Jaime awakens in his tent paralyzed with terror. He doesn’t want to leave the comforts of the warm sleeping bag and the 5x6 tent that he feels is protecting from a terror beyond the thin nylon threshold. A simple fast zipper is the only thing that has kept Jaime from leaving his tent for two days. He retraces his initial steps up the mountain and how much of a slog it was to get to the campground. When he realizes that the obstacles he faced were all signs to turnaround, it makes him think that he's stubborn and ignorant to a fault. Maybe this is why he's alone. He ignored warning signs in his life, and he ignored the ones the mountain presented. Now the world stings him in ways he can't comprehend.
Jaime left his downtown office in San Diego at two in the afternoon on Thursday. It was February 13th, and he wanted, no, needed, to get away before the weekend started. He knew every street, restaurant, and coffee shop would be besieged with courting couples for Valentine's Day. This would be Jaime’s first year being single on Valentine's Day in over ten years. His wife, soon-to-be ex-wife, filed for divorce two months ago, and it wasn’t until three days ago that Jaime had given in and signed the divorce papers. He remembers sitting by the kitchen table, looking at himself in the mirror, and seeing his dejected self, staring back at him – empty and lost. Tears streamed down his face and disappeared into his beard which had hidden most of his face for as long as he had been married. The beard was his wife’s idea; now it was a relic, a weight on his face that needed to go just like the memories of his partner.
Signing the divorce papers was unfortunately not the end of Jaime’s problems. When Jaime dropped the stamped envelope down the mail slot in his condo’s business center, he hoped for new beginnings – maybe not a better life, but an easier one. Little did he know it was the beginning of what he can only understand as mental torture.
Jaime arrived at the San Gorgonio trailhead early on Valentine's Day. The local rangers had put a large bouquet on the sign as you drove into the parking area, and above it was a large, red, heart-shaped balloon that fluttered hastily with the wind. Jaime shook his head – this is exactly what he wanted to get away from. Still, Jaime knew this was better than everything back home. When he stepped out of his vehicle, the frigid air blasted his naked face. Jaime had finally shaved the beard his wife made him to keep over their years together. The wind stung in a good way; it made him feel alive.
With his pack on his back, Jaime set off on the South Fork Trail to Dollar Lake, a six-mile climb to the first campground on the way to the summit. Thirty minutes into the hike, Jaime reached the first stretches of snow patching the trail. The snow was welcomed and expected, he already had gaiters over the top of his boots that covered him up to his mid-calf. What surprised Jaime were the obstacles along the trail. Every hundred meters or so, a massive tree would block the trail, and the only way to proceed was to climb over the huge bulk of wood or scramble up and around the narrow ridges. Trees on the trail were not a new thing. Every year, avalanches, snow, and whipping winds felled trees. But the only trees that were knocked over were on the trail. This was the first tell that something was amiss. Jamie squirreled the thought away and kept moving.
After climbing for two hours, Jaime was still two miles away from Dollar Lake campground. He needed a break, so he pulled his forty-pound ruck off his back at the end of a switchback and sat on a three-foot-wide tree stump. With the pack at his feet, he stared up the winding trail – there again just a few hundred yards away was another tree in the path. The tree situation was getting ridiculous – never had he seen so many trees on a trail. He was surprised that the rangers hadn’t put up a sign warning hikers about the trees – that’s what they’re supposed to do. Again, he put the thought aside and unzipped the small pouch on his pack. After some digging, he exhumed a sandwich bag with a smashed-up concoction of dates, cashews, oatmeal, and coconut oil that were rolled up into five large balls, each the size of a tennis ball. Jaime took his time chewing an entire gooey ball and washed every mouthful down with a pull of water from his Camelbak. He stared at the gullies, cliffs, and greenery that were covered with snow. He relished the feeling on his skin of a slow wind dropping acorns all around the forest. He smiled at the hustle of industrious squirrels rushing in for the score as the food dropped from the canopy above. The soundtrack of the mountain was a deep contrast to the cityscape he escaped.
