The Dark Somnium - Borrasca

Episode Date: May 4, 2024

Here it is everyone! This is my narration of Borrasca, written by C.K Walker, this is a classic horror story from the nosleep subreddit and it has a big cast, so make sure to check out the other channels that helped me with this!Content warning for this story, it contains CSAMore from C.K Walker: https://ck-walker.com/ Hosted by Simplecast, an AdsWizz company. See pcm.adswizz.com for information about our collection and use of personal data for advertising.

It's a long story, but one you've never heard before. This story is about a place that dwells on the mountain, a place where bad things happen, and you may think that you know about the bad things. You may decide you have it all figured out, but you don't, because the truth is worse than monsters or men. At first, I was upset when they told me we were moving to some little town out in the Ozarks. I remember staring at my dinner plate while I listened to my sister throw a tantrum unbefitting of a 14-year-old honors student.

She cried, she pleaded, and then she cursed at my parents. She threw a bowl at my dad and told him it was all his fault. Mom told Whitney to calm down, but she stormed off, slamming every door in the house on her way to her room. I secretly blamed my dad as well. I'd heard the whispers, too. My dad had done something wrong, something bad. had, and the sheriff's department had reassigned him to some little out-of-the-way county

to save face. My parents didn't want me to know that, but I did. I was nine, so it didn't take me too long to warm to the idea of a change. It was like an adventure, new house, new school, new friends. Whitney, of course, felt the opposite. Moving to a new school at her age is hard. Moving away from her new boyfriend, however, was even harder. While the rest of us packed up our things and said our goodbyes, Whitney sulked and cried and

threatened to run away from home. But a month later, when we pulled up to our new house in Drisking Missouri, she was sitting right next to me, texting viciously on her phone. Thankfully, we moved over the summer, and I had months of free time to explore the town. When Dad started his new job at the Sheriff's Office, Mom drove us around the city, commenting on this and that. The city was much, much smaller than St. Louis, but also a lot nicer. There were no bad areas, and the entire town looked like something you'd see on a postcard.

Drisking was built in a mountain valley, surrounded by a healthy forest land, with walking trails and crystal clear lakes. I was nine. It was summer, and this was heaven. We'd only been living in Drisking for a week or so when our next-door neighbors came to introduce ourselves. Mr. and Mrs. Landy and their 10-year-old son, Kyle. While our parents talked and drank mimosas, I watched Landy, lanky, red-headed son hang out in the doorway, shyly eyeing the PS2 in the living room. Do you play? Not really. Do you want to? I got Tek and four. Um, Kyle glanced her

mom, who had been handed her third mimosa. Yeah, sure. And that afternoon, with the ease and simplicity of our age, Kyle and I became best friends. We spent the cool summer mornings outside exploring the Ozarks, and the hot afternoons in my living room playing the PS2. He introduced me to the only other kid in the neighborhood our age, a skinny, quiet girl named Kimber Destero. She was shy, but friendly, and always up for anything.

Kimber kept up with us so well that she quickly became the third wheel on our tricycle. With my dad at work all the time, my mom consumed with her new friendships, and my sister locked in her room all day. The summer was ours to take, and take it we did. Kyle and Kimber showed me where all the best hiking trails were, which lakes were the best, and most accessible by bike, and where the best stores were in town. By the time the first day of school rolled around in September, I knew I was home. On the last Saturday before school started, Kyle and Kimber told me that they were taking me somewhere special, somewhere we hadn't been yet, the triple tree.

What's a triple tree? I asked. It's totally awesome, totally huge treehouse out in the woods. Kyle said excitedly. Whatever. Come on, you guys. If there was a freaking treehouse, you would have showed it to me already. N'uh, we wouldn't have. Kyle shook his head. There's a ceremony for first timers and everything.

Kimber nodded eagerly in agreement. her dark orange curls bouncing off her tiny shoulders. Yep, it's true, Sam. If you enter the treehouse without the proper ceremony, you'll disappear and then you'll die. My face fell. Now I knew they were making fun of me. That's a lie. You guys are lying to me.

No, we're not. Yeah, we'll show you. We just have to get a knife for this ceremony and we'll go. What? Why do you need a knife? Is it a blood ceremony? No way. You just say some words and carve your name into the triple tree.

Yep. It takes like one minute. And it's a really cool tree house. Oh, yeah. Kyle promised. Okay, I guess I'll do it then. Kyle insisted on using the same knife he used during his own ceremony, but we paid a price to get it. Mrs. Landy just happened to be home with her youngest son Parker, and despite Kyle's many objections,

his mother insisted we take his six-year-old brother with him. Mom, we're going to the tree house. It's only for older kids. Parker can't go. I don't care if you're going to see any. An Exorcist movie marathon. You're taking your brother with you. I need a break, Kyle.

Can't you understand that? And I'm sure your friends won't mind. She flashed Kimber and me a challenging look. Right? No, not at all. Kimber said, and I nodded in agreement. Kyle made a loud dramatic sigh and called his brother. Parker, put your shoes on.

We're leaving now. I'd met the youngest land he several times before, and found that he was as unlawful. like his brother in looks, as in disposition. Where Kyle was a wild, excitable fireball with hair to match, I found Parker to be an anxious, fidgety boy with small eyes and dark brown hair. We got on our bikes and made our way to a lesser-known hiking trail a few miles away. I had asked before where the trail led when we'd ridden across it several weeks before,

and Kyle had given me an underwhelming answer of nowhere interesting. We pulled up to the trailhead and leaned our bikes against the wooded. signpost, which read West Rim Prescott or Trail. Why are so many trails around here named Prescott? I asked. Is this Prescott Mountain or something? Kimber laughed. No, dummy.

It's because of the Prescott's. You know, the family that lives in the mansion up on Fairmount? Mr. Prescott and his son Jimmy own like half the businesses in town. More than half. Kyle agreed. Which ones? Does he own the GameStop? The only store in Dries.

risking I really cared about. I don't know about that one. Kyle wound a lock around the four bikes and clicked the bars into place, then spun the numbers on the dial. But like the hardware store, the pharmacy, glitons on second, and the newspaper. Did they start this town? Nah. Mining started the town.

I think they- I want to go home. You can't go home. Mom said I had to bring you. Now come on, it's only like a two-mile walk. I want to take my bike. Too bad. We're going off trail. I don't want to go. I'll stay with the bikes.

Don't be such a wussy. I'm not. Kyle, be nice. He's only five. I'm six. I'm sorry. Six. You're six. All right, fine. He can hold your hand if he wants, but he's coming. Kyle turned and started up the trail. Parker's face fell into an undignified frown.

But when the charming Kimber stuck her hand out and wiggled her fingers at him, he took it. Kyle was right. It wasn't a long walk, only a half mile down the trail, and then another half mile on a well-tread path up the mountain. It was a steep climb, though, and by the time we got to the treehouse, I was winded. I studied the tree as I caught my breath. It's pretty awesome. I smiled. And it was.

They hadn't lied. The treehouse was the biggest I'd ever seen. It had multiple rooms, and there were actual curtains in the windows. A sign above the door said Amber caught forth. and a rope ladder hung below the threshold, missing several planks. I'm going up first! yelled Parker, but Kimber caught his arm. You have to do the ceremony first, or you'll disappear.

She reminded him. That'll be fine with me. I was eager to get into the fort myself. Give me the knife. I held out my hand. Kyle smiled and dug the switchblade out of his pocket. There's some space in the back to carve your name. I opened up the knife and walked around the tree, looking for an empty spot.

There were so many names on the tree that I had to crouch down and look near the bottom, since I couldn't reach any higher. I spotted both Kyle and Kimber's carvings on the tree, and I finally found a spot I liked near the ladder. I bit my tongue and carved Sam W into a blank piece of bark underneath someone named Paul Esp. Parker went next, but had so much trouble with the knife that Kyle had to do it for him. All right, let's go.

I ran over to the rope ladder. Wait! You have to see the words for him. First. Oh, yeah? Okay, what are they? Kimber sang out loud. Underneath the triple tree, there is a man who waits for me.

And should I go or should I stay? My fate's the same either way. That's creepy. What does it mean? Kimber shrugged. No one knows anymore. It's just tradition. Okay, can you say it one more time?

Slower? Once Parker and I had recited the poem, we were ready to go. I climbed the rope ladder first and took stock of my new surroundings. The treehouse was more or less empty, just a dirty rag here and there and some trash, old soda bottles, beer cans, and fast food wrappers. I went room to room, four in total, and found nothing of real interest until the last one. An old mattress lay in the corner, and piles of musty, ripped clothing scattered the floor. Did a hobo live here?

Nuh. This room's been like this for as long as I can remember. Kyle said from the doorway behind me. Smells gross. Kimber walked up to the threshold, but refused to go any further. It's not the smell that freaks me out. It's that. She pointed up to the ceiling, and I raised my head to read what was written there.

Road to the gates of hell, Mile Marker 1. What does it mean? It's just older kids being dicks. Come on, I'll show you the best part of the treehouse. We walked back into the first room, and Parker looked up at us and smiled, pointing down to what he'd clumsily carved into the wooden floor. Fart! Kyle read.

That's hilarious, Parker. He rolled his eyes, but his little brother didn't pick up on the sarcasm and smiled proudly. Kimber sat down on the floor next to Parker, and I sat on his other side. Kyle took the knife from his brother, and then walked across the room and wedged the blade between two planks of the wooden wall. He pushed and the board gave, opening up a small secret compartment in the wall. Kyle took something out and pushed the plank back until it was flush with the others. Check it out. He turned around and proudly held up two cans of Miller light beer. Whoa. Ew, warm beer. That's gross. How did you even know it was there? Phil

Saunders told me. Are we going to drink it? Hell yeah, we're going to drink it. Kyle came and sat down in our circle, popped open the first beer and offered it to Kimber. She eyed it like he was trying to hand her a dirty diaper. Come on, Kimmy. Don't call me that! She yelled at him, then reluctantly took the open beer. She smelled it and made a face, and then pinched her nose and took a small swig. Kimber shuddered.

That was even grosser than I imagined. I don't want any. I'll tell Mom. Parker said quickly, as the beer passed in front of him. Good, because you ain't getting any, and you won't tell Mom shit. I put on my best poker face and took a long, deep swallow, the warm beer, before I had the chance to smell it. It was a poor decision, and when I wretched, the foul yellow liquid went all over my shirt. Ah, man, now I'm going to smell like beer.

We spent the next hour and a half drinking the two cans of Miller Light, and after a while, the taste grew more tolerable. I couldn't tell if I was becoming a man or actually getting drunk. I hoped it was the former. When the last drop of the last beer was consumed, we spent 20 minutes trying to determine if we were drunk. Kyle assured us that he was wasted, while Kimber wasn't sure. I didn't think I was, but I failed all our drunk tests. Kimber was in the middle of reciting the alphabet backwards, when a loud, metallic grinding suddenly pierced the calm mountain air like a gunshot.

Kimber stopped talking and we spent a few minutes staring at each other, waiting for the noise to end. Parker curled into Kimber and put his hands over his ears. After what seemed like ten whole minutes, the sound ended as suddenly as it had begun. What was that? I asked, and Parker mumbled something into Kimber's sweatshirt. Do you guys know? I tried again. Kimber stared at her feet as she crossed and uncrossed them.

Well, it's nothing. Kyle answered finally. We hear it sometimes in town. It's not a big deal. It's just louder up here. But what's making that sound? Raska. Kimber whispered without taking her eyes off her feet.

Who's that? Not who. Where? It's a place. Another town? No. It's just a place in the woods. Oh.

Bad things happen there. Kimber said, more to herself than me. Like what? Bad things. Kimber repeated. Yeah. Don't ever try to find it, dude. Or bad things will happen to you, too.

But like what bad things? I turned around. Kyle shrugged, and Kimber stood up and walked over to the rope ladder. We better go. I have to get home to my mom. We climbed down the ladder one by one, and then started the walk back to the trailhead in an unfamiliar silence. I was dying of curiosity about Barasca,

but couldn't decide if and what to ask about it. So who lives there? Where? Barasca. The skinned men. Parker answered. Pff. Only babies believe that.

Like men who are skinned? Like their skin is gone? I asked excitedly. Yeah, that's what some kids say. Most of us stop believing in that, though, when we turn double digits. I looked back at Kimber, who was still nine like me, but she was staring down the trail, ignoring us. That seemed to be the end of the conversation, and by the time we reached our bikes, the awkwardness was gone, and we were giggling, trying to decide if we were too drunk to bike home.

School started two days later, and I'd completely forgotten about Peroska. When my dad pulled up to the curb to drop me off that morning, he locked the doors before I could get out. Not so fast. As your father, I get the privilege of giving you a hug and telling you to have a good first day at school. But, Dad, I got to go meet Kyle by the day. the flag before the first bell.

And you will, but give me a hug first. In a few years, you'll be driving yourself to school. Let me be your dad while I still can. Fine. I said, exacerbated, and leaned over to give my dad a quick hug. Thank you. Now go meet your friend. Your mom will be waiting here to pick you up at 3.40.

I know, Dad. Why can't I take the bus like Whitney? When you're 12, you can take the bus. He smiled and unlocked the doors. Until then, I get to drop you off. in the mornings. If you think you'd make you look cooler, you can ride in the backseat behind the cage. Dad, just don't. I threw open the door of his cruiser before he could say anything more and ran as he laughed behind me. Kyle was already waiting for me at the flagpole, and he'd found Kimber too.

Dude, you almost missed the bell. He yelled when he saw me. I know, I'm sorry. Whose class are you in? Kimber said. She was wearing a red sweater and leggings with frogs on them. Her curly orange hair was brushed into ringlets, and her lips were pink and shiny. She'd never looked prettier, and I was surprised to realize I'd never really seen Kimber as a girl. Uh, Mr. Diamonds. Me too. She said cheerfully. Lucky.

Kyle scoffed. I'm in Mrs. DeVerdys. Only two fourth-grade teachers, and I get the crappy one. Kimber grimaced. Yeah, my mom had her when she was a kid. What's wrong with her? What does she say? Just that she's strict.

and gives out homework on the weekends. On the weekends? Fuck! I immediately recognized the tall man that had suddenly appeared behind the white-faced Kyle. Sorry, sir. I meant dang. Kimber giggled. He nodded.

Hi, Sheriff Clary. Even though I'd only met him a few times, I liked my dad's boss, and he liked me. He smiled, asking if I was excited for my first day. Sheriff Clary crossed his arms in front of him, and widened his stance imposingly, but gave me a wide smile. Yes, sir. I said, and then added lamely, What are you doing here?

