Page 72 of Into the Dark, We Go
The scenery was changing, though the boulders and fallen trees were unrecognizable. Then again, we were deep in the woods. Someone unfamiliar with nature might struggle to tell one tree from another. I was, after all, a city dweller.
"Fucking hell!" Nick swore, and I knew why even before I looked. We’d circled back to the same spot. The deer. The tree. The symbol.
A hollow weight settled in my gut, spreading like a slow, insidious chill through my ribs. "What’s going on? How are we ending up in the same spot?"
Nick stood there, hesitant, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "I don’t know."
It felt impossible. No, itwasimpossible. Once, maybe, but twice? I was sure we hadn’t made a circle, and we were far off the trail, still three miles from the car. The woods grew increasingly uninviting, even dangerous. I felt a persistent, unsettling awareness that our solitude was not as complete as it seemed to be.
"Let’s get out of here. Please."
Nick slipped his hand into mine, guiding me toward the trail without a word. His pace didn’t falter, his hold steady, leaving me no choice but to follow. No matter how tired I was, I didn’t mind pushing through. The feeling of eyes watching our backs kept me moving.
Nick stopped again, his head tilting as he strained to listen. "Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?" I strained to hear, every fiber attuned to the faint sounds around me: the rustle of leaves, the creaking of wooden limbs that seemed to signal the presence of unseen animals nearby. My eyes flicked nervously through the trees, but there was no movement.
"Nothing. Let’s go," he said, resuming his pace.
By my calculations, we should have reached the trail by now. But I wasn’t sure I trusted my perception of time and distance. Everything was distorted, warped by fear and confusion. Was it getting darker? Or was my frazzled mind playing tricks on me? The overcast sky offered no help, obscuring any sense of time. The woods around us felt alive, filled with presence. I fought to keep panic at bay, steadying my breath and clinging to whatever rationality I had left.
The earth itself seemed to conspire against me, with roots reaching up to trip me, and mud sucking at my feet. But I dared not look down. I couldn’t risk losing sight of Nick, even for a second.
Just when I thought I’d shatter, Nick held back a branch, revealing the trail. I gulped in relief, feeling the pressure coming off. Now, at least, we were on the marked path.
"It’s okay, we’re almost out," he said, helping me onto the trail. "Can you walk?"
I nodded. If I had to, I’d run and not stop until we reached the safety of the car.
"Do you think we were hallucinating?" I asked, still trying to make sense of it. "Maybe it was some kind of fungus or something."
"I thought about that," Nick said. "But if we’d inhaled something that strong, it wouldn’t just stop the second we stepped outside. And shared hallucinations are rare."
"But not impossible?"
"No, just unlikely," he said. "And if it were something airborne, we’d probably still feel it—nausea, headaches, at least some disorientation. But we’re fine. Physically, anyway. Plus, if there was something in the air, wouldn’t the birds or squirrels have been acting weird too? They seemed completely normal."
The sun was setting,and the world around us started to lose contrast. A heavy cloud from the north threatened more rain. Our hopes of reaching the car before the downpour were dashed. The air grew cooler, and the first raindrops splattered against us, forcing us to pull on our hoodies and raincoats. My second pair of shoes was soaked within minutes.
By the time we reached the parking lot, we were both drenched and miserable. Surprisingly, another car, a lone mud-splattered Jeep, was parked on the opposite side of the lot.
"Who the hell hikes in this weather?" I muttered, shivering.
Exhaustion and cold seeped into my bones, numbing my thoughts. I just craved warmth, dry clothes, and a hot meal, leaving the dark, twisted memories of the woods to unravel like a fraying thread. We got into the van, shaking off as much water as we could. As we settled in, our phones sprang to life.
My screen lit up with notifications. Two texts from June: "Are you dead somewhere?" and "Where the hell are you?" And, of course, a flurry of messages and missed calls from Mitch. Along with that, there was one missed call from my mother, accompanied by a terse text: "What’s going on? Where are you?"
"Oh shit!" I gasped, realizing that today was the latest date I’d given my mother for my return home.
"What happened?" Nick asked.
My face flushed. The childish "My mom’s gonna kill me!" almost slipped out, but I drew a deep breath and said, "I gotta call my mom." Nick gave a small, understanding smile.
His phone was also overwhelmed with notifications. I let him quickly update Mitch, telling him we were on our way back without going into much detail. He didn’t linger on it and started the car right away.
"Where are you?" my mother demanded, skipping the pleasantries.
"Sorry, Mom. I got held up, and my plans got delayed."