A few thousand yards from Dollar Lake campground, Jaime encountered a couple on the trail struggling to navigate over a new obstacle, a fifteen-foot tall and ten-foot-wide boulder. The thing was enormous and looked completely out of place as if someone had dropped it on the trail. Jamie had hiked this trail at least a dozen times in the last six years and never had he seen this behemoth on the trail, nor on any nearby ridge where it may have originated. The boulder eclipsed the young man staring up at it as his female partner trying to climb over the rock. The woman was struggling. Her hands and feet were trembling as the weight of her oversized pack worked against her.
From twenty yards out, Jaime called out. “Hey, friends. Do you all need some help.” The two turned, surprised to hear another voice. The woman looked over her shoulder, straining for a look at Jaime. The young man also turned and squared up. Jaime raised both his hands, his palms toward them, gesturing he was not a threat. “I can help. There’s an easier way around the rock.” The woman on the rock dropped one foot from her foothold and continued until she was on the ground.
“Hi. We’ll take any help we can get,” the young woman said as her aching hands trembled and panted, trying to catch her breath.
“Good afternoon. Yes. Any help would be appreciated,” the young man said with appreciable humility. The trio all shook hands and introduced themselves. “I’m Richard, and this beauty is my fiancé, Olga.” Jaime shook hands and introduced himself. “Are you here alone?” the young man added.
Jaime was trustful, but not stupid. He’d heard many stories of hikers getting mugged, and even killed. These two didn’t seem dangerous; they seemed more harmful to themselves. “I’m alone.”
“Ugh, I would hate to be out here on my own. But I’m a girl. You guys - I don’t know how you enjoy solitude in the mountains.” Jamie just shrugged and didn’t answer. His wife used to hike with him all the time. He didn’t want to think about that anymore. “You mentioned you could help,” Olga interrupted Jaime’s thoughts thankfully. “Any guidance on how to crest this ugly boulder?”
Jaime nodded and approached the rock and the ridge it teetered on. He pulled two hiking poles from his pack and used them to drop into the ledge of the ridge. Carefully, he dropped one leg down the ledge and kicked his boots into the ledge and snow. He waited until he confirmed he had a solid base and dropped his other foot down the ridge. He then used the hiking poles to carve a step on the perilous ledge and then walked onto that step. He continued that until he crossed over the boulder.
The two youngsters cheered until it was their turn to cross. Jaime made it easy for them. He threw his rope over the boulder and used it as a safety wire to cross. Richard anchored one end of the rope on a nearby tree, and within minutes the two were on the other side of the boulder. Jaime smiled and calmly stated, “You’ll need to do that again when you head back – you know this, right?” The two youngsters just looked at Jaime and laughed anxiously.
Jaime had no intention of making this a group hike. He wanted, no, needed this moment to himself. With a gentle smile, Jaime began to dismiss himself. Olga instantly said, “Have dinner with us. We insist!”
Jaime wanted to say no, but he surrendered. “Sure, but not here. How about at Dollar Lake? I want to get there before sun-down. All these obstacles have set me back hours.” The couple agreed and they followed Jaime up the trail. Quickly, Olga and Richard fell behind. Jaime had no desire to wait so he continued without them – hoping he’d see them at the campground.
Within forty-five minutes, Jaime reached Dollar Lake. The sun was blocked by the San Gorgonio Mountain and the tail of its beautiful peak stretching for miles. After setting up his tent, he looked up at the sky and estimated that the couple had at least thirty more minutes of sun. If the two didn’t make it by then, he’d start eating another tennis ball-sized, gooey concoction.
With just a few minutes before sundown, the two youngsters made it to camp. The two were exhausted, panting uncontrollably. “What took you so long?” asked Jaime. “I got here over an hour ago.”
Olga and Richard just stared at each other. “How?” asked Olga. There were five or six more boulders on the trail, each bigger than the previous.
Jaime cocked his head and stood up. “I didn’t come across any additional obstacles, especially any boulders. The rest of the hike was a breeze, I stopped twice to see if you guys would catch up. When you didn’t appear on the trail, I decided to keep going.” There was silence amongst the three. No one knew what to say. “Look, I’ll help you guys set up your tents. It’s late and I’m sure you’re exhausted.” The two nodded their heads. “In the morning, we can check the trail.”
“Not sure I want to go back,” says Olga. “We must have taken an alternate route.” Jaime didn’t say anything, he knew there weren’t any other trails nearby.
