The Camping Trip (A Familiar Darkness)

Samuel Idestam hesitated. The sour smell of kerosene wafted up from the floor. A man bound in duct tape tried shaking his head violently. Tears streamed down the man’s cheeks as he did. He tried to plead from his seat in the room’s corner, but the gag in his mouth muffled everything. Still, Idestam hesitated before striking the match.

“Doesn’t look like there’s anything else in here,” Rich Christiansen walked in. “You almost finished?”

Idestam looked up. “Yeah, we’ll be done in a second.”

“We have to go,” Christiansen scanned the room. “Get moving.” He bent over in front of the prisoner. Looking him over, Christiansen grabbed the man’s chin in one hand and forced him to meet his eyes. “Okay, so you learned something today, right?”

The man trembled and nodded hurriedly.

“Don’t go poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.” Christiansen let go with a harsh push and stood up. He readjusted his suit coat and buttoned. Smoothing the front of his jacket with one hand, Christiansen looked to Idestam. “Get on with it, kid.”

Idestam struck the match, watched a small flame sprout from it, and then dropped the match into the cardboard box at his feet. Inside the box, reams of papers and polaroids sat. Fire erupted in a miniature ball before the match even touched the box. The files inside it immediately curled in on themselves and burned away.

“Great,” Christiansen left the room and called over his shoulder. “I already pulled the batteries in the smoke detector. Let’s go.”

Idestam stood in front of the duct-taped man and grabbed him by the arms. He pulled the man up to his feet. “Don’t run.” He led the man through the tight hallway of the mobile home. They turned the corner to the front door to find Christiansen outside.

Christiansen glowered at Idestam. “Aw, hell, kid. Leave him. He won’t get hurt.”

“You’re right. He won’t,” said Idestam as he pushed their captive through the front door and past Christiansen. Once out on the patchy, yellow, grass surrounding the home, Idestam shoved the man to the ground. The prisoner hit the ground with a huff. Idestam put one foot on the small of the man’s back. “You did nothing. You saw nothing. Understand?”

The man made no sign of hearing him.

Idestam shifted his weight onto the man’s back more. “You did nothing. You saw nothing. Or we’ll come back and burn everything and everyone down next time, understand?”

The man nodded and tried to speak. Idestam lifted off of the man and left him on the lawn. He walked to Christiansen, waiting by the car. The senior agent raised eyebrows with a finger towards the man behind Idestam.

Idestam shrugged. “He got the message. No need to go any further.”

Christiansen nodded without another word. He spoke again once both men sat in the car, buckling their seatbelts. “I’ll call Dreamland and have them keep an eye on the sheriff’s department. A hillbilly tied up outside his burning house is going to cause a little bit of a ruffle.”

“But,” countered Idestam. “Not enough of one. No one’s going to take his word for anything.”

Christiansen nodded. “You’re learning.”

“Somehow. Where to next?”

“Maiden, Idaho. Get on the freeway, I’ll direct you from there. After I make this call,” said Christiansen. He pulled out their clamshell, cellular phone and began dialing.

After a few hours on the road, the agents found themselves pulling up to the lot of a two story motel. Its neon sign flickered and advertised vacancies. Idestam felt relief wash over him as he pulled into the empty parking lot. Both men exited the car and took a moment to stretch.

“So, what’s the deal?” Asked Idestam. He pulled his suitcase out of the trunk.

“I’ll tell you inside.”

After checking in at the counter, both agents hurried to their room. Both dropped their suitcases, and Christiansen sat on his bed. He started pulling his shoes off while he spoke.

“Basically, the Office caught a burst in the mountains near here a few days ago. Gulch says they figured it was remote enough to be a class one. No need to worry. We’d swing by when done with that socks-and-sandals fellow and check things out. But, there’s been nine missing persons reported since the burst.”

“Shit,” said Idestam with raised eyebrows. “That’s a baseball team. So, local authorities are already tracking this?”

“Luckily, we’re not completely sunk here. Given the, ah, political climate of this area, the local sheriff has been trying to handle it locally. They don’t really appreciate having any reminder of the federal government’s existence here.”

Idestam gestured between the two of them with a finger. “So, our covers are not going to go over well here.”

“I’ll get to that. The only reason we’ve become aware of the missing is because the latest was a child. Mother is dissatisfied with the sheriff’s office and how they’re handling it. So, she drove to Boise and spoke to the State Police. We have maybe a few days before troopers roll up here.”

“So, what’s the play?”

“I’m thinking we’re US Marshals here to lend a helping hand. It’s not great, but we already have a few aliases with them.”

Idestam considered it for a moment. “Could be decent. Still, they don’t really trust the government.” He snapped his fingers when a thought occurred to him. “You know who these people do love? The military. You and I are soldiers visiting the area on a fishing trip. Got some extra leave days to burn, a buddy of ours grew up here but couldn’t make it out. We’re just red-blooded Americans wanting to help save the children. They’ll eat it up. What do you think?”

A half-smile grew over Christiansen’s face and he nodded. “Smart thinking, kid. I like that. Only problem is, I’m a bit old for jackboots and a crew cut.”

“We’ll say you’re a master sergeant, about to retire. This is a last jaunt with a young soldier you’ve taken under your wing.”

“You got those civvies I told you to pack?”

“Jeans and a long sleeve,” nodded Idestam. “I don’t have fishing gear, though.”

