The NoSleep Podcast - NoSleep Podcast S7E25

Episode Date: September 25, 2016

It's episode 25 - the finale of Season 7. On this special episode we feature The NoSleep Podcast production of C.K. Walker's "Borrasca"."Borrasca" written by C.K. Walker.Starring:Matthew Bradford as Sam WalkerJessica McEvoy as Kimber DestaroJeff Clement as Kyle LandyErika Sanderson as Kathryn ScanlonMike DelGaudio as Sheriff CleryNikolle Doolin as Sam's MotherElie Hirschman as Phil SaundersDavid Cummings as Thomas PrescottSpecial Guest Stars:Mike Flanagan as Sam’s FatherKate Siegel as Meera McCaskeyTodd Faulkner as Jimmy PrescottAlison Crane as Anne DestaroFeaturing:Nichole Goodnight, Atticus Jackson, Dan Zappulla, Addison Peacock, Kyle Akers, Alexis Bristowe, Corinne Sanders, Tisha Boone, and Wendy Corrigan.Click here to learn more about the voice actors on The NoSleep Podcast Click here to learn more about C.K. Walker Click here to learn more about director Mike Flanagan's upcoming movie, "Ouija: Origin of Evil", featuring Kate Siegel Click here for the award-winning podcast "Uncanny County" created by Todd Faulkner & Alison Crane Executive Producer & Host: David CummingsMusical score composed by: Brandon BooneAudio adaptation produced by: Phil Michalski"Borrasca" illustration courtesy of SabuAudio program ©2016 - Creative Reason Media Inc. - All Rights Reserved - No reproduction or use of this content is permitted without the express written consent of Creative Reason Media Inc.. The copyrights for each story are held by the respective authors.  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Welcome to the No Sleep Podcast and our Season 7 finale. On this special extended episode, we are proud to feature a story from author C.K. Walker. Ms. Walker's writing has produced some of the most enduring and terrifying tales we've had the pleasure of adapting for audio. Classics such as Room 733, Paradise Pine, and Blue Ridge. I would encourage you to add her collection of short stories titled Cold Thin Air to your collection of e-books or paperbacks, including its recently released third volume. Her writing is available on Amazon, so search for C.K. Walker or Cold Thin Air to immerse yourself in the terrifying work of this immensely talented writer. In this epic tale of hers, we meet a young man named Sam Walker. Sam and his family moved to the small town of Drisking,

where he quickly starts to learn the terrifying truth about a quaint urban legend in that small mining town. This production stars Matthew Bradford, Jessica McAvoy, and Jeff Clement, including 14 of our voice actors from the No Sleep Players. And it features special guest stars Kate Siegel, Mike Flanagan, Todd Faulkner, and Allison Crane. And now, we invite you to join us in Drisking, to listen warily for the strange sounds coming off the mountain, and to brace yourself for the disturbing truth behind. Boraska.

I was upset when they told me we were moving to some town out in the Ozarks. And I remember staring at my plate as I listened to my sister throw a temper tantrum unbefitting of a 14-year-old honor student. She threw a bowl at my dad and told him it was all his fault. Then she stormed off, slamming every door in the house on the way to her room. I'd heard the whispers, too. Dad had done something bad, and the sheriff's department had. reassigned him to some podunk county to save face. My parents didn't want me to know that, but I did.

I was 12, so it didn't take me too long to warm to the idea of a change. Whitney, of course, never did. She begged our parents not to make her leave her boyfriend. In the days leading up to the move, Whitney cried and threatened to run away from home, but when we pulled up to our new house in Drisking, Missouri a month later, she was sulking right next to me. We'd moved over the summer, so I had months of free time to explore the town. The city was much smaller than St. Louis, but 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 healthy forest land with walking trails and clear lakes. I was 12. It was summer, and this was heaven. We'd only been living in Drisking for a week when our next-door neighbors came. came to introduce themselves, Mr. and Mrs. Landy, and their 13-year-old son, Kyle. While our parents talked, I watched the Landy's lanky, red-headed son hang out in the doorway, and shyly eye the PS2 in the living room. Do you play?