Three hours after everyone hit the sack, Jaime popped out of sleep. He sat up and wondered what it was that spooked his sleep. He was quiet and listened. Jamie wanted to know if it was an animal or a hiker walking around the camp. After a few minutes, he dropped his head back, closed his eyes, and was out again.
This time it was clear. A cry, a woman’s cry to be exact. Jaime yanked the sleeping bag zipper, and it caught the nylon material. The cry filled the quiet night sky. When he got out of the sleeping bag and emerged from the tent, he was struck by a blue luminescence that consumed the campground. Jaime looked through the part in his fingers and tried to find the source of the screams and lights.
The light was coming from above. Jaime tried looking for the source of the light, but it was painful for his eyes. The light stung his exposed skin. He felt drained of his strength suddenly, similar to a feverish flu knocking you over. After a few more seconds of exposure, he felt his stomach turn and the food he had eaten earlier all came out in a messy brown goop. Jaime dropped to his knees and felt his consciousness slipping. He could feel his head bobbing and slamming against the soft, patchy snow that littered the camp. He wrestled his way back to his feet and turned back to his tent. Again, he dropped to his knees and eventually collapsed over the tent.
As the sun peaked over the Eastern horizon and bathed the tree line, streaks of light showered the campground. The lake glistened and the sunlight danced on the wind-driven ripples of water stretching hundreds of yards. When the sun rose higher in the sky the tree’s long shadows disappeared. Coming to, Jaime felt the sun’s rays on his back. His skin was charred like he had been lying in the desert sun for weeks. Large blisters covered the back of his exposed neck. When Jaime finally woke up, he pushed himself up to his knees. His whole body ached. He looked down at his hands, they were red, blisters ran up his right palm to his wrist. The back of his left hand was no different and ached just as much. When he looked across the campground, he saw Olga and Richard strewn on the ground just yards away from him.
Jaime pulled his legs under him and walked over to Olga. The woman was dead. Her skin was charred, black and crusted. Her mouth was stuck open as if she was stuck yelling in agony. The clothes she was wearing were torn and tattered, as if she’d been exposed to the elements for years. Jaime investigated her body and was confused by the weathering of her skin. Turning to Richard, he was no different. He too was dead, burnt, and died in anguish. More confusing about the bodies was that they were covered in a thick layer of dust, twigs, and other natural elements. Leaves were strewn around the edges of the bodies where they met the ground. It reminded him of cars that had been sitting in a neighbor’s yard for months, years.
Jaime didn’t know what to do. He stared at his tent and pack which was battered and beat. It didn’t make sense. The tent was just weeks old. The tent was fraying at the edges and the zipper was rusted. The plastic windowpane on the side of the tent was dried out and yellowed as if it had been sitting in the sun. The top material of the tent had numerous holes. The pack leaning by the tent looked weathered as well, but it was relatively new and had only used it four times. When Jaime opened the tent, it was filled with worms and thousands of mosquitos, which had claimed it as their home overnight. He walked away from the tent and pulled his pack towards him and opened a few pockets. He instantly noticed that the food had rotted away, or worms had eaten through the plastic wrappers. This was stranger, it would have taken days, if not weeks, for an insect to chew through the thick plastic wrappers. When he reached for the Camelbak he was surprised to see it empty. He had filled it right before bed. The water had evaporated and all that was left was a white stain inside the clear plastic liner. None of this made sense. He stood there and shook his head. After rummaging through the pack, he was elated that his water purification system, the Jet Boil propane burner, and his large hunting knife had not succumbed to the fate of the other equipment. He quickly grabbed the knife and fastened it to his belt. Every move proved difficult and painful. His hands were burnt and blistered, but he had no choice.
Jaime walked down to the lake, scooped up some water, boiled it, and filled his empty Camelbak until it was full. He filled his stomach too before he headed back down the trail. Before he left, he noticed that his surroundings looked different - more isolated than prior trips. He was too tired and hurt to discern the difference, he just wanted to leave and reach the authorities.