“I don’t know if we’ll need to sell the bit that hard,” Christiansen said. “Get some sleep, kid. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

The morning came, much to Idestam’s chagrin. Both men dressed down in civilian clothes. Christiansen seemed surprisingly at home in a pair of denim work pants and a buffalo check flannel. Both he and Idestam helped themselves to the instant coffee at the front desk before driving into town. A few blocks down its mainstreet and the agents came across the Maiden Sheriff’s Department.

“How can I help you folks?” Asked the woman. She held onto the knitting, but swiveled to face them.

Christiansen adopted his usual drawl. “Ma’am, my friend and I here heard some trouble with a missing child? We’re in town for a few days and figured we’d like to help out. Assuming there’s a search party going on or something?”

His statement darkened the woman’s complexion, and she set the needlework down on the desk. “Right, the Adles’ kids. It has been a troubling few days. I think Sheriff Cartwright is up on their property now. We haven’t got an official group, but Pastor Evans has gathered some of the local men to search the woods. I’ll see if--” the woman began looking around her desk when Idestam spoke.

“Children? We just heard there was one.”

She stopped and leaned over the desk. With a hushed tone she said “The Adles’ son went missing yesterday. And his sister is gone today. Marissa is terribly worried. Always a hard charger that woman. She came in here screeching that the sheriff is doing enough. And then she flew in here this morning going on about how Fran didn’t come down for breakfast and the girl’s bed was still made. Between those two kids, the Schmidt boys, Roger, and Dean, Dean’s brother, and his nephew, we’re not entirely certain what to do. The sheriff says it’s a camping trip gone wrong, but that wouldn’t explain Fran.”

“Sorry, a camping trip gone wrong?”

The woman put up both hands. “Oh dear. Listen to me go. I’d better stop. Idle hands, you know. My heart just breaks for Marissa. She was my maid of honor, you know. Anything for her. If you’d like, see if Pastor Evans is in today. I’m sure he’ll be putting together another group. You passed the Church of the Holy Family on the way in? It’s his congregation.”

“Well, we were really hoping to aid in any official efforts,” Christiansen leaned on arm against the desk and motioned to Idestam. “See, me and my friend here are soldiers. Visiting for the fish since we got some time off. And when we heard about missing American children, it just broke our hearts. You understand.”

The woman put a hand over her heart. “That’s so sweet of you. I’m sure the sheriff would love to have you fellas around. He did his time in ’Nam, you know. With my dad and uncle, too. The sheriff should be back soon. Come back again around lunch, okay?”

“Right. Thank you, ma’am.” Christiansen stood up straight. He and Idestam left the sheriff’s office and stepped into the morning sunlight. Christiansen surveyed the small town’s main street, looking left and right slowly. He met Idestam’s gaze. “Well, what do you think?”

“We don’t know where these Adles live. She’s going to start get suspicious if we keep pushing things,” Idestam nodded behind them. “We could hit up a diner, ask around.”

Christiansen shook his head. “Don’t want to spread our covers too much. Let’s go to the next best source. I’m betting that steeple over there is their church.”

Snow crunched underfoot as the men made their way across town. The winter winds made it an uncomfortable walk. Idestam stuck his hands in his pockets. Christiansen pointed to the small, white-roofed church when they turned a street corner.

“There we go. Should have brought a jacket,” he said.

The door to the church immediately welcomed them inside with a gust of warm air. Inside, a small walkway led between pews up to a short altar. A wooden cross behind it carried unlit candles. The men entered and looked around. Before they could advance further, a door in the wall by the altar opened. A bespectacled, bald man stepped out and waved.

“Good morning,” the man called with a big smile. He met the men halfway down the aisle. “May I help you with something?”

“Yes,” Christiansen said. “We’re looking for a ‘Pastor Evans’. Had a quick question for him.”

The man stuck a hand forward. “That would be me. You can just call me Matt. I haven’t seen you folks around here before. What’s your question?”

“We’re looking for Sheriff Carter? Was told he’d be up at the Adles’ place, but we didn’t get directions to it.”

“Sheriff Cartwright?” The man’s brow furrowed and his smile weakened. “Yes, the Adles. He’s helping with their children. Dreadful thing. My congregation is actually getting together to help search for them. We’ll have coffee and cookies here in an hour or so, and then we’ll begin. If you’d like to stick around, I think the sheriff was going to join us.”

“We need to speak to him. Could you just direct us to the Adles?” Asked Christiansen.

“Yes, of course. Do you have a map?”

Christiansen talked Jefferson through the directions the pastor pointed on the map. Driving out of town, small ranches and farming plots surrounded them. After a half hour of driving, the forest crept down from the foot of the mountains and trees began to occlude the view from the road. They came upon the Adles’ farm just before fully entering the forest.

A long wooden fence lined the farmhouse and frozen fields. Three large tree trunks, debarked and stained, stood over the driveway as a gate. One rested atop the other two, and on it was inscribed the name ‘Adle’.

The property’s gate rested open, held in place by a larger rock. Tire tracks in the snow led up to the three story house and wooden barn. Idestam parked their car by the fence’s entrance. Both he and Christiansen got out and took in the scene before them.

Two white pickup trucks stood before the house. Their doors bore the crest of the county sheriff. No one moved around outside, though Idestam noted fresh footsteps in the white landscape around the trucks as he walked up.

