Aaron Miller

Morning found me dehydrated and disoriented. The next days blurred together, wandering, staggering aimlessly, hallucinating vividly from hunger and thirst. Faces appeared in shadows, whispers floated from nowhere, my sense of time and place fractured. Somehow, after days I couldn't count, I stumbled out onto the rocky shoreline of Fontana Lake.

Morning found me dehydrated and disoriented. The next days blurred together, wandering, staggering aimlessly, hallucinating vividly from hunger and thirst. Faces appeared in shadows, whispers floated from nowhere, my sense of time and place fractured. Somehow, after days I couldn't count, I stumbled out onto the rocky shoreline of Fontana Lake.

Sunlight stabbed painfully into my eyes as voices called to me urgently, the world spinning into incoherence as I collapsed onto sharp stones. When consciousness returned, I lay in a sterile hospital room, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, harsh and disorienting. Doctors hovered, asking questions I couldn't answer, words tangled in my throat, too large, too painful to utter.

Sunlight stabbed painfully into my eyes as voices called to me urgently, the world spinning into incoherence as I collapsed onto sharp stones. When consciousness returned, I lay in a sterile hospital room, fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, harsh and disorienting. Doctors hovered, asking questions I couldn't answer, words tangled in my throat, too large, too painful to utter.

My tongue felt thick, my voice lost in that dark void below ground. Eventually someone pressed a small pad of paper into my trembling hands, urging me gently to write, to say something, anything. My hand shook violently as I gripped the pen. The image of Ben's empty, pale face burned deeply into my mind. I stared helplessly at the paper, heart-clenching painfully,

My tongue felt thick, my voice lost in that dark void below ground. Eventually someone pressed a small pad of paper into my trembling hands, urging me gently to write, to say something, anything. My hand shook violently as I gripped the pen. The image of Ben's empty, pale face burned deeply into my mind. I stared helplessly at the paper, heart-clenching painfully,

with great effort i scrawled one single trembling word drained the nurses exchanged nervous glances whispering quietly later rangers visited their questions careful probing they claimed no structure existed where i described no hatch no run-off like i remembered They seemed uneasy, hesitant, as though my memories frightened them.

with great effort i scrawled one single trembling word drained the nurses exchanged nervous glances whispering quietly later rangers visited their questions careful probing they claimed no structure existed where i described no hatch no run-off like i remembered They seemed uneasy, hesitant, as though my memories frightened them.

Late at night in my hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, I knew with chilling certainty they'd never find Ben, or understand what we'd uncovered. I couldn't explain it, even to myself. Only the emptiness remained, deep and cold inside me, a wound I feared would never heal.

Late at night in my hospital bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, I knew with chilling certainty they'd never find Ben, or understand what we'd uncovered. I couldn't explain it, even to myself. Only the emptiness remained, deep and cold inside me, a wound I feared would never heal.

And as I drifted into restless sleep, I felt an irresistible pull toward the runoff, toward that unnatural darkness beneath the smoky mountains, knowing somewhere deep inside it wasn't done with me yet. I've spent most of my life wandering these forests.

And as I drifted into restless sleep, I felt an irresistible pull toward the runoff, toward that unnatural darkness beneath the smoky mountains, knowing somewhere deep inside it wasn't done with me yet. I've spent most of my life wandering these forests.

The Allegheny National Forest, sprawling along the Pennsylvania-New York border, has been my backyard, playground, and hunting ground for as long as I can remember. My name is Cal Mayfield, and alongside my closest friend John Hart, I've mapped just about every deer trail, fishing hole, and hidden hollow tucked among these thick woods.

The Allegheny National Forest, sprawling along the Pennsylvania-New York border, has been my backyard, playground, and hunting ground for as long as I can remember. My name is Cal Mayfield, and alongside my closest friend John Hart, I've mapped just about every deer trail, fishing hole, and hidden hollow tucked among these thick woods.

John's always been the cautious one, the guy who'd double-check maps before heading out and pack extra batteries every time. I tended to wing it more often than not, relying on instinct and stubbornness to see us through. In late October, just a week after an unusually fierce storm had ripped through the forest, John and I decided to scout a new deer hunting spot near Minister Creek.

John's always been the cautious one, the guy who'd double-check maps before heading out and pack extra batteries every time. I tended to wing it more often than not, relying on instinct and stubbornness to see us through. In late October, just a week after an unusually fierce storm had ripped through the forest, John and I decided to scout a new deer hunting spot near Minister Creek.

Branches and trunks littered the ground, making old trails nearly impassable. We'd been at it all morning, fighting through briars and waist-high undergrowth to map out alternative routes. Cal, check this out. John knelt beside a gnarled spruce, pulling away a thick layer of moss and decaying leaves. I stepped closer, squinting at the rusted corner of something metal jutting from the forest floor.

Branches and trunks littered the ground, making old trails nearly impassable. We'd been at it all morning, fighting through briars and waist-high undergrowth to map out alternative routes. Cal, check this out. John knelt beside a gnarled spruce, pulling away a thick layer of moss and decaying leaves. I stepped closer, squinting at the rusted corner of something metal jutting from the forest floor.

Do not enter. John frowned, running a hand over the sign's corroded surface. Ever heard of this? I shook my head, scanning the woods around us. The silence pressed heavily on my ears. Nothing, not even old maps ever mentioned this. Digging deeper, we uncovered two more identical signs, each equally weathered.

Do not enter. John frowned, running a hand over the sign's corroded surface. Ever heard of this? I shook my head, scanning the woods around us. The silence pressed heavily on my ears. Nothing, not even old maps ever mentioned this. Digging deeper, we uncovered two more identical signs, each equally weathered.