Our son Tristan entered this world without a heartbeat. An unexpected, devastating turn of events that stomped on our well-being like a boot grinding against a discarded cigarette. The final embers of happiness extinguished in a flash.
Doctor Perkins nonchalantly broke the news to us, letting Samantha snuggle with our son briefly before snatching away our future. Our bawling shook the walls of the hospital. The wails from Samantha illuminated the deep love and compassion she had for our baby boy. She would have been a tremendous mother, an anchor of warmth for our little family of three.
“Take all the time you need to grieve, but when you are ready, give this number a call. I often refer my patients who suffer a loss during a birth to Zayn. He’s a close fried of mine and has years of coaching experience helping couples heal and overcome their grief.”
Doctor Perkins handed me a small business card. “Thank you. Does he have a website or anything to check out?” I responded.
“No, just word of mouth referrals through me. But he’s done a lot of great work. I really think you should give him a call when the time feels right.”
Those first few days back home were rough. Hours of silence followed by outbursts of cries. My body moved around the house and went through the motions, but it felt as if I did not exist. I had to stand in front of the mirror and remind myself I was alive. And while I was overwhelmed with emotions, Samantha was on another level of misery.
“It’s my fault. Something happened inside my body. I didn’t give him the proper nutrients or something. I should have taken better care of my body. I killed—”
“Stop it!” I wrapped my arms around Samantha as she collapsed to the ground for the fifth time. “You have to stop blaming yourself. It was just a freak accident. It was out of our control.”
My words did not comfort her. Two weeks after Tristan’s passing, Samantha grew more distant from me. I’d hear her whispering to herself in bed, blaming herself for Tristan’s death. Even though I’ve been a cook the past few years, I had a decent stint in the military, and my time in the uniform helped shape me into a problem solver. I don’t like to dwell on things. I look for solutions, quickly. I remembered the business card Doctor Perkins gave to us. During a brief moment of calm and composure, I brought it up with Samantha.
“This guy the Doctor referred us to. How would you feel if I gave him a call? He might be able to help us. I think it’s worth a shot. What do you think?”
“Nolan. I’ll never get over this. A part of me is missing. It’s all my fault.”
The tears swelled as I took Samantha’s hand. She knew I just wanted to help.
“Okay, I’ll try it. Let’s call him,” she said.
I kissed her on her cheek, and we shared a few minutes of quiet before I picked up the phone and dialed. An overnight deep within the woods. Me, Samantha, and Zayn. I spent a considerable amount of time thinking about it, and I finally agreed. I’m no stranger to the outdoors but camping with someone the first time you meet them is a bit unusual. Samantha was onboard though, so we decided to give it a shot.
Zayn was exactly as I had imagined him. Wavy brown hair down to his shoulders. Relaxed, soft voice. The look of a fifty-year-old stoner who longed for his younger years. Unusually tall though for his skinny frame. Having him look down at me made me a little uneasy.
The red flags appeared from the start, but Samantha was in the most positive mood I’d seen her in since the stillbirth.
“Samantha. Nolan. I’m so glad you are here. You owe it to yourself to heal, and that’s exactly what we are going to do today. No better spot than out in nature with mother earth.”
I shook his hand. “You sure it’s okay to park here? It’s not exactly a parking lot.”
“Of course, I’ve done this a dozen times. Now, grab your gear, and let’s get walking. Just under two miles until we reach the clearing, my little sanctuary for healing.”
We threw on our backpacks and carried our bags.
“Let the sounds of nature soothe your spirit. We will continue our conversation when we reach our spot to set up camp.”
Samantha and I followed Zayn through a trail I’m positive is nowhere to be found on a map. The longer the silence went, the stronger the urge to turn back. With each crunch of the leaves and twigs below my boots, my heart rate picked up in frequency. I would have pulled the plug, but Samantha was all smiles. She was following Zayn like he was the leader in charge. That was a bad habit of hers: following orders. Samantha had spent too many years working retail with verbally abusive managers, and she always took the abuse with her chin up. She was easily swayed by others.
By the time we reached the clearing, the sun was starting to go down. More concerning was the fact that I felt completely lost in the woods and completely dependent on Zayn as our guide to get us back. I was convinced there was no way we’d make it back to the car without him. We set up our tents, started a campfire, and Zayn proceeded to heat up some beef stew over the flames.
“So, in order for this to work, I need you two to be completely honest with me. Speak from your heart, from your soul. It won’t be easy, but I can assure you honesty opens all doors. Why is your son Tristan… why is he not with you today?”
I shot a furrowed brow back at Zayn and then glanced at Samantha, who was shaking.