He told us that he was giving a presentation to the fifth and sixth grades about safety when walking to and from school. Yeah, he gives it every year. Cool. I smiled. Sheriff Clary nodded at me and then turned and walked away. I looked around, confused. Where's Kimber? She took off.

She is unknowingly on time to every. And as if to illustrate his point, the bell rang, and we both ran up the stairs and inside. I walked into class and saw that Kimber had saved me a spot next to her at the back. Mr. Diamond, a short, round man of 40 or so, nodded at me when I came in. Ah, Mr. Walker, I presume. Yeah, that's me. I mumbled as I rushed past him to the desk next to Kimber. Welcome to Drisking Elementary.

And for the rest of you, welcome back. Go Grizzlies. The class echoed a reluctant and subdued, go grislies. Kimber introduced me to the other kids in the class throughout the morning. Most of them were nice, if not sort of, underwhelmed by me. They said their hellos and asked where I was from, and the conversations usually ended with an unimpressed, okay. A group of girls who sat near the front snuck looked at us all morning and snickered. I asked Kimber who they were, and she just shrugged. During our second break, they came up and talked to me.

Are you friends with Kimber Destro? A tall, dark-haired girl asked me. Yeah? I answered and looked over at Kimber. She was watching me with worried eyes. Are you related to her? No. I didn't think so, because you don't have orange hair.

I didn't know what to say to that. You don't have to be friends with her, you know. Said the second girl with the oddly round face. I want to be friends with her. A third girl behind the other two snorted. She had pretty Auburn hair and a rude, upturned nose. Well, if you do, you're going to be in the ugly kid group. And once you're in that group, you can't leave it ever.

Better than the bitch group, I said. Rude nose and round face gasped, but dark hair smiled. We'll see. She said, and the three returned to their corner of the room. I sat back down next to Kimber feeling like a badass. It was the first time I'd ever used a swear word in front of anybody other than Kyle. What did they say to you? Kimber asked nervously.

They said you're too pretty to be near them and that you make them look gross, so we have to stay away from them. Liar. Kimber answered, but I could tell she was smiling. We met Kyle in the cafeteria at lunch, and he had nothing but bad things to say about his morning. Mrs. Teeverty was old and mean, and she made everyone come up and say something about themselves, even though the class only had 14 kids, and they all knew each other. When the bell rang for recess, I went to throw my lunch.

away with Kyle, and I bumped into a kid I hadn't seen before. Hey, are you Sam Walker? Yeah. Oh, your sister's dating my brother. Oh, man. Your sister's dating a Whitaker. Shut up, Kyle. She's going to be Whitney Whitaker.

As funny as it was, I couldn't help but be a little surprised. Not that I'd been paying attention, but I'd only seen Whitney out of her room once over the summer. Um, where did she meet him? I asked the Whitaker kid. I don't know. Probably at his job. His job where? He works at Driskingwater. It didn't make any sense to me, but I shrugged it off.

I did remember my mom giving Whitney some menial tasks, like getting the car washed and setting up some utilities to get her out of the house. Maybe she met him once and they started dating over text. Teenagers are weird. The rest of the school week followed much like the first. We were well into the first month when I heard someone mention the skinned man again. We were out in the playground, and Kyle and I were trying to start a fire with two large woodchips. I'd just given myself a splinter when the distant sound of metal grinding on metal flooded over the playground, silencing every one of us. Brasca, I said in awe.

Yep. Said Phil Saunders. The skinned man killed again. Hey, Kyle said only babies believed in skinned men. I threw an accusatory look at Kyle. They do. Phil is just stupid. I'm not.

Ask Danielle. She's seen them. Phil scanned the playground and then yelled at a blonde girl talking to rude nose. Hey, Danielle, come here. The blonde girl rolled her eyes, but came skipping over anyway. What do you want? I told you Kayla doesn't like you, Philip. No.

Tell them about the skinned men. Phil gestured to the air around us, which was filled with the metallic scraping coming down from the mountain. You tell them. No, you saw them, so you tell them. I didn't see them. Page saw them. Oh. Phil said, in an uncomfortable silence, descended.

You guys are weird. Danielle said before flipping her hair in our faces and leaving. Who's Paige? I said when she'd gone. Her sister. Paige disappeared when we were like five. After she saw the skinned men. The sounds from the mountain abruptly ended,

and the subdued atmosphere of the playground disappeared with it. When the bell rang, Kyle lined up in his class line, and since Phil was in my class, I made sure I was behind him. The teachers began to count us off. Hey, what else do you know about Barasca? I whispered to him. My brother said that's where people go when they disappear. To Baraska.

What happens to them there? Bad things. He said, and then shushed me when I asked him what that meant. The year dragged on. and it wasn't until Christmas break that I heard the machine of Barasca again. It was December, and there was a thick blanket of snow on the ground, which only served to amplify the noise from the mountain. I sat in my front room, listening to it for a few minutes, trying to decide what was happening

in the place where bad things happened. I saw my dad's cruiser pull up out of the window and went downstairs to greet him. As I passed my sister's room, I heard her giggling in that annoying teenage girl way, and I cringed. I hoped Kimber never got like that. Dad! I skidded on the landing just as he opened the door. My dad stomped the snow off of his boots and threw open his arms. Sammy, how many years has it been?

He joked. It was true. I hadn't seen much of my dad lately since he was working so much. Doing what? I didn't know since this was the quietest, the lamest town ever. Mom thought the sheriff was grooming dad for his job, since Clary was so old, and Dad never really agreed or disagreed with her. He'd only been at the department seven months after all,

and he doubted people in the county would vote for him. Hey, Dad, do you hear that? That, like, machine-sounding noise. Yeah, I hear it in town every now and then. Do you know what it is? I asked the sheriff about it, and he told me the noise comes from private property up in the Ozarks. Is the property called Barasca?

I have no idea. Barasca, where'd you hear that? I shrugged. Kids at my school? Well, it's nothing to worry about Sammy, probably just some logging equipment. But is the place called Barasca? Like, have you heard that name before? No, I haven't heard that before.

Dad pulled his boots off and shrugged off his coat, looking toward the kitchen. I could tell I was losing him. Have you ever heard of the skinned men? I asked. A skinned men? Good God, Sam. Is your sister telling you these stories? No.

But he wasn't listening anymore. Whitney! He yelled up the stairs. No, Dad, Whitney doesn't even talk to me. I repeated. I heard a door creak upstairs, and Whitney peered over the railing, phone in hand, and an annoyed look on her face. Are you trying to scare your brother?

Dad, no. I said again. Whitney shot me a look of betrayal. Seriously? As if I'd waste my time. You weren't telling him stories about skinned men? No, Dad, I told you I heard it at school. I said.

Whitney gestured to me as if to say, see? All right, well, you kids need to start getting along. Your family, for Christ's sake. Whitney rolled her eyes, and when Dad walked into the kitchen, she stuck her tongue out at me. A real mature, Whitney! I yelled up at her, but she was already gone. I'll tell Dad about your boyfriend. Christmas came and went with surprising smoothness at our house.

Whitney and I got everything we had on our list, which was a first for us. The town may be smaller, but Dad's page. checks were clearly better. I wore my new Rams park on the first day back to school after Christmas break. Kyle thawned over it, and Kimber showed off the blue pearl necklace her mom had gotten her for Christmas. Kyle and I feigned interest, but did it poorly. Kimber knew, but she seemed happy we cared enough to fake it. As we said goodbye to Kyle for the morning, Kimber was suddenly slammed from the side. Kyle caught her before she fell, and I spun around angrily to see dark-haired girl, whose name I learned was Phoebe Dranger, laughing and walking away from us with round-faced girl.

You're bad people who make poor lights choices. Kyle yelled at them. When I'm your boss someday, I'll make you clean bathrooms. Yeah, if Kyle is your boss, you know you messed up. I added. Kyle and I high-fived and turned to Kimber, but she wasn't sharing our victory. She was trying to hide the tears on her face. Don't sweat those girls, Kimber.

Nobody likes them. People are just nice to them because they're related to depressing. Scots. Kyle tried to give her an awkward pat on the back, but Kimber turned away from him and ran in the opposite direction. I hate those girls. Like, I really hate them. I know.

They're bitches. Kyle answered, mouthing the last words as he looked over his shoulder for any lurking adults. Well, I'd better get to class and make sure they don't try to talk to her again. There's an assembly this morning. No class until after lunch. Oh, seriously? That's awesome.

Do you have to sit by your class? Not usually. but we better get there quick so we can get the seats of the back. Kyle said as we started walking. What's the assembly for? It's either Dare or the History Society presentation. What's Dare? You know, Dare?

As in, don't you dare do drugs or you're grounded until you're dead. Oh, I hope it's the history thing then. We found Kimber already in the auditorium. She had collected herself and saved us both seats at the back of the room. She waved us over just as the puffy, stern, misdivety walked onto the stage. Hello, fourth grade students. This morning we have a special presentation for you from the Historic Preservation Society of Drisking. If you have any questions during the course of this lecture, please raise your hand. Like that'll happen. Now I'd like to introduce you to Mr. James Downing, Miss Catherine Scanlon, and of course Mr. James Prescott.

What? Jimmy Prescott and not his dad? That's so weird. Dude, Thomas Prescott has done this presentation every year for like 20 years. It's definitely weird. It's not weird, whispered Mike Sutton from behind us. Tom Prescott went crazy like a year ago. He didn't do the presentation last year when my sister was here either. I don't like Jimmy Prescott. He gives me the heibi-jee-jeebies.

His dad is so much nicer. He's like a grandpa. The presentation was slow and boring. Mr. Dowding and Miss Scanlan talked about the first settlers here. the Cherokee and the Trail of Tears. They talked about Alexander Drisking's discovery of a motherload of ore in the mountains and settling here with his family to mine and refine the iron. Then James Prescott took the stage from there to tell the story of his family's early journey

to the town and their role in the revitalization of Drisking itself in the late 50s. The last part was the most interesting of it all, and I found Jimmy Prescott to be infallibly charismatic and entertaining. I was so busy laughing at his jokes and hanging on his every word that by the end of his presentation, I realized I'd actually learned quite a bit, so much so that I was interested enough to ask a question, which Kyle warned was committing social suicide. Mr. Prescott scanned the room and answered a few other questions before he finally got to me at the back. Uh, yes, you in the back.

Um, Mr. Prescott, why did the mines close? Like, what happened? Ah, very good question, young man. What did you say your name was? Sam. Sam Walker. Ah, I believe I met your father the other day at the sheriff's office. Welcome to Drisking. As for your questions, most of the mines were closed in 1951 after a long period of unprofitability. The mountain had simply ran out of iron ore.

The mills and refineries were abandoned, and the town suffered for years. The miners and their families moved away. Stores went out of business, schools closed, and Drisking became a ghost town. That would have been the end of it if it weren't for stubborn families like mine who refused to leave, and we refused to give up the town, and after many, many, many, years of hard work, Drisking became the picturesque little haven in the Ozarks that it is today. I hope that answers your question. I sat back down and Kyle shook his head at me.

Bro. The assembly suffered through another 15 minutes of awkward Q&A until Miss Teherty finally cut us loose. We were released into the cafeteria to wait for the lunch lines to open. Kyle, Kimber and I sat in our usual corners. That was so boring. When are they going to figure out that no one cares about Drisking's history? Seriously, I fell asleep like three times. Kimber nudged me.

Sam seemed to care. I just wanted to know about the mines. Minds are creepy, that's all. Yeah, but all our minds were blown up. You can't go in them anymore. Blown up? Some kids died after going into the mine, so the city set off some controlled blast to implode the caverns.

At least, that's what my mom said. They messed up, though, and I heard they blew up the water table or poisoned it or something. What? How do you know that? I heard my dad talking about it. Did they use C4 or something? I guess. So, like, we all drink the water, so we all have C4 in our bodies and we can explode at any minute.

Do you think that's what happened to all the missing people? I asked him, just sitting there one day and boom. Yeah, dude. Kyle grabbed my shoulders. And that's where the skin men come from. I made the international symbol of mind-blown, and we laughed hysterically. You guys are dumb. Kimber rolled her eyes, but she laughed when Kyle fell on the floor pretending he was exploding.

I remember thinking in that moment that I was happy here in Trisking Missouri with these two people, happier than I'd ever been anywhere else. It was the last truly happy moment I ever had. Less than an hour later, Mr. Diamond's phone rang, and he exchanged a few quiet words with the person on the other end, his eyes flickering to and from my desk. It was hard to be surprised then when he hung up and asked me to come up to the front. When I got there, he told me my mom was waiting for me in the office, and I was going home for

the day. I traded a confused and worried look with Kimber, and then packed up my backpack and went to the office. When I got there, my mom was crying. We drove home in strange silence. I was too afraid to ask what was wrong. Mom parked the car a block from our house, which was blocked in by several police friends. vehicles. When an explanation didn't come, I broke the silence myself.

Is it dad? I asked quietly, holding back tears. No, honey. Dad is fine. She whispered. Then what happened? Whitney never made it to school this morning. Her voice broke over my sister's name. Oh, no, Mom. I think she ditched, I said quickly. I saw her leave this morning, and it was really early, like six, and she was with her friends. Um, Pete Whitaker and that kid, Taylor.

We all know that, Sam. But they made it to school and Whitney wasn't with them. They said she wanted to stop by the Circle K and you're drisking high, so they left her there. And no one has seen her since. Well, my brain struggled to come up with an explanation. Maybe she's ditching. No, honey. My mom put the car back in drive and drove up to our house, parking behind a police cruiser.

The police, as well as your father, think that Whitney is. with Jay. But she has a new boyfriend here. We found all her books on the floor of her room this morning and half her clothes gone, along with some cash of your dad's. But... Right now we think that she hitched a ride to St. Louis and that she's with Jay. The sheriff's office is trying to contact the boy's parents now.

Whitney, run away? Anyone who knew my sister knew she was prone to dramatics and empty threats. Plus, she was dating Chris Whittager's older brother, Pete. I was sure of it. We walked up the steps and into a half. house filled with stale coffee and quiet murmurs. I tried to remember if Whitney herself had ever actually confirmed she was dating Pete, but I drew a blank.

When we walked into the kitchen, I saw my father sitting at the table, staring at phone records, head in hand. He looked up when I came into the room and gave me a weak smile. Hey, buddy. Dad, I have to tell you something. I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and turned to look up at solemn Sheriff Clary. Everything and anything you might know, son. No matter how trivial you think it is.