Not really. Do you want to? I just got Tekken 4. Um, 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 exploring the Ozarks and the hot afternoons in my living room playing PS2. He introduced me to another kid in our neighborhood,

a skinny quiet girl named Kimber Distaro. She was shy but friendly and always up for anything. With my dad at work all the time, my mom consumed with new friendships, and Whitney 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

and which lakes were the most accessible by bike. It wasn't long before it felt like home. On the last Saturday before school started, Kyle and Kimber told me they were going to take me somewhere we hadn't been yet. The Triple Tree. What's a triple tree? It's a totally awesome, huge treehouse out in the woods. Whatever, Kyle.

Come on, if there was a freaking treehouse, you would have showed it to me already. And there's a ceremony for first-timers. Kimber nodded eagerly in agreement. Her dark orange curls bouncing off her shoulders. Yep, it's true, Sam. If you enter the treehouse without the proper ceremony, you'll disappear, and then you'll die. That's a lie.

You guys are lying. No, we're not. Yeah, we'll show you. We just have to get a knife for the ceremony, and then we'll go. Why do you need a knife? Is it a blood ceremony? No. 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. Okay, I guess I'll do it then. Kyle insisted on using the same knife from his own ceremony. Mrs. Landy just happened to be home with her youngest son Parker, and despite Kyle's objections, she insisted he take his six-year-old brother with him.

I'd met the youngest Landy several times before, and found that he was unlike his older 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 brown hair. We followed Kyle to a lesser-known trail a few miles away. When we pulled up to the trailhead, we leaned our bikes against a wooden signpost which read West Rim Prescott or Trail. Why are so many trails around here named Prescott?

Because of the Prescott's. You know, the family that lives in the mansion up on Fairmont, they own like half the businesses in town. More than half. Did they start this town? Nah, we're a mining town. I want to go home. Parker had been so quiet I'd completely forgot he was there.

Kyle rolled his eyes. Well, you can't go home. Mom said I had to bring you. It's only like a two-mile walk. I want to take my bike. Too bad. We're going off trail. I'll stay with the bikes. Don't be a wussy.

I'm not. Kyle, be nice. He's only five. I'm six. Kimber smiled at him. I'm sorry. You're six. 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 Kimber stuck her hand out and wiggled her fingers at him. He took it. We walked a half mile down the trail, and then a mile and a half up, a well-tread path up the mountain. It was a steep climb, and by the time we got to the treehouse, I was winded. What do you think?

I smiled. It's pretty awesome. And it was. The treehouse was the biggest one I'd ever seen. It had multiple rooms and actual curtains in the window. A sign above the door read Amber caught fort and a rope ladder hung below the threshold, missing several planks. I'm going up first. Kimber caught his arm. You have to do the ceremony first, or you'll disappear.

That'd be fine with me. Give me the knife. I held up my hand and Kyle dug the switchblade out of his pocket. There's some space in the back to carve your name. I walked around the tree looking for an empty spot. There were so many names on the trunk that I had to crouch down and search near the bottom. I saw both Kyle and Kimber's carvings on the tree, and I found a spot I liked near the ladder. I bit my tongue and carved Sam W into a blank piece of bark.

Kyle did Parker's for him. All right, let's go. I ran over to the rope ladder. Wait, you have to say the words first. Oh, yeah? What are they? 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. Parker and I recited the poem and then bounded up the rope ladder eager to see inside the fork. The tree house was more or less empty, just a few, dirty rugs, some old beer cans, and fast food wrappers.

I went room to room, four in total, finding nothing of interest until I entered the last where an old mattress lay in the corner. Kyle stood in the doorway behind me. This room has been like this for as long as I can remember. It smells gross. It's not the smell that freaks me out. It's that. Kyle pointed up to the ceiling, and I raised my eyes to read what was written there.

Road to the gates of hell. Mile marker four? What does that mean? Kyle shrugged. Come on, I'll show you the best part of the treehouse. We walked back into the first room where Parker and Kimber were sitting staring at the floor. I sat down next to them, and Kyle walked across the room and wedged the knife in between two planks of the wooded wall. He applied a slight pressure, and the board gave, opening up a small secret.

compartment. Check it out. He turned around and proudly held up two cans of Miller Light beer. Whoa. 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 sat down in our circle, popped a beer open, and offered it to Kimber. She recoiled. Come on, Kimmy. Don't call me that. Kimber reluctantly took the open beer. She smelled it and made a face. then pinched her nose and took a small swig. That was even grosser than I imagined.