On the path back to the trailhead, he was confused when he saw that none of the boulders and fallen trees were on the trail. They were all gone, and it was good because he didn’t have the strength to climb over the trees or boulders. His senses were now telling him to be terrified. His heart was pounding faster and louder as anxiety brewed in him. That extra bit of awareness from the anxiety helped him notice that the weather was different too. The sun was warmer. The sweater he wore was making him sweat. The heavy patches of snow all along the trail were all gone. Grass, moss, and wildflowers had replaced it all. New grass and flowers didn’t pop up until late May or June. It was February, Valentine's Day, and the weather was normally frigid and snow was king.
As he continued descending, every mile felt like ten. It took him, he guessed, five hours to travel the six miles. The sun was over the western skyline and was starting to drop. He assumed he just had two more hours of sunlight before sunset. When the sun finally saddled the western ridge, he spotted the trailhead. He tried to run, but his body wouldn’t move any faster. When he reached the trailhead’s parking lot, nothing made sense. He felt like he was about to lose consciousness again. The parking lot’s waiting area was covered in grass as tall as he was. Grass was growing through the asphalt and nature had taken over the rest by covering it with its leaves, branches, and dirt. Evidence of man’s once claim to the area was almost non-existent. He wanted to believe he was at the wrong trailhead, but deep down he knew he was at the right place. His surroundings had changed. The anxiety that he had earlier was returning. Again, his heart pounded, but this time it came with a headache too.
He looked around for his truck. It wasn’t there – no surprise. He walked towards the trailhead entrance from the road and noticed a large, thick yellow gate had restricted access to the trailhead. A large metal sign with red letters covered the gate and read, San Gorgonio Trailhead Permanently Closed. The sign looked weathered and was littered with bullet holes and spray painting. The bullet holes were rusted and showed signs of aging. Jaime leaned on the yellow gate and sat on it confused. He barely had enough strength to walk down to the trailhead. He couldn’t imagine walking ten miles down the road to the highway. That’s when he finally noticed the sun disappear behind the western ridge. He didn’t have a tent, a sleeping bag, or anything to help him through the night. He knew that if he stayed where he was the temperature would drop. He knew that moving meant survival so walked down the road until he reached Highway 38. It would be nine miles before he reached the Falls Picnic area. If he didn’t experience any other issues, he’d get there by two in the morning.
An hour after he started walking the road was pitch dark. There were no streetlights. If it wasn’t for the moon and the clear skies, he wouldn’t be able to see his nose. He kept his eyes on his feet to ensure he didn’t stray from the road. Every hour or so, he’d stop and drink water from his Camelbak that he carried over his shoulder. With every swig he pulled the plastic bag up to his face and confirmed how much water was left. He had enough to get him through the night.
He kept walking, forcing one foot in front of the other. He prayed for a car to pass, but the road was dead. Not a single vehicle passed him by. Miles away he could see lights down the road. Based on where the moon was, he assumed it was midnight. Two more hours and he would be at the picnic area where he’d have access to water fountains, restrooms, food and maybe even a helpful soul. That’s when he saw a light coming up the road. It was a bright halogen light, probably something belonging to a motorcyclist. It moved smoothly and fast. His heart started racing with excitement and joy. As the light got closer it was too big to be a motorcycle, it was probably a truck – even better, he thought. Instantaneously, the light took a ninety-degree angle into the dark sky. Jaime’s eyes were fixated on the light as it danced in the air. He felt a knot build in his throat and his stomach drop. The light suddenly stopped two hundred feet up in the air, directly above him. He squinted to see the object, but its blue hue shimmered making it hard for his eyes to adjust in the dark. He yelled at the object, hoping it was a helicopter or a law enforcement drone. Everything suddenly went quiet when the object was directly above him: chirping bugs, rustling grass, even the blowing wind all in unison died out. Jaime could hear his heart beating. When he tried to look away, he couldn’t. His eyes were fixed on the sky. The harder he tried to look away, the more resistance he felt. A red light suddenly emerged from the glowing object and blinded him. He felt a tingle across his body, and suddenly everything went dark.
Jaime woke up and everything was pitch dark. He was on his back on a hard metal surface. He sat up and tried adjusting his eyes to the dark, but there wasn’t any light to let him see anything. He dropped his right foot from the table and tried touching the floor but couldn’t find solid ground. He grabbed onto the surface he was on and extended his foot as far as he could reach but there was nothing.
