The Warning in the Woods
by Matthew Holmes
Four best friends are graduating from college, and to celebrate, they’re going to Baxter State Park in the northern woods of Maine. However, an otherworldly, mysterious threat to all of humanity has other ideas.
THE WARNING IN THE WOODS
PROLOGUE
Early May 2025
In the deep woods at night, beneath a full moon that has partially lit up a dark, massive, dense forest landscape, a young Caucasian woman in her twenties with brunette hair in a ponytail, wearing outdoor clothing, is running from a pursuing figure. There are thumping sounds of long-strided footsteps and rustling through the underbrush as someone or something chases her. A loud, howling, deep screech reverberates in the distance. Stopping in fearful curiosity, the young woman turns to face the other way and takes out an orange-colored flashlight from her jacket pocket to see who or what made the menacing sound. The light turns on for a moment but flickers a few times and turns off. She yells, “C’mon! Work, you stupid thing!” There’s another screeching howl, but the sound is closer to her. She yells, “Oh, God! Not now!” Desperately shaking the broken flashlight while pressing the button repeatedly, she gives up and throws it to the ground in frustration. The young woman turns back around to continue fleeing in the direction she has been running, further away from her campsite. She runs up a steep incline of a small hill, dodging tree limbs and brush, nimbly making her way to the top, and takes a momentary break to nervously catch her breath. There are noises of cracking tree limbs and loud-voiced hissing just below her on the side of the hill that she just came up. In a cold terror, she takes off running toward the other side of the hill, where there’s a drop-off edge of a cliff with a stream running below it. In the dark of the night, panicked and scared, the young woman doesn’t see the cliff until she runs halfway off the edge. In the air, she reaches back in a twisting motion but misses grabbing onto anything solid and falls down the cliff into the stream below, hitting headfirst on a protruding boulder among the rushing waters, instantly killing her. As the young woman’s dead body floats slowly downstream in the midst of an endless forest landscape, with a full moon partially lighting up a dark, starry night, loud hissing and deep-sounding screeches echo from the woods in Baxter State Park in northern Maine.
CHAPTER 1: A FRIENDSHIP ROAD TRIP
The University of Maine
Orono, Maine
Friday, Mid-May 2025
“I’m turning on the light. Are you going to get out of bed or not?” Loudly questions a smirking college-aged Black American man who is tall, thin, and muscular standing over his sleeping friend in their college residence. Caleb’s attempts to wake up one of his roommates have so far been unsuccessful. So, he decides to flip the light switch to turn on the light, but still, there is no reaction from his sleeping roommate. Walking into the lit room, his other roommate, who had just gotten back from loading up his SUV with supplies, answers, “I think he had one too many last night.” Caleb looks disapprovingly at Greg, an average-sized Caucasian American man with short dark brown hair and a mustache that makes him look ten years older, for what he just said and shakes his head in frustration, replying, “So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that I had way more to drink than y’all combined? I can’t believe I have to do this shit just to go on a vacation! Ya’ll are crazy, man.” Greg replies, “Look, Caleb, you and I are low-key, the strongest drinkers.” He points down at Noah, a small, thin-built Caucasian American man with messy brown hair who looks like he should still be in high school, and continues, “He hasn’t had a sip of anything since we made him drink at the end of last semester. Plus, just look at him, Caleb; give him some slack on your rizz meter.”
Noah opens his eyes, and he sees the room slowly spinning while blurry. His mouth is dry, and his body aches. He slides his blanket to the side and sits up in a daze. Caleb pauses himself from saying anything and takes a slow, long, deep breath. Noah says aloud with a hoarse voice, “Good morning, fam. What a night that ended up being, huh?” Having collected his thoughts and frustration, Caleb quietly replies, “Good morning, my guy. Are you good to get ready for our trip?” Noah replies, “Yeah, of course,” as he reaches for his glasses on the small nightstand next to his bed. Greg walks over to the window that has old heavy plastic blinds covering it and is pulling on the strings to raise them. As the blinds slowly move up, the apparatus makes loud screeching squeak sounds.
After the annoying sound of the blinds being raised is over, Caleb remarks, “Looking back, one thing we should have done is have those damn blinds up more during the school year. You know?” Greg replies, “I thought you both liked the privacy of the blinds. I remember you two saying it would help us stay focused on our studies, so I obliged to the strategy.” Caleb defensively argues, “Yeah, well it worked, didn’t it?” Noah chimes in to say, “I mean, yeah, it did work on our GPA’s, but I’m not sure about our shitty mental health?” Greg finishes opening the blinds and is looking out the window at the outdoor commons area of campus. He says, “Where we’re going should definitely cure our cabin fever.” Noah asks, “Aren’t we literally staying in a cabin up there for the first night?” Greg replies, “It’s a figure of speech, Noah. Even a cabin up north in the woods is going to feel refreshing and freeing compared to the shitbox we’ve lived in here.”
The three friends continue to get ready, pack up, and fifteen minutes later, they leave their college residence and step into the early May chilly air with backpacks filled with fresh clothes, toiletries, and printouts of their 3-Day state fishing licenses. Each of them has a cold-weather sleeping bag. Additionally, Greg has two fly fishing rods, two pairs of hip waders, a full tackle box with a can of bug repellent, two packed tents, a map and compass, four small flashlights, a lighter, several pocket knives, and a large empty cooler that is already loaded inside his SUV. He has planned a grocery store run to get drinks and food before they leave town; however, something is still missing, or rather, someone. A close friend of theirs is also going on the trip. An exchange student from London, Alan, is a Caucasian Englishman living in a neighboring student residence. He shows up at the last minute to greet his friends, telling them in a gracefully polite way that he “simply just overslept.” His appearance is his top priority because he wants to live up to the stereotypical expectation of him being an English gentleman to feel like he socially plays the part, date as many American women as possible, and one-up his casually dressed American friends. His current clothing resembles an advertisement for a high-end outdoor company, complemented by his gel-styled blonde hair and tall, medium-built frame. Once Alan and his belongings, which include extra clothes, toiletries, a printout of a 3-Day fishing license, and his own cold-weather sleeping bag, are secure and all of them are finally in the SUV, they talk about last night’s big party as Greg drives them away from the caged campus lifestyle they have been living under for so long, with their destination being northern Maine’s Baxter State Park to hike, camp, and fish in celebration of graduating college.
“What’s the damage?” asks Noah. “Financially or emotionally? Because prices are only gassing up these days,” replies Greg as he pushes a grocery cart of drinking supplies toward their parked SUV at a grocery store in the town of Orono, Maine. Noah answers, “We were just curious how much we’d have to shell out.” Greg approaches the back of the SUV to meet up with his friends who are waiting outside to help him load up their fresh supplies. Caleb pulls out a large empty cooler, sets it on the ground, and opens the lid. Alan nervously voices his situation, saying that he will be able to send his payment to Greg once he gets his weekly allowance from his affluent parents, and Noah begins grabbing the items in the grocery cart to put in the cooler. “The block of ice should go in first,” Greg corrects Noah as he’s looking over the receipt in his hand while Noah is loading the cooler with their refrigerated items of beer, vodka, drink mixers, bottled water, eggs, bacon, butter, shredded cheese, and fresh ground beef for Greg’s chili that is going to be cooked at the cabin. Caleb watches in amusement but then steps in to help Noah. “One step at a time, my dude,” Caleb says quietly to Noah as they both unload the cooler to fit the ice. Alan is standing to the side, nervously rechecking his bank account on his phone to see if his parents have sent money yet. Greg looks up from the receipt, grabs two full bags of items from the grocery cart, and says, “If each of you could send me twenty bucks for the drinks and food,” he looks over at Alan, “whenever it’s convenient for you,” he looks at his other two friends who are still loading the cooler, “that would be great, and I’ll cover the rest of it.” Noah and Caleb give a thumbs up and continue their cooler loading work.