“Easy, kid, I’ll talk,” cautioned Christiansen as they took to the porch steps.

Idestam nodded.

Voices came from within the house. A woman spoke harshly. Multiple male voices interjected. The walls muffled actual words, but Christiansen gave a glance to Idestam before knocking.

Boot steps on wood sounded through the door. The wide door creaked open to reveal a man in a tan uniform. The badge on his chest identified him as a local deputy. The man considered them silently from under a wool knit cap.

“Ah, yes, we’re hoping to speak to a Sheriff Cartwright? Heard we could be of some use,” said Christiansen.

The deputy eyed them before letting them into the foyer. The wooden floor creaked underfoot. On both walls, pictures of a smiling family watched the men. A bible verse embroidered on white cloth sat in a picture frame. An older, obese man stomped from within the house to meet them at the doorway. He wore a black leather belt with a pistol holster, flashlight, and handcuffs on it. The silver badge on his chest proclaimed him to be the sheriff. The man looped his thumbs in his belt loops and regarded the agents with a squint. A bedraggled woman with bags under her eyes trailed behind him with sunken shoulders.

“Don’t just let them in, Pete. Chrissake,” the sheriff snapped at the deputy. He turned and nodded to the two men. “Whatever this is, lemme have you two stop by the station. We’re working on police matters here and now.”

“Actually, Sheriff, we were here about those matters. My friend and I are hoping to lend a hand. We were told some campers went missing, and we’d like to check out the campsite,” said Christiansen.

“Now, I don’t recognize you two gentlemen, so I assume you’re passing through. This here is a tragedy, not a matter of touri--”

“--oh for God’s sake, Clark,” the woman interrupted him while throwing her hands up. She stepped in front of the sheriff and faced the men. “Pastor Evans is organizing the search teams. I don’t know why we need to waste time looking around here. I told the sheriff there’s been no sign of my kids all morning.”

“Merely want to help, ma’am. Where was it they were camping?” Christiansen asked. Idestam felt the deputy’s eyes on him, but ignored them. The sheriff sidled out from behind Marissa and stood next to her. He continued to glare at the men, but didn’t speak.

“They went up to the Green Creek campground--”

“--Marissa, these folks don’t need to be burdened with our troubles. Let’s have them on their way.”

“You’ve already gone to the trouble of letting them in,” Marissa glared at him. “It’s my damn house and I’ll speak how I damn well please.” She turned back to the agents. “A few of the men around here,” Marissa’s eyes slid to the sheriff’s side as she spoke “...fancy themselves cowboys and like to rough it in the snow. They take the boys up every year. I think Fran got worried when the others disappeared. She and her brother are usually inseparable, especially since their father passed, but he went by himself for this trip. Fran’s not really one for the outdoors. Prefers her fires in fireplaces, sort of girl.”

“And this is Fran?” Christiansen pointed to a photo on the wall. In it, the woman posed with a man behind two young, smiling children on a canvas backdrop.

“That was a few years ago. Actually, here…” The woman walked deeper into the house without further explanation. The sheriff and his deputy regarded the agents with cold expressions while they waited. After a moment, the sheriff cleared his throat.

“Now, you twos are just passing through here?”

“Came for the fishing. Had some time off.”

Sheriff Cartwright and his deputy shared another look. “I’m thinking you’ll want to get back to your fishing, then. You two should dress warmer, though. Nature won’t be as hospitable as we are.”

“You make it sound so deadly,” smiled Christiansen. “We’d just like to help out.”

“I’ve been more than polite, gentlemen,” The sheriff started, but the mother returned. She carried a polaroid in two fingers and handed it to Christiansen.

“That’s Fran, as of a year ago. She’s a little taller now, and had her hair cut to a bob a few months back, but the picture is still good.” She tapped the photograph with a grimace. Reddened skin swelled up around her eyes, and her lips pursed as she looked at Christiansen. The girl in the photograph appeared to be in her early teens. Auburn locks of hair framed her face and fell down across her shoulders. Baby fat hung from her cheeks and chin, but her eyes pierced the viewer’s. Hazelnut-brown irises focused on the camera, ignoring the birthday cake she posed with.

“So, this but with short hair,” nodded Christiansen.

The sheriff put his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Marissa, let’s not worry them with--”

--”oh, I’d hate to be an inconvenience,” Marissa snapped at Sheriff Cartwright.

Idestam’s eyes darted between the two. “Yeah, where was this campground?”

Marissa looked back to the agents. “Green River? It’s up the road from here. Keep going towards Blacktail Mountain, the signs will guide you to it.” She motioned to the door with one hand.

“Right. Let’s take off, kid. We wouldn't want to get in the way of official, ah, police procedure,” said Christiansen with a nod to the sheriff. He tapped Idestam on the shoulder, and the two turned to leave.

On their way back to the car, Christiansen held out the photograph. The young woman pictured clearly hadn’t wanted the photograph to be taken. It captured her hunched shoulders and forced smile, waiting to blow out lit candles on the cake before her. Christiansen passed it to Idestam. “She definitely doesn't look like someone who just takes off for the woods.”

“Neither do we,” said Idestam. He blew warm air over clasped hands before taking the photo. “Does it feel like it’s getting colder?”

Christiansen glanced at the sky. Darkened clouds rushed overhead. The wind chastised them and forced snow up into the air around them. “Yeah, it’s looking like that’s going to be a problem. Let’s get up to the campground. I’m betting that’s where the burst happened.”

