Catherine

Last October, I took a temp job watching over an old ranger outpost in southern Utah. Just a week, maybe two. Easy money.

my handler clint told me the place used to be an active fire lookout post until a lightning strike took out half the tower frame and buckled the concrete footings they rebuilt part of it lower down the ridge and used it now and then for off-season monitoring clint was this gruff ex jumper with a limp and a voice like gravel in a blender he picked me up in a dust-cake silverado and drove me three hours east of kanab off pavement the last twenty miles

my handler clint told me the place used to be an active fire lookout post until a lightning strike took out half the tower frame and buckled the concrete footings they rebuilt part of it lower down the ridge and used it now and then for off-season monitoring clint was this gruff ex jumper with a limp and a voice like gravel in a blender he picked me up in a dust-cake silverado and drove me three hours east of kanab off pavement the last twenty miles

No cell service, just miles of sagebrush, wind-shaped rock, and that dead silence that sets in the further you get from anything human. The outpost sat atop Horsehead Ridge. No joke, it looked like a spine of rock ending in a crooked horse-like crag. From the front porch, you could see everything.

No cell service, just miles of sagebrush, wind-shaped rock, and that dead silence that sets in the further you get from anything human. The outpost sat atop Horsehead Ridge. No joke, it looked like a spine of rock ending in a crooked horse-like crag. From the front porch, you could see everything.

The wash below, the red rock bluffs to the west, and on a clear day, maybe even the edge of the Arizona Strip. The building itself? Two rooms, one barely more than a closet, with a busted antenna, dented generator, and a cot that smelled like a high school locker room. The back door had a crack wide enough for wind to sing through.

The wash below, the red rock bluffs to the west, and on a clear day, maybe even the edge of the Arizona Strip. The building itself? Two rooms, one barely more than a closet, with a busted antenna, dented generator, and a cot that smelled like a high school locker room. The back door had a crack wide enough for wind to sing through.

Clint helped me haul in my gear, gave me a key to the gun locker, just a flare gun and a rusted hunting rifle, and warned me about scorpions nesting in the corners. Then he clapped me on the shoulder and said something I haven't been able to forget. You hear knocks at night, don't answer right away. Wait, listen first.

Clint helped me haul in my gear, gave me a key to the gun locker, just a flare gun and a rusted hunting rifle, and warned me about scorpions nesting in the corners. Then he clapped me on the shoulder and said something I haven't been able to forget. You hear knocks at night, don't answer right away. Wait, listen first.

He must have seen my face because he grinned, all crooked teeth and sunburnt lips. Kidding, probably. Anyway, the last guy bailed halfway through his first weekend, claimed he saw shadows moving in the rocks, but who knows, meth's a hell of a drug. With that, he tipped his hat, got back in the truck, and disappeared in a storm of dust down the winding trail. I didn't think much of it at the time.

He must have seen my face because he grinned, all crooked teeth and sunburnt lips. Kidding, probably. Anyway, the last guy bailed halfway through his first weekend, claimed he saw shadows moving in the rocks, but who knows, meth's a hell of a drug. With that, he tipped his hat, got back in the truck, and disappeared in a storm of dust down the winding trail. I didn't think much of it at the time.

Guys like Clint say creepy stuff all the time, especially if you're green or new to the job. It's part of the culture, like hazing, but with more coyotes and less beer. The first day was nothing. I logged the generator hours, made some instant ramen, and walked the perimeter with my flashlight. The sun sets early this time of year, and by 7pm the ridge was cloaked in purple shadows.

Guys like Clint say creepy stuff all the time, especially if you're green or new to the job. It's part of the culture, like hazing, but with more coyotes and less beer. The first day was nothing. I logged the generator hours, made some instant ramen, and walked the perimeter with my flashlight. The sun sets early this time of year, and by 7pm the ridge was cloaked in purple shadows.

It's the kind of darkness that feels heavy, like it's pressing in. I read until my eyes burned, cracked a lukewarm beer from my cooler, and eventually decided to turn in early. I wasn't scared, just tired. It was around 9.30 when I noticed it. I'd stepped outside to take a leak and cool off. The wind was dead still. No rustling, no coyotes yipping in the distance. Nothing.

It's the kind of darkness that feels heavy, like it's pressing in. I read until my eyes burned, cracked a lukewarm beer from my cooler, and eventually decided to turn in early. I wasn't scared, just tired. It was around 9.30 when I noticed it. I'd stepped outside to take a leak and cool off. The wind was dead still. No rustling, no coyotes yipping in the distance. Nothing.

And that's when I saw the stones. Stacked about twenty feet from the porch steps was a small cairn. Five flat river stones balanced perfectly on top of one another. It hadn't been there earlier. I'm not some city kid. I always scan my surroundings. and there sure as hell wasn't a pile of rocks sitting right there when I'd done my walkabout before dinner. I walked over to it.

And that's when I saw the stones. Stacked about twenty feet from the porch steps was a small cairn. Five flat river stones balanced perfectly on top of one another. It hadn't been there earlier. I'm not some city kid. I always scan my surroundings. and there sure as hell wasn't a pile of rocks sitting right there when I'd done my walkabout before dinner. I walked over to it.

Nothing strange about the rocks themselves. Normal river stones. But the balance was too perfect. Not like something you'd stumble into by accident. Could have been a leftover marker. Maybe from Clint. Maybe from the last guy. Or maybe it had been knocked down in the wind. Rebuilt it? No, that's not how wind works. I should have knocked it over. I almost did.

Nothing strange about the rocks themselves. Normal river stones. But the balance was too perfect. Not like something you'd stumble into by accident. Could have been a leftover marker. Maybe from Clint. Maybe from the last guy. Or maybe it had been knocked down in the wind. Rebuilt it? No, that's not how wind works. I should have knocked it over. I almost did.

But something in my gut said leave it, so I did. I went back inside, made sure the doors were locked, front and back, and settled into the cot. My pocket knife under my pillow like always. I didn't sleep well. The wind picked up just after midnight, whistling through that crack in the back door frame. It almost sounded like breathing.