I nodded and sat at the table with my dad as my mom handed the big man a cup of coffee. My mother nodded and retreated back into a darkened corner to talk quietly with Sheriff Clary's wife, Grace. What do you know, Sam? My dad asked as he rested his chin on his hands in a mock symbol of prayer, as though I may deliver him from his suffering. Well, just I heard Whitney had a boyfriend, that guy, Pete Whittager, that she's been hanging out with. and I saw them and Taylor Drainger leave this morning before me. What time did they leave? Asked the sheriff.

I don't know. Like before six. He nodded. That matched the statements of Taylor Drenger and the Whitaker boy. My father's head sunk lower into his hands, and I knew I'd let him down. But... I rushed. I don't think she went back to St. Louis because she was dating, Pete, and I don't think she wanted to be with her boyfriend back home anymore.

I understand that, son. But a teenage girl's mind is a couple. complicated thing. My officers are trying to get a hold of the boyfriend's family back at St. Louis. Clary nodded to my father. Now, why don't you head up to your room and let us work, Samuel? I looked up at him in surprise. What? No, I want to stay here. I can help. No, son. There's nothing more you can do here. You've been a good brother. Now let us handle this. But I can help. You already have. Dad! I looked over at my dad with begging eyes. Go to your room, Sam.

Dad! Now! I was so angry, I did the only thing that I could think of to make my rage known. Slammed the door and then sat on my bed in disbelief. The tears came, and I laid there feeling helpless, worthless, and scared from my sister. I thought about all the places Whitney could go. Was she scared? Was she alone?

Was she dead? When the sun began to set, I finally got out of bed and went to check my email. I was expecting lots of messages from Kimber and Kyle, but there was only one. Did she go to the tree house? I sat, staring at the computer screen for almost a minute. Kimber's words from last fall echoed in my brain. You enter the treehouse without a proper ceremony, you'll disappear and then you'll die. I didn't buy that Whitney had gone to Circle K that morning, and I especially didn't believe

that she'd hitched hike out of town. Nothing they were saying downstairs made any sense if you knew my sister. But maybe this did. Maybe she and her boyfriend went to the treehouse to make out or something, and maybe he'd left her there. Maybe she'd gotten lost, or maybe the skinned man had found her. That was the worst thought of all. I didn't need to sneak out, because the police were too busy with my parents to care about me. I snuck my bike out of the garage and rode the three miles to the West Rim Prescott Orr Trail.

When I got there, I saw two bikes already locked to the signpost, and my two best friends sitting in the snow next to them. I knew you'd come. Kyle said, when I pulled my bike up, and Kimber ran up to hug me. I'm so sorry, Sam. There was really nothing for me to say, and they didn't push. Kimber took my arm, and we started up the trail. The silence between us was stretched, but comfortable.

We drudged through the snow, and all the while, I searched for the taill-tale footprints of others, but the snow was coming down too fast. The hike up the mountain was harder and wetter, than when we'd come in the fall, and when Amber caught fort finally came into view over the ridge, it was a welcome sign. The sun was getting low, and we hadn't brought flashlights. I fell as I ran up to the tree, calling my sister's name to the quiet wild. Kyle was right behind me and leapt impressively onto the rope ladder, climbing quickly up the planks. I kept calling Whitney's name, waiting for Kyle to yell that he'd found her, or that there was at least some sign of her. And then I heard Kimber

quietly say my name from where she stood at the triple tree. I ran over and tried to follow her eyes to confirm what I already knew was there. And then I found it, freshly carved near the top, Whitney W. My breath froze in my chest and my vision blurred with unwelcome tears, and as the sun took its last desperate breath before plunging into the deep of the horizon, a deafening metallic whirl sang out from the wilderness and spilled down the mountainside. Underneath the triple tree, there is a man who waits for me. And should I go or should I stay, my fate's the same either way. Good morning. The world faded back into the ether and I awoke with a start. Jimmy Prescott was lounging against the wall near the door, an amused yet disapproving look on his

face. The shit, sorry, Mr. Prescott. I didn't hear you come in. You know, uh, I worked here when I was a kid too. I installed the bell on the door for this very reason. and didn't seem to wake you up, though. He laughed. I mumbled another apology and idly straightened a stack of business cards in front of me. Late night? Uh, kind of. Very.

Well, I hope you weren't out at the bonfires with the other little underage drinkers. No, sir. Yep. Good. Anyway, I'm just here for my lunch. I'll take a parmesan chicken with no avocado and rye. Yes, sir. Happy that the conversation was over.

I walked over to the sandwich counter and unwound the twisty tie from the rye bread. Jimmy Prescott stepped back from the counter and idly studied the pictures on the wall, though he'd seen them a thousand times before. More of the photos were of the Prescott family, taken over the last century. I'd always thought it was an odd decor, but then the shop was named after them, after all. Is Mira here? Prescott asked as I wrapped up his sandwich. She's in the back.

Oh, I thought she'd still be in St. Lewis. Well, uh, when you're finished, would you mind getting her for me? Shit. Yes, sir. I handed him the sandwich and went back to find Mira. She was in the office, furiously punching the keys on her accounting calculator. Uh, Mira, Jimmy Prescott is out front. He wants to talk to you. She turned and gave me a dubious look. Did he say what about? I shook my head.

Okay. You can go home for the day, Sam. But are you sure? I still had three hours on the clock. He's the only customer we've had since we opened. Don't worry. I'll pay you for the whole day, kiddo. Thanks, Mira. Um, good luck, I guess. I gave her a sympathetic shrug, and she patted my arm.

I didn't know how she did it. Mira was perhaps the most burdened and stressed out woman in all of Drisking, but she never failed to be unbelievably kind. There was a hopelessness about her, a sadness that she hid very well. I left the store out the back door, so I wouldn't have to see her. Jimmy Prescott again. His weird, yellowed amber eyes always set me on edge. Not to mention he was a total tool. I hopped in my car and texted Kyle that I was off work. He answered immediately and told me to come meet him. I happily whipped my apron over my head and threw the car into reverse.

Crystal Lake was my favorite place in all of Drisking. I had to park almost a mile away since the lake was so packed. I eventually found Kyle and Kimber sitting on a rock that jutted out over the beach. Kimber was sunbathing in a blue, floral bikini, and Kyle was wearing his, No One Can Tell, where my eyes are looking sunglasses. What I miss? I asked, sitting down next to Kimber. She answered, stretching and sitting up. She dug into the cooler behind her and tried to hand me a blue moon.

Oh, no. I moved it away. Got any Excedrin? Oh, no. Kimber gave me her, I'm sorry, pout. Okay, then I'll just take those sunglasses. I held my hand out to Kyle, who looked back at it in horror. What?

No, fuck off. Oh, come on, Kyle. Give him your sunglasses. Sam didn't get to sleep off his hangover like we did. I smiled at Kyle, and then he tightened his lips. We both knew exactly what I was doing. Kimber stroked Kyle's arm in encouragement. Please.

Fine. He said, and shoved his blue blockers at me. I put them on and sat back, turning my head to watch the girls on the beach below. Phoebe Dranger, dark-haired girl, was there, lying on a towel next to a round face and giggling. It still seemed unnatural to me to see the two of them without rude nose. The three had been inseparable, working as fluidly together as the gears in a watch, until Christy had fallen in love with some college kid and ran away. So, why'd you get out of work early anyway?

Prescott came in. Ew. He totally freaks me out. He's been staring at me since like three. Fifth grade. Next time he stares at you, let me know, and I'll knock him the fuck out. Kyle had always been protective over Kimber, but ever since they'd started dating, it'd gotten ten times more unbearable. Kimber winked at him. So what did he want, Sam?

He wanted to talk to Mira, probably, about the sandwich shop. You mean about how no one goes there and the business should have closed years ago, but it won't because the Prescott's are stubborn and vain? Yeah, probably. I mean, she looked pretty worried. I can count on one hand how many sandwiches I've sold in the past month. Ouch. Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's going to get chewed out.

I really don't like that guy. I thought about the squirmy, yellow-eyed freak, yelling at sweet little Mira, and it made my blood boil. You should have met his dad. He was a piece of work. His dad? Yeah, Tom Prescott. The family put him in a home a few towns over. I heard he got dementia and he was embarrassing the family in public.

I heard that too. Kimber brushed her long curls off her shoulder. I always liked Tom Prescott. It was a pretty shitty thing to do. Hey, kids. We turned in unison to see Phil Saunders come stomping out of the bushes behind us, with Mike Sutton following behind. So, this is where the cool people hang out.

High above the kingdom on Pride Rock. What up, Mike? Kyle said, ignoring Phil, whom he disliked ever since Phil had briefly dated Kimber. Phil was either unaware of or uninterested in Kyle's feelings. Of course, that may also have been because Phil was stoned out of his mind most of the time, and now was no exception. They sat down next to us, and Mike offered me his pipe. Wanna hit this?

I did want to hit it, and pretty bad, too. I reached up to grab it, but Phil swatted my hand away. Careful guy. You don't want to get the sheriff's sun high. For fuck's sake, Mike. Mike nodded knowingly and shoved the pipe back into his pocket. I scowled. Really?

Sorry, Sammy. Hell, the only reason I'm even smoking around you is because today is my cousin's death anniversary, and I don't give a shit about anything else. Your cousin Hannah? Kimber asked with a sympathetic look. Yep. Five years, she's been gone. Too many people disappear in these woods, man.

Mike said as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Yeah, man. You know, sometimes when I'm high, I can see them all. And I feel like I know the answer to the mystery, man. Like I'm so close to solving it. It's just something I can see. Like they're all puzzle pieces and in my mind I see the puzzle put together, but I can't tell what the picture is all, you know?

You're fucking high, Saunders. We all are, man. We all are. Everyone in this town is drinking the fucking Kool-Aid. Kimber raised an eyebrow at him and said nothing. Everyone except the dead ones. I can see what they looked like before they went into the ground. Or is it the ground or shit?

I don't know, man. Mike said to the space in front of him. Yeah, I see all those people. Hannah, Paige, Jason Metley? Hell, I even see your sister, Walker. Kyle, who knew I had been monitoring the conversation from mention of this very thing, sprang to his feet and opened his mouth to yell at Phil. Nah, Whitney Walker ran away to St. Louis, remember? I saw Kyle and Kimber exchange a quick look as I tried to remain impassive from behind the blue blockers.

That true, man? Phil asked, and there it was. I knew Kyle and Kimber had always wondered what I thought about Whitney, and if I'd ever accepted the official statement that she and Jay had run away together. They were kind enough to not bring it up, but I knew they wanted to know what I believed, what I thought had really happened. I loved them both, and I wanted to talk to them about it, but I just couldn't. Everyone thought that I had spent the last seven years quietly grieving, and that I'd put the incident behind me.

At least that's what I'd tried to show them. The truth was that I'd never given up on Whitney. I'd waited for years for Jay to show up on social media, and when I finally found him last year, I'd been devastated. I'd always hoped the official report was right, and that Whitney was somewhere far away from here, alive and happy with Jay Bauer. But his MySpace page showed a thriving teenager, still living at home with his parents, his ex-girlfriend Whitney, the furthest thing from his mind.

When I'd brought the evidence to my dad, he read the pages I'd printed off and then shut his office door with me on the other side. I heard him crying in there for hours as I waited for him to reopen the case and bring the smackdown on the Butler County Sheriff's Department. But justice had never come, and he never mentioned Jay Bower again. For whatever reason, I never told Kyle and Kimber about any of that. Maybe it was because I was worried they'd blow it off like Dad had, or maybe, and far more likely, I didn't want them to know how obsessed I'd become with Barasca and the skinned men.

I knew, as assuredly as the sun would rise tomorrow, that Whitney's death had happened there. Just like all the others who'd gone up to the triple tree, I was suddenly very aware of four pairs of eyes staring at me. Yeah, it's true. She ran off with this guy J from our hometown. I answered. That was enough for Kyle. All right, guys, seriously, he's the sheriff's kid.

What do you think is going to happen if he gets caught with weed? The little man is right, Phil. Let's bounce. I don't need any more trouble with the cops around here. Later, Walker, Kimber, little man. Phil stood up, brushed off his pants, and then jumped from the boulder onto the sandy beach below. He sprayed sand all over a couple of freshman girls who squealed and called him an unthoughtful ass. Phil tipped his invisible hat to them and said,

Ladies. Before walking off. Mike followed him down, and as I watched them make their way down the beach, I became more aware of the conversation going on behind me. I didn't say I wanted to go. I said I had to go. It's only two o'clock. And it's Sunday.

I know, but my parents have been fighting a lot lately, and I don't want to leave my mom alone too long. I thought she was doing better. A little, but she's still depressed, Kyle. And Kyle then asked Kimber if she'd like to stay the night at his place. I just don't, I don't think I'm ready for that yet. What? No, wait, that's not what I meant. I'd sleep on the pull-out in the basement and you would have my room. My parents love you, you know.

I know. I just want to be there for my mom right now. But thank you, sweetie. And then the absolutely disgusting sound of my best friend's kissing. I would never get used to it. Oh, on that note, I got to get out of here. I stood up and gave them both a shaming look. Oh, come on, Sam.

Don't be jealous. We'll find you a girlfriend someday. I really don't need your help with that. I muttered, glancing down the beach to where Emmeline Adler was sunbathing. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Last week of school. Kimber yelled at my retreating back. Thank God.

Tomorrow was the last Monday of the school year, and while I should have been thankful my sophomore year was ending, I wasn't. The summer meant no distractions, more time to think, and even more hours of boredom at Prescott Artisan Sandwiches. But I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow for another reason. Beside it being Monday, it was also sophomore ditch day. My dad had caught on to that several weeks ago. and warned me to set a good example and go to school that day. Sometimes I really hated being the son of a cop. Kimber and Kyle were sympathetic and had offered to share in my misery.

I had, of course, said yes, much to Kyle's sadness. As I expected, my dad was waiting for me when I got home. We shared a brief, strained conversation about our respective days, and then he finally got to it. Remember, Sammy, we're cracking down on truancy this year. I want to see you at school tomorrow. Yeah, I got it, Dad. And I hope I won't have to write a ticket to Kyle either.

I sighed. It's just tradition. Even the teachers sort of encourage it. On Friday, they said... I don't care what they said, Sam. Besides the fact that I'm the sheriff, I'm also your father, and I want my son in school. I laughed and shook my head. What a joke.

I can't control what Kyle does. Fair enough, but you can control what you do. I said nothing, and Dad sighed. It's almost over, Sam. Just get through these last five days and you can be done with school for a few months. Fine. I walked out of the kitchen, rudely ending the conversation. I climbed the stairs and passed by Whitney's door on the way to my room.