Sitting quietly in the dark, Jaime tries to interpret the strange sounds around him. There’s a deep, pulsating sound that resonates throughout the space. The room must be spacious. Every pulse echoes and bounces off walls that stretch far. The room is cool, but not cold. There’s a continuous breeze that feels artificial, something akin to an air conditioner but more temperate. Everything feels stale, like what he’d imagine a morgue would feel. He tries to assess his surroundings logically, but his fear is all-consuming. His hands can’t stop shaking. His heart is racing. Sweat keeps dripping down his forehead and slithers down his cheeks, chin, and neck. His hands are sweating. Something or someone has taken him against his will. He doesn’t know who, what, or why. He doesn’t care. He wants to be back home, in his condo. Thoughts of his wife float in and out, but they’re soon replaced by the reality that she walked out of his life. His life had changed. Nothing would ever be the same again. He suddenly lost consciousness.
“Don’t move. Are you okay?” The voice was loud. Jaime's eyes were open. He sat up confused about his surroundings. He was feeling fine. The burns on his hands, neck, and arms were all gone. The pain and soreness that he had had the night before were all gone. He felt resilient as if he had the best sleep of his life. “What’s your name?” the ranger asked, and Jaime responded. Jaime got to his feet and brushed the dirt off his pants. When he looked around, he was stunned to see his truck. He knew it was his. A large O’Neil sticker in blue and white letters covered the top portion of his windshield. “You must have fallen and passed out,” the ranger said. That bruise on the top of your head. Jaime pulled his hands to his forehead and felt the large bump. It didn’t ache though.
Paramedics arrived a few minutes after Jaime woke up. They determined that Jaime was fine. He didn’t have signs of a concussion, which meant he was cleared to drive. There was one item that startled Jaime, but he didn’t say anything: the date. It was February 28th, fourteen days after he arrived at the trailhead. When he sat in his truck, he saw that his pack and tent were neatly sitting on his passenger seat. He reached into a side pocket and found the snacks he remembered eating while hiking up to Dollar Lake. The Camelbak was also full. None of it made sense. How did he lose fourteen days and replenish all his gear?
The park ranger waved at Jaime as he rode away in his truck. Jaime reached into his pack and looked for his cellphone. It was tucked away right where he expected it to be. He checked it and he didn’t have hundreds of text messages, voicemails, and emails. He was all caught up, as if none of it had happened.
He wondered if the hit to the head caused him to imagine everything. The hike, the two hikers he encountered, the lights, the burns throughout his body, him being kidnapped, or abducted. The last item felt foolish. It must have been a dream. He looked at his pack and was revolted by the idea of hiking or heading to the mountains.
The drive home was turning out to be a terrifying ordeal. Jaime wouldn’t turn on the radio. He was afraid of what he’d learn. He ignored the billboards along the freeway. The longer he was awake, the more he remembered about his ordeal. He didn’t know what was real. Questions spewed out of his confused mind that left him ruminating and spiraled him into anxiety. Had he met the two hikers? Did they die? Was the light he saw real? Was he in fact taken by something and taken into a black void and held prisoner? Why was the trailhead abandoned? What happened to the fourteen days? He kept looking at the date on his phone. The missing days terrified him more than anything.
By the time he made it to downtown San Diego, he had a splitting headache. He drove into the underground parking and had no motivation to lug his gear up to his condo. When he walked into the main entrance to the condo, the security staff at the front desk stared at him. He waved at them and said hi. The two guards waved back with hesitation and watched him take the elevator.
Jaime stepped out onto the tenth floor and hastily walked to his room, pulled out his keys and pushed the door open. The instant he did, he saw his ex-wife cooking. She turned and yelled! She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She stepped away from the counter where she was chopping vegetables and tightened her grip on the knife. “Get away from me. What are you? You’re dead! Why are you here?”
“What do you mean, why am I here? This is my house. You left me, remember? You sent me divorce papers and I mailed them back to you just a few days ago.” Jaime’s wife screamed and cowered next to the kitchen window. She wouldn’t answer any of Jaime’s questions. Every time he spoke, she cried louder.
Eventually a neighbor banged on the door and yelled, “is everything okay in there?” Jaime walked to the door, and it was Jorge, his long-time neighbor. Jorge’s face froze. He took a step back and said, “It can’t be. It’s you, Jaime.” He continued stepping back as Jaime invited him to come in and help. “No fucking way, man. I saw you dead at the hospital five years ago. I identified your body. They found you dead at a campground.”