In the car, Idestam twisted the key and spurred the engine to life. While buckling his seatbelt, he said “So, the Signal bursts in a campground occupied by some locals and the Office just assumes it’s a class one?”

Christiansen shrugged. “No way to know they were there. This far out, the locals probably don’t make reservations with the park or forest service, and the authorities probably just don’t care. We work with what we have.”

“And now we’re chasing some teenager in the woods during a fresh snowfall.”

“No, we’re going to the campground to see if the burst is still there. Or has left any lingering effects.”

Idestam paused. “What do we do if the burst is… still there?”

“Notify Delivery. That’s a problem for them. Remember, we’re here to monitor and evaluate. We’re like… the vanguard. The scouts. If we need the cavalry, we call Delivery.”

Idestam pulled the car out of its parking spot and began driving back down the country road. “I feel like we’ve done a lot more of cleaning things up than checking things out.”

“Also part of the job,” nodded Christiansen. He pulled out a packet of gum. “It’s easier for two agents to go around and quietly smooth things over after a simple burst than it is to have Delivery’s jackboots go fast-roping into every backyard when we catch some online kook getting close to figuring things out. It just makes more sense. Gum?”

“My breath is cold enough, thanks.”

Into the mountains, the roads became less and less maintained. Someone had, at some point, driven a plow through and cleared snow to either side. White mounds rose up along the road. They stood as the only barriers between a car and the expanse of trees mere feet from the icy pavement.

Idestam drove carefully through the peaks and dips of the rural road. Snowfall had started at some point and now the road became slick. Thin sheets of ice already existed from previous days. Now, a white dusting hid the frozen patches of road. Up one particular hill, the car slipped and lost all momentum. Idestam pressured the gas pedal only to hear the wheels struggling beneath them. He carefully plied the brakes and let the car rest back down the hill slowly.

Christiansen’s head swiveled behind them as he watched their gradual descent. “Careful, kid. Looks like we might not be moving as quick as we’d like.”

“I just want to get to the campsite and see if we can find any of the kids. They’ve been gone for a few days by now. If the cold is annoying to us now, it must be terrible for them.”

“Our first priority is the burst.”

“Right, but if nothing comes of that we could at least help out.”

Christiansen shook his head. “Don’t let yourself get distracted. Stop the car. Throw on the parking brake.”

Idestam slammed the door as he got out. He walked to the back tires and put his hands on his hips. The treads sunk into the soft snow. Each tire dug into the snowscape with dovetails of sleet thrown back behind them.

No wind blew here. Only the idling of the car punctuated the quiet forest’s ambience. Idestam kicked one tire as Christiansen left the car. The older man walked around back and opened the trunk. “We’ll have to put chains on. I’m sure the rental place put some in here.”

“A little late for chains,” said Idestam, gesturing to their predicament.

Christiansen waved his annoyance away with one hand. “We’ll back the car up to a nice and flat patch and put ’em on there.”

“Should’ve guessed it’d get this bad in the mountains. The snow can be pretty bad in Washington, too.”

“I’ve walked the Northwest beat for years. Sometimes the winter is mild. Sometimes not,” shrugged Christiansen. “Guess we just got too excited to have a lead on this case.”

“Yeah, so we find this kid. Then what?”

“I don’t really care about the kid. But, we got enough to start looking around for the burst.”

Idestam turned to Christiansen and spread his arms. “The hell? It’s got to be like negative ten degrees out. We’re just not going to help look for this kid. You heard her mother. Not to mention, there’s apparently half a Sunday school missing out here.”

Christiansen pulled a box of tire chains out and shut the trunk. He rested the box on the back of the car and leaned on it. “Kid, we’re not babysitters, a taxi service, or an ambulance. What do you want to do? We find someone out here, what do we do?”

“Take them into town,” Idestam gestured down the road. “It’s maybe an hour out of our day.”

Christiansen pointed at Idestam with a knife hand. “Focus on the job. We’re here to evaluate the area and see what the Office needs to do. What if we go chasing after this child, and the sheriff rolls back up here in the meantime? Burst repeats and boom-- man’s flash fried, fossilized, or worse. There’s more at stake here.” Christiansen picked up the box and turned to look down the road. Idestam turned with him. They began walking down the slope.

“At some point, we’re breaking even with that philoso--” Idestam froze when he looked down the hill. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up. His heart tightened its pace, and he inhaled sharply. He could feel the muscles in his body tensing up.

Christiansen paused with him. The final, frosty crunch of their footsteps echoed around them.

A young woman stood at a turn in the road. Not in the road, but she stood just beyond the snow berm piled beside it. One hand on a tree, she leaned out and stared at the men. Long, brown hair hung from her head to her hip. A gust of wind blustered around the three of them, kicking snow up at the men and flowing through her hair. A varsity jacket, with one sleeve torn off, hugged around her shoulders. A scarf around her neck imitated her hair as the rushing winds played with it and made it dance. Dark, soaked jeans clung to her legs.

“Kid,” said Christiansen quietly.

“Yeah,” whispered Idestam. Then, he waved to her and began walking again. “Hey, are you okay?”

The woman stuck both hands out towards them and shook her head violently. She opened her mouth and her lips moved, but no sound came. As Idestam continued towards her, she took a few steps back and continued shaking her head.

