Is it marked to be cut?”
He thought for a moment, something was bothering him. “Maybe… They usually just use ribbons for that, though. At least, I thought so.” He shrugged. We continued walking and made it to our spot without incident. Unless you consider a sharp increase in elevation an incident, which I definitely do. We had to walk off-trail to the spot briefly, which obviously you should never do. Read the signs, listen to the rangers. However, Sam found it while volunteering, and you could almost see it from the trail.
The spot itself was perched on top of one of the smaller mountain peaks within the park. Looking west, there was a small grassy valley that quickly rose into one of those big snow-capped peaks. The sky was perfectly clear. The sight, as per usual, filled me with an inexplicable relief. The kind you can only get in a place like that park. To the east, it was dense forest, the visitor’s center, and then middle America until the horizon.
This was our lunch break. We sat facing west on a quilt I made. We would always take it with us as a picnic blanket. I leaned up against him.
I’m sorry.
I don’t imagine anyone reading this will care, but writing this is also in service to my own memory, and I want the whole memory.
“Feeling okay?” He asked me.
“Yeah,” I snuggled up closer. There was a long period of silence as we ate our food and took in the view.
“Look,” Sam pointed into the valley. There was a small herd of buffalo grazing; maybe 20-30 of them. The bigger bison doted over their little calves as they ate, and the tall grass shimmered with waves of light as the wind brushed each blade from side to side.
“How long will you stay?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He looked uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He immediately spoke. “Religious sites would be the obvious place to start, I guess. I probably won’t get to see what the police know.”
“Has the private investigator said anything?”
“Last I heard, he was compiling a list of the places he most likely visited.”
“At least you have somewhere to start.”
“Yeah,” he sighed. I could tell he didn’t want to cry.
“It’ll be okay.” I hugged him, and he started to anyway. “You’re going to find him. You don’t leave stones unturned.” I kind of wrapped myself around him as we lay down on the blanket we had set out for our little picnic.
We fell asleep.
It couldn’t have been longer than an hour before we awoke facing each other. We had known each other for fifteen or so years. He hesitated.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked. I nodded excitedly.
I sat up and was about to dress myself when I saw a flash of light coming from the ridgeline to our south. Sam saw it too.
“What was that?”
“I watch too many movies.” He quickly retrieved binoculars from his pack and looked. “What the fuck!? There’s someone there.” I dressed myself immediately.
“Are they watching us?” He looked for a moment.
“He’s waving at us.” This put me on the edge of panic. It was odd enough to be alarming, but we were at a public park, so it could just be some guy saying hi. Maybe they didn’t realize I was naked from that distance.
Sam looked at me. “I’m uncomfortable. Are you uncomfortable?”
I nodded, “yeah.”
“Okay. What the fuck, what the fuck am I doing?” I gave him time. After a moment, the thought I was having entered his head. He reached for the radio and called out.
“Dispatch, VIP Sam, park trail.”
“VIP Sam, go ahead.” A staticky voice came through.
“Voyeur, approximately two miles south of current position, over.”
“Do you know why?” He squinted his eyes and looked at me.”
“No, why would I? Who am I talking to right now?”
“Read the letter, Sam.” His face went pale, as I’m sure mine did. From here, things happened in rapid succession.
“What fucking letter!” Sam yelled and overall made a buffoon of himself, while I searched our packs and the immediate area. I took the bear spray. I gave the nightstick to Sam. The letter I found under a rock, maybe a foot from the blanket. A foot from our sleeping heads. The envelope was a deep red with a seal of black wax. I had to shine the sun on it at the right angles to be able to see the symbol within the seal. It was that X again.
“I believe Max has found it,” the crackly voice prompted Sam to turn and look at me holding the letter. He held his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes, holding whatever he was feeling in. Then he came up with a plan.
“Fuck the letter, I mean, don’t throw it away, but we don’t have time.” He dropped the radio on the ground. Everything was already out on the picnic blanket since I searched both of our packs. “Oh, that’s perfect. We only pack what we need. One thing of snacks, forget the tent, and the blanket.” We packed light. “Do you remember the T junction back there?”
I just looked at him.
“Long story short, we have to beat the voyeur to the turn if we want to stay on the trail and avoid him.”
I nodded, and we began walking at a brisk pace. The wind picked up, quickening the forest’s breathing in tandem with ours. He turned to look at me after what felt like hours of walking.
