Jonas

I started bringing books, crossword puzzles, even the sketchpad just to stay busy.

Then, about halfway through the month, I noticed something off.

There was a signature in the logbook I didn't remember writing.

K. Hall.

Just that.

Right above mine.

Same handwriting every time perfect, uniform block letters, like someone was using a stencil.

At first, I figured maybe a ranger had passed through early and didn't bother checking in with me, which wasn't unheard of.

But when I brought it up with Dale, my supervisor at the main outpost, he said nobody by that name had clearance for our sector.

Not even across the broader region.

I got worried about it.

Started double-checking everything.

I kept the clipboard with me even when I walked the 30 feet to the outhouse.

Locked the shed behind me every time I left, even just to stretch my legs.

Still, the signature kept showing up, always before mine, always neat.

Never smudged or rushed one morning.

I decided to get in early.

I don't even know why I just had this uneasy feeling.

It was still pitch black out when I got this note.

It had fallen overnight.