The beer passed in front of Parker. I don't want any. I'll tell Mom. You ain't getting any, and you won't tell Mom's shit. I put on my best poker face and took a long, deep swallow of the warm beer before I had the chance to smell it. Ugh, I wretched, and the foul liquid went all over my shirt.

Oh man, now I'm going to smell like beer. We spent the next hour and a half drinking the two cans of Miller. When the last drop of beer was consumed, we spent 20 minutes trying to determine if we were drunk. Kyle assured us that he was wasted. Well, Kimber wasn't sure. I didn't think I was, but I failed all of our drunk tests. Kimber was in the middle of reciting the alphabet backwards, when a deafening metallic grinding suddenly pierced through the balmy mountain air like a gunshot.

They 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. The sound ended as abruptly as it had begun. What was that? No one answered me. Do you guys know? Kimber stared at her keds as she crossed and uncrossed her feet. Well, it's nothing.

We hear it sometimes in town. It's not a big deal. It's just louder up here. But what's making that sound? Barasca. Kimber didn't take her eyes off her kids. Who's that? Not who.

Where? It's just a place in the woods. Bad things happen there. Like what? Bad things. Yeah. Don't ever try to find it or bad things will happen. to you too. What bad things? Kyle shrugged and Kimber stood up. We'd better go. I have to get home to my mom.

We climbed down the ladder and started the walk back down the trail in an unfamiliar silence. I was dying of curiosity, but couldn't decide what to ask. So who lives there? Where? Baraska. The skinned man and the shiny gentleman. Only babies believe that. Like, Their skin is gone? Yeah, that's what some kids say. Most of us stopped believing in that when we turn double digits. That seemed to be the end of the conversation.

And by the time we reached our bikes, a comfortable familiarity had returned. By the time school started, I'd completely forgotten about Baraska. I was much more worried about being late on my first day. Kyle and Kimber were already waiting at the flagpole when I arrived a few minutes late. Dude, you almost missed the bell. I know, sorry. Whose class are you in? Kimber 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. Ah, Mr. Diamonds. Me too. Lucky, I'm in Mrs. DeVerdys. My mom had her when she was a kid. Really? What did your mom say about her?

That she gives out homework on the weekends. Fuck! Excuse me, Mr. Landy? I immediately recognized the tall man that had appeared behind Kyle. Sorry, sir. I meant... Dang. Hi, Sheriff Clary. Even though I'd only met him a few times, I really liked my dad's boss. Hello, Sammy. Excited for your first day?

Sheriff Clary crossed his arms in front of him and widened his stance imposingly, giving me a wide smile. Yes, sir. and then added lamely, What are you doing here? I'm giving a presentation to the fourth graders about school safety. I smiled. Cool. Sheriff Clary gave Kyle one last warning look and then walked away.

I turned to Kimber and found an empty space that smelled slightly of strawberries. She took off. She is annoyingly on time for everything. As if to illustrate his point, the bell rang. I walked into class and smiled when I saw that Kimber had saved me a spot at the back. Mr. Diamond, a short, round man of 40 or so, nodded at me when I came in. Mr. Walker, I presume? Um, yeah.

Welcome to Drisking Elementary. I rushed past him to the desk next to Kimber. Kimber spent the morning introducing me to other kids in our class. Most of them were nice, if sort of underwhelmed by me. They said their hellos and asked where I was from. The conversations usually ended with an unimpressed, okay. A group of girls sitting near the front snuck looks at me all morning and snickered to themselves. I asked Kimber who they were and she just shrugged.

During our second break, they approached me at the pencil sharpener. A girl with dark hair spoke first. Are you friends with Kimber De Stero? Yeah. I 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. A second girl with an oddly round face spoke. You don't have to be friends with her, you know. I want to be friends with her. A third girl lurking behind the other two snorted. She had pretty Auburn hair and a rude up to her nose. You're going to be very unpopular here. Better than being a bitch.

Rude nose and round face gasped, but dark hair smiled. We'll see. The three returned to their corner of the room. I sat back down next to Kimber. What did they say? They said you're too pretty, and that you make them look ugly in comparison. They want us to stay away from them. Liar.