“Fran?” Idestam tried. She resembled the girl in the photograph, though with a few stark differences. He eyed her hair, and noticed how her gaunt cheeks seemed to be sucked against her skull. Given a few years, the woman could have been mistaken for Marissa. “Are you Fran Adle?”

The woman turned and ran further into the trees. Idestam tried to run after her, but ice caused his foot to slip. Catching himself, he braced himself on the slippery surface. The woman kept running. Idestam called her name one more time before he tried following again.

“Kid, stop!” Christiansen yelled from behind him.

Idestam ignored him. He made it to the edge of the road and jumped over the snow berm. His feet sunk a few inches into the snow with step. He ignored his cold pant legs sticking to his ankles. Branches stuck out at him and forced him to duck and sidestep. Brambles and bushes hindered any chance of running in a straight line.

The woman looked over her shoulder. She mouthed something to him, but Idestam heard nothing. Her hair flowed behind her as she jumped a fallen tree. She turned and began up the slope.

Idestam gained on her and called for her to stop again. The woman spun around. She paused in a clearing. Idestam breathed heavily as he stepped into it. Reaching a hand out, he said “Are you Fran Adle? We’ve been looking for you.”

The woman motioned for him to stay back frantically. Her lips moved. No noise came out. Her eyes bulged out with pin-prick pupils. The irises held a sickly tan color, tinged with brown around the edges. She took a few steps back before halting. Her body twitched. A seizure came over the woman. Her face contorted. One shoulder pulled back in a shrug. Her back twisted around and her arms flung madly at her sides. Fingers curled and cracked with stiff movements.

“Jesus, lady…” Idestam walked towards her.

“Whiskers, what the hell?”

Idestam checked over his shoulder to see Christiansen coming up behind him. “She needs help! Grab the first aid kit!”

When Idestam turned back, the woman’s eyes had snapped to him. He held back as her jaw popped, unhinged, and fell open. A long, black tongue uncoiled out of it. Drool dripped in strands along the length of the tongue. Water vapor puffed out into the cold air with her agonized pants. After a moment, a low, guttural howl blasted out from the hanging mouth.

The painful sound swept over Idestam. Panic began to well up in his chest as he stepped back. His back tensed and he held one hand out as if to block the noise. Something in the back of his mind awoke to the primal cry and urged Idestam to flee.

As she continued howling, black seams grew out of the air and ground and began to lash across the woman. They ran over her clothes, across skin, down into her sleeves and inside her mouth. Reality distorted around the tendrils. Light bent towards them. Smoke curled out from the edges of her clothing. They blackened and frayed as dark ash crumbled from each piece of her outfit. The forest around the woman dimmed. It was as if the dark lines leeched color and vibrancy from their surroundings. Staring at them sent a sharp pain surging through Idestam’s eyes and skull.

He clenched them shut. An arm grabbed him across his chest and pulled him back, throwing Idestam into the snow. It crunched beneath him, and his clothes stuck to him. The frigid ground stung his back.

His ears cringed as a deep, zipping sound emanated from in front of him. It roared like a jet turbine. A gail whipped over his supine body. Idestam could feel snow rushing across his face towards the sound. As quickly as the anomaly occurred, silence replaced the noise.

Idestam took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Looking before him, the woman was nowhere to be seen. Idestam looked back to see Christiansen picking himself up out of the snow. Idestam did the same.

Before them, the snow carved out into a shallow divot. The woman’s footsteps led into the center, but nothing led away from her final position. A branch from a tree above them cracked and fell to earth without warning. It landed in the crater and stuck out vibrating.

“When I tell you to stop, you goddamn stop,” said Christiansen in a dark tone. “What if I was trying to warn you about something?”

“I thought it might be her,” Idestam said. He shivered and tucked his fingers in his armpits. “I have a lot more questions than answers now, though.”

“I’m the senior agent. You’re the rookie,” Christiansen stabbed his finger in the air at Idestam. “I get you got growing pains, but the show goes on. Stop arguing and doing your own thing, and start listening.”

“You saw that, though, right? Was that a Signal burst?”

Christiansen paused. “It looked… similar,” he answered carefully. His eyes darted around as he spoke. The older man considered the scene as he continued. “We’ve definitely found a class four. Now is when things get really interesting.”

“I’ll say.” Idestam caught his breath. Looking around the clearing carefully, he couldn’t see any other tracks. He suspected the woman might have jumped out of the spot. It’s what Idestam would have done to hide tracks from any pursuers. Equally alarming to Idestam, no signs of the seemingly-ethereal lines remained. “So, that was a burst then? Felt like reality itself cracked. Like, how hot glass cracks under cold water?”

Christiansen nodded. The older man brushed himself off. He copied Idestam in examining the woodland clearing. “Yeah. Yeah, you just saw your first burst. Congrats. We’ll get a cake from the store. Okay, look, it’s too cold for this. Let’s head back to the car, warm up, and then we’ll reevaluate. Probably put the chains on and get to the campsite,” said Christiansen. He turned to leave and beckoned for Idestam to do the same.

Idestam stayed behind. He searched around the trees from where he stood. “Was that Fran? Where the hell did she go? Did that… whatever it was kill her?”

“We’ll talk about it in the car.” Christiansen stopped, turned, and shook his head. He motioned around them. “There’s no telling who that was, anyway.”

“Yeah,” said Idestam. “It could have been anyone. Out here. In the woods. Miles away from town.”