Caleb sees Alan not helping and still glued to his phone, so he asks, “Are you still addicted to that dating app? What are you doing over there?” Yet, Alan isn’t paying attention to anyone. Noah remarks, “I think he can’t talk because, after all these years, he still has a gold spoon stuck in his mouth.” Caleb quickly answers, “The saying is a silver spoon because silver was like the shit back in the day, especially for his sorry British punk-ass country.” Noah chuckles and says, “Oh.” Greg transfers several bags of their non-refrigerated groceries that includes: bread, peanut butter, marshmallow fluff, corn chips, beans, spices, beef broth, various canned tomatoes, trail mix bars, and instant coffee. Noah and Caleb finish filling the large cooler with drinks, food, and ice, and Greg pushes the grocery cart to a parking lot stall. Everyone then loads back into the SUV for the trip to really get started.
The late spring cool air and radiant sunshine with no clouds had been a nice start to their trip to Baxter State Park. Yet, once the group left the college town for the open highway going north, cloud cover settled in above them. An hour had already passed while they listened to music, ate some trail mix bars, drank copious amounts of water for their hangovers, and talked about college ending. “Being up north just hits different,” Greg says with his pronounced Maine accent. Noah agrees from the passenger side, while in the backseat, the other two friends are currently having a debate about what is the greatest movie of all time. “I still can’t get over the lack of people and cars up here or the endless amount of trees,” Noah says to Greg.
Meanwhile, in the backseat, Alan is arguing his point that the greatest movie of all-time has to be a drama. “It can’t be comedies, superheroes, popcorn action-flicks, remakes, or sequels either,” he says to Caleb, who’s sitting next to him. Caleb frustratingly answers, “You say this, but there are sequels and remakes that are way better than the originals! There are great films in every genre, and we shouldn’t be limited to just boring dramas.” After a quiet moment, Caleb follows up with the big question to Alan, “So, what’s your pick for the greatest movie of all-time?” Without hesitation, Alan says, “I would say, The Godfather. It has an aura to it.” Caleb immediately shouts out, “Aha! I knew it! You were trying to defend your choice before we even got to it. “Don’t get it twisted; I didn’t dislike that movie, but c’mon bro, that’s not even Pacino’s greatest film and is such a generic, unoriginal cop-out.” Alan looks over at Caleb and asks, “So, what’s Pacino’s greatest movie?” Caleb stares at Alan, dumbfounded, replying, “Scarface, man. Pacino is fire in it!” Alan confusedly asks, “Really?” Greg comments from the driver’s seat, “Yes, Alan, and it’s not up for debate in this car or on this trip.” After a momentary awkward pause, they burst out chuckling, except for Alan.
Moments later, Noah sees a group of deer in a far away field and points outward and says, “Hey guys, deer! Out there. Do you see them?” They turn their heads in the direction of Noah’s side of the SUV to look out at the distant animals grazing in the medium length grass. “Ah, that’s some cool shit,” replies Caleb as he takes his cell phone out to take photos. Noah asks, “What other kind of animals could we see in the park?” Being the only local Mainer, Greg answers his out of state friend’s inquiry with a hint of sarcasm “Well, we have a t-rex, some moose, and black bears, but the straight bussin’ ones are the brookies.” Noah laughs and adds, “hopefully some fish, too.” Greg laughs back at him and replies, “Yeah, brookies is a nickname up here for brook trout. They’re not big like ocean fish; although they still put up a decent fight on a fly rod.” Noah approvingly mutters, “Oh, cool.” They continue to talk about movies, wild animals, fishing, and ex-girlfriends, as a downpour of rain begins to pitter-patter on the windshield, roof, and windows of the SUV. Greg turns on the windshield wipers, headlights, and focuses on the road as the visibility decreases around them. They pass by the southern entrance to Baxter State Park and continue north on the highway to the more remote northern entrance. After another fifteen minutes on the interstate, they take Exit 259 to Route 11, traveling toward the Grand Lake Matagamon area, where a cabin rental awaits them for the first night of their trip before heading into the state park. But first, they make a lunch stop at a convenience store in the small town of Patten.
“Hey guys, lunch is on me,” Noah tells the others who are picking out pre-made sandwiches in the back of the convenience store’s refrigeration section. He walks up closer to them, waiting his turn to pick a sandwich, and asks, “Did you guys hear me? I’m buying us these, okay?” His three friends thank him with nods, pats on the shoulder, and happy expressions. Along with the egg salad, tuna, and deli meat sandwiches, they grab bottles of soda and small bags of chips while Noah selects an egg salad sandwich for himself. The four friends make their way to the front entrance area of the convenience store, where the checkout register is, and each piles their food on the counter in front of the store clerk. A college-aged, thin, small-built Caucasian woman with long blonde hair, who is wearing a red hoodie and a name tag of “Sal,” stands behind the counter, watching them silently. Greg asks Noah, “Are you sure you want to pay for all of this?” Noah replies, “Yeah, of course. You guys can get the cooler out and find some room for this stuff to fit in it, and I’ll be along with lunch.” Caleb smirks. Alan walks over to the store entrance door and signals for Greg and Caleb to follow, and the three friends walk out of the store, leaving Noah behind to pay for the items.
Meanwhile, the young woman has already started typing the cost of the items into the register, and Noah asks, “It’s kind of low-tech up here, isn’t it?” She answers, “How so?” Noah nervously wipes his hand on his face and replies, “I actually like manual tech like your register because it’s foolproof in harsh conditions or if there are power issues.” She bluntly answers, “I hate it. It would be easier if I could just scan everything like the rest of the civilized world, but here I am, stuck in this place and this job.” Noah says, “I’m Noah, by the way.” The young woman answers, “I’m Sally, but people around here call me Sal. What’s funny is that people think a big, burly guy runs this convenience store, but that’s just my dad, Shirley. Then, they make the mistake of thinking I’m Shirley and my dad is Sal, so we both get called the wrong first name all the time, and it drives both of us crazy.” Feeling a little confused, Noah replies, “Oh.”
She finishes typing in the lunch items and tells him the total price he owes, and he hands her some cash. Sally continues talking, “You have quite a motley crew of friends.” He questions, “What does that mean?” She answers, “It’s just a saying for a variety,” while she hands him back the difference in dollars and change from the total that he went over with his payment. Sally asks, “You’re not from around here, are you?” He says, “Nope.” She comments, “You’re all flatlanders? You’re up here to have a good time, I’m guessing.” He inquires, “What’s a flatlander?” She answers, “You’re not good with references, are you?” Noah shakes his head back and forth while looking down as an expression of no and feeling confused. Sally explains, “It basically means you’re not from the mountains or the outdoors, so you don’t know what you’re doing.” Noah replies, “My friend with the mustache is from here, and he knows what he’s doing, so I’m in good hands.” The young woman chuckles and puts her hand up to her face to try to cover her laugh as she asks, “Can I bag this up for you so you can actually carry this stuff out of the store in one trip?” Still feeling nervous,” he says, “Yeah, that would be fire, thank you.” While she’s bagging up his stuff, Sally comments, “You’re the nice one of the group, aren’t you?” Noah replies, “I guess? I don’t know; we’re each nice in our own way.”
Sally finishes bagging the lunch items and hands the bag to Noah. She says, “Well, thanks for stopping by, and I think it’s fire that you bought lunch for your friends.” She smiles at Noah as he nods and quickly replies, “Thanks, I appreciate the help. Okay.” He has the bagged food in one hand, and with his other hand, he gives a little wave while backing up awkwardly to turn and leave the convenience store. Sally gives him a smirk and a slight wave back as Noah walks away and exits through the door. He’s walking back to the SUV with a sweaty face and hands, and he is already second-guessing his conversation with the store clerk, who he thought was pretty, unique, but a little confusing.
