We just passed a couple hunters. They’ve been out this way all morning, but unfortunately haven’t seen Brase. No other hikers have come from the west today. Brase still could have come through last night, I realize, but the thought that he could be angry enough to hike in pitch darkness is troubling.
One of the hunters said something kind of strange, though. He told us to be careful.
“You mean because there are a lot of hunters out today?” Cal asked.
I don’t think anything significant is in season right now. If some near-sighted hunter mistakes one of us for a chipmunk, I’m pretty sure that’s on him.
The hunter shook his head. “No. Just be careful out in these woods.”
Cal thanked him and we left.
“What in the hell was that supposed to mean?” Dean asked. I’m not sure we were even out of earshot of the hunters at that point, but I agreed with the sentiment. Such an odd thing to say.
“’Beware the scary woods,’” Cal said. “Yeah, thanks, guy; that’s really helping.”
~~~
Dean’s been brainstorming all of “these woods’” potential terrors. Cryptic (and pointed – “THESE woods”) as the hunter’s warning was, the source of the implied horror has been left to his imagination to define. It’s been up to the task.
I had to correct Dean, though, and this is a common canonical error, that it is actually Frankenstein’s MONSTER who did the monstering. “Frankenstein” is the name of the doctor that stitched the big guy together. And no, Dean, he’s probably not a contract killer for the Soviets. Nor are Nosferatu or The Wolf Man as far as I’ve heard.
He’s pretty sure it isn’t Bigfoot. With the season changing, he probably needs to head South. It’s difficult to hide in the forest with all the leaves falling. That’s just common sense.
“Dragons,” Dean has decided.
“Dragons?” Brooke asked, doubtful.
“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, as if his suggestion was not only reasonable, but obvious.
This wasn’t enough for Brooke though, “Is there a REASON that it’s dragons?”
Dean scoffed. He jabbed his thumb towards Brooke as he turned to Cal. “’Is there a reason?’” he mocked, and returned to chewing on an energy bar. Grinning, Cal shrugged at Brooke, apparently unwilling to take sides in this riveting debate.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
In a way, that ominous foreboding has helped, I think. It’s something superfluous to poke fun at, to rally behind. It’s a distraction. I almost wish Brent was with us. I’m not exactly sure what he does for work, but I suspect being with people who care about him, actively doing something to find his brother, would make him feel a lot better than slogging through the work day with relative strangers.
“Could be weevils,” Cal suddenly suggested.
“Weevils working with Dragons,” Dean agreed. “In an unholy alliance.”
Cal nodded, “Yep. Unholy alliance, no doubt about it.”
~~~
We just heard from Laurel. With Brooke’s help, she collected phone numbers for all of Brase’s friends, and has been contacting all of them throughout the day. Her most recent communique confirmed the final tally : no one has heard from Brase. Spirits have immediately dampened.
Cal just meekly suggested, “Vampires? Maybe fire-breathing vampires?” The idea didn’t get so much as a chuckle, even from Dean.
It’s going to be a very long day.
~~~
As I mentioned, we’ve checked every campsite on this route. We just passed a fairly large one. There wasn’t anyone there; it looks like the place has been abandoned for weeks.
This is starting to look pretty bleak, pointless. The city of Clearfield is close, another five miles or so. That’ll be our next off-trail destination. We may also need to batten down for a bit there because the forecast is looking pretty dreadful. That light, friendly rain we had the other day? Its big brother is supposed to show up in a few hours, and he promises to be a lot less amenable than his sibling. Storms and more storms.
There’s been some discussion about calling it quits tonight, getting picked up in Clearfield. Earlier, Cal argued against it, “Why rush back? It’s not like he’ll be more likely to come home if we’re there.” If asked again at this moment, with portentous humidity binding to our skin and clothes, I’m not sure he’d offer the same resistance.
I’m not sure any of us would.
~~~
We’ve gone about 15 miles today. Of everyone we’ve spoken to, there hasn’t been a single Brase sighting. Soon we’ll be heading off-trail towards Clearfield.
It’s looking increasingly likely that they’ll go back tonight. I’ve decided to stay on the trail for at least a few more days, though. Brase moves fast; he could’ve covered a lot of distance that first night if he didn’t camp. He could have hiked beyond our current position before sunrise, giving none of today’s interviewees a CHANCE to even see him. If so, he’s got to be delirious from a lack of sleep by now so he’ll need to camp before long. Who knows, with him finally zonked out, and me hustling to cover ground, maybe I can catch up after all.
I’ve tried to convince myself that it isn’t just selfishness, that I’m continuing on in a sincere attempt to find Brace… not just stubbornly refusing to give up the hike I planned for months. I don’t know that I’m buying it, though.
The others are talking to a group of fishermen right now. It might be a family; difficult to be sure from here. I’ve hung back to give my final update and do a little soul-searching. I don’t think I like what I’m finding.
Still, they’ve been chatting for minutes now. Usually, it’s a quick ‘Hey, have you seen?’ we show a picture of Brase, receive a sympathetic head shake, and we move along. Maybe Dean is warning the fishermen about the Weevil-Dragon coalition invading the forest.
Now Cal is talking. He’s pointing back this way. Actually, he just walked away from the others and is getting his phone out. Yes, I’m the anti-social jerk deciding it’s more important to--
Brooke is gesturing for me to come up. Gotta go.