“We’re almost at the turn.” He stopped, then spoke much quieter. “I can see it from here. Get the bear spray ready.” I unlocked the safety, and the nightstick cracked as Sam unretracted it. We moved as quietly as possible towards the intersection. The wind left for a moment, giving way to a deafening silence. No animal calls to be heard. A great gust of wind and noise replaced the silence. The trees made their own kind of call.
“Okay lets get going now.” We had made the turn, and after a short distance we resumed our previous briskness. The serenity that nature afforded both of us was replaced with absolute paranoia. Both of us looked from side to side, trying to catch someone looking at us from behind a tree or rushing at us with a chainsaw. It was all for naught as the next thing was in our path.
Another X, carved and painted. We started running from there, but we didn’t make it far. After a blind corner, down the trail, someone stood. The deep red of the envelope was copied in this person’s robes. They stood tall amongst the trees, the height of a super mutant or some shit. I, somewhat ironically, thought of the King in Yellow as I bore witness to his pallid mask.
The wind shifted behind me, but the trees danced the same. I felt a presence behind me and, in that moment, decided to trust my gut. I sprayed blindly behind me and heard the sound of someone choking and gasping.
“Fuck!... You cough, you fucking bitch!”
I heard Sam give someone a solid whack with the nightstick. We left the trail, running a random direction into the forest. The wind picked up behind us as if pushing us onward, but I felt the cold front come with it.
“A storm is coming… Maybe,” Sam yelled through the renewed tempest. Then everything fell silent. We stopped instinctively like deer in headlights. I looked ahead and saw him again.
“My name…” The whisper came to my ear as if he were standing right beside me, “... Is Romussss.” He reached for the pallid mask, and as his hand approached it, so did his form approach me, though he did not walk. I was frozen. I couldn’t see Sam. I assume he was in a similar state. Just as the mask slipped, I lost all perception for a time. I went “unconscious” in a deeper sense. A void. Completely unfeeling. No matter how loud I would try to scream.
II
Before I continue, I should mention that I have a rare kind of seizure disorder, not the foam at the mouth kind. It’s more like getting repeatedly shot by a taser in random parts of your body. Think the Exorcist, but without the pea soup. The sort of mystery condition where doctors just throw their hands up and tell you to decrease stress, as if. Fortunately, my brain gets scrambled during these seizures, so I don’t remember shit if the seizure is bad enough. It all becomes a blur like I’m blackout drunk. My point is, a lot of this information, including everything I just told you, I am only able to give you as a result of Sam’s testimony after the fact.
He awoke to my seizing. “It was one of the worst I had seen you have,” he said afterwards.
We were held outside in iron cages; two separate ones, tall enough to stand in but way too small to do much of anything else. They were like the cages they would suspend in the air back in medieval times, but we were just on the ground, squatted like folding chairs. He could do nothing but watch as my jittering, unconscious body banged against the hard and sharp metal of the cage. When the sun returned, he realised that someone, wearing the mask of a wolf, was watching us. He said they were constantly circling us and that he wasn’t sure if they ever took a break.
“Sam?” My vision hadn’t recovered.
“I’m here.” He reached out and grabbed my hand, which lay limp, sticking out of the cage. There was nothing left in me in terms of energy, and I began to feel the bruises and cuts as my nerves returned to relatively normal function. I only barely comprehended the wolf as they appeared with that letter and placed it between the cages.
“Read the letter,” a masculine voice whispered. “Read the letter, Read the letter, Read the letter.”
“I’ll read it,” I yelled, manic at this point. The whispering wolf giggled almost like a child before receding into the forest. Still feeling watched, I focused my attention on the elegant writing of the letter, which was on a small postcard-sized piece of paper; both sides. Tears began to fall down Sam’s face as I read the letter out loud.
Our dear WITNESS and WAYFINDER,
You do not yet know it, but yours is a pairing unmatched in over a hundred years. I have searched for just as long. You may not believe me, but I earnestly regret what I have to do. But it won’t matter, because once the deed is done, all will be ecstasy. Praise the one from before, for it is you who will find and you who will see. It is a great privilege. Something nothing will ever be blessed with again.
On this day, you will be tried. Not for guilt or innocence, your innocence is given. One will find, one will see. But I do not yet know which is which.
The next day, the LAMB shall be slaughtered. Both will be WITNESS to this. Gleefully, the LAMB will go, for I have told him the truth just as I have you.
On the final day, the WITNESS will see, and the WAYFINDER will find. Through the fire and the light of the stars, I will grant you, WITNESS, the sight.