Alan and Caleb are sitting inside the SUV, with Greg standing next to the open trunk, where the large cooler has been pulled out. It’s still mid-morning, so their plan is to have lunch once they get to the cabin. Noah walks up to Greg, looking defeated, with the bag of lunch food in his hand. Greg asks, “How did the rizz go, bud?” Noah replies, “I don’t know. I got nervous, and I don’t think she was that into me.” Greg pauses in thought to give an encouraging response as they both start putting the sandwiches and sodas into the cooler. “I know it can be harder for you when you don’t have a few drinks in you, but sober Noah is the real Noah that everybody, including women, really enjoys and finds endearing. Drunk rizz Noah may be more fun, popular, and can talk to women more easily, but that’s not the authentic, real you.” “Don’t give up and let an interaction bother you when you’ve put your best foot forward and been brave enough to initiate a conversation with someone. However it goes, you can learn from it because you’re fully present, and practice makes perfect,” Greg tells Noah. He nods to his friend in understanding as they finish putting the food and drinks into the cooler, close the lid, and push it back into the SUV. Greg closes the trunk and says, “Let’s get back to focusing on the trip and enjoy our time with the guys.” Noah smiles in agreement and replies, “Yeah, sounds good. Thanks, man.” His friend pats him on the shoulder and answers, “No problemo.” They both go around to the separate sides of the SUV and get back into the vehicle, where the other two are in the backseat, staring down busily at their phones.
Caleb is checking the weather in the area on his phone, and Alan is scrolling through his social media feed on his phone. All four friends are now sitting in the parked SUV as Greg asks, “Are we all buckled up?” Caleb answers, “Yeah, Pops, we’re good.” Alan comments, “Are we going to have cell service in the park?” Greg replies, “Only in some areas, but not where we’re hiking to tomorrow. That’s why I brought the map gazette of the state that we can look at tonight at the cabin, so I can show you all the layout of our hike and the places we’re going to fish.” Caleb comments, “Just because there are plenty of fish in the sea doesn’t mean we can catch them without knowing how to fish in the first place.” After overhearing Noah and Greg’s conversation just behind him, this was Caleb’s way of tying it all together. Noah looks back at Caleb in reaction to what he said as Caleb adds, “Don’t look at me, rizz bro, I’ve never fly-fished in my life. That shit looks hard, too.” There is a quick pause in the air, and then all four friends blurt out laughing. After the laughter, Greg comments, “Okay, let’s get going fam,” and he drives them out of the convenience store parking lot and back onto the road heading toward the cabin campground that’s just outside the northern entrance to Baxter State Park.
The timing of their arrival at the cabin campground and when they can check in are two different times, but Greg knows of a spot at a boat launch area at the end of Grand Lake Road where they can enjoy their lunch and practice fly-fishing before the 3 p.m. check-in for their rented cabin. They cross a small bridge past the main lodge and onto the dirt road that runs parallel to the East Branch of the Penobscot River, where the rental cabins and camping lots line both sides of the road, overlooking the gushing river rapids. Among the dense forest of trees, several deer run across the dirt road in front of their vehicle on two separate occasions, and several cars pass by as they make their way to the boat launch area of the lake. Once they safely reach the end of the dirt road, it opens up into a large grassy parking area with boats neatly stored and is next to a sizable dam where Grand Lake Matagamon flows into the East Branch of the Penobscot River. The four friends pile out of the SUV as they stretch and shake off the soreness of a long road trip, take turns spraying themselves with bug repellent, and are ready to eat lunch and then learn how to fly fish from Greg for the weekend ahead.
CHAPTER 2: THE GREAT OUTDOORS
Patten, Maine
Grand Matagamon Lake Campground
Friday Afternoon
“That’s one hell of a big lake,” comments Caleb to the group as they eat their sandwiches and chips from the convenience store while sitting on large rocks alongside the shore of the dam next to the huge body of water, Grand Lake Matagamon, surrounded by woods and a large flock of ducks flying overhead in a northeast direction. The four friends quietly stare out at the scenic lake. “Ayuh,” replies Greg as he chews a bite of his egg salad sandwich. He swallows his food and adds to Caleb’s comment by saying, “The ponds we’re hiking to tomorrow are puddles compared to this one.” They continue to eat quietly while unsuccessfully swatting away mosquitoes and taking in the view as a large flock of geese flies over the lake in the same direction as the flock of ducks.
After lunch, they learn how to fly fish from Greg, whose dad taught him while he was growing up in Maine. “Cue the montage with the ‘Eye of the Tiger’ Rocky music as we train to fly fish,” says Caleb jokingly, making the others laugh in amusement. Greg guides each friend out into the lake one at a time and as deep as their waders allow them to go into the cold water for a crash course on fly fishing. He demonstrates his own wrist technique for casting back and forth, how to extend the fishing line, and how to reel in the line. In Noah’s first attempt, he hooks the fly on his back shoulder when he tries his first back-and-forth cast but slowly and awkwardly gets the hang of it. Once it’s Alan’s turn, he takes it so seriously that he’s whipping his casts back and forth as hard as a whip. Greg tells him to immediately stop and explains that it’s better to be gentle because not only could he whip the fly off, break the line, or scare the fish, but he also doesn’t want to exert so much energy into casting that it burns him out physically. After some time passes, Alan feels comfortable enough with his new skills to let Caleb have a go at it.
Caleb’s turn is last, and he’s the most nervous and overwhelmed by fly fishing before they even start. Greg steadies him by holding onto his shoulder as they both enter the lake in their waders. They get far enough away from the shore, and while side by side, Greg talks him through the initial steps. However, Caleb surprisingly asks Greg to show him how he does it before he goes. This is something that the others did not ask him to do before they learned and practiced. Greg obliges, gets out of the water, grabs the other fly rod from the SUV, returns to the lake with it, and, standing next to Caleb, who is watching his every move, fly-fishes like a seasoned pro with swift, smooth, and effortless motions. Greg comments, “It’s like riding a bike; once you learn how to fly fish,” as his fly sits atop the water a far distance from him. He nods as Caleb begins to mimic Greg’s techniques for letting his fishing line out and casting back and forth. After a few moments of long, graceful casts, Caleb’s fly is sitting next to Greg’s fly, which is just as far away from them on his first try. Their two friends on the shoreline, who are swatting and slapping at mosquitoes while watching from a distance, are impressed by how skillful Caleb is at fly fishing for the first time. Caleb comments, “Is that good enough?”
Greg replies, “Heck yeah, bro! Great work. I think I found my Jedi Apprentice.” Noah and Alan begin to clap and holler with congratulatory comments. Caleb turns back toward them and takes a bow. Greg reels in his line and tells Caleb he can keep practicing if he wants, but Greg wants to take a break from being in the lake because even the waders couldn’t keep the cold out. Once Caleb is done practicing, Noah and Alan suit up with waders, each with a fly rod, and go out together to practice a while longer until it’s time to check in to their rental cabin. Back at the SUV, Greg and Caleb are sitting on the lip of the trunk, looking at their phones while a large flock of small birds flies overhead in the same direction as the earlier flocks. A few minutes go by, and Greg hears yelling and the sloshing of waders in the water walking toward them from the lake. He puts his phone in his pocket, gets up, and shouts to his friends out there, “Hey, gang, it’s time to go check in to the cabin,” but then realizes as his friends are approaching him on the shore, Alan caught a fish!
Greg shouts back at Caleb to join them, and they all excitedly meet at the edge of the water to have a closer look. Greg gets the small, colorful, speckled fish in his hands and says, “This is a brook trout! Great job, Alan, but it’s too small to be a keeper, so after we get a quick picture, we’re going to have to release it.” He carefully passes the four-inch fish into Alan’s hands, backs up from his friends, and takes out his phone. Caleb and Noah closely gather on each side while Alan proudly holds the fish. Smiling together, they pose for Greg’s camera phone, and he takes their photo. Immediately after, Greg safely returns the trout to the water, sends the photo to Alan’s phone, and they take off their waders and pack up the rest of the fishing gear into the trunk. The four friends get into the SUV, and Greg drives them back down the dirt road. They pass several more deer, a truck towing a camper, and a family taking a walk before returning to the main lodge they drove by earlier in the day to check in to the cabin.
