The summer I turned 10 was the best time of my life. For years I’d had trouble making friends with other girls, and out of nowhere I was accepted into a group of boys. We would ride our bikes everywhere, play games, and sit up all night just talking about superheroes. I loved it, and I started enjoying coming to school.
That summer was the first summer we went to Everett’s cabin. We biked up there with his dad and spent three days hiking, fishing, telling stories, building a treehouse, and chowing down on hot dogs. It was amazing, and probably the first time in my life where I truly felt like part of a group.
For the next few years, we went back up there every summer. Sometimes we’d get another member, sometimes we’d lose one. People came and went, but we biked up there every summer nonetheless.
They became my best friends. I was one of the “original members” alongside Everett and Sam, but one year we had Lewis, another year there was Owen, and so on. But me, Everett, and Sam? We were always there. The originals.
By the time we all turned 14, there was another girl joining the group; Sam’s girlfriend Josslyn. I’d had some trouble getting along with other girls, so I was a bit hesitant about having Josslyn come along. But I was hilariously wrong. Within a couple of weeks, Josslyn became my best friend. She was like the sister I never had.
The year we turned 16 was the last time we would go there as a group. By then, everyone was growing up. Some were going to college; others were getting a job. Hell, Sam and Josslyn had just broken up and could barely be in the same room. Spending the summer in Everett’s cabin became one of those things that you just stop doing. We promised we’d go back there someday and celebrate summer the right way, knowing full well that would probably never happen.
And then, nothing. And as with all names and faces, they started growing distant. We kept in touch every now and then, but Sam, Everett and Josslyn all went on with their lives. I did too.
That was until a few years ago, when we all turned 30.
By then, Sam was about to move out of state. His startup company had gained some traction, and they were moving their main office. He was hitting the big leagues.
Josslyn was planning a move to Scotland. She’d met this guy at the university that she fell head over heels in love with, and the two of them’d had a long-distance relationship for close to a decade.
Everett, well, he’d tried to play the family man. He had a four-year old son and a two-year old girl with a woman who was divorcing him. Oof.
And me? Well, I wasn’t dealing with my aging very well. I’ve had anxiety all my life and haven’t celebrated a birthday since I was 14. I can barely look myself in the mirror, horrified of the possibility of seeing a grey hair. I’m a bit of a hypochondriac, truth be told, and I imagine feeling all kinds of cramps and pains because of my age. And yes, I know 30 isn’t that old. Doesn’t matter.
But that summer, Everett sent us a message out of nowhere. His family was selling the cabin, and he figured one more trip down memory lane would do us all some good. The whole area was being sold off to a logging company at the end of summer. Personally, I just think the divorce was getting to him.
At first, I wasn’t going to accept. But after seeing both Sam and Josslyn agreeing to come, I couldn’t say no. Maybe it would distract me from turning 30.
So one sunny day in late June I drove down from Morgantown back home to Juniper (WV), not knowing what to expect. I figured I might get a nice weekend out of it.
And as I met up with Sam and Everett, it was as if nothing had changed. They hugged me. We laughed, we joked around, and we laughed some more. Everett had rented us mountain bikes. I got the blue one.
Sure, they looked a bit different. Sam had put on a few pounds and had a thick pair of glasses. He was already sweating. Everett, who used to have dreadlocks, had this short and neat office-type haircut, and his eyes looked darker. But that was all just appearance; they were the same guys. Same humor, same smiles, same favorite superheroes. Wonderful.
We stopped at the supermarket. I was comparing beef jerky prices when Sam walked up to me.
“Josslyn went on ahead,” he explained. “The roads are all dug up, so we’re taking the tunnel.”
“The Rosewater tunnel? By the railroad?” I asked.
“Yeah,” nodded Sam. “Shouldn’t take long. Josslyn is already up there.”
Made sense to me. Josslyn was the outdoorsy type. She was probably up there making a fire by rubbing sticks together or something. But just in case, I bought myself a Firestarter. You never know.
And then we were off. Riding bikes with the same people, down the same roads. Sure, it all looked different, but it really wasn’t. After all these years, I was still just me and the guys. For a moment, I felt this surge of optimism; like everything, somehow, might turn out all right.