The light was on and silence was behind it. I knew my mother was in there. She was always in there doing God knows what. I walked to my room, shut the door, and locked it. The next day at school ended up being more embarrassed. than anything else. There were a few other people that hadn't skipped, maybe a total of ten of us, and the looks they shot me made it clear that my dad was the reason they were here. Kimber, great friend that she was, happily went to her classes like it was a normal day.

Kyle attended all of my classes with me. The teachers, who had been looking forward to an easy day, couldn't have cared less. Just before lunch, an officer came around to all the classes and asked for copies of the attendance sheets. Dad really wasn't. I wasn't kidding about cracking down this year. I was going to get shit from people all summer. At lunch, Kyle and I went out to the car to smoke. Usually we were hidden by dozens of large pickup trucks, but today, we are out in the open and vulnerable.

I moved the car back to a shady corner of the parking lot, and Kyle pulled out his bowl. Did you text, Kimber? I asked him while he took a hit. Yep. He said through tight lips as he let the smoke sit in his lungs and then blew it out all over my dashboard. She went home around fourth period. Said her mom called her and she was going home to take care of her.

I don't know, man. Doesn't her mom hate you? I asked, taking my turn with the bull. Yeah. I mean, that's a fairly new development. Ever since Kimber and I started dating. But I'm pretty sure she's always hated me and just hit it better before. Now that she's all depressed and whatever, she doesn't give a shit.

It was hard to picture anyone hating Kyle. Why can't Kimber's dad take care of her? I don't know. I hit the pipe again. Hey man, let's not even go back today. You think? Yeah, I mean, you put in four periods. You've been a good son.

And Officer Dickass already came around and collected the attendance sheets. Dickass? Really? You're better than that, man. Officer... Ass, dick? I fucking baked, Kyle. Seriously, man.

Let's go. I thought about it for a second. And Kyle was right. I'd done my duty as a son. If I left now, I'd have enough time to go to GameStop before work. Fuck it. I turned the ignition. Kyle sat up in his chair and rolled down the window to clear out the smoke.

Hey, man, can you drop me in my kimburs? Sir, but how are you going to get home? Can you come get me after work? What if her mom throws you out again? That was one time. Why can't I just drop you at home and you can take your own car? It needs new tires. New tires.

Of course. What Kyle really meant was that his insurance had lapsed, and he didn't have any money for gas anyway. He bought the car last summer, after working double shifts at the convenience store for half a year. It was an okay car, newer, but I knew he'd only wanted it to impress Kimber, something he'd vehemently denied. Had it worked? Not in my opinion.

They'd started dating in the fall, and Kyle quit his job to spend more time with her. Kimber didn't seem like the kind of girl to be impressed by a Pontiac Bonneville, but Kyle was convinced that that was how he'd won her over. I was sure all the car had really done was give him the confidence boost to ask her out. And now that its part in their romance had ended, the car sat in the garage of the Landy Home, collecting dust instead of memories. GameStop didn't have what I wanted, and neither did drisking games and media. Since I had nothing else to do, I decided to show up to work early and hope that Mira would let me leave early

too. I parked in front and walked in the door, unsurprised to see no one at the front counter. There were only three of us that worked at the shop, and sadly, I never got to see the other girl, Emmeline, who worked on the days I didn't. This was disappointing to me since she was half the reason I'd applied there in the first place. I went into the back to tell Mira I was there, and found her slumped over her desk on a pile of receipts and paperwork. This wasn't an unusual way to find Mira, but something seemed different today. immediately felt a disturbance in the force, but before I could run away, she turned toward me and I saw I was right to flee.

Mira was crying. Are you a... Are you a... I'm sorry. I'm sorry. She apologized quickly, wiping her eyes. Is it four already? No, it's 2.15.

I just thought if I came in early... Oh, right. It's your ditch day. Mira wiped her eyes, only to have them fill with tears again. I don't understand, Sam. The store's been operating in the red ever since I was hired to manage it. What am I doing wrong? I don't know.

I offered lamely. The instinct to escape never stronger. No one comes in here ever. Mr. Prescott refuses to let me put up signs to advertise. He says they're unsightly. But how does he expect me to pull in business? I need this job, Sam. God, I just...

I must have looked like a frightened deer because when Mira glanced over at me, she seemed to subtly collect herself. Go ahead and go out to the front. I'll do your time card. She didn't have to tell me twice. I really liked Mira and I hated seeing her like this. The front didn't end up being much better. I could hear Mira crying over the store's dated music track.

Her sobs went from painfully audible to muffled whimpers. After half an hour, I decided I had to do something. Since I was entirely unequipped to deal with an adult woman's emotions, I decided to call Mir's husband, Owen. He was thankfully at home and answered on the second ring. I'll be right there. I breathed the sigh of relief when I heard a car pull up outside and saw the tall, girthy Owen get out of it.

He walked in during a quiet lull in his wife's breakdown. I'm sorry to call you at home, Mr. Daly. I just didn't know what else to do. That's okay, Sam. You did the right thing. He looked tired, and I could tell this situation wasn't new to him. Is she okay? I mean, like, will she be okay?

Oh, yeah. We're just going through some things. Oh, Mira said the store is going bankrupt, too. I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Yeah, that's part of it. Although I don't think Jim's going to let that happen. Mir is more upset about, as Mirro told you about her appointments. Uh, no?

Well, we've been trying to get pregnant for years, long, painful years. It's just so goddamn important for her to have a baby. And you know, she blames me for our problems? He walked around the room, staring at the pictures, not really talking to me anymore. I understand why it's important to her. I just don't understand the obsession with it, you know? because she's the last one in her family because she's the last McCaskey on the planet

I mean does she even realize that our baby wouldn't be a McCasky he'd be a daily I tell you Sam never marry a woman with a crazy father and four dead uncles they develop these obsessions with lineage and four dead uncles

what Oh, yeah, the famous ones. You know, the four brothers who died in the Trisking mines? Well, that only left her dad, and her parents were only able to conceive her, which leaves her as the last McCasky and hope for the family line. So, of course, you can see how this is all my fault. I looked at him blankly and he sighed. I'm sorry, kid.

And these ain't your problems and they weigh over your pay grade anyway. I'm just very stressed out these days. Our fertility issues and Mir's absolute abhorrence to our only other option. But how did they die? I was desperate to talk about anything else and the story of Mirr's uncles interested me. The McCaskey boys? I don't really know. They died on the mountain somewhere.

Oh, well, have you heard of the skinned men? Skinned man? Yeah. I don't think so. What about Barasca? Owen Daly squeezed his eyes shut and pushed in his temples with his fingers. What does a Boraska have to do with anything? Owen?

Mira's voice squeaked from the doorway. Oh, baby. Are you okay? Sam called the house and... I want to do it. You do. Owen asked dubiously. I called him.

His eyes flicked over to me, and I immediately looked away. Another conversation I didn't want to be a part of. Sam, why don't you take off for the day? Meera and I will handle things here. Okay. I mumbled and bolted for the door. Once I was in my car and backing away, I called Kyle. Dude, fucking weird shit is going down in this town.

What happened? I can't explain it over the phone. Where are you at? I'm at Kimber's. Are you off work? Yeah, I'm coming to get you. By at Kimbers, Kyle meant sitting on the curb in front of the house, and kicked off the property again. When I pulled up, Kimber came out and met us at the curb.

I'm so sorry, Kyle. She's really upset today. She wouldn't even let me leave the house to sit with you. It's okay. Don't worry about me. I just want to make sure you and your mom are okay. We're okay, and my dad will be home soon. Text us when he gets home and we'll come get you.

I wish I could. I'm babysitting tonight until 7.30. Maybe after that? For sure. Kyle and Kimber hugged goodbye, and then Kimber rushed back to her house as something crashed inside. So what's going on? Kyle asked, taking a drink of a warm Dr. Pepper sitting in my cup holder. You're still wearing your apron, you know.

Mira had a breakdown, I said, peeling it off. Really? What happened? I told Kyle the full story, giving particular attention to the four uncles. Yeah, the McCasky's. I've heard of them. Didn't know Mira was one, though. I thought they were all dead. Yeah, she's the last one.

So, like, do you think the McCaskey deaths have anything to do with the other disappearances? It had been a while since I'd mentioned anything about Barasca, and Kyle choked a little on the Dr. Pepper. I don't... I don't know, man. I mean, maybe if the disappearance started around the same time? How can we find that out? Maybe the cops? There have to be police reports.

Okay. What if I couldn't ask my dad? I don't know, then. Kyle shook his head. What about, like, records? The historical society people may be. Oh, yeah. He said, nodding.

We could try them. They're over on second. They share an office with drisking arts and antiques. I made a U-turn and started back toward town. Hey, uh, why are we doing this? I'd known the question was coming. I'd hope to have more answers myself before I had to give him one. Just, Whitney, was all I could say.

Kyle didn't ask anything more. The Historical Preservation Society of Drisking was at the back of the building, and we had to walk through the antiquity shop as the owner, Mr. Drainger, eyed us warily. At the end of a short hallway, we found a small room with two desks pushed together. One was empty, and the other was stacked high with books and folders of loose paper. We could hear someone typing behind the stacks. I cleared my throat. Hello? Hello? A small woman popped up from behind the desk. I recognized her as the same woman who had given us a lecture in fifth grade.

Hello. How can I help you, boys? She asked, walking out to greet us. Um, yeah, I have a few questions about Drisking's history, I guess. Oh, great. Is this for an end of year report? Take a seat, boys. She gestured to the empty chair, sitting behind the other desk. I nodded at Kyle and he sat down, looking uneasy. Yeah, it's for an essay we have to write. Hey, I think you gave us a lecture like seven years ago at school? Oh, yes, I give that lecture every year with Mr. Prescott. Yeah, it was you and the other guy, too.

A bald guy. Kyle said, shifting uncomfortably in the wooden chair. Yes, that was my fiancé, Wyatt Downing. He passed away several years ago. Oh. So, uh, Miss... Scalin, but you can call me Catherine. Catherine.

I tried. I hated calling adults by their first name. Um, we want to know about the Macasey kids. Ooh. Catherine said, shaking her head. A dark part of the history there, but still history nonetheless. Yeah, so when did that happen? And how did they die?

Well, they didn't die. I mean, they certainly perished in the minds, but their bodies were never recovered, so we don't know the answer to that. I would think hydration, still. hydration, starvation and exhaustion killed them. Within days of getting lost down there. And to your second question, that was... 1953, I believe.

And the mines closed that year? Well, actually, the mines officially closed the year after. There was a legal spat between the city and the Prescott family who wanted to leave the mines open until the bodies were found. The city won and the mines were condemned. Wait, why did the Prescott? Let's care. Don't you want to write this down?

Kyle tapped his head twice with his finger, and Catherine shrugged and continued. Well, the Prescott and McCarsky family were closely related. Tom Prescott was paying teams of unemployed miners to go down in the mines and search for the bodies. The city had enough of it. The mountain was unstable, and they didn't want any more deaths. The mines had been abandoned years before, and were structurally unsafe. After the city banned the recovery teams from the mines, members of the Prescott family started going down there themselves.

Finally, the city had had enough and the mines collapsed. With bombs? Well, with explosives. That's what led to the incident. By this time, the mines had been unprofitable for a few years, and the city was quite broke. They hired a less than reputable company to collapse the mines, and, well,

When they set off the explosives, they accidentally broke into Drisking's water table. The city went into debt trying to purify the water of silt and iron ore. It wasn't until two years later that things started getting better. Thanks to the Prescott's, who truly did revitalize Drisking. Kyle's phone chirped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. It's Kimber. She wants us to come over. Okay, thanks, Ms. Scanlan. I mean, Catherine. Sure, and if you have any other questions,

questions, feel free to come by. We're almost always open during the day. Oh, and you can email me. She dug into her jacket pocket and pulled out a loose business card. It was creased and had a dusty smudge on it. Thanks. So what do you think? Kyle asked, as we got in the car. I don't know. It's weird, isn't it? I mean, why would the Prescott's give a shit if the town suffers after they refused to help him with their family and were actively working against them? Maybe they forgave him forgot. Does Jimmy Prescott seem like a guy to forgive and forget to you? Ugh, no, and his dad is even worse.

Exactly. Maybe we should... Turn here! Sorry, Kimber's still babysitting and she's over on Amherst. When we pulled up, Kimber was out in front with two young boys who were playing in the driveway. She was holding a sleeping baby and waving to us. We parked in the driveway and she introduced us to the two older kids. They gave us shy helloes and ran off to continue their game. Once she left, we explained everything that had happened to Kimber, while she listened and rocked the baby in her arms. Sam is right.

That doesn't make sense. But why are we even concerned about something that happened decades ago? Whitney. Kyle said, so I didn't have to. A flash of surprise crossed Kimber's face, and she walked over to put the baby down in his playpen. Then she walked back and pulled me into one of her famous, super comforting, not at all awkward hugs. When she released me, she began to pace around the driveway. Okay, so we think Whitney somehow got involved in all of this, and you're right, if we want to figure this out, we need to start at the beginning.

Phil is right. Every mystery in this town is one piece of a larger puzzle. It's all related. She stopped and looked over at us. We need to go to the source if we want answers. Yeah, that's not a bad idea. I know he likes to hang out in the hideaway and get drunk with ex-Sheriff Cleary. Ah, no, Kyle.

Not Jimmy. His dad. Tom? He's so crazy that he put him in a home. He's the horse's mouth, though, isn't he? Jimmy isn't likely to know half as much as his dad. But... As Kyle and Kimber argued, I watched the kids chase each other around the tree in their front yard.

There seemed to be something carved in the bark. Words, not unlike the triple tree at Amber Cot Fort. I was too far away to read what it said. Where's the nut house? I interrupted them. Is it close? It's not a nut house. It's more like a hospice.

The rumor I've heard is that he's at Golden Elm. That's about 40 minutes away. Kyle said and pulled out his phone. I'll check the visiting hours for Tuesdays. Sam, do you work tomorrow? I work every day, but I'll get out of it, I promise. Okay, cool. Let's plan and leave after school.

The following day dragged on, like any last Tuesday of the school year. Most people talked about what they did with their ditch day, or complained about a cop showing up at their house to issue them a ticket, while sliding less than pleased looks at me. When the final bell rang at 3.30, I grabbed my bag and booked it out to my car. Kyle and Kimber were already waiting for me. The drive took longer than expected when I got lost in Cape Girardo. The town was bigger than Drisking, and the streets weren't laid out with any sort of planning or logic.