“Watch it, kiddo,” growled Christiansen.

“Well, what are we going to do now?” Idestam tried to see between the trees around them. The old growth surrounding the men shortened their line of sight drastically. Flakes of soft snow drifted down from the clouds.

“What we can do,” grunted Christiansen. “Let’s get to the car.” He began to tromp back, placing his feet in the holes their steps already made.

“You said my first burst. How many times have you seen the Signal burst?”

Christiansen shrugged. They continued on in silence.

The men installed the chains with numb fingers. Idestam continually stuck his head up and watched around them. Christiansen said nothing more about the woman or the burst until they sat in the car. Both men held their hands in front of the dashboard heaters.

“Okay, so, a class four burst. What do you remember from your training?”

Idestam closed his eyes. “Class Four, abduction or alteration of persons or things. You saw her, right?” Idestam opened his eyes and looked at Christiansen. The old man held a stick of gum out in front of him. Unwrapping it carefully, Christiansen tossed the gum in his mouth while Idestam watched.

Chewing the fresh stick, Christiansen nodded. “Yeah, I saw. She’s definitely… altered. Poor thing. Between her and the missing campers, definitely a class four. It’s an errant, too.”

“Errant?”

“A burst that repeats. They don’t typically do that. Definitely not one strong enough to pluck a girl out of thin air.”

“So, you think that was Fran, then?”

Another shrug from Christiansen. “I suspect so. Maybe she came up here looking for her brother and the burst repeated. Or, things are a little more serious and that thing we saw replaced her. Who knows?”

“Should we even approach the campsite, then?”

“We gotta, kid.”

The campground welcomed the agents with a weather-worn, wooden sign. A series of tire tracks cut through the winter landscape in and out of its narrow entrance. Beyond the welcome sign, a small wooden building declared itself the visitor center. A red sign on the door turned away visitors due to the winter season. The car crawled past it as both men scanned their surroundings.

Christiansen signaled to one path. “The tire marks are fresher there. Take that turn.”

After a few minutes of travel, the men came upon a small field with tents and a fire pit. Two black, trash bags sat on a picnic table. Footsteps dotted the white ground around every man-made object. Orange, canvas flags hung from wire poles stuck in the snow along the perimeter of the site.

“This is definitely the place,” nodded Christiansen. He pulled the monitor’s briefcase from the backseat and opened it on his lap. From one of the compartments in the briefcase, the agent pulled out a small, yellow Geiger counter. Slapping a battery in the bottom of it, he dialed it on and the box began to click slowly. A radiation sticker sat innocently on its side. Christiansen waved it around a little and then looked back at Idestam. “Let’s go see what we can see.”

Idestam left their car idling while they walked the ground. The tents stood undisturbed save for fresh snow on their tops. He retraced the other footsteps left behind. The firepit had long since frozen over. A few camping chairs circled the pit. One lay on its side with an open thermos. Someone had placed another little, orange flag by that chair.

“Nothing’s in the trash bags but clothes and bedding,” Christiansen said from the picnic table. “Looks like the local lawman actually did something.”

“Great. Do we need to break into their office or something?”

Christiansen rested the Geiger counter on top of a garbage bag and cocked his head. “Now why the hell would we do that, kid?”

Idestam shrugged. “In case they have evidence of this or something.”

Christiansen chuckled. He shook his head. “No, we don’t need to do anything like that. We can swing by the police station with the monitor, but we’re not going to pick anything up. Any little bit of evidence they may have, if not affected by the burst, won’t be enough for anyone to piece this together.”

Idestam shuffled through the snow. He leaned over and unzipped one of the tents. Its interior sat empty. He closed the tent flap and searched around it. Idestam wasn’t sure what else to look for, so he rejoined Christiansen at the table. The Geiger counter ticked away steadily from its perch. Christiansen busied himself pulling out another stick of gum.

“Wait, these are radioactive?” Idestam stepped back from the bags.

Christiansen looked at the Geiger counter and then to Idestam. “Yeah, I mean slightly. They were definitely exposed to a burst.”

“The burst makes things radioactive?”

“Seems to. Aside from some other science mumbo-jumbo, radiation has always been a clear indicator of a burst.”

“Do you think maybe you should stay away from the table, then?”

Christiansen, now chewing the fresh stick of gum, picked up the Gieger counter. “It’s not that bad. I think it was picking some more up from ove--”

A howl erupted from within the forest. As primal as the one from the woman, it echoed off the mountain. The reverb sent chills across Idestam’s arms. Birds flew up from the direction of the noise. The bellowing went on for a second before cutting off just as quickly as it began. The echo traveled over and around them. Its strength dissipated into a quiet decrescendo, until finally they were left standing in a silent forest. Both men paused and searched for its source.

“What do we do if she comes back?”

“Improvise.”

“Great. Hey, check that out,” Idestam motioned to the edge of the woods on the campsite. A large, round indent cut through the snow. The arms of surrounding trees pointed to it with jagged, broken limbs. Twigs and smaller branches studded the snow around the disturbance.

“Yup,” Christiansen said. “We found it. Good job, kid.” He clapped Idestam on the shoulder. The senior agent headed for it with the Geiger counter. “We’ll be having yogurt and filling out paperwork in no time.”

Idestam kept pace with his senior. The Geiger counter began to count faster and faster the closer they got. Coming to the edge of the indent, Christiansen held the Geiger over it. It crackled fiercely. He put his arm down and took a step back.