Everett took point. We followed a trail deep into the pine forest, sweating under the summer sun. The canopy was a blessing, hiding us from the afternoon heat. It took us a bit over an hour to find the railroad tracks. We followed them north. Sam was sweating like he’d never even seen a bike before.
Then we got to the tunnel. The old Rosewater tunnel wasn’t long, but it was old. Everyone knew about it, but it was the kind of place that parents refused to let their kids go near. The place was probably covered in mold. Still, biking through it wouldn’t be a problem. You could feel the draft coming through.
The tunnel had a slight curve to it, so we couldn’t see the other side. Still, Everett took point and howled with joy as he entered. The echo bounced off the walls, reaching into the mountain. Sam followed suit, shrieking just as loud. We dove deep into the dark with the rhythmic thumping of the railroad tracks beneath us.
Our bike lights shone as bright as they could, but the tunnel swallowed them. It was getting colder and colder, almost to the point of my breath showing. Little dust particles danced in the weak light. The sound of spinning bike chains and thumping wheels echoed, and the air tasted like old moisture.
Suddenly, Everett stopped. Then Sam. And soon, I could see why.
We were in the middle of the tunnel, and there was something covering the ground.
Snow.
We were all standing there dumbfounded. Snow? In late June? That didn’t make a lick of sense.
“That’s just weird,” said Sam. “Let’s keep going.”
“Wait,” said Everett.
He stepped off his bike and walked around for a bit. I leaned against my handlebar, feeling the weight of my backpack. I hadn’t even noticed how out of breath I was. Everett leaned down, looking at the snow.
“What’s up?” Sam asked. “We going?”
“Yeah, yeah,” nodded Everett. “It’s just… I dunno.”
“Dunno what?”
“Like… where’re the tracks?”
“You’re sitting on ‘em” I added. “What’s the deal?”
“No, Josslyn’s tracks.”
Now I could definitely see my own breath. And Everett was right, the snow was undisturbed. Josslyn couldn’t have come through there, unless the snow had recently settled. But what, an inch and a half of powder snow in late June, in less than a day? Nah.
Everett got back on his bike.
“Let’s just keep going.”
We biked through the snow. About ten minutes later, we got to the edge of the tunnel.
It’d collapsed in on itself.
The ceiling had caved in and filled the entire tunnel with a steep slant of solid rock chunks. It didn’t look recent either.
We just turned around. There was no reason for us to keep pushing forward, so we decided to just go back out and follow the (if somewhat broken) main road instead. We had bikes, we could go pretty much anywhere. Still, I couldn’t help but notice how Everett seemed a bit distraught. We all were.
On our way back through the snow, I got the sense that something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on what. But right then and there, I was just happy we were leaving.
Except we didn’t get far.
The path we came in through had also collapsed.
“Did we make a… a wrong turn?” Sam asked. “I thought this… this was just a straight line.”
“It is,” said Everett. “This, uh… this doesn’t make sense.”
“I didn’t hear anything,” I gasped. “I didn’t hear a goddamn thing.”
“This is old. There’s dust. It didn’t just collapse, this is… ,” insisted Everett.
“So we must’ve gotten turned around somewhere,” smiled Sam. “So we backtrack.”
It took us about 45 minutes to move from one end of the tunnel to the other; but both ends were definitely collapsed. How we entered in the first place was mind boggling. It didn’t make sense.
At some point, we just stopped. We stepped off our bikes and sat down. Sam used his phone as a flashlight, illuminating the dancing dust particles. The air tasted stale.
“No bars,” Sam said. “Tunnels suck.”
“It doesn’t make sense!” groaned Everett. “We got in, we can get out!”
“How?!” I asked, throwing my arms out. “I’m not seeing any exits! It… it fell!”
“That’s impossible!” spat Everett. “There would be a… a goddamn ear-bursting pressure! There’d be so much dust we… we wouldn’t be able to breathe! And there wouldn’t be goddamn snow all over the ground!”
We tried to get our phones to work. We tried moving the rocks, but the thick moisture in the air had frozen; making them all stick together like bricks and mortar. There was no way.
