I can’t even remember the first time I met John. He’s always simply been a part of my life, as constant as the oak tree outside my bedroom window. In a small Maine town that was often stifling, John was someone I could always count on to make life interesting. Sure, John’s “adventures” hadn’t always gone perfectly, often resulting in the both of us being grounded, but they had only brought us two closer together. And now that we’re reuniting after our first year at their separate colleges, I know this next week is going to be a fun one. I was a bit disappointed when John suggested getting together at our old hometown, but that was before I’d heard the rest of his plan. The old trail at the edge of town had been abandoned over a decade ago due to a landslide that killed a group of hikers, but the trail, which had been mostly on rock, was rumored to still be viable. At least, that’s what John said, and he is determined to hike it. There are stories of adventurous teens who’d planned to hike the trail and disappeared, but I know how a small town like this is bound to create ghost stories just to pass the time. Even if the stories are true, I know there are a million ways dumb teens could get lost that don’t involve vengeful spirits or sasquatches. Even better, maybe they’d faked their deaths just to escape this oppressive town; I wish I’d thought of that one a few years back.
The sound of a car pulling in brings me back to reality. I hear the exact same greeting I’ve received a million times before: “How’s it going, dude?”
“John! It’s so great to see you again!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know! Is all your gear packed?” John asks, a hint of slyness in his smile. We both know what our parents would do if they found out what we’re doing. They still can’t seem to wrap their heads around the fact that we’re adults now who can make our own decisions.
“Yup! So what exactly is the plan for hiking this?” I look out at the brush hiding the old trail from the casual glance. “You didn’t say much about it over text.”
“Well, it’s pretty simple. We hike until evening and then set up camp. I did a bit of research, and this trail used to be 10 miles out and back. We should try to walk all 10 miles today to get to the lookout spot at the end, and then we’ll walk the 10 miles back tomorrow.”
“Do we have enough food?” I ask a bit worriedly. “I didn’t know if you were bringing the meals, so I only brought a day’s worth of food.”
“Relax. We’ll be fine. It’s a two day trip, so we’ll survive even if we have to miss a meal or two.”
There are a couple questions I still have, but I know John has thought of everything. He’s the more experienced one, always the leader in our adventures. And he never likes it too much when I question that leadership. So I put on my backpack and let John lead the way.
The trail isn’t as easy as John had confidently assumed it was. It’s evening now, and if I had to guess, I’d say we’ve gone five miles. I wish I could use google maps to find out exactly where we are, but we lost cell service a long time ago. For the first few hours there were frequent stops to figure out our way forward and plenty of bushwhacking, but we seem to be on the right path now. “Think it’s time to stop now?” I ask, my voice heavy with exhaustion.
“Ugh. We’ve been hiking a whole day and the most we’ve seen are a couple of squirrels. At least we proved all those rumors of ghosts wrong. Let’s keep hiking until we find a good stopping place.”
And so we eventually find a clearing, set up our tents and have a meager dinner from our supplies.
“Should we turn back tomorrow?” I venture. “I don’t really want to hike on an empty stomach if we run out of food, and my reservoir’s half empty too…”
“Don’t be a wimp! C’mon, you can’t stop now; we haven’t had any fun yet! I can tell we’ll find something interesting tomorrow if we just keep going.”
The night passes uneventfully. I take a trip to the “bathroom,” resolving that I’ll be more grateful next time I’m around running water. I’ve been on my fair share of hikes, but I’ve never camped in the backcountry overnight. At least I sleep better than I’d expected given the sleeping conditions, waking up to the sun streaming through the fabric of his tent. I walk outside, asking with a yawn, “You up yet, John? What’s the plan for breakfast?”
No response. Typical. John must still be tired after our long day yesterday. I walk back into my tent and start eating some of the trail mix left over, frowning at the bag’s light weight. Then I sit there, playing this stupid mobile game I recently got on my phone to pass the long psych lectures. As I look at the battery, I grumble at my lack of foresight. I’d brought a charging cable, forgetting there’s nowhere to plug it in out here. At least half an hour has gone by now. If John still wants to hike until the end, he’d better wake up soon. “John? You up?”
This is getting ridiculous. I might as well unzip the tent, just to help John wake up and get moving. John couldn’t get annoyed at me just for unzipping it, right? I walk over, unzip it to let the growing sunlight shine in, and - nothing. No John.
Shoot. Shoot. This is bad. Where is he? What do I do?
Stop. Breathe. I remember something I heard years ago from an overly eager Boy Scouts counselor in third grade: “In any dangerous situation, the first thing to do is stop moving and evaluate your options.” What are my options? John’s supposed to be the experienced one, the one who can handle these situations. What would he do? I guess - I guess he would figure out why I left. Did John leave without me? No, none of his stuff is gone. Bathroom trip? No, I’ve been awake for forty minutes without seeing him. Mauled by a wild animal? No. Stop. Just don’t think about that. Okay. What else? Maybe he went out ahead to scout out the trail. Yes. He would do that, and of course he wouldn’t bother to tell me. Okay. Now what do I do? I could wait here, but I don’t think I can keep myself here a moment longer now that I know I’m alone in these woods. I’ll follow him. Yes. Then we can hike back here together.