But I could hear the smile in her voice. We met Kyle in the cafeteria at lunch, and listened to him artfully complain about his. morning. A short kid from Kyle's class walked up to us as we were finishing our lunches and stood there silently until Kyle spoke. What do you need, Whittager? A you Sam Walker? Yeah. Oh, your sister is dating my brother. Oh shit. Your sister is dating a Wittager. Shut up, Kyle. I couldn't help but be a little surprised. Not that I'd been paying much attention, but I'd only seen Whitney out of her room a couple of times over the entire summer.

Where'd she meet him? Probably at his job, drusking water. That made sense. I 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. The rest of the school week followed much like the first day. We were well into October before I heard someone mention the skin men again. We were out on the playground flicking wood chips at each other when the distant sound of grinding metal flooded onto the playground. Baraska. Phil Saunders said,

Yep, the skinned men kill again. Kyle said only little kids believe in skin men. I threw an accusatory look at Kyle. They do. Phil is just stupid. Screw you. Why don't you 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 and came skipping over. I already told you. Kayla doesn't like you, Philip? Tell them about the skinned men. Phil gestured to the air around us.

Why don't you tell them? Because you saw them. I didn't. I didn't see them. Page saw them. Oh. Phil said, and an uncomfortable silence descended.

You guys are so weird. Danielle flipped her hair on her faces and left. Whose page? Her sister? Paige disappeared when we were like five. After she saw the skinned men. The sounds from the mountain ended then, and the subdued atmosphere of the playground disappeared with it.

When the bell rang, we lined up with our respective classes. I made sure I was behind Phil. Hey, what else do you know about Baraska? My brother said that's where people go when they disappear, to meet the shiny gentlemen. What happens to them? Bad things. It wasn't until Christmas break that I heard Baraska again. It was December, and there was a thick blanket of snow on the ground, which only amplified the noise coming off the mountain.

From my room, I watched my dad's cruiser pull up and went downstairs to meet him. I passed my sister's door on the way down. and heard her giggling in that annoying teenage way. And I cringed. I hoped Kimber never got like that. Hi, Dad. He stomped the snow off his boots and smiled. Sammy, how many years has it been?

It was true I hadn't seen much of my dad lately. He'd been working a lot, but doing what? I didn't know since this was the quietest, lamest town ever. Mom thought Sheriff was grooming dad for his job, since Clary was old and Dad never really disagreed with her. I wondered if the people in town would vote for an outsider. Do you hear that noise? What am I, deaf?

Do you know what it is? You know, I asked the sheriff the same question, and he told me it comes from private property up in the Ozarks. Is the property called Baraska? I have no idea. Baraska? Where'd you hear that? I shrug. Um, kids at my school.

Well, it's nothing to worry about, Sammy. just some logging equipment. But have you heard that word before? Nope, I have not heard that word before. Have you ever heard of the skinned men? Skinned men? Good God, Sam. Is your sister telling you these stories? No.

Whitney? No, Dad. Whitney doesn't even talk to me. I heard a door creak open, and Whitney peered over the railing. Phone in hand. Are you trying to scare your brother? Dad, no. Whitney laughed. If I'd waste my time. You aren't telling him stories.

about skinned men? No, Dad, I told you I heard it at school. He gave us a look that said he didn't believe us and walked into the kitchen. Whitney stuck her tongue out at me. 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 almost everything we'd had on our lists, a first for us. The county may be smaller, but Dad's paychecks were clearly bigger. I wore my new Rams Parca on the first day back to school after Christmas break. As we stood in the hallway showing off our new stuff, 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 was Phoebe Dranger, laughing and walking away with Roundface. You guys are assholes. Jerks. Don't sweat those girls, Kimber. Nobody likes them. People are just nice to them because they're related to the press gods. 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. I know. They're bitches. I'd better get to class and make sure they don't try to talk to her. There's an assembly this morning. No class until after lunch. What's the assembly for? It's probably the History Society presentation.

Great. I rolled my eyes. You couldn't get much more boring than that. We found Kimber already in the auditorium. She had collected herself and saved us both seats at the back of the room. Mrs. Teverdi walked on the stage as we sat down. This morning, we have a special presentation for you from the Historical Preservation Society of Drisking.