We wasted hours, and the temperature just kept dropping. I’d started shivering, and Sam’s breath had frozen into little icicles in his beard. Everett paced back and forth, trying to come up with a plan.
The snow was either expanding, or we kept coming back to it. Either way, it was everywhere. And the temperature kept dropping; fast.
At one point, that strange feeling in my stomach came back to me. I removed my bike light and used it as a torch. I noticed something in the snow.
I could see our tracks. Both from our bikes, and our shoes. But there was something else; a slight impression. Two thin parallel lines, running next to the wall. They twisted and turned at times, but I couldn’t make out what it was supposed to be. I called Sam and Everett over to help me, but we suddenly got distracted.
Somewhere deep in the tunnel, I heard something.
A voice.
“You should be helping me.”
It came from further in. Without a doubt in my mind, and after all these years, I could still recognize Josslyn’s voice. We tried to pinpoint where it came from, but the tunnel made it impossible.
“Joss?” Sam called out. “Joss, you there?”
Nothing. We looked at one another. It took Everett a few moments to even attempt to accept this.
“Joss!” Everett finally called out “Josslyn!”
Still, nothing.
We looked for her. I could feel myself growing more desperate as the air got colder. My teeth had started to chatter, and no amount of rubbing my arms changed a thing. My hairs were standing at attention, as if listening for warmth.
Sam and Everett kept calling out to her, but we got no response. And all over the snow I kept seeing these two parallel lines, just barely scraping the top of the snow. Either they’d been there for a while, or whatever was making them were something extraordinarily light. But there was no way of telling where it came from.
I have no idea how many hours we spent walking up and down that freezing tunnel. At some point, we all gathered in a circle and wrapped ourselves in sleeping bags. I tried to use my Firestarter, but we didn’t have much to burn. We piled up some of our extra clothes and spent the better part of an hour setting it on fire. It burned for less than ten minutes.
At some point, we just stopped trying. Our hands were raw, and I started having cold sweats. We’d turned off the lights to save on battery, but my restless eyes kept moving. I could feel myself going cross-eyed, my mind confused by the pressing dark.
There was too much ground to cover. There might be some side tunnel that we might’ve missed, but we were losing hope. I didn’t know what to make of it. Sam and Everett had gone through several cycles of arguing, making a desperate effort, being anxiously hopeful, and then back to arguing. Now they were just quiet.
I would’ve preferred an argument.
“You… should be helping me.”
We all looked up. It was distant, but not as distant as last time. I could hear Sam shuffling as he got up. He called out to Josslyn again and again, but there was no response. Sam was growing more and more desperate, and his screams got louder. At some point, he stopped calling out to her; he just screamed.
The arguing started again as Everett tried to shut him up. But I heard something. I looked up, concentrating on the sound. There was a slight reverb, like the sound bouncing off something metallic.
I put my bike light back on and looked up, letting the bright cone answer my question.
There were drainpipes running along the ceiling of the tunnel.
“Some… some kind of drainage, or a run-off,” said Sam, looking up. “That’s gotta… wait. This wasn’t at the entrance.”
“So it started further in,” I said. “Maybe there’s a maintenance area.”
At that, Everett got up.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “Yeah, that makes, uh… that makes sense.”
We followed the pipes, and I couldn’t help but notice that the parallel lines in the snow that seemed to be going the same way. They were roughly following the way the pipes were running in the ceiling. Sam and Everett didn’t seem to notice.
“There might be another way out,” said Sam. “Like a… maintenance entrance.”
“Yeah,” agreed Everett. “They can’t have people running in and out of here when the trains are coming, right?”
My stomach turned. The stress was getting to me. I wasn’t usually the quiet one of the group, but crawling around in the dark just weighed my entire mind down. It wasn’t supposed to be cold. It wasn’t supposed to be dark. We were supposed to be making hot dogs by the cabin.
There was a faint tapping sound. Something banging against the pipes, somewhere up ahead. Sam and Everett pushed forward.
And there it was. A maintenance door.
We all got excited. We ran up to it, and the moment Sam put his hands on the handle, I shouted at them to stop.
They just looked at me, barely illuminated by our combined electronics. I could see the parallel lines running in the snow leading into the maintenance door. I pointed it out to Sam and Everett, who didn’t pay it no mind. Sam thought it was water drops from condensation. Everett didn’t care.
