Micah

Caleb was snoring.

Mikey was curled up like a pretzel.

Jordan was half outside his tent with his feet sticking out.

We loaded my gear into the car, mumbled goodbye, and drove.

It was early October, and classes were starting to feel like background noise.

I needed a break from everything.

School, not his screens.

Jonah had the same itch, and so did Mara, his girlfriend.

Though I think she was mostly in it for Jonah.

He pitched the idea of heading north into the locks from mountains for a long weekend.

No phones, no service, no plans.

Just a tent, some trail, food, and three people trying to get off the grid for a few days.

We left early on a Friday.

Jonah drove his dad's old SUV, the one with the dent in the back hatch and a CD player that only worked if you shoved a coin in next to the disc.

We were an hour outside of Telford when we hit the last gas station before the wilderness.

It was one of those roadside places that looked like it hadn't been updated since the 70s.

Two pumps.

Sun-faded Zodads.

A hand-painted sign out front that just said, I see.

Bait.