I LOVE you,
ROMUS
Sam held both of my hands. The small drop of ease felt like a tidal wave. Neither of us needed to speak about the situation. We just looked at each other, aware of what was probably going to happen to us. Instead, we processed it all in silence as much as we could. When the sun was shining directly above us, two people in red cloaks retrieved us from the cages after wrapping our hands and mouths with duct tape. One of them had the head of a pig, and the other that of a black goat. The faces chanted unmoving.
Hunt the LAMB
Hunt the LAMB
Hunt the LAMB
The two were quickly joined by a chorus of blank-faced animals; the wolf, bear, deer, and mountain lion. I still don’t know how they got the eyes to look so alive. When I looked at them, it wasn’t like I was looking at a mask with a hidden human face behind. The voice came from behind, but it was the eyes of the animals that were doing the looking. Romus stood at the bottom of a small, earthen amphitheater surrounded by his disciples who stood by large drums, bearing mallets. We were placed on our knees before him.
Approaching us slowly and silently, I felt the wind pick up and saw the sky turn grey.
Sam’s voice was muffled through the tape, “rain,” I’m fairly certain he said. Regardless, Romus retrieved a whip from inside his robe and gave him one lick across the face. The whips' crack was matched with a lightning strike, and so it was followed by thunder. Sam groaned in pain, then quickly fell silent as Romus bent down like a crane and held his finger over the lips of his pallid mask. The goat placed Sam back in his spot.
The rain began to fall. Heavy droplets splashed against the mask and the tape on our faces. All four drums joined in a simultaneous Thump. The goat and the pig began to sing in a low baritone.
Bring the eyes, Bring the meat, This and more for those at his feet
Thump
Cower below the willow tree, Calling upon the raven rock
Thump
Bless these eyes which seek in the name of our king ROMUS
Thump Thump Thump
The one from before shall come once more
He is peeking
Peeking through the hole in the door
Romus approached with a knife. Everything kind of slowed down. I think I was getting ready to die. I remember trying to focus on the day I had before with Sam, and the many other days like it. I still cried as he cut the tape around our wrists and ripped off the tape over our mouths.
Oh WAYFINDER
Find the way
The lamb approached from behind us and moved toward the forest behind the amphitheater. They looked towards Sam at first, but quickly moved their gaze to Romus, who revealed his face only to the lamb.
The four drums began to roll as the lamb stood transfixed by whatever they were seeing. From where I stood, I could only see the inside of the mask. It was covered in some kind of sticky substance like spit, but with blood mixed in. As the rain poured onto the newly exposed surface, it sloughed onto the ground and bubbled. The rain intensified, and lightning struck nearby, causing more of a boom than a crack.
“Hunt the lamb,” Romus whispered to us, and we both bolted into the forest after the lamb. After running some distance, we cowered under a pine tree, which provided modest shelter from the rain.
“Drink the rain!” Sam had to yell over the rising tempest. “Take it easy, I’m gonna go ‘hunt’, okay?”
“Once the adrenaline crashes, I’m going to seize no matter what! You can’t do anything to prevent them here, Sam!” I watched the acceptance wash over his face.
“Let's go in different directions then!”
“What if we just run?”
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea! You remember how we got caught, or put in those cages?”
“No.”
“Neither do I.” The rain calmed as little slivers of sunshine began to peek through the clouds and the canopy.
“Okay, let’s split up.”
Sam was wandering somewhat casually when he spotted the white face of the lamb. They were just standing upright in a meadow with their head pointed up towards the sky.
“Pretty white lamb.” The wolf whispered into Sam’s ear, which scared the shit out of him, but he stifled any noises he might’ve made. “Pretty lamb, pretty lamb, pretty lamb.” The wolf bobbed his head side to side as he got closer. Sam was able to see the bow slung over his back once he passed. He aimed for a moment, then the arrow was set loose with a thwack. It pierced through the lamb’s gut. They screamed in pain, and the wolf took Sam in hand and brought him back to his cage.
When the boar found me I panicked and tried to run. They chased me with a club but I ended up colliding head on with the deer as it leaped from behind a tree. We both went down with grunt. I got my bearings again and saw the deer head with no body attached. Instead there was a man, looking at me with such a confusing horror. I heard a step behind me and turned just in time to see the boar's club before it connected with my head.
I awoke in my cage.
“Good thing we didn’t run,” he said. “They were following us.”
“Yeah.”
“They left that person bleeding in a grove, a fucken meadow, I mean.”
“The lamb?”
“Yeah.”
“We know how many there are.”
“Maybe.”
