Narrator

There had been no forced entry.

And yet someone had accessed our belongings, taken a piece of my clothing, brought it up the ridge and tied it like a message.

We kept climbing because standing still felt like waiting to be found.''

Near the top, we got one bar of service for about 30 seconds.

Eric's phone lit up with a delayed flood of notifications, then went back to nothing.

In those 30 seconds, Nora managed to dial 911 and the call didn't connect.

Maddie tried to text her best friend and got message failed.

I tried to call the cabin owner and got voicemail immediately, like the phone number was disconnected.

Then the service vanished as if it had never existed.

On the way down, we heard an engine.

A real one, not imagined.

An ATV, coming up the gravel road toward the cabin.

We all stopped and looked at each other because that sound, in that place, meant either rescue or another variable we couldn't control.

A man on an old four-wheeler rolled into view, wearing a faded cap and a jacket that looked older than me.

He was thin, weathered, the kind of person who looks carved by sun and wind.

He saw us, and slowed without surprise, like he'd expected to find people outside that cabin.

His eyes flicked to our faces, then to the cabin behind us, then to the trees as if checking something.

"'You folks the renters?'

he said.

"'Not a question.'