If you have questions during the course of the lecture, please raise your hand. Like that'll happen. I'd like to introduce you. to you, Catherine Scanlan and Mr. James Prescott. 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.

Patrick Sutton leaned forward from behind us and whispered. It's not weird. 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-chebys. The presentation was as slow and boring as I'd feared. Catherine Scanlon talked about the first settlers here

and went on to Alexander Drisking's discovery of a mother load of war in the mountains. Then James Prescott took the stage to tell the story of his family's journey to town and their role in the revitalization of Drisking in the 50s. Unfortunately, I found Jimmy Prescott to be infallibly charismatic. and entertaining. And I was so busy laughing at his jokes and absorbing his stories that by the end of the presentation, I realized I had my hand raised to ask a question, which Kyle quickly warned me was social suicide. Yes, the young man in the blue shirt. Um, Mr. Prescott, why did the mines close? Are any still open? That's a very good question. What is your name?

Sam, Walker. I believe I met your father the other day at the sheriff's office. Welcome. As to your question, most of the The mines were closed in 1951 after a period of unprofitability. The mountain ran out of ore. The refineries were abandoned and the town suffered for years. The miners and their families moved away. Stores went out of business. Schools closed.

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. After years of hard work, Drisking became the picturesque haven in the Ozarks that it is today. As for your second question, yes, I believe there may still be one mine in operation. Good question. Anyone else? I sat back down and Kyle shook his head at me.

The assembly suffered through another 15 minutes of awkward Q&A until Mrs. DeVarity finally cut us loose. We were released into the cafeteria to wait for the lunch lines to open. Kyle, Kimber, and I sat in their usual corner. That was so boring. When are they going to realize that no one cares about Drisking's history? Sam seemed to care? I just wanted to know about the Mines.

Mines are creepy. Yeah, but all our minds were blown up. You can't go in them anymore. Blown up. Kimber nodded. Some kids died after going into the mines, so the city set off controlled blasts to implode the caverns. At least that's what my mom told me.

They messed up and blew up the water table or poisoned it or something. Did they use C4? I guess. So like, we all drink the water and we all have C-4 in our bodies and we could explode at any minute. You guys are dumb. Kimber rolled her eyes, but she laughed when Kyle fell to the floor pretending to explode. I remember thinking in that moment that I was happy here with these two people.

Happier than I'd ever been anywhere else. It was the last moment of joy I ever had. Less than an hour later, Mr. Diamond's phone rang and he exchanged a few quiet words with a person on the other friend, his eyes flicking to and from my desk. When he hung up, he called me over. I was quietly told that my mom was waiting for me in the office, and I was going home for the day. I traded a confused look to Kimber, and then packed up my stuff and went to the office where my mom was waiting. We drove home in a strained silence. I was too afraid to ask

any questions. Mom stopped the car outside of our house, which was blocked in by several police cars. Is it dad? No, honey, dad is fine. Then what is it? Your sister never made it to school this morning. I laughed. The tension broken. I think she ditched, Mom. I saw her leave this morning about six. She was with Pete Whitaker and that kid, Taylor. We know about that, Sam, but they made it to school and Whitney wasn't with them. They said she wanted to stop by the Circle K near Drisking High, so they left her there. No one has seen her since.

She's obviously ditching. No, honey. The police as well as your father think that Whitney is with Jay. But she has a new boyfriend. Here. We found half her clothes missing along with some cash of your dad's. But... The sheriff's office is trying to contact Jay's parents now.

Whitney, run away? Yeah, right. My sister was prone to dramatics and empty threats. Plus, she was dating that kid Pete. It didn't make sense. We walked into a house filled with stale coffee and quiet murmurs. My father was sitting at the table staring at phone records, head in hand. He looked up at me and gave me a weak smile.

Hey, Sammy. Dad, I have to tell you something. I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder and turned to look at. up at the solemn Sheriff Clary. Everything you know, son, no matter how trivial. I sat down at the table with my dad, as my mom handed the big man a cup of coffee. Here you go, Sheriff. Please, Mrs. Walker. Call me Gillian.