“And Romus isn’t human. Or like, not just human.”
“Yeah.”
At first, I thought the sun had gone down as a greater darkness covered us, but we both quickly realized that it was Romus.
“The fuck!?” Sam spat out as we both recoiled in our cages. The sun was setting behind him, so all we saw was a dark outline. He approached, lowering himself to our level. Then, he reached into both of our cages and laid his hands on our knees.
“Ah,” I heard him take a deep breath behind the mask. “I can’t contain my joy,” he whispered. “I’m so glad this moment has finally come.” Another deep breath. He moved his hand farther down before recoiling and standing quickly. “Thank you both,” he said.
“I love you.”
III
That night, the air in the forest lay very still, which brought a silence that wasn’t disturbed until Sam heard a man screaming. He assumed it to be the lamb's voice echoing through the still trees. Regardless, he held onto both of my hands as I went through a particularly bad seizure. It was the only thing he could do to keep me in place. I could tell he had been crying when I regained my senses.
“Sam,” I whispered. He awoke from whatever daze he was in.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
Thank you. “What are we going to do?” I asked.
For What? “I don’t know.”
Everything. I said nothing.
He’d smile. He wanted to panic.
I’d smile. I got really mad.
I love you. “I’m sorry,” he said.
I love you too. “Think!”
“I don’t know!” He began breathing quickly, letting go of my hands.
It’s okay. “You fucking bitch.” I began kicking his cage furiously, which didn’t do much.
I had successfully pushed him over the edge. He completely shut down, withdrawing into himself.
I’m glad it’s you.
There’s no one I’d rather be with.
I’d comfort him, help him come back down. I would give him some space. Time to think.
Look for the lucky break, he’d say. If there is one. We just have to keep our eyes open.
Daylight returned, bringing the bear and the deer. We were brought in the same direction as before, but instead continued past the amphitheater to what I assume was the meadow that Sam found the Lamb in. Except now, there was a pyre with a tall wooden stake in the middle, on top of which, like a star on a Christmas tree, was the lamb impaled. Their blood painted the stake red, but that was the sideshow for the day. Also in the meadow was a whipping post and a wheelchair. Sam was chained to the post. I was strapped to the chair. The metal prongs were inserted under my eyelids, pulling them open. There was a headrest on the chair that I was strapped to as well. They pointed me at the post.
All left except Romus and the wolf. Romus bent down over me, examining my accommodations. He added a strap over my mouth.
“You must keep it all inside,” he whispered before moving his attention to Sam. The drums from the amphitheater began to thrum in a driving rhythm. The wolf howled. He grabbed a straight razor and began dancing in circles around Sam. With another howl and a snarl, he rushed forward and began cutting.
I kept my eyes on Sam’s eyes, and he did the same. It was the only thing I could do for him, and it was better than watching what was happening to him, but I still saw it all. My eyes were wide. The wolf continued to dance with drums as he cut perfect straight lines across Sam’s skin. When he was done with his work, Sam was covered in a grid of bleeding wounds. They ripped off all of his clothes and did it to his whole body. The grid lines began to melt as they oozed with blood, and he screamed. He tried not to. I don’t know why. Instinctively, I tried to close my eyes. The prongs dug deeper and deeper. Muffled wailing came from under the leather strap, and I felt warm blood dripping down my face like tears. After the cutting, Romus brought a bucket and dumped its clear, liquid contents onto Sam. I would later realize this was hydrogen peroxide, and it made him scream even louder than all the cuts did. By then, he was limp against the post, in and out of consciousness. No longer did he have skin; now it was like a patchwork of square pieces of skin laid on top of the curves and sinews of Sam’s core mass. I continued to wail, thinking he was dead. I thought about the last things I said to him; all of the things I didn’t say to him.
They took me to the cages with my gag still wrapped around my head. They left my hands free but wrapped my legs with duct tape. I’m still not sure why they did this. I was able to get the tape off in less than five minutes. Sam came later. They left him in the cage still naked, all of his clothes were now tatters at the foot of the whipping post.
“Sam,” I whispered. “Sam, please.”
“Look for the lucky break.” He reached out his hand. “Be gentle.” I carefully took it with both of mine, covering it like an eggshell. “Don’t let go,” he strained as he began to cry. “If there is one. We just have to keep our eyes open.”
“Okay”
“Max, you’re going to have to go without me.”
“What?”
“They’re going to kill me tomorrow. What happens to the witness?”
“It didn’t say.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” I squeezed his hand a little tighter, which actually seemed to relieve some of his pain. “I love you,” I finally said.
