Entry 1:
I was 5 years old the first time I saw it. It’s strange, the things you remember as a child. I couldn’t tell you the story leading up to my first experience, just still frames that are over exposed onto my brain. It’s like looking at a scrapbook in your own mind. I remember the marina. Holly Park Marina and Hotel. The place looked massive back then, a building infected with an illness of time. It was a place I knew had existed long before me. Not to say the place look decrepit, from what I remember it seemed well kept. There was simply an aura of age.
I remember the candies my dad got for me when we stopped by the store. A gas station that housed a large amount of fishing equipment, something I had no interest in. My only concern were the sweets I could find at the far aisle of the shop. They had a kind of gummy candy in the shape of a soda bottle, it’s funny, I don’t remember the taste, just the image of them in my mind.
I remember the hotel we stayed at. It was a short walk from the gas station and had the same aura of age. Two beds and a table were the only furniture but the thing I remember most was the wallpaper depicting roses on an off-white background. There were only three working channel on the box tv. I think my dad decided to watch “Dirty Jobs” that night.
Lastly, I remember the light. It was dark out, the stars in the sky the only illumination from above. All the street lights had burst leaving the brightest thing before me, sunk under 100 feet of water. I was radiant, even under all that water it hurt to look at. I remember the sound it made, a low roar that shook the entire lake, fish floated to the surface belly up after each rumble. I remember how the water directly above it boiled, sending steam into the night sky. Most of all I remember the feeling I had. I felt a dread deep in my throat, it was so strong I thought I might choke. I still believe that was it’s way of communicating with me. To let me know I wasn’t supposed to be there. To tell me to stop watching. Ironically, I was so taken by it that I never blinked.
I only found out the story of the light later in my life. It was a local legend. The people called it the Flare of Toledo Bend. The Old Reliable of East Texas. The Holy Light under Holly Park. Many names described the same thing. It was a strange light that appeared in the Toledo Bend Reservoir every 10 years. Every 10th July 10th since the dam’s construction there have been sightings of the light beneath the lake. It’s path is always the same, never once deviating. It makes a 15 mile swim through the lake before stopping at a nearby mountain and exiting the water. Only a few had actually seen this event at the time due to the remote area but the few that had witnessed it told of a light bright enough to color the sky. They say it would float up through the tree line and mount a large hill before pulsating and eventually ascending into the sky. It’s a marvelous story and sight that was unfortunately ruined by humanity’s desire to solve and categorize everything.
Natural gas. Apparently there’s a large batch of methane beneath the lake, over the course of a decade it slowly fills a separate vacuum at the bottom of the lake. It fills and fills until reaching the end of the vacuum by Holly Park. At that point in ignites and slowly burns down the 15 mile vacuum until finally surfacing and burning out in the sky. A reasonable explanation that many people accepted. My father was not one of those people.
He was convinced that it was some kind of cover up and a shadowy government operation was trying to cover up the fact that the light was something exalted. He looked me in the eyes and said, “It’s something beyond us, boy. I won’t hear a word otherwise. This thing is important. It’s something sublime.”
For ten years he prepared and researched the witness testimonies and fact checked the official story done by the USGS. He’d often call the researcher assigned to the oddity and try to fact check him, looking for any indication that it was a lie. I remember his passion about it but at the time couldn’t understand it. It wasn’t your usual hyper fixation, no this was something he needed to be right about. He skipped out on mom’s anniversary present to buy himself a boat and that night he took me there at the young age of 11 to fish. We floated out to the middle of the lake and he said to me, “This is the spot, four years from now it’ll appear right here and when that happens we’ll be here and we’ll prove it’s not a thousand year old fart let out every decade.” Everyone saw this as an obsession but I found it endearing that he cared this much about it.
True to his word he brought me out on Toledo Bend 4 years later. He told me his plan, he had a harpoon, the kind of thing that they used on whales, he was convinced the thing was physical and that he could attach himself to it. Once that happened he would ride it out 15 miles to shore, where he’d follow it up the hill and see what it was. I was excited, literally shaking in anticipation as the darkness of the night closed in around us. It was still. Quiet. And then there was light. It was dim at first, a tiny spot at the bottom of the lake but it quickly started to rise. It grew brighter and brighter until I could hardly stand to look at it. My father stood at the front of the boat and stared down at it as it rose higher and higher. He was calling to it, screaming for it to get within range and, at the last second before it could speed away, he tossed the spear.