Alan, Noah, and Caleb are hanging out by the river, skipping rocks on the water, while Greg is inside the lodge, checking them in for their rental cabin. Suddenly, a large group of moose comes out of the woods downstream and begins crossing the river. The three out-of-staters take out their cell phones and record silly social media videos of the moose in the distant background, centering it on themselves and commenting absurdly and ignorantly about the moose. After the four large, majestic animals visually disappear back into the woods, having quickly crossed the river, Noah gleefully says, “Yo, fam, this is going straight to my socials!” Greg returns with the key to the cabin when his friends tell and show him what happened with the moose. Greg starts to explain that moose are loners and not herd animals, but then watches their videos and is perplexed because he’s only ever seen moose alone or moose with their young and not in groups. Yet, he thinks it’s cool and is happy for his friends. They share their moose videos on social media, return to the SUV, and go to the rental cabin on the same dirt road they had already driven up and down along the river.
They arrive at the cabin, settle in, prepare the chili to slow cook, and crack open the beer they brought. Several hours later, after hanging out, drinking beers, resting, and being on their phones, they sit down to eat a late dinner. “You straight up made this chili like an unc,” Caleb tells Greg as the four friends are sitting and eating at the picnic table inside the cabin. “You do know that I’m younger than you, boss,” replies Greg. Caleb stresses his point by saying, “I said, like an unc. The key word is ‘like,’” as he chews his food with another full spoonful of chili in his hand, ready to be devoured. They continue to enjoy the food while Greg gets up from the table and walks over to his backpack to get a map to show his friends his plan for them to hike to the Fowler Ponds in Baxter State Park for an overnight stay and fly fishing.
Later that night, they crack open the vodka and finish off the beers because they can’t take or drink any alcohol in the state park. Standing outside on the cabin porch in front of the door, Greg lifts his arms high into the air with his hands extended. “I’m the king of the woods!” he shouts. A quick shouted reply of “Nobody cares! Shut up!” comes from an unknown person in a neighboring cabin that’s separated by the forest. Feeling defeated, Greg stumbles back into the cabin and says, disappointingly, to Noah, “The people of the woods have rejected their king.” Meanwhile, Caleb and Alan are outside behind the cabin, taking turns using the outhouse bathroom. While Caleb is by himself, waiting for his turn and swiping at biting mosquitoes, he hears rustling, grunting, and huffing sounds in the bushes out in the woods beyond where any propane light from the cabin can shine. He nervously shouts out to Alan to hurry up because he’s scared of bears, but then the sounds trail off, and the two friends later return to the cabin without seeing anything.
After another hour of hanging out and drinking inside the cabin, they settle down for the night, ready for bed, and tuck into the sleeping bags they brought to put on top of the cabin’s bunk bed mattresses. The four friends are quietly resting, trying to fall asleep in the bunk beds when Caleb blurts out, “I’m not going to be the only black guy in this whole state and then get eaten by a bear this weekend.” Greg replies, “Black bear eats black guy; the headline writes itself.” The group chuckles underneath their sleeping bags, including Caleb, and after a long day of travel, fly fishing training, hearty chili, and alcohol consumption, they all quickly fall asleep.
The next morning, like someone knocking angrily on a door, there are loud rat-tat-tat-tat-tat sounds on the side of their rented cabin that jolt all of them awake. Smoothly exiting his sleeping bag and standing up, Greg answers the others’ confusion by saying, “It’s just a woodpecker hammering its head on the wall of the cabin.” He casually walks to the kitchen area to cook a Saturday morning breakfast of bacon and eggs with coffee while the others groggily get up, feeling hungover. The woodpecker flies away as they sit down at the picnic table, quietly talking about school stories, drinking coffee, and eating breakfast. After packing up and using the outhouse, they head out and leave the cabin on their way to the northern entrance of Baxter State Park.
On a dirt road passing by the forest on one side and Grand Lake Matagamon on the other, they pull up to the park entrance. It’s a small ranger station in the middle of the dirt road as a park ranger walks out to greet them. Greg puts down his window and is asked for his camping reservation, as well as his name, address, and phone number. Then, Greg summarizes their hiking plans, canoe rental, and reservation at the Middle Fowler Pond North Tentsite with a Sunday departure. The Park Ranger, an older gentleman in his mid-fifties, wearing a uniform of a buttoned khaki collared shirt with a name tag and Ranger badge, State Park Ranger patches on his shoulders, a green hat, and green pants, checks the reservation, writes down the information in a visitor logbook, and asks for the total payment for the park fees, campsite reservation, and canoe rental. Greg pays with their combined funds, and once the transaction and printed receipt is completed, the Park Ranger voices his concerns and instructions: “Make sure to stick to the marked trails. Don’t bother the wildlife, and the wildlife won’t bother you. There are no fires allowed out there, so do you have cold-weather gear and shelter for your overnight stay?” Greg quickly replies, “Yes, sir, we have cold-weather clothing packed, sleeping bags, and two tents.” The ranger says, “Alcohol is prohibited in the park because it’s a public space. Are you carrying any alcohol in your vehicle today?” Greg answers, “No, sir. We cleaned it out last night. We know that we’re not allowed to drink alcohol in the park.” The Park Ranger nods his head in agreement and then asks, “While I get you the padlock key for the canoes, do you each have state fishing licenses? If so, I’d like you all to get them out so I can check them.” Greg answers, “Yes, sir, we each have our licenses, and we can get them out for you.”
Once the Park Ranger returns with the padlock key for the canoes and hands it to Greg, they all hold up their printed-out licenses until the Park Ranger sees each of them and nods in approval. He then says, “The canoes have oars and life jackets, so make sure to use and wear them when you’re out on the water. What type of fishing do you plan on doing this weekend?” Greg answers, “Just fly fishing, sir.” The Park Ranger nods with a smile and finishes by saying, “Remember to follow park rules, state and federal laws, state fishing regulations, and lock the canoes, oars, and life jackets back up when you’re finished using them, which we’d appreciate greatly. “It’s very important for us here at Baxter State Park that you are responsible in nature with the animals, at your campsite, with our canoes, and that you pick up after yourselves, whether it be cans, bottles, or trash. Also, you’ll need to make sure you check out on your departure day tomorrow by 11 a.m. at the park gate and return the canoe padlock key. If not, we’ll assume that you are running behind and will have to charge extra. If you still haven’t checked out by the evening, we’ll assume you got stranded or lost and will send a search out for you. Do you understand everything I’ve told you, and do you have any questions for me?”
Greg pauses to think, turns to look at his friends, and asks, “Do y’all have any questions for the Park Ranger?” Caleb asks, “How’s the fish biting?” The Park Ranger looks toward the back seat of the SUV where Caleb is sitting and answers, “I know it’s a good time of year for catching our brook trout. I would go with mosquito-type dry flies for fly fishing, but I haven’t done any fishing at the Fowler Ponds since I was younger.” He takes a deep, slow breath, getting lost in his thoughts of his younger days, and then continues talking. “Yup, so my guess is as good as yours about how they’re biting. Well, I think I’ve gone over everything with you. Good luck with fly fishing! Be safe, smart, responsible, and have a fun weekend out there.” Greg and his three friends replied by saying thank you to him. The older gentleman smiles, kindly waves, and steps back from the SUV to take the visitor logbook sign-in sheet with their reservation, information, license plate, vehicle description, and trip plans into the tiny station in the middle of the dirt road, while Greg rolls up his window and drives away, entering Baxter State Park.
CHAPTER 3: CATCHER IN THE WOODS
During the fairly long ride, surrounded only by the forest, a rocky brook of flowing water, and the occasional car passing by, their time on the Tote Road of northern Baxter State Park is spent driving up and down hills, weaving through turns, and looking out at the endless woods surrounding the solitary dirt road. Until they pull over into a small, empty grassy parking area on the side of the road, which is at the start of the Fowler Brook Trail, they get out of the SUV and saddle up with full backpacks of supplies, sleeping bags, two tents, full water bottles, and two fly fishing rods for their hike to Middle Fowler Pond. “Let’s go, gang,” says Greg, who’s carrying one of the fishing rods, motioning with his free hand for his friends to follow him to the mouth of the trail, where there’s a sign that displays the hiking distance and the names of the trails and ponds.