Mom nodded and retreated into a darkened corner to talk quietly with Sheriff Clary's wife, Grace. What do you know, Sam? My dad rested his chin on his interlaced hands. Well, just that I heard Warrie's. Whitney is dating that guy Pete Whitaker, and I saw them in Taylor Dranger leaving this morning before me. What time did they leave? Around six. The sheriff nodded.

Hmm. That matches the statements of Dranger and the Whitaker boy. My father's head sunk lower into his hands. Dad, I don't think she went back to St. Louis. She was dating Pete. She didn't care about Jay anymore. Sam, you'll soon learn that a teenage girl's heart is a complicated thing. My officers are trying to get a hold of the boyfriend's family back in St. Louis.

Why don't you head up to your room now? I looked up to the sheriff in surprise. What? I want to stay down here and help. John, there's nothing more you can do here. He's been a good brother. Now, let us handle this. But I can help. You already have.

Dad. I looked over at him for help. Go to your room, Sam. I turned away from the men in a rage and stomped upstairs, slamming my bedroom door behind me. I sat down on my bed in disbelief. I spent hours there, feeling helpless. Where was Whitney?

Was she scared? Was she alone? Was she dead? I 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 Whitney go to the tree house? I stared at the computer screen for a long minute,

Kimber's words from last fall tumbling around in my brain. If you enter the treehouse without the 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 hitchhiked out of town. Nothing they were saying made 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. I went downstairs and stuck my bike out of the garage to ride the three miles to the West Rim Prescott Ore Trail. When I pulled up to the trailhead, I was surprised to see two bikes already locked to the signpost, and my two best friends sitting in the snow next to them. I knew you'd come. Kimber jumped up to hug me. I said nothing, and they didn't push. Kimber pulled my scarf tighter around me and we started up the trail.

The silence between us stretched but comfortable. I trudged through the snow looking for the shoe prints of Whitney's wretched ug boots, but the snow was coming too fast to see. The hike up of the mountain was harder and wetter than when we'd come up in the fall, and when Ambercott Fort finally came into view over the ridge and was a welcome sight, the sun was getting low. I stumbled as I ran up to the tree. calling Whitney's name to the quiet wild.

Kyle was right behind me and leapt onto the rope ladder, climbing quickly up the planks. Kimber quietly said my name from where she stood at the triple tree. I ran over and followed her finger to what I already knew was there. It was freshly carved. Whitney W. My breath froze in my chest, and my vision blurred.

As the sun took its last desperate breath before, plunging into the deep of the horizon. A deafening metallic whirl rang 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 words 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. Shit, sorry, Mr. Prescott. I didn't hear you come in. Clearly. I mumbled another apology and idly straighten the stack of business cards in front of me. Late night? I'm kind of.

I hope you weren't out of the bonfires with all the other underage drinkers. No, sir. Good. Anyway, I'm just here for my lunch. I'll take a parmesan chicken with avocado on 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. Most of the photos were of the Prescott family, taken over the last half century. I'd always thought it odd decor. Is a mirror here? She's in the back. I thought she'd still be in St. Louis. Would you mind getting her for me? Yes, sir.

I handed him his sandwich and went to find my boss. She was in the office, furiously punching keys on an accounting calculator. 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. Are you sure?

He's the only customer we've had all day. Don't worry, pay you for a whole day, kiddo. Thanks, Mira. Good luck, I guess. I gave her a sympathetic shrug. and she patted my arm. Mira was the most burdened woman in all of Drisking, but she never failed to be unbelievably kind. There was a hopelessness about her,

a sadness that she didn't hide very well. I left the store out the back door so I wouldn't have to see Jimmy Prescott again. His yellowed ambered eyes always set me on edge. I hopped in my car and texted Kyle that I was off work. He answered immediately and told me where to meet him. I threw the car into reverse and headed toward Crystal Lake. I had to park a half mile away since it was so packed.

I eventually found Kyle and Kimber sitting on a boulder jutting out over the beach. Kimber was sunbathing in a blue bikini, and Kyle was wearing as no one can tell where I'm looking, sunglasses. What I miss? I sat down next to Kimber. Not much, just more beer. She dug into the cooler behind her and tried to hand me a blue moon. Ugh, no. I waved it away.