“You got your watch on you?” Christiansen asked.

“Of course,” said Idestam, rolling his sleeve back.

“Good. Time me in three… two...” Christiansen took a deep breath, checked his own wrist, and began walking across the indent. The only sound around them came from his snowy footsteps. Idestam watched the second hand on his watch tick around. His breath cooled in the air around him as he waited.

Christiansen stopped with a final stomp. “Time.”

Idestam looked up. “Six seconds.”

Christiansen cursed sharply. “I’ve got nine seconds. Let’s get out of here. Back to the car. We need to call this in.” Christiansen walked around the perimeter of the crater with hurried steps and motioned for Idestam to follow. They crossed the campsite to their car, just as a pickup truck with the sheriff’s emblem rolled down the road towards them.

The deputy from the Adles’ house drove the truck alone. He stopped behind the rental car, and he stepped out. The man squinted at the agents over the hood of his truck. Christiansen gave a friendly wave.

“We were down on the farm. Thought we heard something loud coming from this way. You boys in trouble?” The deputy asked.

Christiansen shook his head. “Must have just been our car backfiring. It’s a bit of a beater.”

“You’re lucky you made it out here all the way, then.”

The men stopped at the trunk of their car. Both parties stayed on their respective sides of the vehicles. Idestam noticed Christiansen holding the Geiger counter out to him at waist level. He slowly took it from the senior agent, keeping it hidden behind the car.

“I suppose you’re going to be telling us to head on back to the church now, then?” Christiansen asked.

The deputy hiked up his tactical belt with both hands. He looked both ways and then shrugged. “I don’t much care. Sheriff Cartwright’s been wanting to keep the whole thing on the down low. Don’t rightly see how you two could be of any trouble out here, though. Nature did enough to ruin anything of relevance. Just came out to grab the personal effects for the families back in town.”

“Is it common procedure to leave evidence out?” Idestam asked. Christiansen gave him a soft elbow in the side.

“Had to leave in a hurry when we were packing it up.”

“Because of the new missing kid?” Christiansen asked.

The deputy eyed the forest. He spit a cud of chewing tobacco on the ground and glanced around again. “Well, yeah. That got things going. And…” the man’s voice trailed off.

“I think I heard an elk or something out here earlier,” said Christiansen.

The deputy refocused on Christiansen. “Yeah. Yeah, elk. Probably.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen anything out here?”

The deputy shook his head. “No. Wish we did, though. It’s a shame this all happened,” commented the deputy. “First, Marissa loses Eddie. Now, the twins.”

“The kids are twins?” Idestam cocked his head.

“Yeah, the kind who are, uh, not look-alikes. But they came out the same time? She and Eddie talked about trying for another kid, but never had the chance. I know the Sheriff’s an impatient man, but I don’t hold any of this against Marissa. Sometimes, life just don’t go right.”

“I’ll say. What do you think happened?”

The deputy pulled out a can of chew and packed it with two fingers. He cracked open its lid while staring into the forest. He pinched tobacco between two fingers and brought it to his lips, but paused before taking it. “Can’t say for certain. It’s honestly like one of those campfire stories people tell.”

Satisfied with the fresh plug of tobacco, the deputy pocketed the can and moved around the truck. “Gentlemen, if you excuse me, I only aim to be here for a few minutes. It’s getting mighty cold and I only need those bags.”

“Of course,” Christiansen smiled. “Been nice talking to you.”

Idestam retreated to the cozy warmth of the car. He unlocked the monitor and slid the Geiger back in its pocket. Setting the monitor’s briefcase behind his seat, he waited for Christiansen.

Christiansen watched the deputy for a moment before joining Idestam inside. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them. The senior agent wiped at his nose with a sleeve and then went back to warming his hands. The light snowfall rested in Christiansen’s salt-and-pepper hair. It glistened and melted on top of the slicked-back haircut. He gestured to the road. “Come on, kid. I’m getting hungry. Get us to a diner. I’ll call Delivery on the way.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Idestam looked over and nodded. His eyes wandered past Christiansen to the deputy outside. And then past the deputy. “Oh, my god.”

In the tree line, a dark figure stuck out from behind a toppled tree. The thicket of trees let it hide as the shape slunk from tree trunk to tree trunk. Hair hung from every limb. It leaned on trees, wrapping what looked to be long claws around the trunks as it did so. Idestam held his breath as the thing approached the clearing.

Christiansen followed Idestam’s gaze. His posture stiffened when he saw it.

The creature’s head bobbed as it skulked out from the edge of the woods. It gingerly took each step. Sickly, yellow eyes focused on the deputy. Sunlight glinted off the irises and teeth as the jaw unhinged.

With a trash bag in each hand, the young deputy started towards his truck. He walked slowly and teetered sometimes with the odd weight of the bags. He made no sign of noticing the creature behind him. It approached closer. One hairy arm began to stretch out towards the deputy.

“Shit,” Idestam leaned across and slapped the glove compartment open. It fell open to reveal both agents’ service weapons. He laid a hand on his, but Christiansen grabbed Idestam’s arm.

“Really, kiddo? You’re gonna fuckin’ fire towards a cop? You think he’s going to take the time to look behind him before he shoots back?” Christiansen said with a glare. Idestam dropped the pistol back into the compartment. As soon as Christiansen let go of him, Idestam popped his door open and stood up out of the car.