Noah is the last to arrive in front of the sign because he was awkwardly spraying himself with extra bug repellent while holding onto a fishing rod in his other hand, not thinking to set it down to have an easier time completing the task with two free hands. “So, how far is the hike according to the sign?” he asks his friends, who are reading the sign and looking out at the trail markers that go off into the dense woods. Greg answers, “We’re taking Fowler Brook Trail for 1.8 miles, then to Middle Fowler Pond Trail for another 0.9 miles, which is going to be a total of 2.7 miles. We’ll then settle at our reserved camping spot at Middle Fowler North Tentsite. How’s that sound?” Caleb excitedly replies, “Let’s do this!” Alan adds, “Away we go, setting off for our grand hike surrounded by the great outdoors.” Noah laughs, and Greg smiles while shaking his head at their excitement because Caleb and Alan are already walking on the trail into the woods. Noah quickly and happily follows them onto the uneven, root-covered dirt path of the trail, while Greg slowly brings up the rear for safety, feeling the least wide-eyed excitement, being from Maine.
One Hour Later….
“So, what are you going to do after graduation?” Caleb asks Alan, who are both crossing a small brook by walking on a connected assembly of slightly elevated wooden planks, while Noah and Greg are in the near distance on the trail behind them. Alan thinks about it and answers, “What my family wants and what I want are two different things. They want me to go into finance, but I’d rather do something in nature like we are now. To be honest, I think I’m just going to disappoint them no matter what I do.” Caleb replies, “Shit, dude. You shouldn’t live to please others or their expectations. At the end of the day, we still gotta bring home that bread, but you do you. Okay?” Alan looks back at Caleb, who is thoughtfully impressed by his advice, and says, “You know, you’re absolutely right. Thank you, Caleb.” Caleb replies, “Yeah, dude, don’t sweat that shit.” They finish crossing the brook, and Alan stops walking and says, “Speaking of bread, are you ready for lunch? Because I’m getting hungry.” Caleb smiles and replies, “Yes, I’m starving! Let’s wait here for Noah and Greg to catch up and see if they’re down for taking a lunch break.”
Upon regrouping on the trail, Greg tells them to keep hiking a little longer until they reach the first large body of water, Lower Fowler Pond. There, they walk out onto a clearing, sit down on a large flat boulder, and quench their thirst with water bottles while eating a pre-made lunch of peanut butter and fluff sandwiches, chips, and granola bars. They stare out at an open scenic view of the pond, with a breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees around them and a light blue sky that is absent of bugs and birds. “It’s quiet out here,” Noah comments to the group. “Yeah, for all of the dark, cold days of never-ending winters, Maine still has its moments of redemption,” Alan replies with reverence. Caleb nods and gives a thumbs-up in approval while simultaneously drinking from his water bottle. Greg quietly gets up after finishing his sandwich and says, “Let’s just get to our campsite before it gets too late. We still have to set up the tents and have time to use the canoes and fish before dark.” They agree, pack up their trash, take a quick group selfie with Caleb’s phone in hand, with the pond as the backdrop, and walk back onto the trail that’s close by, continuing to hike around the pond and onto the next connecting trail towards Middle Fowler Pond.
As they pass through the thick, dense woods that surround the trail on their hike, there are clustered areas of different types of trees. Greg explains to his three out-of-state friends how to decipher between them by their bark and leaf shapes, whether they be maple, birch, oak, ash, beech, or the numerous kinds of pine trees. Alan is enthusiastically listening and asking follow-up questions, while Caleb and Noah are not as focused because there are so many trees around them that it’s hard to make sense of any of it, let alone learn and remember what each specific type of tree is in a forest of millions of trees. Thirty more minutes of hiking finally gave way to what had seemed like never-ending woods, hills, rocks, and brooks, with not a person or animal in sight on trails that somehow sliced through it all, arriving at their campsite at Middle Fowler Pond.
The campsite isn’t much to look at because it’s just a grassy area carved out of the thick woods, with a circle of medium-sized rocks for a campfire. Middle Fowler Pond is a short distance away on a path from the campsite to the shoreline of the pond, where the canoes are located. The group unloads their gear and sets up the two tents as clouds begin to thicken in the sky above, and the cool breeze subsides to stillness and quiet among the trees around their campsite. Once the tents are completed and filled with their sleeping bags and backpacks, the four best friends head down the path to Middle Fowler Pond with fly fishing rods and a tackle box in hand.
Greg walks up to the canoes, takes out the rental key, and unlocks the padlock. Caleb helps him turn over each of the two canoes that have life jackets and oars inside them. They gear up, with two people in each canoe, and set out onto the pond by pushing off from shore as raindrops begin to fall on them and the pond, disrupting the smooth, glassy surface of the water into thousands of tiny splashes. “I didn’t see rain in the forecast?” Questions Alan, who is sitting at the front end of a canoe. Greg, who is sitting at the back end and easily steering and guiding them to the middle of the pond, answers, “Up here, you never know. It should pass through and not rain for too long.” Meanwhile, Caleb and Noah are having a harder time getting their canoe going in the direction they want. Noah is sitting in the back, and Caleb is up front. “Wearing this life jacket is making it hard for me to row,” comments Noah. Caleb replies, “Just keep it up, dude; I think I figured out which way to paddle this thing.” Their canoe is sideways and drifting back toward the shore from their initial push out onto the pond, but with Caleb’s strength and updated rowing technique, they begin to turn and move through the water toward their friend’s canoe and the deeper part of the pond.
They fly-fish the afternoon away, with each determined cast onto the pond in hopeful anticipation of a strike from a trout, switching off in each canoe by passing fly rods back and forth in rotation. Once the person who is fishing gets tired or bored and wants to just enjoy being on the water and steadying the canoe, the other friend in the canoe takes over casting the fly out onto the surface of the water. Greg tells them that, between the light rain and the absence of bugs, the conditions would not bode well for their chances of activating the highly sensitive and perceptive game of brook trout without a current food source of bugs flying around, along with rain disturbing the water, and he’s depressingly right. Several hours later, they give up, and upon paddling back to shore, they put away and lock up the canoes and walk back to their campsite as the rain finally stops and the clouds clear out, while the sun slowly sets and the sky darkens among the eerily quiet vast forest.
Two hours later….
“Well, the fish weren’t biting today, but that’s how fishing goes sometimes,” comments Greg. “The bugs haven’t been biting either,” comments Noah while the four best friends sit on the shoreline, away from their campsite, under the starry night sky and beside a quiet, waveless pond in front of them. They’re eating a cold dinner of sandwiches with no fish to fry, and their mood has been the bleakest yet on the trip because they each had envisioned and expected for so long to have success fly fishing in Baxter State Park. “Can we at least chalk up the no-bugs situation as a partial win?” Caleb replies questioningly, and the others chuckle, except for Greg, who voices his concern about the lack of wildlife, saying, “There haven’t been any bugs, birds, squirrels, small animals, big animals, or fish biting since we’ve been out here. I’ve been wondering if we somehow crossed into an actual simulation or if there’s been a nuclear war or meltdown we don’t know about.” Alan thoughtfully answers, “Could it just be early in the spring season? It’s been unusually cold even for Maine standards. Maybe the bugs, animals, and fish are just migrating, hiding, or hibernating later than usual.” Greg replies, “I don’t know. What I do know is I’m going to call it a night and go to bed.” He gets up and walks back to their campsite, with only Noah following to also get some much-needed sleep. Caleb and Alan continue to hang out at the shoreline, talking about everything from constellations to their past school experiences.
Two Hours Later….
On the shoreline of the pond, Caleb suddenly wakes up after falling asleep next to Alan an hour ago. He looks around on both sides of him with assistance from the bright moon above in the night sky, but there’s no one there besides him. He assumes Alan must have gone back to their campsite and didn’t feel like waking him up, so Caleb slowly gets up, feeling sore, and pulls out his phone to use the flashlight app to see where he’s going. He makes it to the edge of the woods, where the rocky shore turns into the dirt path of the woods, and through his phone light, he sees Alan’s phone smashed and scattered to pieces on the ground around him among the rocks.