The bonfire last night had done me in. Got any Excedrin? No. Kimber gave me a pitying pout. Okay, then I'll just take those glasses. I held my hand out to Kyle, who looked back at it and discussed. Fuck off, Sam. 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 he tightened his lips. We both knew exactly what I was doing. Please. Fine. He shoved the blue blockers at me. I put them on and sat back, turning my head to watch the girls on the beach below.

Bebe Dranger, the dark-haired girl, was lying on a towel next to round face and giggling. It still seemed unnatural to me to see the... two of them without rude nose. The three had been inseparable for years, working together like gears in some evil machine until Christie had fallen in love with a college kid and run away. So why'd you get out of work early anyway? Prescott came in. Ugh, gross.

He's been staring at me since like seventh grade. Next time 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 had become unbearable. Kimber winked at him. So what did he want, Sam? He wanted to talk to Mira. Probably about the 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 in vain? Probably. I mean, she looks pretty worried. I can count on one hand how many sandwiches I've sold in the past month. Ouch.

Yeah, pretty sure she's getting chewed out. I really don't like that guy. I thought about the squirmy, yellow-eyed freak yelling at the kind-hearted Mira, and it made my blood boil. You should have met his dad. He was a piece of work. Ugh, Tom Prescott.

I heard he got dementia and was embarrassing the family in public. They put him in a home a few towns over. Kimber brushed her long curls off her shoulders. Hey, kids. So this is where the cool people hang out, high above the kingdom on Pride Rock. We turned in unison to see Phil Saunders stomp out the bushes behind us with Patrick Sutton in tow.

Is that Patrick? Kyle ignored Phil, whom he disliked ever since Phil had briefly dated Kimber last summer. Phil was either unaware or uninterested in Kyle's feelings. It was hard to tell. Most days, Phil was stoned out of his mind, and today was no exception. Patrick offered me as pipe. You want to hit this? I did want to hit it, and pretty badly too.

I reached up to grab it, but Phil swatted my hand away. For fuck's sake, Patrick, you don't want to get the sheriff's sun high. Patrick's eyes widened, and he shoved the pipe back into his pocket. Really? Sorry, Sammy. Hell, the only reason I'm smoking around you today is because it's my cousin's death anniversary. Your cousin Hannah? Yep, five years.

Patrick exhaled a cloud of smoke. Too many people disappear in these woods, man. Yeah. You know, sometimes when I'm high, I can see them all. And I feel like I know the answer to the mystery. Like, I'm close to solving it. I see the puzzle put together in my mind, but I can't tell what the picture is, you know?

You're fucking high, Saunders. We all are, man. We all are. Everyone in this town is drinking the Kool-Aid. Kimber raised an eyebrow at him but said nothing. Well, not the dead kids. I can see what they looked like before they went into the ground. Or is it the grounder?

I see them all. Hannah, Paige, Jason. Hell, I even see your sister, Walker. Kyle, who I knew had been monitoring the conversation for any mention of Whitney, sat up quickly. No, the Walker girl ran away. Remember? I saw Kyle and Kimber exchange a quick look as I tried to remain impassive from behind the blue blockers. Is that true, man?

And there it was. I knew Kyle and Kimber had always wondered what I thought about Whitney, and if I ever truly believed the official statement that she and Jay had run away together. But they never brought it up. I wanted to talk to them about it, but I just couldn't. Everyone thought that I'd spent the last five years quietly grieving, and that I'd likely put it all behind me. The truth was that I'd never given up on Whitney.

I'd waited 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 true and that Whitney was somewhere far away from here, alive and happy with Jay Bauer. But his Facebook page showed a thriving college kid, his ex-girlfriend Whitney, the furthest thing from his mind. When I'd brought the issue,

evidence to my dad, he'd read the pages I'd printed off and then shut the door to his office with me on the other side. I heard him crying in there for hours, as I waited for word that he'd reopen the case and was bringing the smackdown to the Butler County Sheriff's Department. But he'd emerged with a dry face and a grim expression. Justice had never come, and he never mentioned Jay Bauer again. For whatever reason, I never told Kyle and Kimber about the incident. Maybe it was because I was worried they'd blow it off like my dad had, or maybe, far more likely. I didn't want them to know how obsessed I'd become with Baraska and the skin men. I knew, as assuredly as the sun would rise tomorrow, that Whitney had been taken there,

just like all the others who had gone to the triple tree. I knew I needed to say something. Yeah, it's true. She ran off with this guy J from her hometown. That was enough for Kyle. All right, seriously, he's the sheriff's kid. What do you think is going to happen if he gets caught with your weed? The little man's right, Phil. Let's bounce.