“Whiskers, what the he--”

“Excuse me? Officer?” Idestam called out to the deputy with a hand cupped around his mouth. Both the deputy and the creature stopped.

***

The thing from the woods reared back, its arms swiveling in their sockets. It spun on a heel, hunched over on all fours, and began bounding effortlessly through the snow into the forest. Its footfalls made only a slight sound. It paused at the woodline to check over its shoulder before it skittered deeper in.

The deputy, whistling something, coughed and called back. “Engine trouble?”

“No, just a question for you, actually.”

“Shoot.”

“What’s a good place for lunch?” Idestam asked. His own question surprised himself in the moment. He hadn’t thought of what to say when he got out, just that he needed to make noise.

“Tell you what, you gentlemen follow me back into town. A car like that isn’t for backwoods driving. We’ll just go together and make sure you get there safely.”

Idestam gave a thumbs up, and he sat back down in the car. He took a deep breath. His heartbeat still rushed from when he’d seen the creature. He shifted the car into drive and turned it around to wait for the deputy’s truck.

“How'd you know that’d spook it?” Christiansen asked.

“I didn’t. Had to improvise. I was just hoping that thing wouldn’t want to be outnumbered.”

“Good work,” nodded Christiansen.

“So, we can’t tell them there’s this… thing out there. Or that a burst is out there. But, we can’t even make something up? Maybe we saw a bear or something?

“There’s no point. What would we say that wouldn’t garner more attention? Don’t go out there, it’s radioactive? Then you’ve got people asking why on Earth a patch of forest got radioactive all of a sudden. This is a problem for Delivery.”

“What? No, there’s gotta be something we can do. There’s about to be a whole church’s worth of men wandering around these woods. What if a burst hits them? Or that thing jumps them?”

“A group that big would be too much for it. I’m betting it's one of those solitary types, from what we saw. They’d fight it off. Besides, we’re not certain it’s hostile.”

“I mean, it didn’t look friendly,”

“Maybe it wanted to ask for help,” mused Christiansen with a shrug.

The deputy waved to them before getting in his truck. Idestam followed behind as they began down the mountain. A storm front formed above them and already began dropping heavier flakes of snow everywhere.

“It’s a bunch of church-goers searching for a lost child. They’re not exactly chasing O.J. out here. We can at least warn them.”

“And say what? Hey, folks, there just so happens to be a were-beast phasing in and out of reality where your missing kids are. Seems hostile. May prefer the taste of human flesh. Likes long walks on the beach,” Christiansen shook his head. “We’ve done what we can. We’re handing this over to Delivery. That’s the best thing for everyone. They’ll be more equipped for this.”

“For that thing?” Idestam stuck a thumb over his shoulder.

“Well, they’ve dealt with weirder things. I’m sure they can handle this.”

“Weirder things?” Idestam asked with an incredulous look.

“Later, kid. I’m gonna call ’em right now.”

Idestam surveyed the surrounding road while Christiansen waited on the phone. The dead winter trees waved their branches in the wind. He felt like the road took him through a graveyard of tall, twisted headstones. Idestam ignored his senior’s voice as he tried to split his attention between the road and any shadows the trees cast. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Any moment, that creature could jump out at them. Idestam shook his head to banish the catastrophizing thoughts.

The eyes of the woman, squeezing out of her skull, stayed in his mind. Something within them pleaded with him. He could have sworn they glazed over right before the burst overtook her. The humanity drained out of them. Or, maybe, she had surrendered what was left of her to the Signal. Idestam shuddered. I should have been faster.

Christiansen snapped the clamshell cellular phone shut. “Perfect. Agent Gulch already had a cleanup crew standing by. They’ll be here within the day. The state won’t even get to set up shop before Delivery locks everything down.”

“Outstanding,” Idestam said emptily.

“Let’s get lunch. I have a hankering for some vanilla yogurt.”

“Frozen yogurt? In these temperatures?”

Christiansen shrugged. “Frozen yogurt’s for winners. We won today.”

“Right. We win.” Idestam kept moving his eyes from the road to the forest, and back again.

“What’s up with you, kid?”

“How come they’re called Delivery? I kinda see how we’re ‘Inspections’, but the guys with guns and body armor are ‘Delivery’?”

“It’s all obfuscation. We’re the Post Office, you know. Not the Postal Service. And anyone not in the know won’t notice the discrepancy. Back before Reagan pulled some bullshit, we hid our budget with the actual Postal Service. Even though times have changed, the Office has kept most of the terminology.”

Idestam nodded slowly. They continued on in silence. The deputy led them back into town, waving out his window towards a diner they passed. Idestam parked, and both he and Christiansen made their way into the warm restaurant. Neither man spoke much as they ate their food. Christiansen followed up lunch with a small cup of frozen yogurt. Idestam nursed a cup of coffee while staring out the window.

On the way back to the motel, they passed a convoy of trucks and vans. The vehicles’ logos claimed to be with the National Park Service. Someone in the passenger seat of the leading truck waved to the two men. Christiansen waved back. Idestam just shook his head and brought them back to the motel. Just as quickly as their day had escalated, he found himself in the motel room staring at the small television set up in front of the beds. Christiansen took first watch with the monitor briefcase. Neither man spoke. Idestam didn’t want to talk anyway. He just sat there and stared.