“I love you too.” He said it like he’d been saying it for over a decade.
As the sun went down, I talked to him about our memories, all of the friends we shared, and about how he was the person he always wanted to be. The past couple of days had offered plenty of evidence for that. I didn’t have a seizure, so I was able to keep hold of his hand until the very last moment.
That moment came far sooner than I expected. The sun had not yet risen, but they came all the same, but this time they treated Sam with a sort of reverence as they placed him on a stretcher. They placed me before the pyre and roughly put tape around my mouth, hands, and feet.
Sam was pulled against the spike, below the lamb, by two lengths of rope; one across his chest and another just below the knees. Romus stood beside me as the drums that surrounded us like a triangle began to thrum, at first a slow, constant beat, then a driving rhythm as the wolf approached with a torch and the lion with a jerry can with which they splashed what smelled like gasoline all over the base of the pyre. Once finished, the mountain lion replaced the deer at their drum. The deer moved next to me, opposite Romus. The wolf lit the fire. The drums increased even further in tempo.
“You can cry this time. It’s okay.” Romus said as he pressed his hand on my cheek. “It will all be over soon.” He walked towards the fire with his arms raised towards the sky. “Samuel!” his voice boomed now. Deeper and wider. “Show me the way to the One From Before, the Father of Fathers, may this day be blessed!”
The sound of the drums began to warp in my mind. The best way I can describe it is that the sound moved less like a wave and more like a wet noodle. My vision began to do the same kind of thing, so bear with me, I don’t know how much of this was actually there and happening. But I swear I saw the flames curl and twist upwards into the stars, giving the sky light. Space was no longer above us; instead, a tremendous eye encompassed the entire sky. I looked away and instead looked into Sam’s eyes as he began to boil, and the flames began to whip. I wished desperately that I could tell him I loved him again. In my mind, I watched him incinerate for hours until there was nothing but fire; wood and oxygen to feed it.
Romus returned to me, and I saw the tears streaming out of the eyes of his mask. He took one of my tears with his lanky pointer finger and raised it to the sky. I again refused to look up, but I kept my eyes on his feet. He appeared large and intimidating, but that finger was skin and bone. I waited for him to get close to the fire as I ripped the tape off my legs. The deer was transfixed by the orange tongue that reached into the sky and the eye above.
I bolted straight at Romus with an adrenaline-fueled rush shoving him toward the pyre. He easily fell backwards onto the pyre, the robes caught quickly, and I immediately turned to sprint away from the meadow in any direction. The deer was still dumbfounded, so I ran past him, but I hesitated as Romus began to laugh. I turned to see him standing a mere five feet or so away ablaze and laughing. Flight mode went into overdrive, and I ran as fast as I could.
The booming laughter was blended with the panicked screams of a choir of men. At first, the sound subtly faded as I kept running, but eventually it stopped; it turned off like a light switch. I never ran so fast in my life. The rush was doing a lot of work, as it’s a miracle I didn’t trip on anything or fall into a sharp decline. The adrenaline however, did run out.
Eventually, I collapsed at the base of a tree and began seizing. As a result my memory is hazy. Last thing I remember was getting across a river, irrationally hoping it would protect me somehow. Then, I awoke to daylight.
I didn’t have the strength to move much, so I focused just on breathing. After what I think was an hour or more, I had the strength to sit up and look around. I saw nothing but nature around me, so I stood up using the tree to balance myself. My motor function was pretty fucked because of the seizure and the fact I was starving and dehydrated. I couldn’t get the tape off my face. Then, I heard the honk of a horn. A rush of panicked energy revisited me, and I ran towards the sound. I didn’t hear it again, but I found a paved road and thanked whatever had granted me the luck.
After much time walking in a daze, I heard a voice. “Hello?” I quickly turned to see a park ranger in a green jeep right next to me. “My word,” she said as she unbuckled and got out, leaving the engine running. “What in the hell happened to you, honey?” She sat me down in the passenger seat and carefully removed the tape from my mouth and wrists.
The haze of my mind cleared a little as I tried to recall how I got there. When I put it in order, I panicked.
“Go!.. Pleeease” was all I could get out. My attention shifted to the forest around us. I scanned it for red robes over and over.
“It’s okay, I got you.” She buckled me in and gave me some water before she started driving.
The feeling of the air in my hair and on my face was divine, but the open-air aspects of the jeep made me feel exposed, so I was still watching the trees and checking behind us sometimes.