By the time we arrived at Golden Elm, we only had 20 minutes left. for visiting hours. Kimber told the nurse at the front desk. We're here to see Mr. Thomas Prescott? We let her do the talking since she had a disarming, old-fashioned charm about her that put people in a friendly mood. Oh, old Tom? He hasn't had a visitor since Christmas when his son came up. Sign the check-in sheet and take a visitor sticker. Your family then? Do you know where his room is?

I'm sorry, we don't. My mother has been asking me to check in on my great-uncle while she's away doing doctors without orders. I should have gotten more information from her, but, you know, she only has so many minutes to call home. Oh, of course. Let me get someone to escort you. An orderly led us to Tom Prescott's room, which we found empty. He pointed down the hall and said, he likes to read in the sunroom. We walked down the hall and found an old, thin man sitting alone and whispering to himself. He was sitting at a table in front of a backgammon board, moving chess pieces around it. Tom Prescott? He didn't look up, and I wondered if he'd hurt her at all.

Kimber took a deep breath to try again, but the old man suddenly slammed his fist on the table. I'm him, God damn it, I'm Mr. Thomas Prescott. Don't call me Tom. People's kids who should have more respect. I'm sorry, sir. Kimber said gently as she sat down in the chair opposite him. You kids have no respect, even know who I am. It's my son that done it.

That boy's mama should have whipped him, but she was soft. Now he's running around my town spreading his vulgarity and disrespect. Our apologies, Mr. Prescott. We never meant to be disrespectful. We greatly admire you. You're the man who built our town into what it is today. Everyone remembers that. Drisking was suffering and the town was dying, and then you fixed it.

We know that. I did what I did. had to do. It was my town. There still is. Who are, you little girl, to come in here and suggest otherwise? Oh, no, no. That's not what I said.

And as for who we are, we're Mira McCasky's kids. Do you remember the McCaskies? Ah. Say her aid is, granddaughter. That explains why you're not there. We exchanged puzzled looks. We're right here, Mr. You know what I meant, young lady? They all know. They know I rescued the town. That's my town. Of course, they were going to let me do anything I wanted as long as the money kept coming in. That's why it's my town. Is the money still coming in?

Well, you're here, aren't you? They ain't like it, but they took the money. They didn't know. Not everything they didn't, but they suspected some. and they must have been okay with it because they kept electing Clary and they kept taking the money. Prescott picked up a pawn and ran his finger over it as he talked. It's just a powder, you know. So unassuming. A fine, soft powder. The powder doesn't know what it is. It doesn't know it's bad.

It's the people who say it's bad. But it needed to be done. You know that, Ada. You know we had to do it. I know. I know we had to do it, but it's your son. I don't think he's doing it right. Well, of course he isn't!

The elderly Prescott slammed his fist on the table again, and the two rooks tumbled to the floor. They were mine! He took them from me. He thought he could do it better, but he took mine and he ruined my legacy. Decades of work, and now it's all run. by the powder.

It's the dust of the crumbled empire. What about the skinned man? I asked, caught up in the moment. What are you talking about, boy? And the treehouse, the triple tree. What is it? What is it for? Triple tree?

I didn't authorize that. We paid triple the price, but it was only for a short while, when things were slow. We certainly never charged triple. That's bad business. Where is Barack? Has my idiot boy been telling you that? Did he offer you triple for them? He's ruining my town, isn't he?

God damn it, Jimmy. You get him in here. Ada, get my boy on the phone. You tell Jimmy I want to talk to him. You tell him they're still mine. Ada! Ada get Jimmy on the phone! Kimber jumped up and Kyle pushed her behind him

as the old man rose to his feet, tall and imposing. Long after we'd made it to the lobby, we could still hear Tom Prescott yelling for his son. The ride home was quiet, and I spent it trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together. The skinned men, the triple tree, the shiny gentleman, the powder. These things seemed to have been pulled blindly from the ether, random and meaningless. The veil over my eyes was thick and heavy, but I was closer to Barasca than I'd ever been. I could feel it all around me, but I couldn't see it.

I could almost touch it, but I couldn't yet comprehend it. I suddenly realized that Kyle was pulling over off the road, and I snapped out of my contemplation. He put the car in park and turned around to look at me in the back seat. Is this really about Whitney, Sam? Yes. Kimber watched us with worried eyes. Why do you think that? The cops, I mean, even your father confirmed that Whitney ran away.

I don't believe them, I said through gritted teeth. Look, Sam, we're getting pretty deep in here, and I am with you every step, but I have to know that there's a reason we're doing this. And pulling in Kimber, too? I have to know this is important to you for the right reasons and not just an obsession. I looked out the window and realized he'd pulled over near the West Rim Prescott or Trailhead. He was right to worry, and even more so to be protective of Kimber. Kyle was thinking it, and so was I. The powder.

If Barasca really did involve moving mass amounts of drugs, did I want to involve my friends any further? This wasn't their fight. I loved these people. Could I really risk their safety for my own curiosities and vendettas? But as hard as I wished I could let them go. I knew I needed them. I have to know what really happened to Whitney.

Kyle turned back around without a word, and Kimber placed her hand on mine. I jerked my head away and crossed my arms. and immediately apologized. Kimber just smiled in a forgiving sort of way. Kyle sighed. Sam. He was interrupted by the piercing ring of Kimber's phone. She scrambled for herself to silence it,

but when she saw the name on the screen, she quickly answered. Dad? What? Wait, what? What do you mean? Dad? No, wait, slow down. Hello?

She took the phone away from her ear. Something happened to my mom and she's at the hospital. Tears filled Kimber's soft green eyes. Kyle threw the car in gear and screeched off the parking lot. We made the 10-mile trip to the hospital in as many minutes, which was criminally fast on surface streets. Kyle stopped the car at the emergency entrance and Kimber and I ran inside. A deputy was waiting there. He refused to answer Kimber's desperate questions as he led us to her father.

When the deputy swung open the doors, I saw my dad. dad standing next to Kimber's, and I braced myself for the worst. Kimber's dad took her in one direction, and my dad took me and the other. Before he said a word, I saw Kimber crumpled to the floor on the other side of the room. I looked at my dad helplessly, and he gave me a sympathetic nod and pulled me into a hug. We sat in a corner, and I stared at my hands, as he quietly explained that Mrs. Destero had gone grocery shopping at one o'clock, come home, put the groceries away, made two lasagnas and a meatloaf, and put them in the freezer.

Then she got in her car, drove to the hospital, parked in the shade, took the stairs up seven floors to the roof and jumped off of it. She lived long enough to apologize to the EMT who found her. I watched Kimber fall apart as her mother's body slowly grew cold in the morgue one floor below us. Do you think she blames herself? I don't know, man, probably. I stretched out on the reclined seat of my Chevy and pulled the bill of my hat lower over my eyes.

But do you think she's okay? I didn't answer him. I certainly hadn't been okay when Whitney died, and Kimber was even closer to her mom than I was to my sister. She was definitely not okay. Sam, seriously, I'm fucking freaking out here. It's been two days. I pushed my hat up off my face and looked over a Kyle who was admittedly a wreck.

His eyes were bloodshot, his face sallow, and his red hair was greasy. Dude, her mom committed suicide. You know how close Kimber was to her mom? She just needed some time, but she'll be okay. She hasn't answered any of my text or calls. I've left her like nine voicemails, man. I think I'm going crazy. You just got to give her some space.

Yeah, but she's my... My... He still couldn't say it around me. I'm supposed to be looking after her. I sat up and pulled the chair up right behind me. Look, Kyle. I know you want to help Kimber, and I want to help Kimber. and I want to help Kimber too, but she hasn't answered our calls, been to school, or come to the

door when we've stopped by her house. She doesn't want to see us right now, and we have to be okay with that. Right now, Kimber knows what's best for Kimber. What about the suicide note? Do you think that has something to do with it? I sighed. We don't even know if there was a note. Kimber's dad was upset and messed up when he said that.

It's possible I misheard him anyway. I asked my dad, and he said there was no letter. Right, because your dad is such a beacon of trouble. Truth. One look at Kyle told me he immediately regretted his words. I shrugged. I don't know what to believe anymore. The truth was that I knew what I heard. Mr. Distero had said something to the cops about a letter, but I couldn't tell Kyle that. Not right now. He was already worried that his relationship with Kimber was part of the reason her mom had been so depressed. I'd asked my dad about the letter

when he'd come home after that long night, and he'd sighed, run both his hands through his care in a tired way and said, Sam, I don't know what to tell you. Anne Destero didn't leave a suicide note, and this is the first I've heard of it. With our best friend in mourning and our investigation on hold, Kyle and I had been existing in a sort of suspended state. We went to school intermittently, skipping classes here and there, missing end-of-year tests and smoking more weed than either of us could afford.

Without Kimber there to set us straight and keep us in line, we were lethargic, brooding, and irresponsible. I'd never realized how much I relied on her. Kyle and I skipped the last two periods of the day and debated on whether we should even go to school tomorrow, which was the last day of our sophomore year. We finally decided to show up for second period, which I was glad we did because Kimber showed up in biology. I didn't even see her at first.

I had my head on my desk, resting on folded arms when I felt a meek hand pat my shoulder. I turned around to see her standing there, looking unsure and uncomfortable. I gave her half a smile and pulled her into a hug, but it wasn't a super comforting, not at all awkward, Kimber hug. It was a longer, weaker hug, and I felt so protective in it that I was sad when it was over. How are you doing, Kay? I asked her when she finally released me. Kimber wiped a tear off her cheek. I'm okay.

And she gave me a wobbly smile, and I knew it wasn't true. I wrapped her into another quick hug as Phoebe Dranger gave us a snotty look. Have you seen Kyle yet? No, I have next period with him. He's been worried about you. I know. She said, sliding her eyes to the floor. Things have been really hard for me at home.

It's okay. We're here for whatever you need. Yeah, that's what I was hoping. Whatever you need. Since it was the last day of school, our teacher, Mr. Founder, was just happy to return our graded tests and let us bullshit the rest of the period. Kimber talked about the arrangements for the funeral that weekend, and chided Kyle and I for skipping finals to get stoned. When the bell rang, I could see that Kimber was both excited and nervous to see Kyle. As we packed up our bags,

I assured her that Kyle wasn't mad. He was just worried about her. She threw her bag over her shoulder, sat her jaw, and nodded. She was trying so hard to keep it together. As soon as Kyle saw her down the hall, he slammed his locker shut and walked towards us with such intensity, I began to wonder if maybe he was mad. He pushed past a dozen people without so much as glancing at them and left a curious, if annoyed, crowd in his wake. When he finally reached us, Kyle threw his backpack against the wall and swooped Kimber up in the sort of way you'd see in old black and white movies.

Everyone who'd all watched this unfold, including me, groaned in unison. Since most of the teachers weren't even bothering to take attendance that day, I went to calculus with Kimber and Kyle, where they had the same conversation Kimber and I had last period. Towards the end of the hour, the conversation faltered and became uneasy. Kyle and I exchanged a look over the top of Kimber's head, and I nodded at him. Kimber, did your mom leave a letter? What? Kimber asked in surprise.

I heard your dad talking about a letter on that day, on the day, on Tuesday. Oh. As we waited for her to continue, the bell rang for lunch. Everyone filed out of the room, but the three of us stayed sitting at our desks. Kimber, I finally said. She sighed sadly and looked over at Kyle. Yes. What did it say?

I don't know. I haven't seen it. I asked my dad for it when we got home and he said I'd misheard him and there was no letter. He said not to mention it to anyone else or I'd just upset people. Well, then we both misheard him, which seems unlikely. I've known my dad all my life, and I know when he's lying. People started to filter in for the next period, sliding sympathetic glances at Kimber. Since it was our lunch period, we gathered up our things and walked out to my car, as we always did.

I sat in the back seat, letting Kyle and Kimber take the front. Kimber took a deep breath and continued. I know my dad is lying, and I know he has the letter. Are you sure? Kyle asked. I could tell he was still terrified that some of the blame rested on him. Yeah, and I know it contains the name Prescott. I think I even know where it is.

Prescott? Yet somehow I wasn't that surprised. He was the axis around which everything that was bad orbited. How do you know it says Prescott? I heard my dad reading it once. I think he reads it a lot, actually. He was sort of sobbing and whispering the words and throwing. things in the office.

My dad, he hasn't been well. Do you think she was having an affair with Jimmy Prescott? I shook my head. I'm guessing you need to think bigger than that, Kyle. I agree. Kimber said to her hands in her lap. With everything we know about the Prescott's, I'm fairly sure this isn't about an affair.

It's all connected somehow, don't you think? My dad was the love of my mom's life, but she only left a letter for me. I think that somehow I'm the one she wronged. Not him. You know, I think she did something to me. Or maybe she did it because of me. Kimber's voice broke over the last sentence. Kyle pulled her over, kissed the top of her head, and whispered words to her that I couldn't hear. So we need to get the letter. I said after giving them a minute. Yes, I really need to read it. Kimber's voice was still wobbly. How do we get it?

If it's in the office, we just need to wait until her dad isn't home. Kyle said as he looked out of the window. You don't think I thought of that. He never leaves his office. Not since we got home from the hospital. He sleeps in there. So we need to get him out. No, we need to get me in.

Tomorrow's my mom's funeral and half of Drisking will be there, including my dad, of course. I need to leave without him noticing and run home so I can go through the office. Okay, that's easy. Without my dad noticing. And I need to be back by the end of the service. We both nodded, but stayed silent because it looked like Kimber was weighing saying more. My dad, he's been very cold, and I think, I think he blames me. That's bullshit.

Can you guys help me? Absolutely. Of course. We spent the rest of the lunch hour creating a plan far more strategic than the mission probably needed. Kyle and I would engage Mr. Destero in conversation. Then Kyle would get a text from Kimber telling him she was having a breakdown in the bathroom. Kyle would leave to go comfort her, and they would take my car to the Destero house. I would stay behind and keep an eye on Kimber's dad while they were gone.

I went to work that afternoon for the first time since Monday. Mirr seemed to be in a much better mood and let me go home early since it was Friday. I didn't sleep well, though, and I got up at 4 a.m. to go to. through my clothes, looking for something dressy and black to wear to the funeral. My dad came in before he left for work and found his disheveled, panicked teenage son, looking helplessly through piles of black clothing. He smiled pitifully and led me to his own closet. Since my dad and I had not only the same face, but the same build as well, finding something suitable to wear was easy. I thanked him, and he asked me to apologize to Kimber for having

to work through the service, and that he sends his love. And Destro's funeral was at an Episcopalian church on the other side of town. I picked up Kyle at nine and saw that he was also wearing a suit of his dad's, though he didn't fit it nearly as well and was constantly pulling up the sleeves and readjusting the waistline. Unfortunately for Kyle, he was much smaller than his dad. We parked as far away from the church as possible, where we hoped no one would notice a car leaving.