First I heard a sound I recognized, a splash as it tore through the water, and then something strange. It was a high pitch thunk, like the spear had collided with something metal. I tried to scream with excitement but was drowned out by the low roar beneath the water. It was loud, the loudest thing I had heard at the time. It shook the boat and had me covering my ears in pain. Then we shot forward. A rope tied to the boat kept us attached to the light and had us speeding down the river at a speed I couldn’t begin to imagine. My father was screaming with laughter as he passed under the bridge at Holly Park. A crowd had gathered to watch the light and got an extra show that would change to local legend afterward. People would talk about Frank Sanders, the man who road the sun for years afterward.
Within five minutes we had left civilization behind and arrived to the remote section of forest where it would rise from the water. The light stopped and slowly approached the shore, my dad passed me sunglasses and told me to cover my ears. I did as I was told and waited as it arose. It’s a sight I could never forget. The last five feet of water on the shore evaporated immediately and the light was unsheathed from the murky lake water. It was like a star had fallen from the sky and floated before us. I shook and felt tears run down my face as I stared at the radiance before us. My father stood in front of me and screamed at the ball of flame and lightning, “What are you!”
The low roar sounded off, the full extent finally free of the lake water. It leveled the trees on shore and pushed the boat away from shore, we likely would have been pushed to the other side of the lake had it not been for the harpoon pinning us to the light. After the roar ended it turned and floated up the mountain, dragging the boat behind it. Father cut the rope and told me his last words, “I’ll be right back. Stay here and wait for me.”
With that he was off. He followed the flare up the mountain and vanished. People told stories of the many who road the sun for months but once again people changed the story to something more digestible. He apparently never had a harpoon, simply a motor at the back of the boat and he wasn’t taken by the light, simply got lost in the woods and left his son starving on the shore to be found two days later. I never listened. That was 5 years ago and in that 5 years I’ve thought of nothing but that night. I owe it to my father to stab the flare and follow it to the mountain. I’ll ask it what it did to my father. And I’ll record my experiences here.
Entry 2:
I’ve sent a few weeks at the landing sight. For the first few days Ashley, my girlfriend would call and beg me to come home. I did the first few night but then I decided not to one night. I stand where the flare stands every decade and I stare at the stars. The calls would lull me to sleep every night, occasionally I would answer to tell her I was alright but after a while the calls stopped coming in. There was a strange comfort in that, knowing that I was alone. Made me feel closer to the flare.
I’ve set up something of a camp here, I made a shelter using some logs I cut down and various branches I wove together to construct some walls and a roof. It’s not a large area just about a ten foot radius, just something I can use to sleep and take shelter from the weather. I’m pretty far from the nearest town, that being Holly Park so trips for supplies are normally a whole day thing. First week I grabbed some fishing gear, water, food, tools, batteries, flashlights, headlamps, and a portable charger. Now I only really go to buy water because the fish manage to sustain me and I’ve gotten used to using the light of campfires instead of electronics. I did buy a radio though, get any channels out here but sometimes I can hear a few words come though on 85.4. I’ll try to find a spot it can work so I have something to do other than fish.
Entry 3:
It’s been about 3 months since my last entry. I meant to write more but nothing has really changed from my routine. The main thing I’ve worked on is practicing with the harpoon. Before I left I grabbed an extra one that dad had in his closet. I’ve been throwing it for hours on end pretty much every day that isn’t a supply run day. I started as a pretty lousy shot but now I can hit a mark from a fair distance away. Even got a few squirrels that wandered too close to camp one time.
That’s not the reason I’m updating though. The radio I mentioned last entry. It’s started getting a stronger signal, it’s still mostly static but occasionally I’ll hear a word call out over the white noise. The first one I heard was “enlighten.” I was packing mud on the wall of my hut when I heard the voice and almost jumped, I hadn’t heard a voice outside of the Holly Park cashier for months so the noise startled me. At first I didn’t pay it any mind but the more I thought about it the more my attention drifted to the radio. I started to wonder what kind of station would play that. There was no music behind it, no rhythm, it was a clear and monotone word spoken out of nowhere. I stood and walked to the radio, lifting it to my ear and listening. Beneath the static I almost thought I could hear something, it was low and rumbled through the speakers.
I nearly dropped the damn thing when I heard another voice behind me. I turned and saw a face I recognized, Max Emanis. A close friend from school and someone I never thought I’d see again after graduation. I gave a chuckle and put down the radio, “Max? Jesus, it’s been a while. What are you doing out here?”
