Zach had been hiking for nearly an hour. He had decided to begin his search on the same path from which Michael and Tristan had disappeared. The night hike path.
The moonlight breeched the trees and found the surface of an old log on the side of the trail. Zach sat on the log, resting his rubbery legs.
He had not come prepared. No flashlight. No food. No water. And now he was lost. The hike earlier that night did not take nearly this long. He must have taken a wrong turn in the darkness. How could he be so stupid?
The silence of the woods was chilling. Occasionally a soft breeze would rustle the leaves and remind Zach that he had not been sucked into a dark, cavernous, vacuum. Hunger had started to creep into his belly, dryness into his throat.
He worried. What have I done? I have no idea where Michael and Tristan are and now I have no idea where I am.
Looking around, he searched for any clue as to his whereabouts. Any clue that could lead him to the comfort of his bed. To food. To water. To Michael and Tristan.
The moon emitted enough light to outline the boundaries of the path. This was Zach’s only guide. His only beacon. In a strange way, he almost wanted the ghost to make its presence known again. At least then he wouldn’t feel so alone. He wouldn’t feel so lost.
In Zach’s first class at Pine Ridge, Melanie had mentioned that all of the myriad trails in the Pine Ridge area were interconnected. That if you ever got lost, the best thing you could do would be to stay on the paths. If you did that, rather than venturing into the woods, you would stand a much better chance of finding civilization.
Keeping this advice in mind, he rose from the surface of the log, took a deep breath, and made his way along the path, back the way he came.
Zach’s toes and fingertips were numb. In his hurry to escape the dorm, he had forgotten to put on his gloves and his snow boots. All the students were told to bring boots just in case, but it had not been snowing, so Zach was wearing his Nikes. Since he had left the dorm two hours earlier the temperature had dropped and he could feel it in his bones.
The path had become nearly invisible in the dark. Black clouds smothered the remaining moonlight. Zach had to hike slowly and carefully just to stay on the trail. He tripped over rocks and even his own feet.
Walking down the path took every ounce of his effort. He had never before felt such hunger and thirst. He walked with his mouth open, hoping the cool breeze would give his throat some relief.
Not seeing a comfortable place to sit, he crouched down in the middle of the dirt path and put his face in his hands. Tears welled up in his eyes. Zach couldn’t cry at Chris’s memorial, but he had no trouble doing it now.
When he finally eased to his feet, small, white flakes had begun to coat the trail and the surrounding trees. “Great! That’s just what I need!” he yelled to the sky. But his anger quickly dispelled. He had an idea. On a nearby pine tree, a patch of snow lay on the branches, leftover from previous snowfalls. Zach walked over to it, grabbed a handful, and nibbled on the wet, cool slush. It was dirty. Who knew how long it had been sitting on the branch. But it eased the pain in Zach’s throat.
Zach trudged forward along the trail. He had to keep moving to stay warm. It would be hours before daylight showed its face. He had almost forgotten why he was out there in the first place. All he could think about was getting back to the dorm, getting warm, and eating.
The soft, slow snowfall created an eerie quiet. The flakes were larger and falling at an increasingly fast rate. “I’m never gonna be able to see this trail if the ground is covered in snow.” Zach stopped in his tracks. He turned in every direction, calming himself. “Okay. I can figure this out. I’ve been in jams before. I can get back. Just stay calm.”
Just as Zach was beginning to find his bearings, a breathy whisper called to him from the woods. “Zach,” it said.
Zach jerked his head back toward the voice. “Who’s out there?”
No response.
“Is someone there?” he asked again.
A long moment of silence. Then the voice spoke again. “Michael.” A little louder now. A little clearer.
“Michael? Tristan? Are you guys out there?” Zach trod closer to the sound of the mysterious voice. Twigs snapped under his feet as he ventured off the path. Branches surrounded him. He stuck his hands out to protect himself from the sharp limbs of the forest.
He was a few feet off the trail.
“Zach!” The voice again. Much louder now. A call for help.
“Michael, is that you? Where are you guys?”
No response. The snow was coming down harder now, blanketing the pine tree’s branches. Zach’s cotton hat and jacket were smothered in flakes. He shivered in the cold. His spring jacket was too light and he had brought no gloves. He couldn’t see them in the dark, but he imagined his fingertips were blue. He jammed them into his pockets. His right hand slammed into Chris’s stone. Almost immediately his fingers felt relief. Warmth radiated from the surface of the stone. After taking the stone out of his pocket, Zach cupped it with both hands, allowing the blood to flow through his fingers again.
He didn’t understand it. How could a rock be doing this? But he was in no position to worry about it. Maybe there was a scientific reason for it. Maybe some rocks give off heat.
“Tristan.” The voice spoke again. It was near.
Zach had to find out who or what it was.
With the rock safely in his pocket and new warmth flowing through him, Zach strode deeper into the woods. The only respite from the blackness of the forest was the heavy, white snowfall.
Zach continued. Step after step, blocking the branches with his forearms. The minutes passed. “That voice couldn’t have been this far away. Michael! Tristan!” he yelled.
The voice had vanished.
Zach looked around. Trees. Snowfall. Darkness. The clearing of the path was gone. He didn’t know how to get back to the trail. If he was lost before, then he was really lost now.
Then it came. The smell. Gasoline. Burnt rubber. It came as if it was oozing from the surrounding tree branches. It overwhelmed Zach and he gagged. He kept moving through the forest as quickly as he could, trying to escape the odor, but it followed him relentlessly.
He was deep into the forest. Michael and Tristan were nowhere to be found. The cold air snapped the air from his lungs. The forest seemed to be caving in on him from every direction.
It was clear now. Whatever was out there haunting him had also tricked him. Michael and Tristan had never been here. But something else was, and for Zach there was no escape.