When we went inside the church, we saw that Kimber wouldn't have to do much. acting to convince people she was having a breakdown. We found her at the back of the room, tucked into a chair, and a puddle of curly orange hair and tears. Kyle sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. Jesus, Kimber, what's wrong? I kicked his foot and shot him a look that said, really? Kyle bit his lip. I mean, ah, fuck. There's no one here. Kimber whispered against his chest. My mom grew up here. She had hundreds of friends in this town. and no one came. I looked around, and I had to admit, the turnout was sparse.

A few groups of three or four people standing together. Kimber's dad who sat in a chair opposite the room of his daughter, with his head in his hands, and some family I recognized from barbecues at Kimber's house. Ex-Sharef Clary, with his wife, was there, standing with a few of my dad's deputies and talking quietly in the corner. I could see why Kimber was upset. As we waited for the service to start, I realized I'd never been to a funeral before. I wished we'd had one for my sister, but I knew we never could since Whitney was still legally alive.

It made me sad to think that she would never be laid to rest. Only a few other funeral goers trickled in, and the pastor began getting people seated for the service. I noticed the casket at the pulpit for the first time and was glad it was closed. Still, I had to wonder at the simple, unadorned, almost ugly coffin that had been chosen for Kimber's mom. I knew the Destrose had money, quite a lot of it actually. It was an interesting, almost insulting choice. Poor Kimber. Kyle and I stood Kimber up and started over to the pews, but she stopped abruptly.

I'm ready. She said and brushed the hair away from her wet face. Ready for... To leave. I can't be in here anymore. more. It's a disgrace to my mother. Kimber raised her head a notch and said her jaw. I knew this look, and it meant there was no reasoning with her. Kyle and I looked at each other. This wasn't the plan. It would be a lot more obvious if Kimber was missing from the service, especially with the low turnout.

You guys go over and say what we rehearsed to my dad. Kyle, I'll text you in 30 seconds. Go. Kyle nodded and started over, and I knew we weren't arguing. Mr. Destero was finally standing, looking over at the front pew reserved for him and his daughter with hesitation. Mr. Destero? I said as we approached. I'm very sorry about your wife. She was... Shit. I had forgotten my lines. A great woman who raised a wonderful daughter. Yeah. Do great women commit suicide, leaving their wonderful daughters alone in the world?

Uh, shit. Do great women jump off buildings and... make spectacles of themselves, and leave their families to deal with the publicity and the grief? Kyle's phone chirped. Thank God. Oh, that's Kimber. Kyle said, a little too fast, before he'd had time to actually look at his phone.

Oh, man, she isn't well. Says she's crying and feeling sick. I'm going to go help her. No. Mr. Destro yelled so suddenly that Kyle dropped his phone on the ground where it made a loud clatter on the stone floors. Not you. You don't help my daughter.

you don't even talk to her. He can go. And he pointed at me. Uh, okay. I stuttered. The plan had changed too much. I needed to somehow get the car keys from Kyle without being seen. Kyle gave me a shaky, subtle nod, and then he and Mr. Destro went to sit down.

It was obvious Kimber's dad was keeping an eye on Kyle. Getting the car keys from him was going to be nearly impossible. I backed into the shadows at the back of the room, while the pastor started. I texted Kyle four times, asking for help, but he wouldn't dare touch his phone. He just stared straight ahead, flicking, worried glances at Mrs. Desrow every few seconds. After several minutes, I went to find Kimber to see what she wanted to do, but she wasn't in our meeting spot by the back door. The plan was falling apart. I pulled out my phone and sent her a text. Where are you? Kyle is next to your dad, and I can't get the keys from him. I waited in the

hallway, tapping my phone against my hand nervously. After a minute or two, my phone vibrated. I'm sorry, I left without you guys. I had to get out of there. I'm so sorry. I'll be back before the end of the service, I promise. Shit. Be safe. It was now imperative that I'd not be seen. I went to the men's bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and played snake for the longest 20 minutes of my life. I knew the service wouldn't go on much longer, so I texted Kimber again. You on your way back yet? Did you find it? I sat, waiting, watching the minutes tick by.

I texted her again. I think the service is ending soon. Where are you? After another seven minutes of no response, I tried calling, but it went to voicemail. I tried again with the same result. I was getting nervous. I was about to try a third time when two people walked into the bathroom and my phone vibrated with the text. It was Kyle. The service was over. Kimber has the keys. Why aren't you guys back yet?

Did you find anything? I left the bathroom without washing my hands and received dirty looks from the two strangers at the urinals as the door closed behind me. I found Kyle staring at the window, looking for my car. Kyle, he jumped. Where's Kimber? What did you guys find? I don't know. She left without me. What the fuck? Why? Where is she? I don't know, Kyle. She left without. me. She's not answering my calls or texts. Fuck. Mine either. We have to keep an eye on her dad until she gets back. We're not the only ones.

Kyle said, gesturing across the room. What the fuck is going on? Three men were talking to Kimber's dad in a corner across the room. Chief among them was Killian Clary, who was flanked by his two former deputies. Drisking's retired sheriff had his hand on Mr. Destro's arm and was speaking to him in an angry, hush tone. Kimber's dad was shaking his head and desperately objecting to something. The two deputies walked out the front door of the church, and Mr. Destro sagged against

Killian Clary, who sat him in a nearby chair. Something was happening. Called Kimber. Now. I tried again, and this time the call rang twice and was sent to voicemail. I entered the call and threw up my hands, looking desperately at Kyle. Again. He said and took out his own phone.

I got the same result, but felt a jolt of relief when someone. answered Kyle's call, but it wasn't Kimber. Phil, what part of town are you in? I need a ride. It's an emergency. Yeah, man, I'm at Northridge Church. As fast as you can, I'm with Sam. I'll owe you.

Kyle hung up and then immediately tried Kimber's phone. She's sending me to voicemail, too. We both stood at the window, anxiously waiting to see Phil's silver Mazda pull up. Kyle chewed his lip, and I tapped my phone. Come on, Saunders. We threw occasional looks back at Kimber's dad until Clary stood up and ushered the now inconsolable man out of the church. Suddenly, Kyle's phone chirped, and we both looked down to see Kimber's name flash up on the screen. Kyle's knee is nearly buckled in relief, and he sagged against the wall.

I found it. Kyle opened the text and furiously typed a reply. They're coming for you, Kay. We both stared at the phone, waiting for a response, and just as the sun blinded us as it reflected off Phil's approaching Silver Mazda, we got one. They're here. It was the last message we got from Kimber. When Phil dropped us at the desk row house, we found the front door unlocked and no one home. My car was sitting in the driveway, unlocked with the keys in the ignition.

Kyle and I drove back to the church, but the funeral was over, and the few people that had attended it were already gone. We drove back to Kimber's house again, but it was just as we left it and no one was home. Kyle had lost it by this time and was an absolute wreck. He called her so many times, I was sure he'd kill her battery. His calls went straight to voicemail, and his text were unanswered. After an hour of begging from Kyle, I finally called my dad. He answered immediately. Sammy, what's wrong?

It's Kimber. She's gone, Dad. We've looked everywhere, but her and her dad are missing. She left the funeral early, and Killian Clary was talking to her dad, and then Samson and Craig left. And I think they went to her house and got her dad? I think they're still working for Clary. on the side or something.

I think they're going to do something bad. She... Whoa, whoa, slow down. Come by the station and let's talk. I'll take a statement from you, boys, and I'll send a couple of officers over to investigate the house right now. Just calm down, Sam.

We'll handle this. I hung up and threw my car violently into reverse, jerking the wheel to the left as I hit the end of the driveway. Sam, Sam, how do we know? How do we know we can trust the cops? I'm not trusting the cops. I'm trusting my dad.

I said. my words sounding hopeless even to me. I turned into the sheriff's office and Kyle was out of the car as soon as I slowed down enough to park. By the time I got inside, my dad had Kyle by his shoulders and was nodding solemnly at everything Kyle was telling him. When my dad saw me, he motioned for an officer to take us to his office. After a few minutes, he came in and sat down across the desk from us. All right, boys, I'm going to have Officer Ramirez come in in a few minutes and take a statement from you. I want you to know that at this point in time, it looks like the Destro's left town voluntarily.

No, no way, Mr. Walker. Kimber would never... My dad held up his hand for silence. Let me rephrase. Jacob Destero left town voluntarily. Kimber is a minor and has no legal rights here. If her dad said they're leaving, then they're leaving. But she's not answering her phone, and we went to the house, Dad. Nothing was packed.

Maybe they're just getting away for a while. Maybe going to relatives. I can't theorize as to why she wouldn't answer. answer her phone, other than maybe she wants to be left alone for a while. Kyle was exasperated. But... Look, I know it's hard for you to understand, but losing a family member takes a toll on a person. Sam, you know that.

We don't know how people are going to grieve, and we don't have a right to. I think it's likely that Kimber will be back by fall for school. The fall? Sheriff Walker, that's two months away. You need to investigate now! Kyle, I know you're upset, and no one said we're not going to investigate thoroughly. you investigated Whitney's disappearance thoroughly? I spat, and I didn't regret the words.

Sam! He snapped, with more force than I'd ever heard him use before. I'm tired of listening to you insinuate that I didn't do everything I could to find Whitney. I love your sister more than you can imagine. She's my daughter, Sammy, and I'll never give her up. And what about the deputies that left the funeral to go after her? Kyle interrupted. My dad raised an eyebrow at me.

Samson and Grigg. I ground out through clenched teeth. He sighed. "'Boys, Samson and Grigg left the funeral because I sent them out in a call. "'I stood up violently, knocking over my chair in the process. "'Oh, come on, Dad! "'All right, that's enough!' The sheriff slammed his hands on the desk and stood up.

"'I told you I would tell you what I know, and I have. "'I understand your friend is important to you, and God damn it, the Destrels are my friends, too. "'I promise you that I will use the full extent of my resources to track them down and put your minds at ease. "'But until then, all I can offer you is the assurance that there is no sign of foul play at this time. You boys need to get off the warpath and let us handle this. Now, Ramirez is waiting in the hall to take your statements, and then both you are going home. Understood? I said nothing and glared at my dad, seething with rage. Kyle stood up and walked out of the room with no emotion whatsoever. He walked past Ramirez, and I followed him out to the car. We got in and I waited for Kyle to say

something. I heard a loud sniffle and looked over at him to see his face slick with tears. It was the first time I'd ever seen Kyle like that, but not the last. He's lying. He whispered. I just shook my head. I didn't know what to believe. Kyle turned his face away from me. I know he's lying. Something bad has happened and he's lying about it. What? What happened? I heard more sniffling as Kyle tried to collect himself. Dude, fucking talk to me. What do you think happened? Kimber's gone like all the others.

So she's at the place where bad things happen. How the fuck had this happened? Not Kimber. Please, not Kimber. Was all this because of me? Had her mother killed herself because of something I'd done? Something we'd found out. Was Kimber taken because of me?

If I thought for more than one minute that that was true, I knew I would crack into tiny pieces. No. Not Kimber. No. Yes, Sam, fucking think about it! It's the treehouse! It's all the fucking same! Baraska, the skin men, the triple tree, your sister, the mountain, it's all the fucking same!

It's the Prescott Empire, and now Kimber has been fucking consumed by it! Where do we go? I could feel the warm tears of my own desperation and hopelessness sliding down my cheeks. What do we do? What do we fucking do? Kyle threw his hands up in frustration. We have to go to Amber Cod, right? It all starts and ends at the triple tree, Sam.

Surely you've figured that out. We've been to the treehouse a million times, Kyle. There's nothing there. I don't know what the fuck else to go, Sam. I jumped as someone tapped on the window of the car and wiped the tears off my face. I rolled down the window as Officer Grigg leaned down and looked in the car. You always move along home, all right? Yep.

I said and turned the key in the ignition. Officer Grigg waved at us as we pulled out of the parking lot, but we didn't wave back. The treehouse. We drove in silence, both of us trying to get a hold of ourselves. If we were going to be any kind of help to Kimber, we needed to be calm enough to think logically. I parked in a space next to the trailhead and saw several bikes tied to the post. As we made our way up the West Rim Prescott Orr Trail, we passed Parker and a couple of his friends coming down it. I nodded to him, but Kyle said nothing, just stared up the trail, reaching for the only

place he knew to go. It was almost dark by the time we got to Ambercott, and there was little light left to search for whatever Kyle hoped to find. It took half an hour in the darkness before I finally convinced Kyle that there was nothing there to help Kimber. And though we didn't speak of it, I knew that he and I were both painfully aware of all the sounds of the night. We were scared, terrified down to our very bones, that we would hear.

the piercing, scraping, grinding, and metal screams of the monster at Baroscow that we'd become so accustomed to over the years. We both dreaded it, prayed it would not come, and we did not speak of it. I dropped Kyle at home and promised we would find Kimber tomorrow. I swore we would. He gave me nothing more than a shallow nod and disappeared inside his house. My dad was waiting for me in the kitchen when I got home a few minutes later. I didn't look at him.

I just walked over to the fridge, realizing I hadn't eaten all day. Sammy, sit down. I want to apologize for today. I took out some chicken and cheese and went to the pantry for bread. I know you're scared, and I know that a lot has been going on that you can't exactly relate to. Anne. Anne had been depressed for a long while, Sam. Over 20 years.

That'll weigh on a person. I ignored him and continued making my sandwich. I was dying inside, wondering if I had been. I could even trust the man I'd called dad my entire life. She was suffering, Sam, and sometimes people who suffer that deeply don't know any other way out. She knew her depression was hurting her husband and her daughter, and maybe she mistakenly thought that she was doing them a favor.

Mom's depressed? I said without taking my eyes from my task, Your mother is coping okay, and this is very different, Sam. Kimber's mom has been depressed since she was in her 20s. Early in her marriage, Anne suffered multiple miscarriages. Infertility can be very hard on some couples, and not even Kimber's birth could totally ease her pain. Dad, with all due respect, I'm tired. I'm going to bed.