Max didn’t answer at first. He took a moment to look around him at the camp I set up, seeing the fish grilling over the fire, the small shelter in the middle of the clearing, the fishing pole at the shore. He shrugged, “Oh you know. Just passing through.”
I tilted my head, “Through the woods.”
“Yeah,” he replied, scratching his head, “That wasn’t a very good lie was it? Ashley sent me to check on you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. She’s really worried about you. We all are.”
“Well,” I said, gesturing to the camp, “Obviously I’m doing pretty okay.”
“Oh yeah, when did you last eat?”
“This morning, had some bass I caught.”
Max nodded and stopped talking for a moment, eventually pointing at a log I had pushed by the fire, “Mind if I join you by the fire?”
“Of course.”
We sat there and talked a good hour or two. He told me about Ashley, my mom, random events happening in town. It was good, comforting even but the entire conversation felt like we were tiptoeing around the elephant in the room. Eventually we ran out of things to talk about and he broke the small talk stand off.
“What are you doing here, Sam,” he asked bluntly.
I paused for a moment, “You know why?”
“No, I actually don’t, which is why I’m asking.”
I shook my head, “Don’t give me that shit, you know this spot. You know where we are.”
“Yeah, it’s where the Flare comes out of the water. That doesn’t explain why you are here,” I stayed silent, “Look, I loved your dad, we all did. But he was obsessed with this. He couldn’t think or focus about anything else and it killed him.”
“The Flare killed him.”
“It’s methane, Sam. Natural gas.”
“No,” I said, “It’s not, I saw it. I heard it scream. That thing wasn’t methane!”
“You were a child, a child who had just lost his father.”
“I know what I saw.”
“I know you think-“
“I know what I saw,” I screamed at his face.
There was silence for a few moments before he stood, “I think you need time to yourself. Time to figure this thing out. I hope you do it quickly. If you do leave here I may not be around. My dad’s signed me up to help him down at the station.”
I chuckled, the tension from earlier leaving for a moment, “A police officer? Shut the fuck up.”
“It’s true,” he said with a smile, “I gotta say I’m really excited.”
“Good, I’m proud of you.”
“Yeah… Goodbye Sam.”
And then he left, leaving me with whatever I was doing before.
Entry 4:
The radio is weird. Curiosity got me to carry the radio to town in order to hear what the station was actually playing. The weird part came from what I heard the closer I got to town. Nothing. The further I got from the camp the quieter the static became. The moment I made it to the marina it cut out completely. That doesn’t make any sense, there’s no way I’m getting a signal from another town, we’re the only one for miles. So what am I hearing.
I did some experiments with it after that discovery. I sat by the water with a pin and paper and wrote down every word or phrase I could make out from the static. A lot of it I didn’t understand but some makes a bit of sense. Here’s what I found:
Enlightenment.
Preparation for cataclysm.
God of nothing.
Regan Morgan.
George Mansfield silenced.
Not worth Jailor’s attention.
Deserter still hiding… Physical form was forsaken.
Yeah, most of this was complete jargon to me. Everything except the name George Mansfield. I know him, well it’s closer like I know of him. He’s a researcher, the same exact researcher sent to investigate the Flare. I had to check to make sure but yeah, my dad had called him enough times to burn the name into my mind. It said he had been silenced. I have no idea what the radio station is, what these… statements are supposed to be. I’m working on a plan right now, something I’m not super sure I want to do but something I feel I have to. For now I’m going to keep listening to the radio:
Entertainment levels stable.
No omniscient threat detected.
Jailers are aware of Sam Sanders.
Jailers are unsure on how to deal with Sam Sanders.
Sam Sanders is aware of the broadcast.
I was on the verge of passing out when I heard my own name come through the radio. I sat up immediately and looked across my shelter to the small device in the corner, spewing static into my ears. I couldn’t be sure but I swear it had said my name. I sat there a few moments longer, waiting for it to say anything else but eventually I had rationalized it in my mind. I was reaching to turn it off when it spoke again.
“Jailers are unsure on how to deal with Sam Sanders.”
I froze in place, unsure on how to process what I had just heard. It had said my name. But that wasn’t it, it had repeated my name. I had written down what I could make out but in truth the radio spoke about hundreds of different topics yet never have I ever heard it repeat a subject. I was dumbfounded, it was chilling enough that the radio had mentioned me but the fact it was fixating on me was worse. Suddenly it was quiet, I noticed the lack of static immediately as it had been my only companion for the past week. It spoke again.
“Sam Sanders is aware of the broadcast. Countermeasures deployed.”