It couldn’t be water drops. It was too cold, and too consistent. Something in me screamed at me to just… not go further. This was bad.
But the door flung open, and we stepped inside.
There was an awful smell in the air. Chemicals; mostly ammonia. It took some time getting used to, but we pushed on. There was a small corridor leading us further in, branching into maintenance tunnels that were so small that we had to move sideways to fit.
We explored, as a group. We couldn’t find an obvious way out, but we could make an educated guess. We just had to find a way that pointed us either straight forward, or straight back; following the curvature of the Rosewater tunnel.
At one point, we hit a dead end. As we turned back, I was suddenly first in line. Then we heard it again.
“You should… be helping me.”
This time it was just down the hall. It was so close it chilled me more than my freezing breath. And for a split second, I could swear I saw something move just at the edge of the light. Something that retreated into the dark with a rhythmic sound. And it was leaving behind those strange parallel lines in the frost-covered floor.
We got back to one of the maintenance hubs. The drainpipes coalesced, leading us further in. We stopped for a while, as Sam was out of batteries.
“They will come looking for us,” said Sam. “We should just go back and wait.”
“We’ll freeze,” I said. “It’s absurd, but we’ll freeze.”
“She’s right,” agreed Everett. “We… we gotta push.”
“Then I go second. I don’t have a light.”
We agreed.
And as we turned around, there was Josslyn.
We could barely make out her shape at first. She looked taller, and her hair clung to her face like she’d crawled out of a cold bath. She just stood there, barely keeping herself upright. Sam and I stood there in shock, but Everett burst into action. He sprinted forward towards her.
In a whiplash-like motion, Josslyn was pulled back into the dark. She didn’t make a sound.
I noticed two things.
One, that her legs didn’t move.
And two, that her feet barely touched the ground; leaving parallel lines in the frosted floor.
Everett rushed after her, screaming her name over and over like a desperate parrot. I was right behind him, and Sam was trying his best to keep up. We ran, seeing whiffs of her hair disappear further and further into the darkness. She was moving, fast, and we could barely keep up. Just seconds later, as we came to a four-way junction, she was gone.
Everett fell to his knees, panting. I stopped short of tripping over him.
“She… she’s here,” Everett panted. “S-something’s wrong.”
I spat and tried to stay in motion to keep my sweat from freezing. The salt stung my eyes.
“Why… why is she doing this?” he asked. “What’s going on?”
“Wait,” I said.
I turned around.
“Where’s Sam?”
We backtracked. We tried to mentally map those labyrinthian halls, but we just came up with dead end after dead end. Sam was gone. Disappeared into the dark.
And somewhere, far ahead, we could hear something again.
“Yooooouu~ should be… helping me.”
But this time, in Sam’s voice.
Sam’s broken, drawling, drawn-out half-voice. It made the drainpipes reverberate, shaking with excitement.
This time, we turned the other way. We couldn’t keep getting pulled further and further in. We made a silent agreement that whatever was in there was something we didn’t want to see. We had to keep going, and once we got out, we could help.
“We… we have to follow the pipes,” said Everett. “They have to lead outside at some point!”
“Or they’ll just… just lead us further in!”
“We can’t keep running in circles! We pick a path, and we stick to it!”
He grabbed my shoulders. Even with barely functioning light, I could see the panicked size of his pupils. I nodded. Whatever it took for us to stick together.
We must’ve walked for hours. And finally, it opened up into another junction. This one with only two adjoining corridors. But by now, we’d moved around so much there was no way to tell what was north, south, or in-between. We could only guess.
“You pick,” said Everett.
And I did.
We followed one of the halls, and I could hear my footsteps growing louder. The echo was increasing. Moments later, the halls opened into a kind of hub area where all the drainpipes coalesced. It was much large than expected, with solid concrete walls and floors. Dozens of pipes lead us here.
Everett was about to rush forward when I put a hand on his shoulder. I looked around for a bit, but he brushed me off and kept going.
“Wait!” I called out, pointing.
There was something up ahead.
It was impossible not to recognize Sam. His body hanging limp, inches off the ground like a stringed-up puppet.
