Narrator

Panic is loud, and loud feels unsafe.

We moved with tight efficiency, like people in a disaster drill.

We checked the spare, which was intact.

We swapped the tire.

We debated walking to the main road to look for help, but the main road was miles of gravel through forest with no guarantee anyone would pass.

We debated calling the owner, Cal, but our phones had no service.

Eric's GPS unit, which had been at 80% the battery, was dead.

Not low.

Dead.

Maddie said, that was full, and her voice trembled with anger, which was a new emotion in the mix, and honestly felt better than fear.

We did the only thing we could.

We climbed the ridge behind the cabin to try to find a signal.

The ridge wasn't a marked trail.

It was a steep climb through leaf litter and rocks, the kind of slope where you can feel your calves burn quickly.

We moved single file, close.

Halfway up, we found another sign that didn't fit.

A piece of bright orange survey tape tied around a sapling.

Then another.

Then another, like someone had marked a path.

That could have been a forester, but it felt… fresh.