I covered my ears as the radio expelled a sound loud enough to shake the ground beneath me. Even with my ears covered the noise shook my skull and made me cry out in pain. The radio bounced around the shelter, the noise not meant for a vessel so small as it tossed the small object around like a brick in a washing machine. The walls of my shelter began to collapse in from the noise, I quickly crawled from the space and turned just in time to see the roof fall in, crushing the radio and ending the sound. I slowly lowered my hands and stared at the pile of heavy logs. I knew the sound, the speakers did it no justice but I knew it. I had heard it the night my father vanished. It was the noise uttered by the Flare.
Entry 5:
Something weird is going on. Really weird. After the radio incident I shifted my focus to something else. That being George Mansfield. The radio mentioned him being silenced. If I had to guess it meant he knew something about the Flare and wasn’t talking. For the first time in a few months I left the woods and actually got in my car. The hood was covered in a thick layer of pine needles that fought to stay on the hood despite my best efforts. I filled the tank at the marina and started driving to the local watering hole.
Mansfield was a local. A very well known local due to his support of his high school. He was responsible for funding half the campus from what I understand, his family came from old oil money and still had enough properties out west to sustain themselves and the place their children go to school. I remember having a Mansfield boy in my grade and for a rich bastard he was actually pretty humble. We never had much interaction outside of mandatory group projects but from what I could gather he was a good kid. Which was a shame considering how everything turned out. I wish there was a better way of doing it but in the end I couldn’t stop at the same roadblocks my father did. Morality and self preservation had to take a back seat for now. Information was far more important.
I parked at the local bar and took in the thrills of civilization once again. A good three dozen people stood around the building and sat out on the patio, drinking their fill of the overpriced alcohol. Country music that was probably a tad too loud played over the speakers in order to fill the awkward silences between the drunk youths. I had visited this place plenty back before I graduated and for a time I thought they were my happiest moments. I smiled to myself thinking back to when I met Ashley here. I pushed the memory from my head and took a deep breath. Only one thing was important. One.
I stepped into the bar and took in the aroma of cigarettes, alcohol, and good food. It was like walking into a new biome. I stepped past some partying kids that were probably too young to be here and sat at the counter ordering a Jack and coke. While I downed the drink I scanned the bar, trying to see if Mansfield was present. He didn’t appear to be inside so I ordered another glass and walked around the building and patio, checking every face in the place until I was sure he wasn’t there. With that confirmation I returned to the bar and ordered something a bit stronger. The rest of the night was a bit of a haze, I don’t remember much but at some point I must have got in my car because I woke up in the back seat stinking of liquor. My head throbbed and bones cracked as I sat up and scanned my surroundings. The place was barren now, the only car in the parking lot being mine and a green pickup at the edge of the parking lot.
I managed to stumble my way through the bar and into the bathroom where I did my best to clean myself up and change my clothes. For the first time since graduating I got a good look at myself in the mirror. My hair was long, nearly passing my shoulders and my beard was bushy, covering half my face and most of my neck. I looked like a mountain man and, more importantly, was completely unrecognizable. I barely knew who stared at me from the mirror.
I left the bathroom and passed the only window in the building, seeing the green truck had moved closer to the building, now sitting right outside the window. I collapsed on a stool and sighed, “Got anything that will make this go away,” I asked, gestating to my head.
The bartender poured my a glass of some unmarked bottle and placed it in front of me. I took a sip and watched the morning news while the glass got emptied over the course of the weather announcements. I was just getting ready to leave when the bell attached to the door rang and the bartender gave a small smile to whoever walked in, “George,” he said, “You missed it yesterday.”
I looked up at the mirror behind the bar and saw George Mansfield crossing the place to sit two stools away from me. I sat up a bit straighter and watched him as inconspicuously as I could. He ordered his regular and watched the morning news as the bartender poured him a drink.
“Here a little early, huh,” the bartender said.
“Yeah, forgot something pretty important yesterday.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Wife’s birthday,” he said with a chuckle.
“Oof,” the bartender placed the bottle down with the glass, “I do not envy you.”
Eventually the conversation between the two died and the only noise was the country music crying from the speakers around us. Eventually I gathered the courage, as liquid as it was, and pointed at Mansfield.
“Where do I know you from, you famous or something?”
Mansfield didn’t say anything at first, it took him a moment to realize I was talking to him, “Me? Oh uhh, I’m a big donor to the Hemphill High School. Did you attend there?”
“Yeah,” I nodded, “I did my time there.”
