Evan Mallory

We had two trails left on the map, both through Dead Oak's Hollow. The first dissolved beneath a landslide, so we plunged into the second, a drainage choked with limestone and slick leaves. Halfway down, the ground opened under Jenna's boot.

We had two trails left on the map, both through Dead Oak's Hollow. The first dissolved beneath a landslide, so we plunged into the second, a drainage choked with limestone and slick leaves. Halfway down, the ground opened under Jenna's boot.

she yelped flailing and i grabbed her pack just in time pulling her back from the lip of a sinkhole maybe fifteen feet across and twice that deep its floor looked like a trophy dump deer mandibles bare jaws a mountain lion skull bleached white

she yelped flailing and i grabbed her pack just in time pulling her back from the lip of a sinkhole maybe fifteen feet across and twice that deep its floor looked like a trophy dump deer mandibles bare jaws a mountain lion skull bleached white

human teeth molars incisors glinted among the bones like seashells on dark sand a fresh pair of upper incisors rested on a flat rock the roots still pink i gagged above us voices began to chant in unison neither loud nor hurried coordinates read out in monotone descending numbers between each line thirteen twelve eleven

human teeth molars incisors glinted among the bones like seashells on dark sand a fresh pair of upper incisors rested on a flat rock the roots still pink i gagged above us voices began to chant in unison neither loud nor hurried coordinates read out in monotone descending numbers between each line thirteen twelve eleven

figures ringed the sinkhole rim a full circle of pale watchers crouched so low their wrists dangled past their knees they rocked together synchronized until their joints popped like breaking sticks lightning finally tore open the clouds in the flash every watcher stood at full height arms spread ragged bark capes snapping like cloth Thunder hammered the basin.

figures ringed the sinkhole rim a full circle of pale watchers crouched so low their wrists dangled past their knees they rocked together synchronized until their joints popped like breaking sticks lightning finally tore open the clouds in the flash every watcher stood at full height arms spread ragged bark capes snapping like cloth Thunder hammered the basin.

A slab of limestone sheared off the lip and crashed into the sinkhole, tilting high enough to form a rough ramp. Move! I shoved Jenna up the rock and scrambled behind her. Limestone rang beneath our boots. Something, someone, slid after us, bare feet slapping in counter-rhythm. But the next lightning strike blinded my night vision. and all I saw were afterimages.

A slab of limestone sheared off the lip and crashed into the sinkhole, tilting high enough to form a rough ramp. Move! I shoved Jenna up the rock and scrambled behind her. Limestone rang beneath our boots. Something, someone, slid after us, bare feet slapping in counter-rhythm. But the next lightning strike blinded my night vision. and all I saw were afterimages.

We broke into a downhill sprint, branches clawing our packs, the slope steep enough to tumble if we missed a step. Behind us, the coordinated stomp of many feet burst into a run, no shouts, no barking dogs, only that same precise cadence driving faster. At the service road, a hunter's truck idled, tailgate open, decoys rattling in the bed. I waved both arms, gun still in my hand.

We broke into a downhill sprint, branches clawing our packs, the slope steep enough to tumble if we missed a step. Behind us, the coordinated stomp of many feet burst into a run, no shouts, no barking dogs, only that same precise cadence driving faster. At the service road, a hunter's truck idled, tailgate open, decoys rattling in the bed. I waved both arms, gun still in my hand.

The man's eyes went wide. He thumbed the safety off his shotgun, but didn't raise it. Jenna collapsed beside the bumper, sobbing. Gravel dust rose behind us, but nothing emerged from the tree line. Forest Ranger Hal Teague arrived ten minutes later in a green pickup. He listened in silence while I poured out the story, leaving out nothing this time.

The man's eyes went wide. He thumbed the safety off his shotgun, but didn't raise it. Jenna collapsed beside the bumper, sobbing. Gravel dust rose behind us, but nothing emerged from the tree line. Forest Ranger Hal Teague arrived ten minutes later in a green pickup. He listened in silence while I poured out the story, leaving out nothing this time.

When I finished, he rubbed the brim of his hat and asked only one question. "'You two cross Dead Oaks Hollow?' We nodded." Locals call them ridge watchers, he said, voice soft enough I almost missed it. They follow noise, don't let a thing go that rattles the ridge after dark. He offered hot coffee in a paper cup. I wrapped trembling fingers around it, then froze.

When I finished, he rubbed the brim of his hat and asked only one question. "'You two cross Dead Oaks Hollow?' We nodded." Locals call them ridge watchers, he said, voice soft enough I almost missed it. They follow noise, don't let a thing go that rattles the ridge after dark. He offered hot coffee in a paper cup. I wrapped trembling fingers around it, then froze.

The cup's handle was looped by a neat braided string. My boot lace, though I had replaced the laces with paracord that morning. Three weeks later, back home in Richmond, a padded envelope arrived with no return address. Inside lay the splintered warning board from the kiosk and a microSD card labeled 203AM in cramped graphite. I slid the card into my laptop. A single audio file played.

The cup's handle was looped by a neat braided string. My boot lace, though I had replaced the laces with paracord that morning. Three weeks later, back home in Richmond, a padded envelope arrived with no return address. Inside lay the splintered warning board from the kiosk and a microSD card labeled 203AM in cramped graphite. I slid the card into my laptop. A single audio file played.

My own voice whispered, ''Why'd you bring the gun?'' Thirteen times, flawless and cold, each repetition tailed by a wet exhale that fogged the laptop microphone somehow on the recording itself. When the loop ended, a faint click-click echoed, like sticks tapping out Jenna's laughter. I keep the board locked in the attic.

My own voice whispered, ''Why'd you bring the gun?'' Thirteen times, flawless and cold, each repetition tailed by a wet exhale that fogged the laptop microphone somehow on the recording itself. When the loop ended, a faint click-click echoed, like sticks tapping out Jenna's laughter. I keep the board locked in the attic.