I quickly put on my boots and set out, swallowing back my fears. The forest seems a different place now that I can’t rely on John to guide me. Behind the sun-dappled leaves lies a darkness my eyes can’t pierce, behind which anything could lurk. A thousand alternate possibilities of what could’ve happened to John race through my mind, but I shake my head and resolutely ignore them. As long as I stick to the plan, as long as I just keep walking forward, the fears don’t rise up in my throat to choke me. I’m beginning to wish I brought something more than just my boots. My phone is pretty much useless without cell service, but I still miss its reassuring weight in my pocket. I suddenly realize how untethered I am from… everything. No one except John knows where I am, because even though I’m an adult now, my parents still would’ve tried to forbid me from this excursion. I’m alone, miles from any civilization. If I don’t find my way back…
No. Shake it off, keep moving forward. That’s all I can do. At least the trail has finally gotten onto that rocky ridge John was talking about, so there’s no more bushwhacking or guesswork. As I continue walking for what must be 20 minutes by now, I notice something is… off. The forest feels different here. Subdued. Less… alive. Finally I figure out what’s bothering me: It’s dead silent. All I hear are my boots plodding onto the rocky surface. No birds tweeting or squirrels rustling around in the branches. But why would all the animals just leave? The forest is just as lush and green here as it was a mile back; I’m sure there’s food for them here. The only reason they would leave is if they were scared away.
I halt in my tracks, stunned by a suddenly obvious realization. This is bear country. I look around wildly, but see nothing. Given the darkness only yards away from me in the forest, this is a paltry comfort. As I stand there, however, I finally hear something. It’s as steady as a drum beat, but it’s more of a squelching sound: the noise of something hard hitting something soft, over and over. A lumbering bear? Maybe, although I doubt they walk so slowly. John? My heart beats faster with hope. I continue to walk, but more slowly and stealthily, until I turn around a bend and come to a boulder in the middle of the path. It’s misshapen and rounded, sitting on its flat side. And underneath it lies what looks like a pile of crushed twigs. As I walk closer, I look upon it more closely. Gorge rises in my throat. No. No, it can’t be.
Bones. A pile of shattered, dirtied yet still recognizable bones. They look like they’ve been here for ages. I breathe a sigh of relief; at least they’re not John’s. But if they’re not John’s, whose are they? I notice how much louder the sound has gotten as I crept up. It sounds like it’s right behind the boulder now. But suddenly, as I crouch there looking at the bones, it stops. The forest is once again deathly silent.
Is John on the other side of that boulder right now? Or a bear? I creep around silently, hope and fear warring in my mind.
Behind the boulder is a small clearing. A misshapen pile lies on the dirt. It is covered in dirty, tattered leather and speckled with tiny white stones. Then it stands up.
“John?!” From under the pile, John’s face rises and looks at mine. No. No, no, it’s all wrong. His face - it’s twisted, contorting as if he does not know how to move it. His eyes lock onto mine, eyelids twitching and winking randomly. He slowly leers with a dirtied, bloody mouth. This is not John. Finally, I tear my eyes away from his face and see what he has become. A creature stands before me, composed of twigs and leather. Except now I know what they truly are. Bones. A frame of bones covered in rotting skin. Those same white pebbles form lines and sections, wrapping around each limb and crossing his torso. As I slowly walk closer for reasons I can’t fathom, I see the white stones for what they are: teeth. Teeth, stitching together flabs of skin that hang off of its emaciated body.
Fear roots me to the ground. My breath races faster and faster, propelled by a million unspoken thoughts echoing through my mind and out of my mouth. I do nothing as it slowly shuffles towards me, its gait uncertain and rickety. When it is ten feet away, it stops. Its face once again spasms, but this time it reforms itself back into a visage that is hideously, uncannily almost human. Its eyes focus on me.
“What-what-”
“What… am… I?” Its voice rasps like metal scraping on asphalt. “Nice… to talk to human again.”
Bones creak and teeth rattle as the abomination sways in the fickle breeze.
“Landslide. Friends… killed. Tried to die too… body didn’t let me. Rebuilt myself. More hikers came. Took…” A glob of something brown falls from its mouth. “Took what I needed.”
Out of my mouth escapes one simple, horrifying question: “What did you do with - with John?”
“I needed a face.”
“Why him? Why not me?”
Muscles stretch in the creature’s mouth, pulling cheeks into a grotesque imitation of a grin.
“Too ugly.”
Then the thing shuffles away into the darkness of the woods.