His skin white as snow, with icicles hanging from his beard and hair. He didn’t move.
“You shooooould… be helping me,” his body groaned, without ever moving his mouth.
The shadows behind him moved.
The very dark of the room; it moved.
And at that moment, I realized there was something oil-slick and dark slithering along the pipes; holding Sam up like a ventriloquist dummy.
“Sssssshould. Sssssshould be.”
I could see Josslyn’s bike, snapped in half and thrown into a corner. Strange flowers grew along the edge of the wall; like little sunflowers, frozen and blue.
I could see Josslyn’s backpack torn open and thrown across the floor. The hot dogs, trampled and abandoned. And there at the very edge of my light, I could see Josslyn’s frozen hair splayed across the concrete in a pool of frozen blood.
Unnatural hands crawled across the drainpipes, causing a rhythmic thumping. And just as the horror of this vision sunk into me, my mind exploded into panic. It was like watching through my eyes like a passenger, surrendering completely to whatever power would get me out of there. My mind lit up the world with fear, as a real and tangible threat started coming our way; and it was dragging Sam along.
I bolted back out the door. Something was right behind me, but I didn’t know if it was Everett or… that Sam-thing. I didn’t care. I didn’t care the slightest.
I turned a quick corner. Everett followed. The Sam-thing couldn’t keep up, and whatever held him just tossed him aside. I could hear his body shattering like a gypsum statue; his body frozen solid.
Another corner. A quick turn.
Too quick.
I tripped on my own feet. I fell, and Everett fell right after me. We ended up on our sides, lying face-to-face. Something in my elbow broke, and I couldn’t get up.
Then, Everett stopped. I did too. I held my breath, waiting for whatever pain there was to come. Everett looked at me, slack jawed.
His breathing stopped. A long mosquito-like appendage had extended down from the drainpipes, piercing the back of his skull, like popping a water balloon. It was sucking out his warmth, making his skin lose its color. Eyes sinking into his skull, freezing. Nails and tongue turning black. Skin cracking like porcelain. Membranes shriveling into nothing but dry meat.
“Yooooooou~ “ it started. “… yoooOoou… heEeeeeEelping me. Help. Helping meeeee.”
I couldn’t look away.
But as my light dwindled, all that was left was the cold of his touch, and his words; frozen in time.
“Shhhh… shhhhoooOo… should be. Be. Be.”
As my light went out, all that was left was one desperate plea. And for a moment, it sounded just like him.
“Helping me. Helping. Helping me. Helping… me.”
I must’ve stayed there for hours, growing colder by the minute. I just lay there, listening to him slowly learning how to talk with Everett’s body. My tears had frozen my eyelids shut, and my shivers had subsided to a deep throbbing pain.
At some point, Everett was lifted off the floor. And as a cold spike poked against my skin, I realized I could barely feel it. I was too cold.
The creature must’ve thought the same thing, as it left me there. I had no warmth left for it to feast on.
I was no longer interesting prey. I’d accidentally strained my elbow as I fell, and I could barely feel my legs. Further and further away, I could hear the rhythmic thumping as the creature moved along the drainpipes. The pleas of what remained of Everett grew more confident, and distant.
At some point, it wasn’t interested anymore. I fumbled down corridor after corridor, trying to keep my eyes open.
And out of nowhere, the tunnels just seemed to… open up.
On the other side of the Rosewater Tunnel, the light blinded me.
The sun of late June promised me that I was finally safe.
Now, this was all about… five years ago. Law enforcement insist that we were “urban explorers” who messed up. There had been reports of rockslides near the Rosewater Tunnels, and they figured that Sam, Everett and Josslyn got caught in it somewhere deep in the abandoned side tunnels. They didn’t take any other report or indication of wrongdoing seriously. That I had frost burns in late June didn’t seem to bother them.
I’ve been holding off on writing this story as it was technically open for investigation until last September. They finally closed it, officially classifying it as a kind of spelunking expedition gone wrong. They swear they’ve investigated the tunnel, but I have yet to see a single squad car anywhere near it.
I don’t think this is over.
I’ve since left it all behind. The town, the people, the past.
And whatever future I have left, I will cherish.