Evan Mallory

The paracord twanged again, quieter, as though fingertips traced its length. Then a voice spoke inches from the nylon. Why'd you bring the gun? My own voice, tone, timbre, the hitch on the word gun I'd made earlier that day when coaxing Jenna downhill. A perfect mimic, whispered with the warmth leeched out of it. The same sentence repeated, but now in Jenna's tone, fragile and cracking.

The paracord twanged again, quieter, as though fingertips traced its length. Then a voice spoke inches from the nylon. Why'd you bring the gun? My own voice, tone, timbre, the hitch on the word gun I'd made earlier that day when coaxing Jenna downhill. A perfect mimic, whispered with the warmth leeched out of it. The same sentence repeated, but now in Jenna's tone, fragile and cracking.

She clamped a hand over her mouth. I felt her heartbeat banging through her wrist. I cleared my throat. We're armed, I said, voice low but steady. Step away now, or I will shoot. The forest exhaled. Cicadas, crickets, everything that had been humming went dead. A two count later, footsteps retreated.

She clamped a hand over her mouth. I felt her heartbeat banging through her wrist. I cleared my throat. We're armed, I said, voice low but steady. Step away now, or I will shoot. The forest exhaled. Cicadas, crickets, everything that had been humming went dead. A two count later, footsteps retreated.

two measured paces pause two paces like a drill squad marching in felt slippers the cadence faded but the hush remained an oppressive vacuum that pressed against my eardrums until they rang we lay awake until dawn seeped through the fly in a colorless smear when i crawled out my boots slid on damp shale the paracord was gone every inch of it yet the stakes still stood

two measured paces pause two paces like a drill squad marching in felt slippers the cadence faded but the hush remained an oppressive vacuum that pressed against my eardrums until they rang we lay awake until dawn seeped through the fly in a colorless smear when i crawled out my boots slid on damp shale the paracord was gone every inch of it yet the stakes still stood

My mug lay on its side, handle threaded by a braided loop that hadn't existed the night before. Boot laces, our boot laces, had been sliced from both pairs of boots while we slept and woven into an elegant hangman's noose. A gray clay fingerprint smeared the tent zipper, flecked with grit that glittered like bone dust. Jenna stared, then turned the color of paste. We didn't speak.

My mug lay on its side, handle threaded by a braided loop that hadn't existed the night before. Boot laces, our boot laces, had been sliced from both pairs of boots while we slept and woven into an elegant hangman's noose. A gray clay fingerprint smeared the tent zipper, flecked with grit that glittered like bone dust. Jenna stared, then turned the color of paste. We didn't speak.

We broke camp in six minutes flat. No coffee, no filter stop. As we shouldered our packs, the clouds above the cliff tilted, and for the briefest heartbeat, I thought I saw a thin figure perched on the rock face itself, limbs folded like a mantis. A blink later, only wet shale remained. We started downhill, the trail slick and narrow.

We broke camp in six minutes flat. No coffee, no filter stop. As we shouldered our packs, the clouds above the cliff tilted, and for the briefest heartbeat, I thought I saw a thin figure perched on the rock face itself, limbs folded like a mantis. A blink later, only wet shale remained. We started downhill, the trail slick and narrow.

Behind us, far up the ridge, two sticks clacked together, talk-talk, in perfect imitation of Jenna's laugh. I tightened my grip on the pistol and kept walking, counting each breath until I lost track of the number entirely. Wind scratched the ridge like sandpaper, but thunder refused to crack, just a low, endless growl that chased us downslope.

Behind us, far up the ridge, two sticks clacked together, talk-talk, in perfect imitation of Jenna's laugh. I tightened my grip on the pistol and kept walking, counting each breath until I lost track of the number entirely. Wind scratched the ridge like sandpaper, but thunder refused to crack, just a low, endless growl that chased us downslope.

GPS bars winked on and off, even though the sky stayed open. Every time the screen froze, the mileage ticked backward, chewing away our progress toward Burke's Garden. My watch claimed mid-morning, yet the air tasted of approaching night. We power-walked the narrow spine until the forest thinned into scrubby grass. That was where we saw it, the silhouette waiting on the next rise.

GPS bars winked on and off, even though the sky stayed open. Every time the screen froze, the mileage ticked backward, chewing away our progress toward Burke's Garden. My watch claimed mid-morning, yet the air tasted of approaching night. We power-walked the narrow spine until the forest thinned into scrubby grass. That was where we saw it, the silhouette waiting on the next rise.

Tall, too thin, shoulders draped in something that fluttered without wind, its head listed to one side like a dog trying to puzzle a strange sound. Then with brutal deliberation, it raised one impossibly long arm, no bend at the elbow, and pointed downhill, the same direction we were already moving. Jenna whispered, it's hurting us. I could not disagree.

Tall, too thin, shoulders draped in something that fluttered without wind, its head listed to one side like a dog trying to puzzle a strange sound. Then with brutal deliberation, it raised one impossibly long arm, no bend at the elbow, and pointed downhill, the same direction we were already moving. Jenna whispered, it's hurting us. I could not disagree.

We cut left onto the faint connector trail racing the slope. Minutes later, a sharp digital click broke the hush behind a maple trunk, followed by another farther uphill. When I searched the bark, I found a black cube, an old Bluetooth speaker wedged in a knot hole, red light blinking. A delayed echo of our own footfalls spilled from it, three seconds behind.

We cut left onto the faint connector trail racing the slope. Minutes later, a sharp digital click broke the hush behind a maple trunk, followed by another farther uphill. When I searched the bark, I found a black cube, an old Bluetooth speaker wedged in a knot hole, red light blinking. A delayed echo of our own footfalls spilled from it, three seconds behind.

The tiny cadence ricocheted through the hollows, multiplying until it felt like dozens of boots closing in. I smashed the speaker with a rock. The moment the plastic cracked, a whistle erupted from somewhere beyond sight. An elk bugle, pitched far too low, vibrato so deep my ribs hummed. Birds pinwheeled from the canopy. Some dropping stunned onto the duff.

The tiny cadence ricocheted through the hollows, multiplying until it felt like dozens of boots closing in. I smashed the speaker with a rock. The moment the plastic cracked, a whistle erupted from somewhere beyond sight. An elk bugle, pitched far too low, vibrato so deep my ribs hummed. Birds pinwheeled from the canopy. Some dropping stunned onto the duff.