“What the hell?” Caleb says out loud. Suddenly, an explosion of energized bright light knocks him down onto the ground. With his eyes blinded by the bright flash in the otherwise dark night, Caleb feels disoriented, confused, and physically numb while lying on the ground. His phone is no longer in his hand but lost in the thick brush of the woods. Thinking it is a flashbang device from the police or military, he nervously says, “I give up! I’m unarmed!” He then feels a strange, large hand grasp around his lower leg as he starts to be pulled and dragged by his ankle while still fully laid out with his back on the ground. “Who the actual hell is this!?” Caleb shouts as he’s still partially blinded, seeing only spots and shapes while he attempts to reach into his pocket to pull out his pocket knife but fumbles it out of his grasp as he’s being dragged faster away.
He then tries to grab onto low branches and the ground around him, but he is also unsuccessful in slowing down the force of the pull. Whatever is pulling him is bigger and stronger, and he desperately yells, “Who are you!? What is going on!? Help! I’m being taken!” No answers are given to his plea, but he hears the same chirping from whatever is dragging him that he heard outside their cabin the night before. This scares Caleb and sends a cold shiver down his spine, making him realize that he could be in serious trouble. He reaches his hands up to physically rub his eyes with the back of his fingers in an attempt to clear them so he can see again. When he finishes this action, while simultaneously being dragged further away from where he had been blasted to the ground, his sight changes from black darkness to a slowly spinning blur of bright spots and the night scenery above him.
At that same moment, Caleb feels the grasp release his ankle, his leg drops to the ground, and his body stops being dragged any further. He’s still lying on his back, looking up at the unfocused starry night sky, the bright moon, and the trees that are spinning slowly due to his concussed mind and vision. Being free but still exhausted, he turns over onto his stomach and uses what strength he has left in his arms to push himself up by pressing his hands onto the ground. He’s on his knees with his back to whoever has just let go of him. Rubbing his eyes again with his hands, he takes a moment to blink repeatedly, shakes his head, and his eyes finally become clear and focused. Caleb turns his head to see who has been dragging him, and as he sees who it is, he falls backward off his knees and scrambles in reverse on the ground, brushing up against an orange-colored flashlight. He picks it up, tries to turn it on, but it doesn’t work, and he continues moving backward until he hits his back against a tree. He yells, “Holy shit! Where’s my phone camera when I need it!?” Attempting to shield himself by futilely swinging the broken orange flashlight in front of him and struggling to catch his breath, Caleb yells, “Stay back!” His face is one of pure terror as the figure slowly approaches, closing in on him. He screams out, “Oh shit! Where are you guys!? Somebody!? Anybody! Help! Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!”
CHAPTER 4: SUNDAY NOT SO FUN DAY
Baxter State Park, Maine
Sunday Late Morning
Greg and Noah slowly wake up on opposite sides of their shared tent at a very late time of 10 a.m. on Sunday morning. They both continue to quietly rest in their warm sleeping bags, using their backpacks as makeshift pillows, talking about the trip, the good feeling of sleeping in so late, and not caring about the need to quickly pack up camp and rush out to leave on time to check in at the park gate by 11 a.m. to avoid the late fee penalty. After another twenty minutes of feeling lazy and not wanting to get up, Greg shouts, “Are you guys up over there!?” to see if their other two friends in the nearby tent are awake yet. There’s no answer. Noah laughs and yells out, “Good morning, fellas! Time to get up and outta here!” There’s no reply, movement, or sounds of grumpy young men being awakened. “Well, shit. I’m going to have to go wake them up personally by myself,” says Greg to Noah. He gets up, slips on his sneakers, unzips the tent, and walks over to the tent nearby. He unzips the opening of the tent and says, “Hey, you two, it’s time to….” When Greg realizes there’s nobody in the tent, just sprawled-out flat sleeping bags and two full backpacks, he says, “Ah, shit,” out loud to himself. He yells out to Noah, who’s currently exiting their tent, “Hey, they’re not in their tent. They probably fell asleep down by the pond on the shoreline. Let’s take the path and wake them up.” Noah replies, “Sounds like a plan, Stan.” They leave the campsite together and take the path down to the pond.
At the mouth of the path, Greg and Noah stumble upon Alan’s smashed phone pieces. “Damn,” comments Noah. Greg shakes his head in frustration. They look around the area, but there is no Caleb or Alan. They call out their names and walk aimlessly for a while, yet there’s no answer and no other signs of them being there. “I knew something fishy was going on. We have to find them as soon as possible. If we both leave to get help searching for them, the critical time for their survival will pass,” Greg sternly explains to Noah. “So, we search for them?” asks Noah. “Yes, of course we do, and if by this afternoon we’re unsuccessful, I’ll send you out to get help while I keep looking out here. Okay, buddy?” says Greg. Noah nods in agreement and says, “Okay, so where should we start looking?”
Their search begins around the campsite and then continues walking around the edge of the pond with no results. As Greg and Noah arrive back from where they started, there’s a sudden, loud, deep-sounding screech in the distant woods that stops them in their tracks. Noah asks, “What the hell was that?” Greg yells, “I’m on it,” as he runs off toward the sound, with Noah lagging behind, jogging slower and feeling more uneasy than ever before, out in the middle of nowhere with two missing friends. He catches up to Greg and sees him stop and look out at a brook in front of them. Pointing down at the shallow, rushing waters of the brook, Greg says, “Noah, I saw something move down there, and it was moving bushes and branches but disappeared around that bend. We need to get down there. This brook connects the two Fowler Ponds and the trail that we took, so we’re not lost. Just stay close to me, and we’ll see if it or whoever left any footprints or marks.” Noah nods nervously in quiet agreement, so they descend by walking slowly down to the banks of the rocky brook and search for any clues or anything that makes a sound or moves.
Noah is nervously waiting for Greg to check the area where he saw something when he looks back at where they started on the hill. There are two tall figures standing in hooded black robes, with large black gloves and high black boots, one of whom is holding some type of large black gun that Noah doesn’t recognize. He’s in a state of shock and fear, so scared that he’s unable to yell out to Greg as the unrecognizable cloaked figures begin to descend toward them. Just as he’s about to shout, Greg grabs his shoulder and yells to him, “Run! We’re getting out of here!” They start to sprint through the rocks and shallow water of the brook, splashing water all over themselves, but their adrenaline is overcoming the numbing frigid temperature of the cold water. They run for several minutes at a nonstop determined speed, make it around the once faraway bend, and stop to catch their breath and listen to see if they’re still being followed.
They hear splashing and thumping from a distance, running towards them, so they take off sprinting again. Greg silently points his finger in the air to signal to Noah to follow him out of the brook. They begin to traverse, running up a medium-sized hill, grabbing the sides of trees to dodge and go faster despite the thick underbrush surrounding them, trying to lose their pursuers. Once at the top of the hill, they run to the other side and stop at a steep cliff that overlooks the brook and the surrounding woods below. “What do we do now, Greg? I can’t. I can’t. I can’t run like this much longer,” Noah says exasperatedly in a pained and scared voice to his friend. Greg puts his hand on Noah’s shoulder and tries to comfort him by saying, “I think we lost them, okay? It’s gonna be fine. Okay?” Yet, Greg feels out of sorts from also being chased, scared, and tired.
The two large, black-cloaked figures who were chasing them walk out of the woods on the other side of the top of the hill into the clearing where Greg and Noah stand in exhausted failure. They both put up their hands to motion their surrender to the armed figures, and Greg apologizes to Noah. He replies to Greg that it’s not his fault. Greg shouts out to the cloaked figures, “What did you do to our friends!? And where are they!?” The two figures walk closer toward them and don’t answer Greg’s pleas. They stop several yards in front of the two friends, turn their robed heads toward one another, voice a few chirping sounds, and nod to each other. They then turn their robed heads back toward Greg and Noah’s direction and lift their hands up in a simultaneous motion to remove their hoods, revealing their faces and heads. There are two aliens standing in front of the shocked, speechless friends.