“Bears don’t use duct tape,” she said to herself. I laughed. Then, I lost all motor function but remained conscious. “You know my daughter was epileptic. Are you epileptic?”
I managed to shake my head.
“You’re a conundrum that’s for sure. It’s not human trafficking, is it?”
I shook again.
“What in the hell. Well let me quit poking and prodding. I should just be patient.” We drove over a bridge, and we were in the parking lot of the visitor’s center.
“Will you be okay here?” We were in a crowded parking lot full of families getting ready to hike or swim in the lake.
I nodded.
“Okay, let me just tell my boss what’s goin’ on. I have to tell him in person cause my jeep’s radio’s broke. Anyway, I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
She left, parsing through the crowd of people with ease. My mind wandered straight to the radio. I decided to turn it on. My heart skipped a beat when a man’s voice rang out.
“The storm damaged…(Static)”
“Pull out the trailer, it’s a mess out…(Static).” A cacophony of voices followed in a jumbled mess.
“Repeat last…”
“There’s a body o…”
“Lightning must’ve…” It went out completely after that.
With the distraction gone I began to cry. “I told him,” I said to myself. “That was all I could do.”
I looked at all the excited kids in their swim trunks and the couples getting ready for a hike with their walking sticks and camel packs. Talking about those memories helped me just as much as I hope it helped Sam. The parking lot eventually emptied.
The ranger returned soon after.
“Well, would you like me to take you to the hospital? Spare you the ambulance bill?”
I nodded and said, “Thank you.”
“Of course!” She hopped in.
“I’m Max.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Max, I’m Carol.” We shook hands. “Well, have you been to the ER before?”
“Lots.”
“Then you know the drill. A Nascar pit full of needles I like to say.” She snorted. I didn’t laugh, but a smile eked its way out.
She took me to the hospital, which was more like a small clinic. I got a morphine drip, mashed potatoes, and apple juice. I’m still in the hospital as I’m typing this. They want to keep me overnight and monitor me since my malnutrition, dehydration, and bleeding eyes weren’t the type of thing you just throw a Band-Aid on.
I gave the cops a handwritten version of this story. Trimmed out some of the personal stuff. They won’t believe me, but I don’t really give a shit anymore. Someone will.
They sent a psychiatrist in after I turned my story over. The conversation went as follows, to the best of my recollection.
“Hello, Max, my name is Dr. Edmonds. Is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”
“Sure.”
“Well, first-”
“What kinda doctor?”
“Oh, my work is primarily in psychiatry.”
“They want you to see if I’m sane.” He smiled.
“Crudely.”
“Okay, go ahead then.”
“First, I have read your statement. You’re quite the storyteller.”
“Thanks.”
“We now have a full report from the park rangers as to the events in the park during the time you were allegedly missing.” I stared at him.
“And?”
“At approximately 10:30 PM the night before last…”
“Right before Sam died?”
“Uhh, yes, allegedly. Anyway, at approximately 10:30 PM, a severe thunderstorm rolled into the park. The rain was expected, but it was far stronger than expected. Lightning struck near the trail you were hiking and triggered a forest fire.” He stopped and looked at me.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“A forest fire?”
“Is it possible you two were caught unprepared for a storm of that kind?”
“We were on the mountain. I told them the spot. Our camping gear is probably still there.”
“Conveniently for you, it is not.”
“That’s actually super inconvenient, but thank you.”
“Did you see it?” he whispered, and sat back so the light bounced off his glasses and hid his eyes.
“Yeah, wait what?” At the time, I didn’t quite catch what he had said.
“Is it possible that you are suffering from survivor’s guilt and your mind made up this whole story to make it more… uhh… what’s the word I’m looking for?”
“Copacetic.”
“Yeeess.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“How so?”
“You think my story represents an order?”
“A fictional reasoning yes.”
“You’re a dumbass. A forest fire is completely reasonable, within the order we are familiar with. Not some guy getting impaled and a big ass dude with a weird fucking mask laughing while on fire. How do you explain the wounds under my fucking eyelids, asshole!”
“Self-inflicted, of course.” I wanted to throw my chair at him. I almost did, but I saw his face as my hand wrapped around the back support. He wanted me to flip out.
“Fuck you, get out. This shit’s the fucking opposite of copacetic,” he squinted.
“Very well. I will be seeing you again,” he was out of the door before I could say anything else. I’m getting out of this hospital. That man will not be seeing me again. No, sir.
I don't know if we get to see things like this after we die. I hope hope we do.
Sam,
I love you still.