“Well you likely noticed the big paintings in the library showing the biggest donors, one of them being-“
I snapped my fingers and laughed, “Yeah! That’s it! I remember now. George Foreman right?”
“Mansfield. George Mansfield.”
“Right,” I nodded, “God, I knew I recognized you.”
“Yeah,” he said, “I get that a lot actually.”
“You’re like a scientist right?”
“A researcher, I work for the USGS,” he said, not seeming very interested in the conversation.
“Yeah,” I said, “You did a paper over the Flare of Toledo Bend, right?”
For the tiniest moment I saw a micro expression cross his face. Like I had startled him with the question, “Yes,” he said, “I did.”
“What was the explanation? A cache of natural gas under the lake,” I asked.
“That’s right.”
“You know I was lucky enough to be there the last time The Flare lit up.”
He gave a sad smile, “It’s a very beautiful natural event.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I got to see Frankie Sanders ride the sun that night.”
He chuckled, “A very fantastic urban legend. He had a motor on his boat and simply rode over it down the lake. That man. I actually knew him pretty well. He was extremely persistent and determined, sadly that led to his obsession and his death.”
I stared at him for a moment, the blood in my veins running hot, “You don’t understand,” I said softly, “I was there. I sat in the back of his boat when he threw the harpoon at that thing.”
George’s face went white as he looked over at me, I continued, “When he hit it, that thing rang like a bell. Can natural gas make a sound like that, George?”
“Sam?”
“What is it,” I asked.
“What is what?”
“The Flare, George. What is it.”
He shook his head, “I entertained your father’s delusions and it cost him his life. I refuse to do the same to you,” he stood and put cash under his glass, “Move on Sam, don’t follow him.”
With that he walked out and I was left alone with my glass. I didn’t stay long though, once he left the parking lot I followed behind. I booked it out the door and noticed the green truck still sitting in front of the building. How long had in waited there? Suddenly it came to life, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road. I shrugged it off and went back to what I was doing before. Following George home.
I watched his house from the tree line. I had brought only the bare essentials with me, that being sleeping bag, two weeks worth of food and water, and my father’s hunting rifle. I sat at that tree line a week and a half as the sun rose and fell around me. Rain soaked my skin but I stayed, mapping out his routine to find the perfect moment to strike. He was normally always home so that wasn’t the issue, I needed him to be home alone, with no wife or kids there to complicate things. I needed it to be just me and him. And eventually after watching what they did everyday I found an opening. Friday night the family traveled to the school’s football game without George. He spent his time in his office instead meaning I’d have him alone in there for a good few hours.
Before I knew the day had come and I was watching his wife and kids leave him in his house, completely alone. I stepped from the forest with my rifle in hand, it would have been more ideal to have a handgun but my father was a hunter and had only rifles and shotguns. I had considered grabbing his old double barrel but if things got out of hand and I was forced to fire. I didn’t want to leave a mangled body behind for them to find. If I had to shoot it would be a single bullet through the chest.
I made my way to the entry point, the oldest daughter liked to sleep with the window open and rarely shut it when she left. Lucky for me it was still open. I stepped inside, my body still wet from the light rain outside. Droplets of water hit the carpet as I made my way through the girl’s room. I pushed the door open without the slightest creak, the house was quiet apart from the muffled typing across the living room. As I stepped out of the carpeted bedroom the water droplets made soft taps against the floor. I lifted my rifle and made my way to the only room with a light on, I felt my heart racing in my chest as I got closer and closer. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the microwave went off. I heard the typing stop and immediately knew he was coming for the food. I quickly ducked behind a couch just as the door opened and flooded the living room with yellow light. I held my breath, watching as he walked across the living room, humming to himself. Halfway the he slipped and cursed as he lifted his foot, seeing a puddle of water on the wooden floor. Fuck.
“What the hell,” he muttered quietly as he followed the trail of water with his eyes, eventually seeing the bearded man hiding his couch pointing a gun at his head. I saw the very moment he noticed me as the color drained from his face and he gasped slightly. I slowly stood up, the gun staying trained on him as he lifted his hand. “Come on,” he said, “I got kids… Please… just take what you want.”
“I’m not robbing you,” I said softly, “And I won’t hurt you if you do what I say.”
My voice tipped him off I suppose because he immediately recognized me, “Sam?”
“Yeah,” I said, “So I guess you know why I’m here.”
“No,” he replied, “I don’t think I do.”
“The Flare,” I yelled, “Tell me what it is.”