“That’s kind of an inappropriate question, don’t you think?” I responded.
“No, it’s fine. I can answer it. My body could not support our boy. I must have not provided him the proper nutrients.”
“Samantha, we talked about this. It was not your fault honey.” I reached for Samantha’s hand, but she slid hers away.
I squeezed my fists when I caught Zayn perking up with a grin. “Okay, enough of this bullshit. I’m sorry, but I know you are trying to help, but this is not the way to do it. You are just making things worse, trying to guilt trip us.”
“As I said Nolan, honesty is key. Anger does not help the cause. Here, here, have some stew to settle your nerves.”
Zayn handed us bowls of stew. The interrogation continued for an hour. Ridiculous questions that made me feel like complete shit. I was so tempted to clock Zayn, but I refrained because Samantha was locked in, giving long drawn-out responses to his questions, engaging in conversation that sickened me.
“Okay, if this is your approach to helping people heal, then we are done. There is no way we are staying here tonight with you.” I stood up and started to pack. “Can you just take us back to the car please? We have big flashlights, so the dark shouldn’t be an issue.”
“Nolan, please at least stay for the demonstration. As the person who carried your son, I believe Samantha will find it comforting. That tent behind me, that is Samantha’s womb. Now, I’m going to climb in there, and when I say come over, I want you, Samantha, to look inside.”
I laughed out loud. “This is horseshit. You are sick. I can’t believe we came out here with—”
Samantha grabbed my arm. “No, I want to do it. Please, I need this.”
I held Samantha in my arms while Zayn climbed into his tent. I heard him moving around for a minute or two before he called us over. The top side of the tent had one of those see-through windows. We peeked our heads inside. Zayn sat cross-legged with nothing on but an adult diaper.
“Samantha, it’s me. Tristan. Your son. Why did you kill me? You’re a murderer.”
“Okay, that’s fucking it,” I yelled.
But before I could pummel Zayn, I felt something sharp press up against my neck.
“Don’t even think about going in there,” the voice behind me said.
I craned my neck to the left, the tip of the knife close to puncturing my skin. It was Doctor Perkins.
“Samantha, climb inside. You must pay for what you did. You murdered your son, so it’s only fitting that he takes your life,” Perkins said.
“Don’t do it, please. I’m going to get us out of here,” I responded, but Samantha climbed inside.
“Yes, there you go, mommy. Let me now hold you tight. Join me in my world,” Zayn said in a baby voice. “We deserve to be together.”
I stood helplessly as my wife, in a trance-like state, let Zayn wrap his arms around her and cradle her.
“I’m so sorry son,” Samantha whispered.
Without hesitation, Zayn snapped Samantha’s neck as I lunged at him. Samantha’s body flopped to the ground with a thud. Perkins jumped on me from behind. I wrestled him off me and headed for his knife a few feet away, but he shoved me before I could pick it up.
I landed near the campfire and cooking utensils. Perkins bent down and stood up menacingly with the knife in hand. Zayn emerged from the tent shortly after.
“He’s all yours,” Zayn said to Perkins.
I scrambled to find anything that might be useful as a weapon. Of all things, I found a spork I had used to eat my dinner earlier in the evening. Concealing it below my palm, I pretended to be defeated as Perkins approached.
As he extended the knife out and made an attempt to slash my neck, I rolled to the side and jumped up, meeting him at his level. I lodged the spork into his right cheek, and he moaned in pain. I removed it and then thrust it into his right eyeball, sending him crashing to the ground. He drew his final breath with one working eye catching a glimpse of my boot before it smashed his head into the dirt.
Zayn stood frozen in place, in shock, not sure whether to make a move or to retreat.
“Listen, don’t do anything—” Zayn bolted for the woods, but I didn’t give chase.
I went inside the tent and checked on Samantha, hoping there was a chance she might be alive. Nothing. No signs of life. I crumpled to the ground and howled. I should have never let us go on that retreat. How could I be so foolish, putting our trust in a complete stranger, and allowing him to take us into the middle of nowhere.
My cell phone had no reception, and I didn’t want to leave Samantha, so I stayed up all night near her, keeping watch for any signs of Zayn. He never showed.
The next morning—with a little bit of work—I managed to find my way back to the car. There was better reception around there, so I called the authorities and explained the situation. Over the next week, search teams examined the area around the campsite. They found the bones of other women scattered in various parts of the woods. Every woman had suffered a stillbirth before being murdered.
Zayn is still on the loose and has not been captured yet. I moved to another town shortly after the incident. I could not bear to carry on living in the same house. I’m still having trouble healing and just functioning in general. I just hope they catch Zayn one of these days. That would at least provide a little bit of closure.