Jaime stepped back, tripped on a piece of furniture and was on the ground. In the background he could hear his ex-wife still crying uncontrollably. That’s when the security staff arrived at the room. They couldn’t believe who they were seeing. They too attended Jaime’s funeral five years ago. When Jaime walked through the entrance and passed the security desk – they each thought they were seeing things.
The police showed up shortly after. After a series of interviews, an ambulance showed up. Jaime was placed on a stretcher and attached to an IV. The police huddled around the ex-wife, neighbors, and security staff and Jaime watched them as they all whispered. Before Jaime was loaded into the ambulance his ex-wife walked up to him and held his hand.
“I’m not sure what’s happening here, but if you are who you say you are, I’ll be here for you.” Jaime just shook his head and softly tightened the grip on her delicate hand.
“Thank you. I’m not sure what’s going on either.” He wanted to say and ask a lot more, but he didn’t have the energy to.
Before the ambulance departed, they put straps over Jaime’s legs and arms. “This is for precaution only. We don’t want you falling out of the gurney in case there’s an accident.” The lead EMT looked over to Jaime’s wife and said calmly, “We’ll be taking Jaime to Sharp Memorial hospital.” The woman nodded her head and said thank you.
Jaime was loaded onto the ambulance and the doors closed. The ambulance was filled with medical equipment. On the right side he saw drawers labeled splints, syringes, knives, bandages, etc. To his left he saw larger medical items, including two refrigerator-style doors with bags of IV and what seemed like blood. He felt safe. He dropped his head onto the pillow and saw that the two doors didn’t have the customary windows. The ambulance departed and its sirens blared for the first few minutes, and then it went quiet. The paramedics were quiet in their front seats. One was talking into a radio, but the noise was muffled by the door. In under ten minutes, it felt like they were arriving at the hospital. After a few turns, they came to a stop. The two paramedics stepped out of the ambulance and opened the rear doors. Everything was dark. Jaime waited as he was pulled out of the ambulance to get a glimpse of the hospital, but there was none. He was in a warehouse.
“Where am I?” The men didn’t respond. They wheeled him through the warehouse and through a few doors with no signs. Jaime tried to resist, but there was no give. The restraints were tight around his body. Eventually, he was wheeled into a room with a large conference table. He was placed at the far end of the room. A group of men and woman, all with greying hair and wrinkled skin, entered the room and took a seat at the table. A large screen illuminated the room. The screen was filled with various tiles of information. Each tile had something about Jaime: his driver’s license, work history, education, marital details, and so on. “What the fuck is this?”, Jaime yelled. “Get me the fuck out of here. Now!”
A man in a sports jacket turned in his chair and stared at Jaime. “Jaime, tell us about your abduction.”
“What abduction?”
“The one that occurred on the night of February the 14th. It was three of you. A woman named Olga, a man named Richard, and yourself. You were all taken around midnight. We have surveillance video of the event.”
“What about my body? The one that my ex-wife and neighbor saw.”
“They placed that there. They have their ways.”
"Who's they?"
"Not entirely sure. We're trying to find out."
“What are you going to do with me?”
The man turns in his chair to look at the group. No response at first. A tall woman stands and speaks. “We’ll be sending you back to them." Jaime's eyes widen with fear. "You need to understand. You're no longer human. You're something else who's taken the mind and soul of the hiker, Jaime." Jaime somehow knows she's not lying. Something deep in his consciousness confirms what the woman is saying. "We will prepare you and take you back to the camp. Sometime within the next few days, they’ll see you are back at the site. They will come for you. You will deliver them a message.” Jaime doesn’t respond. At this point, he's just a puppet.
“What if other hikers come around?”
“We’ve closed the trailhead and added more barriers throughout. This time, we’ll make sure people don’t climb over the obstacles.”
When Jaime wakens at the site, he's terrified. He sits in his tent for two days and nights straight and nothing happens. He's not sure what's coming for him or when. He knows that the message he needs to deliver is important, but it's not important to him. At the onset of day three, he makes a decision. He's running. He's not going to let his life, or what's left of it, be taken. He's lost too much already. It's time he takes back his life.
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