Kyle and I are getting up early to look for Kimber. I threw the knife in the sink with a loud clang and turned to look at my dad for the first time. Please tell me you're still trying to find Kimber. The sheriff stood up from the kitchen table, looking as tired and disheveled as I felt. I promised, Sammy. And I finally believed him. The next morning, when I pulled up to Kyle's house, Parker came out to meet me. Kyle's not here.

He left around five. Stoll my dad's truck. He's pissed so you better go. Thanks, man. I said and rolled up the window and took off down the street. I drove around all morning looking for Kyle and calling herself, but he didn't pick up until around noon. Sorry, man.

I couldn't sleep. Kyle sounded a bit more stable than yesterday. That's cool. Where are you at? I don't know exactly. A rare spot. I thought where I'm getting service. You in the woods?

Yeah. She's out here, Sam. Somewhere in these mountains. I could feel it. I know it. All right, well, let me meet you. Okay. Just come down to the West Rim Trail and I'll meet you there.

I was only five minutes away, so I arrived before Kyle had time to get down the mountain. Mr. Landry's Red Dodge Ram was parked haphazardly in a no parking zone, and I figured it would probably be towed by the time we got back. I doubted Kyle cared at this point, though. I crossed my arms and leaned against my chair as I waited for him, staring up at the dirty, red trail and impatience. When Kyle finally showed up half an hour later, he was covered in sweat and dirt and dejection. So?

I said, pushing up off the car. No, nothing, man. All right, well, let's keep searching. We hiked miles and miles off the mountain that day, but we didn't find any sign of human life. and for the next few days, if the sun was out, so were we. Kyle was growing more and more desperate, crossing on to private property to look for logging equipment and mapping out the county's many mines to search the abandoned buildings.

But the mountain was big, and the needle buried deep in the haystack. As the days slipped away, so did Kyle's sanity. Every time I saw my dad, he would give me a sober look and promise me that they were still looking. It seemed to me that even he was growing concerned. concerned. The Destro House remained as cold and empty as the space between the stars above it. On what was the 11th night of our Kimberless existence, I was awoken out of a troubled sleep by the piercing, whirling, screeching sound of death at Perosca. I cried myself back to sleep to the tortured sounds of Kyle's own agony next door. We had failed her. Kimber

was dead. When I pulled up to his house the next morning, I could tell Kyle had cracked. His skin had taken on a yellowed color and his voice was flat and void of emotion. It's not over, Kyle. I said as he dropped into the seat next to me. Yes, it is, Sam. He all but whispered. No, I don't believe that. Kimber's dad is missing too, you know.

Maybe it was him instead that was, I could barely bring myself to say it. We're living in hell. It's risking. It's hell in our own reality. I couldn't disagree. The town I'd grown to love seemed so foreign to me now. Whitney hadn't been an outlier like I thought. Missing people were the norm here, and that would make Jimmy Prescott the king.

He's Satan himself. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Kyle punched the car door, awaking from his dead state with rageful vigor. Oh, fucking killed Jimmy Prescott! Where is that motherfucker? You know he's involved in this, Sam! You know! Maybe partially, my said, staring at the,

the window. His dad created the town that bred this shit, but I'm pretty sure the Prescott's are just running drugs. You know, the powder. Yeah? And so what? He's recruiting people to be to be drunk meals or something? Maybe. I agreed for Kyle's sake, though I didn't really believe it. The sound, the great beast machine of Barasca, gave off the distant stench of death. And though I knew that physically that was impossible, it didn't change my mind about it. The air smelled different after the metallic wailing ended. We rolled over to Fourth Street gourmet coffee and bakery and went in to buy our usual provisions of rock stars and monsters.

As I paid for the four pack of cans, I saw Mira waiting on coffee at the end of the bar. I could tell immediately that she was in a good mood, something that I hadn't seen much of since I started working for her. It was probably a good time to tell her I was calling out of work for my fifth day in a row. Hey, Mira. I muttered when I approached. Uh, I can't come in today. I've got something really important.

Sam, oh my gosh, how are you? Um, okay. Good. Don't worry about coming in. I'll hold down the fort and I'm sure I can call Emmeline if I need help. But really, Sam, what have you been up to lately that's so important? My mind blanked. Just as I started to stutter out some bullshit about helping my dad, Kyle appeared behind me.

We're trying to find Barasca. He said with all the gravitas. of a eulogy. Ah, yes. Owen told me that you asked him about that. You know that's just a story, Sam. That legend's been around since I was a kid. Yeah, well, we're looking for our missing friend, Kimber.

We think maybe she's there. Oh, really? I thought I heard the Distaros were staying with relatives in Maine over the summer. Oh, well. Anyway, good luck, boys. Thanks. I trailed off, lamely. Kyle's voice was sour, and I knew his patience.

patience was thin. When we got back into the car, we each popped open a can of Rockstar and started chugging. I knew better than to ask Kyle if he wanted to smoke, since I was sure he hadn't lit a bowl since before Kimber disappeared. He finished the energy drink in under a minute and crumpled the can in his hand. I don't like your boss. Mira? Why not?

I don't know. She's just off. Well, I mean, she's been going through some things. I wasn't going to elaborate any further. Why were you asking her husband about Barasca anyway? I don't know. I was just making small talk and thought he might know. He seemed to know about a lot of other things.

And did he know? Nah. I took a long gulp of the sour drink, then choked on it when I remembered something Owen had said. Well, actually, yeah. He said A. Barasca instead of just Barasca. You know, like it's a thing instead of a place. Kyle lowered his rock star. And is it?

Is it what? Is it a thing? I don't know. I've never heard of it. I've googled everything weird about this town, but nothing ever came up. Did you spell it? I don't know. Do you know how to spell it?

I pulled out my phone. No, fuck Google. We need to talk to Catherine Scanlan. That's what Kimber would say. He was right. Catherine Scanlan may be the most knowledgeable person in town and was probably the right person to ask. I pulled out of Fourth Street coffee and prayed she was at her office already.

When we parked in front of Drisking Arts and Antique, and antiques, I was disappointed to see that the store was dark. Kyle pointed to a small, cheap, open sign hanging in the front door, and I crossed my fingers that it was for Catherine's office. I was relieved to find the door unlocked, and we hurried past all the antiquities and blown glass at the back of the store, where we found an open door and Catherine sitting at her desk. Boys! She stood up when she saw us.

You're out quite early for summer break. How did the essay do? Uh, great. Actually, we're here for more help. personal interest. Catherine raised her eyebrows. Color me impressed. I needed to get right down to it.

If by some small chance, Kimber was still alive, then every second counted. We're here because we want to know if Barasca is a thing or a place. Catherine raised her eyebrow. I remember that legend as a kid. I'd actually have to tell you I didn't know if it wasn't for Wyatt. He knew so little about so much. I saw a jack-of-all-trades. Anyway, he told me an interesting fact once about the Barrowska.

It's both. What do you mean? Well, the term Baroscow is just old, outdated lexicon. The word was used by minus to describe an underperforming mine. I leaned over her desk. A mine? I whispered. Kyle shook his head.

We've been looking at mines. So all the mines in Butler County are Barrascus? Well, generally it's only the first mine in the system to run dry that's called a barosca. Do you know which mine ran dry first in our mining system? Kyle asked from where he stood near the door, repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists. Ah, not off the top of my head, no. I can look, though. I think I have those records here somewhere.

Catherine walked behind her desk and opened a drawer of loose files. This is an odd thing to be interested in, for boys your age. But I guess I should be glad you two are so eager to learn, especially over the summer. Yes, ma'am. Very eager. Is the Barasca the first mine that ran out of ore? Was that by chance the same one those kids disappeared in? The McCarskies?

Oh. No, I don't think so. That particular mine was the Southwest mine, and it was very close to town. I think it was one of the last to close, actually. Ah, here we go. This packet should have that information. Catherine spent far too long moving books around on the desk to make room for the stack of papers she had.

Kyle and I paced around the room, nervously trying to appear casually interested, while the energy drinks started coursing through our systems. Here we go. The first mine to close was a north-central mine, which was, yeah, actually when the first to open. But where is it? Kyle walked over to the desk and braced his arms on it. Where is that mine? Catherine pulled over a different stack of papers and started to fumble through it. After the longest minute of my life, she made a sound and pulled out a large yellowed piece of paper that unfolded into a standard A4 size.

She unfolded it on the desk and leaned over to read the markings. I could see from where I was standing near the doorway that it was a map, and I knew we weren't leaving this office without it. Let's see. That mine was further up on the mountain. A little harder to get to. See? And she pointed at a small dot on the map that was at least four miles from where we'd been looking. Can we take this? We'll bring it back.

Of course. I'm sure I have copies. Listen, if you boys are going exploring... I'm bringing my dad. Oh, excellent then. You guys have fun. She yelled at us as we rushed out of the building. We didn't stop to answer her. Fun was far from our minds. It's so far from where we've been looking.

We need to go there now and we need to get a gun. Kyle stuttered. A gun? Where are we going to get? Get a gun, Kyle? From your dad. He's not going to give us a gun, man. Fine, then let's scout the place first and we'll come back with a gun.

That didn't seem like a good idea to me either, but what choice did we have? After studying the map for several minutes, we realized the easiest way to access the mine was still through the West Rim Prescott Ore Trail. We parked at the trailhead and made the familiar hike down the marked trail and then up the beaten path, realizing that we'd have to travel past Ambercott 4 on the way, and I knew in my heart that we were going the right way. We were walking the same path that so many people before us had on their way to Barasca. But what had they found there? We passed the treehouse, which was as silent as the morning. We walked on in the woods, further north than we'd ever been before,

and soon we were flying blind, hiking in the general direction of the dot on the map, and hoping we were still on course. Within an hour, I began regretting that we'd come without provisions, emotional and unprepared. By noon we'd been hiking for four hours, and it seemed to me that we were lost. I tempered the welling panic with thoughts of Kimber and Whitney and the answers to the mystery that had absorbed my life for so many years. Kyle, for his part, said nothing and kept his eyes straight and his mission his priority. And then, just as the sun teetered on the apex of the day,

we saw an emptiness through the trees and the hard lines of man-made buildings. Kyle quickened his step, and I rushed to keep up. We finally broke through the tree line, and I choked on my own deep breath and fell back against a tree as I looked over the quiet encampment. A large wooden signpost that was almost as long as the entire clearing was still standing near the entrance of the mine. It had to be a century old, and though most of the letters had rotted off of the years, from those remaining, I could guess that it had once said, Drisking underground mine. What was left, however, was Skin, N-D, M-I-N.

Skinned men. That way. Kyle pointed to the north end of the camp. We stepped out from the shadows and into the vulnerability of the clearing. There were several large buildings still standing, and the boarded-up entrance to the ore mine was set back in the mountain. We're not going in there, I whispered. Let's try that building.

He said and pointed to the one nearby. which was the largest and at least two stories tall. We counted to three and then ran across the camp to the large wooden door of the old building. They were cracked open, and when we squeezed inside, I had no doubt the death was indeed present in Berosca. We were standing in what I guessed was a refinery, and in the middle of the room was a large, silver, conically shaped machine. A conveyor belt fed into it, and the room had a sour smell. Even the dirt beneath our feet seemed to have taken on a crimson hint. This is the machine.

This is where they take them. I said, this is the place where people die. Kimber isn't here. Come on. I was only too happy to squeeze back out the door of the building and tiptoe around the side. We rounded a corner and almost ran into a recently waxed, shiny green truck parked there. This is Jimmy Prescott's truck. I breathe.

I know whose truck it is. We were now on extraordinarily high alert. Kyle dropped to the ground and began to commando crawl around the building. I followed him, waiting to hear a shout or a gunshot, but none came. As we crawled around the back of the building, Kyle turned around to me and put his finger over his lips, then pointed at a one-story brown building that was only a dozen feet away from us. He got into a crouched position and moved as fast as he could across the gap between the two buildings. I did the same.

As soon as I reached the wall next to me, Kyle whirled around and put another finger to his lips and then pointed up to the window directly above us. There were noises coming from inside, and even to me, a 16-year-old virgin, the sounds of sex were unmistakable. I could hear an animalistic grunting and the tired, objecting groans of an old mattress. Unable to help myself, I whispered, what the fuck? To Kyle, but he was already gone, all caution abandoned. running around the side of the building. I followed him in through the first door we came upon, and was hit in the face by an invisible wall of filth and suffering. The smell knocked me back, but Kyle kept running. I followed him in, past crates of ramen noodles, MREs, bottled water,

and boxes I had no time to read. I crossed another threshold, and I was suddenly surrounded by people. So many people. I skidded to a halt and realized I was standing in some sort of dorm, Rows and rows of beds on either side of me, with people strapped to them, some of them wearing dirty rags and some wearing nothing at all. Many seemed to be bloated, and I waited for one to call out to me, but they all remained silent, some watching me through tired, dead eyes, and others turning away. Looking around, I realized they were all women, and the bloating I saw seemed to be pregnancies. Some were confined to their beds, and others were not.

I looked around the room for Kyle and saw him standing a little further in the long room, looking back at me with the same confused, wild expression I was sure was on my face. I saw the realization cross his and called out to him, but he was already running again. I lost him before I had taken five steps to follow. I figured it was probably best to just keep running, spread out and look for Kimber. I didn't see her in this room, and I was sure she would have called out to us if she was. I looked around for another door and saw one cracked open on the left behind a row of beds. I stared straight at it as I made my way there, desperate to avoid the wretched, void eyes of the women around me.

First we help Kimber, then we help the others. I will come back and help you all, I promise, as soon as I find Kimber. Without a thought, I pushed the door open as soon as I'd reached it and found the source of the noises we'd heard outside. It was Jimmy, something I'd been expecting to see, but the scene before me was not. He was hunched over the bed of an almost unrecognizable, unresponsive Christy, treating her like an animal. She watched me through the slits of her dead eyes, but she didn't call to me for help. I thought I saw a tear run down her cheeks before she turned her face away from me to face the wall on the other side. What the fuck?

I didn't even realize the words were audible. I'd never seen this depth of human suffer. Jimmy's head snapped around to look at me and briefly registered surprise before he smiled at me in a way that turned my insides to ice. He didn't stop what he was doing, and I wanted nothing more than to run over and push him off Christie, but to my utter shame, I couldn't force myself to come any further into the room. Sam? Sam!

Kyle's voice echoed through the building and immediately cured me of my paralysis. I found myself running back into the miners' dorm and away from Jimmy Prescott and Christy. Kyle! Back here! Hurry! Please! I found Kimper! I followed his voice through the maze of beds and rooms as a cacophony of voices began to follow me.

