“Where the fuck is Zig Zag? Are you telling me directions right now?” Muffled sounds over the phone drag on as Liam wonders what the hell Ryan and Eric are doing.

“It’s a place! I’m not telling you to Bob and weave. It’s a ski town. Get your hands back on the wheel, asshole,” Eric said as he spoke back into the phone. “Sorry about that, brochacho, Ryan didn’t believe my instructions even though they were CLEAR. Anyway, what’s up brotha? You on your way to the campsite?”

“Only if you promise to never call me ‘brochacho’ ever again.”

“Sounds like someone’s got a case of the Monday’s. Did you have to fill in T-11 reports all day?” Liam could imagine Eric provide a sad clown face to accompany the voice.

“I’m serious. I will hang up.”

“Oh, come on, bro, lighten up! Tell you what, we’ll be pulling by the DQ in about ten minutes. I’ll grab you a burger and a shake, my treat. How about it?”

“Make it chocolate and I’ll see you guys in thirty.”

The phone clicked off and Eric and Ryan traded glances before cackling like hyenas. It was going to be a good trip. The pair had a maroon 1998 Astrovan on its last legs filled to the brim with Miller High Life and snacks. Their snowboards were strapped on top and they had some ratty blankets in case their sleeping bags didn’t do the trick for winter camping. Although in a yurt with a heater, Eric wasn’t sure it could be considered camping.

The boys collected their DQ burgers and accouterments, making sure to provide golden retriever smiles to the staff before pulling into their campsite. Camp Creek smelled of moss, ferns, and all the hours they spent outside in the woods behind their suburb smoking dime bag weed. Ryan and Eric felt at twenty-three, they could finally say they felt grow up.

***

Liam got off the phone as he pulled into the dingy five car parking lot of a general goods store. Grease and cigarette smoke colored the windows and the specials looked like they were from the thirties. Liam knew he had no shot of finding a spare battery pack here, but hopefully he could grab the rest of the supplies.

He walked in and immediately turned towards the drink section. The drive from Portland wasn’t that long, but he could do with a fizzy water. He heard a rustle behind him. He turned to find nothing. Weird. He looked through the fridge and couldn’t find anything without sugar. “Cream soda, orange soda, grape soda… where is regular soda water?” He mumbled as he flicked through the options. There were even a couple Jone’s sodas in there. What a throwback, he thought. Another rustle. This time he turned to see a stick, thin woman in a white and purple faded dress leaf through the chips before giving him a darting glance. He turned back and grabbed an orange soda.

Each aisle— he’d hear the soft rustle of some plastic bag being moved by the woman. She drifted between sections in a circling current. Never quite making eye contact with Liam, but lifting her head a little more each time.

Arms full and his heart pumping like he’d drank a triple shot of espresso, Liam grabbed the last item and headed up front— passing by the dark hallway in the back that a damaged sign overhead read “bathroom.”

The wall started closing in like an exam room after a long night. Liam could feel the creeping steps of the woman behind him as the aged linoleum failed to hide her presence. The store had the feel of a slaughterhouse— iron tang and a sickly sweet aftertaste that belonged to human flesh. A misguided summer internship at a morgue after listening along to true crime podcasts with his sister had left Liam with a morbid bent that weakened with every second spent in the store.

The man at the counter stood off-kilter, like he was propped up by a broken mop. Skin the color of aged newspaper, Liam didn’t want to read the stories hidden there.

“Youse a city boy, ain’t ya?” Wet lips smacked— at odds with the dry, thin features of the rest of his body. “Lotsa of ya ‘round here lately. Youse gonna run in them woods?” He whistled the words off. Liam tightened like a bow.

“Don’t know about all that. Just here for some time on the mountain.”

“Ain’t gotta be shy, boy. Youse ain’t nothing special.” The man started ringing up the items one by one. Making sure to look at Liam after each one. Two hundred miles from the ocean and Liam felt like he was staring into the eyes of a bottom feeder— pale, murky bulbs that balanced on blindness and keen interest. “Reckon youse be campin’ with all this wood. Youse up the way?”

Liam could feel the inside of his ears, the pulse of blood as he struggled not to show anything. “I think my friends got a cabin. We might even be up at the lodge. Just wanted to play it safe,” he said a little too fast. The man smiled— showing piano key teeth that hadn’t shined since RC Cola was served at restaurants.

“That’ll be mighty nice,” he said looking down at the last item. A can of propane and a lighter. “Youse have a nice time now.” Liam paid and grabbed the groceries, trying not to burst into a run to the car. Ryan and Eric owed him big time for this. He turned back once and found both the women that crept in his blind spot and the cashier stand by the window.

“Fuck this,” he said hurrying into his car and peeling out of the parking lot.

***

The engine ticked as it cooled down. The boys set about getting the tent up before Liam arrived. The third member of the trio— and the occasional outcast to what had been a childhood duo, Liam possessed the foresight the other two often lacked. Which his arrival made clear as he dropped a bundle of firework and flicked on an electric lantern.

“Why the fuck did you choose this place?” Liam said in a snarl. Eric and Ryan looked up ready to argue, but saw the pale pinch of Liam’s face and the wide eyes.

“Dude… what happened?” Ryan asked. “You almost hit a deer or something?” Liam tossed the rest of the supplies on the ground and stood there for a second.

“Where’s the beer?” Another warning sign to Ryan and Eric. Liam only drank in moderation and he never kicked off a bender. Ryan grabbed a cold bottle and gave it to Liam. He downed half of it before speaking. “I stopped by that store on the way up.”

“The one in Zig Zag? Next to the coffee shop?”

“No, the one a little further up. It had its own lot.” Ryan and Eric shared a confused look. They hadn’t seen one.

“And? You get offered to marry someone’s daughter? Participate in a blood ritual? What’s up?” Eric said trying to spark a laugh.

Liam’s eyes went flat at the blood ritual mention. “There was something wrong with the people in that store. Creepy. They were off… I don’t know. The guy asked where we were staying.”

“Oh,” Ryan said looking from Liam to Eric. “What did you tell him?”

“That were were in a cabin or up at the lodge. I wouldn’t have actually told him where we were going.”

“Cool cool.” Eric bobbed his head. “Besides, we’re like in the wilderness. Wouldn’t it be crazy for someone to track you down or something?”

Ryan punched Eric in the arm,“Dude, don’t say stuff out loud like that.”

“Forget it,” Liam said waving them off. “Let’s set up camp. I’m sure it was nothing.” He took one last look at the road into the campsite before turning back to their messy circle of supplies. Had to be nothing.