Samantha (Corrections Officer)

The wilderness used to feel like freedom, but now it felt like a place where anything could happen and no one would know until it was too late. Even though we'd escaped, the memory of his raspy voice and the sight of him rifling through our gear clung to me.

The wilderness used to feel like freedom, but now it felt like a place where anything could happen and no one would know until it was too late. Even though we'd escaped, the memory of his raspy voice and the sight of him rifling through our gear clung to me.

That night changed the way I look at every backpacking trip since, reminding me that human threats can be far more unpredictable than any bear or mountain lion ever could be. I started out from Cheyenne at daybreak, figuring I could knock out most of the drive to Seattle in one long push. I'd triple-checked my old Subaru the night before. Oil level, tire pressure, emergency kit, all that stuff.

That night changed the way I look at every backpacking trip since, reminding me that human threats can be far more unpredictable than any bear or mountain lion ever could be. I started out from Cheyenne at daybreak, figuring I could knock out most of the drive to Seattle in one long push. I'd triple-checked my old Subaru the night before. Oil level, tire pressure, emergency kit, all that stuff.

Despite my careful prep, a little voice told me I was forgetting something. I hate that voice. It always seems to show up whenever I'm about to tackle something big. Anyway, the first couple hours were nothing special. The usual empty highways, a few semi-trucks, and my scratchy playlist keeping me awake.

Despite my careful prep, a little voice told me I was forgetting something. I hate that voice. It always seems to show up whenever I'm about to tackle something big. Anyway, the first couple hours were nothing special. The usual empty highways, a few semi-trucks, and my scratchy playlist keeping me awake.

Occasionally, I glanced at the fuel gauge, telling myself I'd grab gas at the next decent stop. Of course, next decent stop kept getting pushed back because each exit seemed sketchier than the last. One was a battered rest area with no visible pumps, another had a motel that looked like a horror movie set. I told myself, I'll keep going, there's bound to be a nicer station further up.

Occasionally, I glanced at the fuel gauge, telling myself I'd grab gas at the next decent stop. Of course, next decent stop kept getting pushed back because each exit seemed sketchier than the last. One was a battered rest area with no visible pumps, another had a motel that looked like a horror movie set. I told myself, I'll keep going, there's bound to be a nicer station further up.

After a while, the roads got lonelier, and the wide Wyoming plains started blending into Idaho's emptiness. Clouds crawled across the sky, and an unsettling hush settled over the horizon. My phone signal came and went. When it was gone, I realized how cut off I actually was. Maybe that's what put me on edge.

After a while, the roads got lonelier, and the wide Wyoming plains started blending into Idaho's emptiness. Clouds crawled across the sky, and an unsettling hush settled over the horizon. My phone signal came and went. When it was gone, I realized how cut off I actually was. Maybe that's what put me on edge.

The next billboard I spotted had half its letters missing, but I made out something about a town called Clarkston, offering gas and homestyle meals. The sign looked ancient, faded paint, corners peeling. I veered onto a narrow state road that supposedly led there, noticing no other cars, not a single soul. The fields looked brittle, like they'd been scorched ages ago and never recovered.

The next billboard I spotted had half its letters missing, but I made out something about a town called Clarkston, offering gas and homestyle meals. The sign looked ancient, faded paint, corners peeling. I veered onto a narrow state road that supposedly led there, noticing no other cars, not a single soul. The fields looked brittle, like they'd been scorched ages ago and never recovered.

That sense of isolation started weighing on me. But the gas tank was nearing the red zone, so I pushed forward. Finally, I rolled into Clarkston. It barely resembled a town. I saw a couple of warped wooden signs, a diner with its front windows boarded up, and a run-down gas station at the edge of Main Street. If you could even call it Main Street.

That sense of isolation started weighing on me. But the gas tank was nearing the red zone, so I pushed forward. Finally, I rolled into Clarkston. It barely resembled a town. I saw a couple of warped wooden signs, a diner with its front windows boarded up, and a run-down gas station at the edge of Main Street. If you could even call it Main Street.

The station had a neon sign in the window, flickering weakly. at first glance it was a relief at least it was something i parked by the single pump hopped out and listened nothing no distant trucks no muffled voices just the wind brushing against cracked asphalt When I yanked the nozzle free and squeezed the handle, I got absolutely zero flow.

The station had a neon sign in the window, flickering weakly. at first glance it was a relief at least it was something i parked by the single pump hopped out and listened nothing no distant trucks no muffled voices just the wind brushing against cracked asphalt When I yanked the nozzle free and squeezed the handle, I got absolutely zero flow.

I tried again, jiggled a lever, peeked at the side of the pump to see if there was some ancient switch. Still nada. There had to be someone inside who knew how to operate this dinosaur. So I walked up to the door. A metal bell clanked overhead when I went in. The air inside was stale, like nobody had propped open that door in years.

I tried again, jiggled a lever, peeked at the side of the pump to see if there was some ancient switch. Still nada. There had to be someone inside who knew how to operate this dinosaur. So I walked up to the door. A metal bell clanked overhead when I went in. The air inside was stale, like nobody had propped open that door in years.

Rows of dusty candy bars lined the shelves, brands I recognized, but with wrappers that looked off, like they'd come from a different decade. A newspaper stack near the counter displayed a headline about some local fair. The date was 2002. I nearly laughed at how bizarre that was, but it only made me more uneasy.

Rows of dusty candy bars lined the shelves, brands I recognized, but with wrappers that looked off, like they'd come from a different decade. A newspaper stack near the counter displayed a headline about some local fair. The date was 2002. I nearly laughed at how bizarre that was, but it only made me more uneasy.