Help us. Please. There were maybe only a handful of girls yelling at me, but it sounded thunderously loud as it filtered through my guilt. The weight of their misery dropped down upon me and it almost pushed me into the ground. I will. I'll get help. I'll help you. I promised them as I followed Kyle's voice, still screaming desperately from an adjacent.

vacant room. I sprinted across another threshold and saw him, hunched down near a corner bed, helplessly yanking on a leather strap attached to it. I slammed into the bed and fell to my knees, trying to work out what he was doing and how I could help him. I tried not to look at the bed because I knew I couldn't see her like that. I couldn't bear it. If Kimber looked at me through the same accusing empty eyes as Christy and the others had, I might lay down on the ground beneath her and curl up into a ball. Go around the other side! Unbuckle the other two straps! Kyle had the high-pitched voice and wild, desperate eyes of madness.

I ran around the other side and did as he said was shaking awkward hands. Oh, boys! Jimmy's voice rang out from somewhere in the building. I had just freed Kimber's ankles and was working on her wrist. She whimpered when he heard him and buried her face in my shoulder. Do you think you're hiding? I know where to find you. I know right where I put that girl. Oh, fucking kill you, Prescott, you sick, cunt! I'll fucking stomp on your bones and bleeds you out, you little motherfucker!

Kyle had lost all reason and strategy. He was filled with rage instead of fear, and it scared me even more. I pulled Kimber's wrist from the final strap and yelled. Go! Now! We pulled Kimber up off the bed and quickly realized that her legs could barely support her. She was heavily sedated and breathing weakly. We braced her on the other side and moved as quickly as we could through the nearest door. doorway away from Jimmy.

We were in another dorm, though this one was filled with mostly empty beds. I could see sunlight shining through the door at the end of the long room, and we raced toward it as Kimber made little cries of pain. I didn't think my heart could bear anymore, but I was wrong because in that next moment, it did. I almost dropped Kimber when I saw her staring at me. Her eyes were hollow and uninvested, and when I turned toward her, she looked away immediately as if she couldn't stand the side of me.

Whitney, I said weakly. Sam! I can't! I turned towards him as tears ran down my hot cheeks and Kyle saw her too. I can't. I can't stay. Kyle said, still moving toward the door. I have to get Kimber away from here.

Please. But he knew I wasn't going anywhere now. Good luck, bro. I said, and then we were both running in different directions. Whitney's hair was long, but it was thin, as was her face. Everything on her looked brittle except for her stomach, which bubbled out from her like an overblown balloon. She refused to look at me and flinched at my touch as I tried desperately to unbuckle her from the bed. I didn't even finish the first belt when I heard Jimmy walk up behind me.

I didn't bother to look at him or stop trying to free my sister. I admire your grit, kid. I didn't know what else to do. Jimmy said, and then sat down on the bed behind me and continued to watch me, giving no objection to what I was doing. You probably think your friends got away, but there's no sense in false hope, is there? There's no sense in any of this. My voice sounded frail.

You're wrong about that, but just so you know, I've got Clary out there looking for them already. People making a lot of noise coming down off this mountain. Trust me on that. Sheriff Clary, I was desperate to keep him talking, anything to keep him from trying to stop me. Oh yeah. You know, he was supposed to retire from the business, but unlike the previous sheriff, he kept a few horses in the race. Horses? Nothing made sense. Yep. Jimmy slapped the bed next to me. We call these buildings the stables. I dropped the last buckle on the floor and looked down at

Whitney. I expected her to spring up and run towards the door while I went after Prescott, but all she did was rub her wrists and itch her collarbone. She then put her arms back where they'd been, turned her head away from me and shut her eyes. I slumped down onto the bed next to her and picked up her cold hand. If she wasn't leaving here, neither was I. It was over. I sent a silent prayer to a God I didn't know and wished my friend's safety. Do you want to know what that is, Sam?

I shrugged. It didn't seem to matter now. It's all about the babies. I stared down at Whitney and her swollen belly, but gave no indication I was listening. you wouldn't believe how much money is in the industry. I mean, my dad was a smart man, and he knew we didn't have anything of value to sell, and back then the Prescott's were dirt poor,

out-of-work minors just like everyone else in this town. He first got the idea when he sold my older brother off to pay for the legal fees to fight the city. I mean, some people will pay five figures for a newborn, you know, even back then. and the organizations that buy them while they buy in bulk, but we still make a killing off them, and our overhead is very low. Jimmy stood and pulled a gun out of his waistband, then threw it on the bed across the aisle.

You know, try to understand, Sammy. It's not just about the money. We use the stables for community services, too. Lots of people in town come to us, you know, ever since the 50s. I couldn't take anymore. I didn't want to be here listening to this. I didn't want to see Whitney's so broken, and I didn't want to wait for her inevitable death. It was torture in its purest form.

What are you waiting for? Why don't you just kill me? This isn't a James Bond movie. I don't care about any of this shit. Jimmy laughed loudly as if it was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Kill you. Christ, kid. If I could, then I already would have.

But I'm not allowed to kill you. I've been trying to decide if I want to fuck your sister right in front of you, though. She's not one of mine, but it might be worth it just to see your face. Just kill me and let her go. Fuck, I'll kill myself if you let her go. I stood up from the bed, and Jimmy took two steps toward me and punched me so hard in the face that I fell back down on it. I moaned as I fought the tears and stars behind my eyes. She's got one of our community service babies in her.

Grace says she's got another week to go. Two tops. Jimmy looked down at Whitney and frowned. She's been putting out shit babies, though. And as soon as this one's out of her, she's got a date with the shiny gentleman. What the fuck does that mean? I yelled at him, and a loud ring suddenly filled the room. Jimmy held up a finger and pulled a phone out of his pocket.

I got to take a business call. Two minutes. And we can get back to our conversation. Jimmy walked over to a corner of the room, and I desperately started to pull on Whitney. We got to go. We got to go. We can't stay here. She kept her eyes shut and her body lacks.

Whitney, they're going to kill you. My head whipped towards the door as I heard a truck skid in the dirt just outside of it. Jimmy ended his phone call and Killian Clary walked in, pushing a limp, bloody Kyle in front of him. Lose something, Prescott. Where's the girl? Couldn't find her. God damn it, Clary. It fucked us.

Go back out there and find that girl. Jimmy snatched his gun off the bed and shoved it back. to his waistband. Now listen to you, you little shit. I ain't your fucking employee. And I don't have all fucking day to play hide and seek in the woods. I'm telling you she wasn't with him. So I guess if you want to know where she is, you should get it out of him.

Cleary threw Kyle down on the floor and spit near his feet. I got to do your fucking job now. Jimmy walked over and without hesitation kicked Kyle so hard in the ribs I heard some of them snap inside his chest. I tried to stand up, but I was still. still dizzy and fighting off the darkness. Where's your girlfriend, Landy? Prescott raised his boot and then stomped down hard on Kyle's ankle. He screamed in pain.

I can do this all day, kid. Cleary sat down on the bed across the aisle and lit a cigarette, watching impassively. Jimmy pulled Kyle to his feet and then punched him hard in the face. A few of Kyle's teeth scattered across the floor. Tell me, you little cunt! Jimmy punched him again in the face and Kyle went limp. You're killing him! I screamed.

and jumped off the bed, running blindly towards Jimmy in a red rage. Clearly he stood up and caught me with no effort at all, holding my arms down at my sides. He laughed. Cigarette still tucked into the corner of his mouth as I struggled helplessly against his chest. Jimmy had straddled Kyle by now and was rapidly punching him in the face and chest. Kyle was barely conscious, and I prayed he'd pass out from the pain. After a full minute of this, Jimmy stood up and rubbed his bloodied fists. Last chance, Landy, you.

Kyle said through a wheezing, rattled breath of air. Jimmy spit on him and raised his foot as high as he could and brought it down on Kyle's face with so much force that I heard his skull break. I sagged in Killian's arms and he dropped me into a puddle at his feet. Jimmy bummed a cigarette off Cleary and they stood next to Whitney's bed watching me cry. Jesus, what a mess. After a few minutes, Cleary flicked his cigarette out and pulled out his phone. All right, Sam.

Take your friend. I couldn't have heard him right. Fuck that. That little landy shit ain't leaving here. You want to clean this mess up, Brisco? I stood up and my knees didn't buckle beneath me. I'm not leaving without my sister. I told him.

Jimmy laughed. Yes, you are. If you want to save your friend's life, he ain't dead yet, Sam. but he will be soon. He tossed his keys at me. The road off this mountain is back by the refinery. I let the keys bounce off me and fall to the floor.

I knew he was right. I was a coward, and I would leave my sister and all the others here just so I could get away and save Kyle's life. I picked up the keys, and then, without looking at the two men, I picked Kyle up by his shoulders, and his head rolled back as if it was no longer attached to his spine. His face was a collage of pulp and blood, and I struggled to. to stay calm and breathe as I dragged him out of the building. Cleary and Prescott watched me, taking drags off their cigarettes and saying nothing.

I knew they were probably lying to me. Kyle would be dead by the time I got down the mountain if he wasn't already. I opened the door to Cleary's old Ford and placed Kyle in the front seat, wincing as his head rolled around like a ball in a string. It took me almost an hour to get down the mountain, even though I took an overgrown road at a ridiculous speed and did everything I could to destroy the shocks on the truck, I sped into the hospital's emergency zone and found a medical team waiting inside the door. It was clear they'd gotten a call to expect me because they already had a crash car with

them and an IV ready to push into Kyle's wrists. I left Cleary's truck where it was and spent the next two hours in the waiting room, calling my dad over and over again, crying over an architectural digest magazine. No one came to take a statement from me or ask me any questions. Kyle's mom arrived just before my dad did and started screaming as soon as she saw me. My dad walked in behind her and had a deputy restrain her. He drove me home in silence, but I couldn't take it for long. Is anyone going to file a police report?

Does anyone even fucking care what happened? Sam. He didn't turn to look at me. I did my best to do damage control in the situation, but if Kyle dies or his parents sue, there's nothing I can do to keep you out of court. Do you think I did this? I screamed at him. We're not going to tell your mother, all right?

She has enough to worry about. Dad, it's, I, Kimber, it was fucking Prescott and Sheriff Clary. Yes, you arrived at the hospital in Killian's truck. We already talked to both of them. I was so frustrated and full of rage that my next words came out a jumbled, stuttering mess that ended in a helpless scream. We pulled into our driveway, and my dad turned off the car and finally turned to look at me as I struggled to catch my breath. Samuel, we will never speak of this again. Do you understand?

Are you fucking kidding me, Dad? Gile might fucking die. I saw Kimber. Enough. If you want this to go away, you will keep your mouth shut about it. Make no statements to anyone, and I'll hire the best lawyer I can afford to clean up your mess. I don't know why you beat your best friend almost to death, and frankly, I don't want to. You—

Fuck you! I screamed at him and threw open the door to the cruiser. I ran then, away from him in the house and my broken life. He didn't come after me. not that day or any other. Since everyone in the town thought I was a violent thug, no one would let me stay with them when I called around. I eventually went to a motel far outside of town and drained the last of my savings from work

paying for the room. I went back to pick up my car from the trailhead, but it was gone, and I hoped it was Kimber who had it and not a towyard. I read the paper every morning for some mention of Kyle's condition. I saw the Daily's birth announcement about ten days later. They had just had a son that they named William. The whirling, twirling, shiny gentlemen lit up the valley with the stench and song of death that night. It was the last time I ever heard it.

I stayed in Drisking long after the money had run out, and I was sleeping on the concrete behind the motel. I stayed until Kyle was released from the hospital, a mute, empty-eyed, soulless vegetable. I went to see him once, while only Parker was home, and threatened him until he let me inside the house. When I had assured myself that the Kyle I knew was dead, and only this empty husk remained, I left his house and hitched hike out of town. And after I spent four drunken, drug-fueled years in Chicago, I came home one day to find a letter waiting for me. It didn't have a return address, but it was postmarked California.

I knew it was from her before I'd even picked it up. She'd written so many of my assignments for me that I knew Kimber's handwriting better than my own. inside it was a letter, the letter. I read it only once many years ago, until I sat down to record all this today. My Kimber, I know you aren't going to understand why we did the things we did. It was all born out of love. At least, it started that way.

You're everything to me, and you will always be my daughter. Do you understand? and I'm leaving this world because of what I've done to you, not because of what you are. I don't want you to be upset about what you are, because who you are is beautiful. My dearest, this town has done horrible things, and to all of us who live here are guilty.

Read this letter and leave this place. I need to tell you all of this. I need to start at the beginning. Somewhere along the way decades ago, the major population of drisking became unable to bear children. Most people blame the town for letting the iron ore leak into our water table during the collapse of our minds. This is the same water table that still provides the town's water today. They were never quite able to fix it

and ore as toxic and exposure causes infertility. The town did and still does suffer greatly from its effects. And the press guts, they solved the problem that no one could solve. It was an ugly, crass solution, but most people were happy to look away when they were able to raise families again. You see, they took girls, mostly women from other places. and they impregnated them and gave us their babies.

And the town came under the care of Thomas Prescott when he started to sell some of the babies on the side for a profit to rich couples. And the sheriff, he helped him do this. But then an ugly rumor started that they were selling to human traffickers, and the Prescott's had to offer triple the price for girls. And in town, we began to murmur. But we once again turned the other cheek when the city was suddenly flooded with money because of how well the traffickers paid.

People had well-paying jobs again and were proud to call Drisking home. So we said nothing. And those that did were taken to the mountain. Because that is where they do it. There's a place on the mountain where the women are taken, Kimber. Drifters runaways and if their parents choose it.

Sometimes the girls in town are even sold back. They arrange to sell the girls and they meet them at a tree halfway between our town and their baby mill. Sometimes kids play there now. I think you played there. The Preskets and the sheriff are the ones who impregnate the girls and the children are named after them. P-children for the Preskets and K-children. for the sheriff, and then when the women become too sick or too old to deliver profitable babies, they are sent through a giant machine that was used to refined ore, and their bodies are crushed,

and the blood and skin stripped away. And what remains of them are their stolen children and the dust of their bones, and all that's left of their bodies is the powder that they spread over the mountain to hide our crimes. I'm telling you this, Kimber, because you are one of those children. Most of your friends are one of those children. Please get out of drisking before your father finds this letter. Run away and never come back and never speak of it to anyone.

Their industry has deep roots now, and the traffickers have lofty connections. Don't tell anyone, don't keep this letter. Don't look back. I love you. I'm sorry I have to leave you. We all have to answer for our sins, and I'm ready to burn in hell for mine. Love always and forever. Mom.