Narrator

When we hit pavement, real pavement, I felt my throat unclench slightly.

The deputy who took our statement was polite, in the way people are polite when they've already decided what category you fall into.

He listened.

Nodded, asked about alcohol, asked if we'd taken any drugs, asked if we were into that spooky stuff.

When Eric mentioned the voices, the deputy's eyes flicked to Maddie like he was checking if she was the type to exaggerate.

When I mentioned the cut cables, he asked if we'd had any disputes with locals, and then wrote something down that I couldn't see.

I offered to take him to the cabin.

He said they'd send someone later.

He told us not to go back.

He said it was probably bears and probably pranksters.

He said October brings weirdos.

He was careful not to say anything that admitted the possibility of something truly abnormal, because admitting that would mean responsibility.

Before we left, I asked if anyone had gone missing in that area recently.

The deputy hesitated just long enough to be noticeable, then said, People go missing in the mountains.

It's a big place.

And then he changed the subject to our license plates.

We drove home without stopping except for gas and coffee and bathroom breaks, like we were trying to outrun a thought.

The whole ride, none of us played music.

None of us wanted extra noise.

I kept thinking about the notebook, heavy in my bag, like a lead weight of history.