My roommate Hunter and I loved randonauting. It rarely ever took us further than the local McDonald’s or a public pool, but there’s been some nuggets of fun here and there. We once found an abandoned car in the desert, a run down warehouse, and my personal favorite a destroyed movie theater. That was years ago. Back when Hunter and I had no clue what randonauting was. All we knew is that it was a random coordinates generator. If I knew then what I know now, I’d tell Hunter to delete the stupid app. I miss my friend. The police told me “he’s 24. He more than likely just wanted to leave.” My father was a homicide detective, and tried pulling some strings, but there’s only so much you can do when someone “leaves.” But I know Hunter. And I know that he would never leave his phone. Especially with an app filled with encrypted messages. It took me well over a couple of weeks and visiting hundreds of websites that had engines designed to solve encryptions. After weeks of trying to figure out his near insane writings, I found an engine that cracked it. The following was copied and pasted directly from the website:
August 12th, 2019.
Isaiah doesn’t know I went on an expedition without him. I broke the first rule of our agreement when we decided to be randonauts together. “Never go alone.” I was a shit friend, but dammit I can’t wait for him. He’s met a girl, and has started to doubt the potential uses of this amazingly terrifying creation. Randonauting isn’t just random coordinates. Something has to be determining the outcomes. We’ve been going on expeditions for over two years now. He has no creativity. Every empty field is the same to him. Last time we went, we fought. I tried to memorize the conversation the best that I could.
Isaiah: Hunter, this is stupid. Can we just admit there’s nothing special about what we’re doing?
Me: You just don’t get it. Every creation serves a purpose. The forums say that every number has a purpose. So whether you see it or not something very clearly is playing a bigger role than we can see.
Isaiah: Or you’re just a nerd. How many fast food places have we been to because of it? Look, it is fun when we get to see some rundown building, but how many do we actually get to explore? Not everything is some grand conspiracy.
Me: Except that this is! No one knows who came up with randonauting. No one knows if it’s a treasure hunt, or a map to the real Illuminati.
Isaiah: Dude, just drop me off at home.
Admittedly, harsher words were used. Mostly by me. All by me.
I left our apartment at 2 am. Isaiah’s room is near the front door so I waited to put my shoes on until I was outside. I loaded my car with supplies the night before. Rule number 2. “Non perishables and water only.” Isaiah always had an energy drink in hand. But he never drank anything but water on our expeditions. He always respected our rules. That was nagging away at me as I pushed my car out of the parking spot so he wouldn’t hear the engine turn over. The coordinates were only a few hours away, just outside Prescott. With my grandparents living there, I had a place to crash if my expedition took longer than expected. It was easy for time to slip away from you when we recorded just about everything. Rule number 3. “If it doesn’t belong, log it.” The drive was quiet until I realized how uncomfortable the silence was. I threw on a podcast, but I was so anxious to get to Prescott all I remember was the ad read. Just past the courthouse in Prescott is a wooded area. The coordinates took me a couple of miles behind a barbecue joint my dad has deemed “the most okay barbecue this side of the courthouse.”
I trekked through the woods that were balding like Prince William, until the air pressure changed. I almost ran out of breath just walking. This was already different from any expedition. Something was in the air. My blood started to run cold. My bones felt achy. I could feel my heart beating, and I swear to god if it wasn’t for my layers of jackets, you’d be able to see it. But that was the least of my problems. Because my body was prepping me for what I was about to find.
I have never been to a funeral. I have never seen a dead body. I love horror movies, and had gone to film school for a couple of years so I knew how fake dead bodies looked. The smell hit me before I saw it. Isaiah’s father was a cop and loved to tell us the story of the time he found a serial killers dumping ground. “You’ll know the smell before you know there’s a body.” My heart sank. Was I about to find a body? And I wish I did. I wish it was just a corpse.
It wasn’t just any body. Past the dried blood and twisted limbs I could see the face that belonged to the corpse. It was mine.