They have large heads with gray skin and bulbous eyes. Each has a small mouth and two small holes for a nose, long arms, big hands, and large feet covered in black, scale-like boots. One of the aliens is carrying a gun that looks like a mixture of a shotgun and a handgun, which Greg is scoping out while he and Noah try to gather their thoughts on what to say to the aliens. Greg slowly takes out his phone to try to snap a quick picture, but the aliens see this, and one alien angrily belts out a loud, deep screech that reverberates through the surrounding area, knocking Greg and Noah down to the ground and sending Greg’s phone out of his hand, over the side of the cliff, and into the rocky waters below. They slowly get up, look at one another, and then look back at the two aliens. Greg says, “Fuck it. We’re not here to be abducted or for some interstellar peace brokerage, right Noah?” Noah answers, “That’s right, we’re nobody’s,” as both friends feel some courage returning to them. The two friends raise their clenched fists in a motion to challenge the aliens to a physical duel. The aliens oblige, out of some type of unknown animalistic honor code, and the alien with the gun throws it to the side. Greg tells the aliens, “Last chance. Where are our friends?”
In the fight, Noah grabs onto one of the charging aliens and runs the being across the cliff, then throw-pushes the alien off the edge. However, in his throwing motion, he falls down, hanging off the side edge of the cliff while only holding on with one arm and his hand on the top of the edge. He can’t see how Greg’s fight is going against the remaining alien, which he only saw charging at Greg at the same time the other alien charged at him. Noah feels that he’s going to die as he’s slowly losing his strength to hold on and prays that his faith protects, comforts, and loves him. Suddenly, Greg grabs onto his arm and shoulder and pulls him up to safety, saving his life. The other alien is gone, and he tells Noah that he injured the alien enough and grabbed its gun, so it ran away and retreated back into the woods.
Baxter State Park
Unknown location in the woods
Sunday Afternoon
Alan is knocked out and tied down while laid out on a metal table in the middle of a small clearing in the woods, being experimented on by an alien, while Caleb is tied up and sitting down, held captive by another alien who’s guarding him. Caleb had already been meticulously experimented on for what seemed like all night. He was also throwing up earlier and now feels like a ghost of himself from whatever they did to him, which involved taking blood samples and probing his body. Caleb comments out loud to the aliens and an unconscious Alan while shivering and slurring his words, “Shitttt, mannn, I thought this abduction stuff was all made up by quacks and shows on the History Channel. This is crazzzyy. If we ever get out of here, my momma is never gonna believe meeeeee.” The alien guard chirps at him and slaps Caleb in the face, which makes Caleb even angrier, but he is quietly thinking about how to fight back at the first opportunity he gets.
Caleb makes the decision to pretend that he’s convulsing out of control to confuse the aliens and then rolls into the alien doing the experimenting. It partially works, as the alien guard turns its back to him, chirping to the other alien at the side of the table. However, he rolls by the alien, missing his connecting blow, yet by sheer luck, he rolls onto a jagged rock protruding from the ground. With a little applied rubbing pressure, he frees his hands from being tied up and jumps up, attacking the surprised alien guard. He grabs the alien’s head and slams it onto the table, knocking it out and down to the ground. The loud bang of the contact wakes a stunned and scared Alan. The alien who was doing the experimenting grabs a case of their biological samples and runs away into the woods, leaving the two friends beaten up but having survived the gross, awful ordeal. Caleb helps Alan up and explains to him what happened and what the aliens had done to them. They regain their bearings and mental sharpness after several minutes of aimlessly looking at the knocked-out alien and trying to understand the alien gear around them when they both realize they’re at the Lower Fowler Pond Campsite, near where they had lunch yesterday. Feeling desperately worried for their friends, they both heartily agree not to leave the park but rather to go find Greg and Noah and see if they’re okay and safe at their campsite located at the other pond.
One Hour Later….
Caleb and Alan make the slow hike back to Middle Fowler Pond. As soon as Caleb sees the pond from the trail, he shouts, “Hey, Noah! Greg! You guys here!? It’s Caleb and Alan!” He hears two figures running towards them, but no one answers his calls. Alan nervously grabs Caleb’s shoulder and says, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Caleb replies, “Whatever or whoever it is, we’re going to face it together, okay, pal?” Alan answers, “You got it, Caleb. Thanks for saving me back there.” Caleb replies, “I got us, Alan. We’re gonna make it.” The running and rustling approaches closer, and around a turn on the trail, Greg and Noah appear, happily running towards them with their arms celebrating in the air. The four best friends come together with hugs and congratulations all around for surviving what they just went through. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you guys again!” says Noah. “Hey, it’s us,” says Alan. Caleb shouts out, “I’m him! I took those aliens down!” Greg replies, “We did too!” Caleb smiles in relief and says in a serious tone, “Nice. You showed them who’s the boss of these woods.” Greg comments, “Let’s regroup over at the campsite and plan our safe exit out of here.” They all agree and share their stories of being experimented on, fighting aliens off cliffs, and making a promise to each other to stay together during their short walk to the campsite.
The celebratory reunion of the four best friends back at the Middle Fowler Pond campsite goes well into the evening. As the sun sets, they plan to stay the night but remain awake for safety, intending to hike out in the morning when the sun rises so they can see where they’re going, avoid getting lost, and adequately defend themselves. They stay vigilant on guard, listening for any noises or sightings of aliens while remaining hopeful and talking about their future plans after graduation throughout the night, taking turns napping and joking around after feeling like they each have a new lease on life.
CHAPTER 5: HITCHHIKING TO OUR FUTURE
Baxter State Park, Maine
Monday Morning
Early Monday morning, the sun is rising on the shoreline of the pond as the four best friends are sitting along the rocky thin stretch of beach while watching the glow of the light slowly encompass their view of the water, trees, and hills surrounding them. There’s rustling in the brush behind them and they quickly look back at the woods. Three tall, gray aliens with bulbous eyes, long arms, legs, and hands, wearing metallic-plated armor, emerge from the forest, walking toward him, with two aliens carrying large guns and one who’s unarmed but wearing a long headdress of jewels.
The three tall aliens walk up to them in a wide triangular position, with the two armed aliens on each far side of the unarmed alien in the middle, who’s wearing the jewels, and stands face to face with an angry determined Noah. One of the aliens screeches a loud howl as Caleb advances to defend his friends that physically knocks him down on the ground and the sound reverberates off the pond and into the woods. The alien wearing the jewels looks at the alien that screeched and puts a firm hand up to command obedience and chirps in a soft, feminine tone. The alien that screeched hisses back in frustration, but then replies in a quiet tone of chirps and bows in respect to their leader.
The Queen of the Aliens stands proudly with a presence of confidence over her alien subjects and in front of the four human friends. She passively looks at Greg, Alan, and Caleb, then walks closer to Noah and stops in front of him. The Queen Alien looks directly into his eyes and softly chirps to him in her alien language, then seamlessly switches to spoken words of Latin, asking who he and his friends are and if he understands her. Noah, feeling confused and surprised, shakily replies, “We speak a different language called English, and I only know a small amount of Latin, because it’s not spoken much.” The Alien Queen surprises him again by switching to clearly spoken English, saying, “Well then, let’s have a look at you, young one.” She squats down, while his friends only nervously watch while the other aliens are pointing their guns at them. She extends a hand that cradles his head and the side of his face. Noah immediately blacks out in his mind falling into vivid, bright visions of talking to Sally at the convenience store, laughing with his friends in Greg’s SUV during their trip, using artificial intelligence on his cell phone, and images of his home that he misses dearly. After several cycles of this psychological trance, he snaps back to reality in his mind once the Alien Queen takes her hand off his face.
He opens his eyes, which are moist with tears, brushes them with his own hands, and sees the Alien Queen curiously staring at him. Noah asks, “What did you just do to me?” She replies, “I see what you see: the past, the future, the life you have lived, and the life you want to live.” Noah replies, “I don’t understand. Why us? We’re not in charge or important. We just want to go home.” The Alien Queen doesn’t answer him; instead, she looks out at the scenic view of the pond and then looks toward the other two aliens, chirping in their language to them as they quickly chirp back. She looks back at Noah and points at his pants pocket and asks, “What is this other intelligence?” Noah replies, “It’s just a way that we communicate with one another.” He pulls out his phone and slightly shakes it in his hand while explaining, “A device for talking to others from far away.” One of the aliens who was standing guard walks up to Noah and grabs the phone out of his hand. The alien guard hisses at Greg and Alan who had taken a few steps toward Noah. The other alien guard fires a shot up into the sky, and the loud boom gets everyone’s attention immediately. The two aliens guards point toward their Queen for the humans to give her their full, undivided attention instead of worrying about Noah’s phone.