He shook his head, “Sam I… I already told-“
“I swear on my father, if you lie to me again I’ll put a bullet in you, George,” he didn’t say anything so I fired a shot past his head causing him to fall against his counter gasping, “I know you are being silenced! Tell me what it is!”
“The shot… someone will have heard it… someone-“
I chambered another round, “It’s the middle of deer season George, how many gun shots you hear a day? How many times you call the police about it?”
He was shaking now, desperately looking for an out, “My wife. She’s on her way back, she-“
“They went to the football game. We’re going to be alone for the next 3 hours.”
He was frozen solid, “How do you-“
“The Flare! What is it!”
“I can’t! They’ll ruin me, I can’t.”
“I have a gun to your head George, I’ll kill you.”
“Please. I don’t even know what it is, they never told me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know! I’m just a cog, I swear! They dug up some footage and threatened to show my wife if I investigated the Flare! They gave me a paper and told me to submit it! That’s what my report was!”
“Who gave it to you!”
“I don’t know, I had never seen him before! He had black hair, he was white, about… ye high. I don’t know, I can’t really describe him, he wasn’t really this or that.”
“How convenient.”
“Please, Sam, you gotta believe me, I’m begging you.”
“Why do they want to cover up the Flare?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why!”
“I don’t know! They never told me anything!”
“You never asked?”
“They were threatening my reputation!”
“How.”
This shut him up, he looked away and I saw tears begin to gather at the edge of his eyes, “Please.”
“George!”
“… It was so long ago… I was drunk and this girl came up to me at the bar. I barely remember it. A week later they showed me the video of us. Told me to do what they said or my wife would find the video in her inbox,” the tears finally dropped from his eyes, “And if I told anyone they’d go ahead and add proof of my drug problem. Then, if I still misbehaved they’d give my kids false drug charges.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Sam, you need to let this go. These people… they aren’t like anyone else I’ve ever met. There’s just nothing inside of them, I-“
He stopped as light filled the living room, we both looked at the source. Headlights shined from the driveway, from where I stood I saw the lights were a few feet over the ground. Whoever it was had a lifted vehicle and as the lights clicked off I realized it was one I recognized. A green truck sat in the driveway, three hooded figures sat behind the tinted windshield but the didn’t stay there long. They quickly stepped out and split, two crossed to the back of the house while the shortest one made their way to the front door.
“Oh God,” George said, “It’s them.”
I didn’t hesitate, I ran back to the window I entered through. After slinging my weapon over my back I hurled myself outside into the storm. What had once been a light drizzle had morphed into a downpour. I ran through curtains of water, only looking back once I reached the tree line. They were standing there, the taller ones at the edge of the house and the shorter one leaned against the patio railing. We stood there a moment, frozen like sculptures in the rain. The short man eventually broke the stand of with a heavy sigh, he reached for his hood and removed it to reveal the most unremarkable man I have ever seen.
I’ve stared at the page a good while trying to think of a single distinguishing feature I could use to describe this man but I can’t think of anything. He had dark hair, white skin, was fairly young, and that’s all. That description probably describes half of the earth though and won’t help in identifying him. He looked like someone you’d pass in the grocery store or someone not out of place behind a cash register. I’m certain I’ve seen 50 others with his face before and it’s frustrating trying to remember. I turned and ran through the forest as the man watched with a bored expression. It was a short jog to my car but when I got there I found something waiting for me. Someone had left a yellow envelope attached to my windshield, I didn’t read it then I was still trying to get away. After driving for a good hour I finally put my foot on the break and gave myself a moment to think.
This was big. Much bigger than I had ever imagined. My father was right, the Flare was being covered up but I never imagined what the consequences of this truth would be. There were people stopping the truth from getting out, people with resources, money, backing. I finally looked down at the envelope, realizing these people had sent me a message. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand, reading the message written in black sharpie.
STOP.
It was simple and too the point, whoever left this knew what I was up to, they’d been watching me. At least since I was at the bar but maybe it had been longer. Had they been watching my dad? I opened the package to see if they were negotiating with a carrot or stick. When the envelope released it’s contents, I saw they had chosen the stick. Pictures, dozens of them all taken from my camp site. Pictures of me cooking, fishing, sleeping, all of them completely without my knowledge. The worst one was a close up of my sleeping face with a note held by someone just off camera.
WE CAN FIND YOU. MAKE IT EASY AND STOP.
I’ve driven far from my usual spots, I need a place to feel safe while I get a good nights sleep. I’ve spent the last few minutes writing this down but now I’m tired and I need to plan my next move.