A truce is then spoken to the four friends by the Queen of the Aliens, who proposes that as long as humans don’t colonize outer space in a way that threatens her territory, she can promise peace and safety for all of humankind. Additionally, if Noah agrees to this truce and informs his human leaders about it, they can safely leave unharmed, and as long as everyone follows the rules, the aliens’ stance of relative neutrality will continue to be upheld. After her explanation, they voice their agreement with the proposed truce. The Alien Queen makes a quick bowing motion with her head and pauses for a moment in recognition of their truce. As she abruptly turns and begins walking away, Caleb shouts, “Hey, what the hell happened to all the animals out here!?” She doesn’t answer him and continues walking back toward the woods, with the other alien, who has Noah’s phone, walking closely behind as they disappear from sight, leaving the four best friends exhausted, relieved, very confused, and still surrounded by the forest and pond.
They quickly pack up their campsite, get back on the trail and begin hiking through the woods in the direction out of there. At around the halfway point of their quiet introspectively felt hike, they hear faint thumping sounds and a humming engine in the distant sky. The sounds become louder and louder until a low-flying military helicopter flies overhead and circles around towards them. They’re spotted among the woods using infrared technology. The helicopter stops in the sky by hovering as soldiers in black fatigues start to rappel down near the trail. Once all of the soldiers touch down, they jointly move together as one tactical unit toward the friends. Caleb says, “Well, it’s about damn time.” After the soldiers search around the immediate area that it’s only the four college friends who are there, the soldiers quickly greet them, check their health statuses, and order them not to talk anymore while being escorted out. Upon their arrival back at the parking lot, they see that Greg’s SUV has been searched, with the doors and trunk open. A couple of unmarked black vehicles are parked next to it, with several suited agents standing around, waiting for them. The soldiers hand them off to the agents as a lead agent walks up to the group and assures them that they will be taken care of and can eventually go home. However, first, they must go to a nearby park ranger station and explain what had happened out there to him in private. As they agree, Noah feels relieved that he’ll be able to tell the right people about the truce agreement with the alien. They load into the vehicles with the agents, leaving the soldiers behind, who are awaiting further orders, and go on a short ride to the station.
At the Park Ranger Station, Noah is the first to be video interviewed by the lead agent in the backroom, where he explains everything in detail to the agent. He discusses the truce with the Alien Queen, who wants the agent and all of humankind to know her intentions, demands, and interest in peace. The suited agent asks, in a serious tone, “Did you or any of your friends ever see any alien craft in the air? You know, UFOs or flying saucers?” Noah pauses to think and realizes he hasn’t. None of them had seen any alien flying crafts to his knowledge. He answers, “No, I did not. I don’t think any of us did.” The suited agent, who had been encouraging Noah in a calm, soft-spoken, friendly manner for most of his interview, jolts into a sudden, nervous, angry demeanor and briskly walks over to the video camera on the tripod and turns it off. He just as speedily returns to the desk, reaches over to grab a stack of paper documents and a pen, and sets them in front of Noah on the desk.
“The Federal government is going to take it from here. Thank you for your testimonial, and now I need your cooperation in signing a non-disclosure agreement with us, and you can be on your way,” the agent explains to him. Noah answers confusedly, “Why? I don’t understand!? What does this mean? Are the aliens living here!?” The agent goes from being friendly and concerned to serious and cold-spoken. He doesn’t answer Noah’s question but asks, “You’ve heard of the good cop, bad cop routine, right?” Noah cautiously replies, “Sure…” The agent tells him, “Now this is the bad cop part,” as he takes out his handgun and sets it on the desk in the back room of the station, with Noah still sitting in the chair across from him, scarily watching. The agent coldly says, “You do know people go missing in the wilderness more than you’d think. Recently, we had to clean up a couple of unfortunate incidents up here. And you know what? The bodies may never be found.” The already traumatized young man’s eyes widen, and the same cold, deep fear sets into his mind and body; he just wants to live and not be killed. He quickly grabs the pen to sign the agreement and asks, “What’s today’s date!?”
The agent has a satisfied grin on his face but is still physically acting unsettled while telling him the date and picking up his handgun to put it back in his holster. Once the document is signed, the agent quickly shuffles Noah out of the station and grabs each of them for rushed one-on-one interviews, resulting in the same outcome that forces them to sign the agreements out of fear of what he and the government can do. In the agreements, they must comply with a made-up story that they will need to tell numerous times for the rest of their lives about getting drunk, lost, and rescued. Additionally, if they ever tell the truth, mention aliens, abductions, the government agents, their interviews, or even him and do not keep their hiking story vague enough for the news reporters gathered at the assigned areas by the local authorities, who are all in the dark about what really happened and unaware that this federal government authority even exists, their actions will break the agreement, and they will be arrested, sent overseas, and thrown into mental hospitals and prisons indefinitely, with no due process or rights as citizens of anywhere.
Greg is the last to be interviewed. He quickly exits the building after his interview and signing of the agreement, where his three friends have been waiting nervously, surrounded by armed agents just outside the cabin, to see if he would come out safely and unharmed. He sees them as they see him, and feeling relieved, they all run toward each other to gather in front of the Rangers’ station. The four best friends embrace in a group hug, their arms locked around each other in a small circle as they talk about being alive, feeling thankful, and expressing the gratitude they have for each other through this whole mess. Meanwhile, the government agents suddenly break away from their positions surrounding them to return to their vehicles. The agent with the signed non-disclosure agreements in hand exits the station in a hurry, jogging past the hugging friends and toward his vehicle. They look up at him, and he waves the paper agreements in the air in a “remember these documents and possible consequences” manner as he and the other agents begin speedily driving their convoy of vehicles back to the trailhead parking lot. The local authorities and medical teams are radioed in to take over the regular rescue procedure as if the unknown government agents were never there in the first place. “And I thought this weekend couldn’t get any weirder,” comments Greg to his friends as they lower their arms from the group hug embrace. “So, now what?” asks Alan. Noah answers, “Guys, I’m cooked.” They chuckle and smile together in relief. “We get to living,” replies Caleb in a heartfelt tone. Greg echoes his friends’ words, “We get to living… We get to live.” Feeling relieved to have made it back safely, their friendship has strengthened not only from their time in college but also from what they experienced together in the deep woods of Maine.
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later….
Calvert County, Maryland
Noah is back home in his bedroom in Maryland, resting from the aftermath of the events and having graduated a week ago from college with his best friends. With his blue cap and gown from graduation hanging on his closet door, his diploma framed on the wall, and a group photo of Greg, Caleb, Alan, and himself celebrating at graduation displayed on his desk, he is sitting and writing in Latin when his phone chimes with a text notification. He picks up the phone and smiles, seeing that it’s another message from Sally, the convenience store clerk he met briefly in Maine. He realized that he had left an impression on her, as she found his social media after reading their hiking story gone wrong in the news, and they had already planned for her to come visit for the Fourth of July. At that moment, Noah’s mother barges in and interrupts loudly, “Noah Armstead! You need to get out of this wretched room, being on that damn phone too much, and go help your father! And make it on the double, mister! The corn won’t pick itself, and the livestock can’t feed itself either!” Noah looks up from his phone and replies, “Yes, mother. Of course.” She is surprised by his quick compliance, nods in approval, and leaves his room. Noah stands up, stretches his arms, and walks over to the window to look out at his family farm’s cornfield, with a distant thunderstorm on the horizon. He sighs in thought, feeling relieved and lucky to have survived the warning in the woods and to finally be home sweet home.
The End
To be continued with “The End of Earthlings”. . . .
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