I don't need any more trouble with cops around here. Later, Walker. Kimber, little man. Phil stood up, brushed off his pants, and jumped from the boulder onto the beach below. He sprayed sand over a couple of freshman girls who squealed and called him an asshole. Phil tipped an invisible hat to them. Ladies Patrick followed him off the rock And as I watched them make their way down the beach

I became aware of the conversation going on behind me I didn't say I wanted to go I said I had to go But it's Sunday I know but my parents have been fighting a lot 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

Do you want to stay over at my place tonight? Kimber's voice dropped into a whisper. I just... I don't think I'm ready for that, Kyle. 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 disgusting sound of my best friend's kissing. Ugh, on that note, I'm at a moment. here too. 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 glanced down the beach to where Emmeline Adler was sunbathing. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Last week of school. Thank God. It was the last Monday of the school year. And while I should have been thankful my junior year was ending, I wasn't.

The summer meant no distractions and even more hours of boredom at Prescott Artisan Sandwiches. But I wasn't looking forward to tomorrow for another reason. Junior Ditch Day. My dad had found out about the tradition several weeks before and had warned me to set a good example. Sometimes I really hated being the son of the county sheriff. Kimber and Kyle were sympathetic and had offered a share in my misery. I, of course, had a good. accepted, much to Kyle's dismay.

As 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 see Kyle's name cross my desk either. You know it's a tradition. Even the teachers sort of encourage it. On Friday, they said it's sort of... I don't care what they said, Sam. I'm your father. and I want my son in school.

Well, I can't control what Kyle does. But you can control what you do. I didn't answer, and dad sighed. It's almost over, Sam. Just get through these last few days and you can be done with school for a few months. I shrugged and walked out of the kitchen, ending the conversation.

I passed by Whitney's door on the way to my room. As usual, the light was on, and silence was behind it. Mom was always in there, doing God knows what. I walked to my own room, shut the door behind me, and locked it. The next day was rough.

There were a few other kids that hadn't skipped school, and the looks they shot me made it clear that my dad was the reason they were there. 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, looking forward to an easy day, couldn't have cared less.

Just before lunch, an officer came around to all the classrooms and asked for copies of the attendance sheets. Dad really wasn't kidding about cracking down this year. I was going to get shit from people all summer. At lunch, Kyle and I went to my car to smoke. Usually, we were concealed by dozens of pickup trucks, but today we were out in the open. Kyle didn't seem to care and pulled out his bowl.

Did you text Kimmer? He let the smoke sit in his lungs before he blew it out all over my dashboard. She went home at third period. Her mom called. Doesn't her mom hate you? I took my turn with the bowl. Yeah, but that's a fairly new development. Only since Kimber and I started dating.

I'm pretty sure she always hated me and just hid it better before. Now she's all depressed and doesn't give a shit. It was hard to picture. anyone hating Kyle. 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 they've already come around and collected the attendant sheets. You're fucking baked, Kyle. Seriously, let's go. It was hard to argue because Kyle was right. And if I left now, I'd have enough time to go to GameStop before work.

Fuck it. I turned the key in the ignition. Kyle sat up in his chair and rolled down the window to clear out the smoke. Can you drop me at Kimbers? Sure, but how are you going to get home when her mom kicks you out? Kyle rolled his eyes. That was one time. GameStop didn't have what I wanted, and neither did Prescott games in media.

Since I had nothing else to do, I decided to show up early to work and hope that Emmeline would be there. Only the three of us worked at the shop, and sadly I never got to see her since she worked the shifts. Sad, because she was the reason I'd applied to work there in the first place. I went into the back to tell Mira I was there and found her slumped over a pile of receipts. This wasn't an unusual way to find Mira, but something seemed different today. I immediately felt a disturbance in the force, but before I could quickly retreat, she sat up. She was crying. Are you?

She quickly wiped your eyes. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Is it four already? No, I just thought maybe if I came in early. Oh, right, it's your ditch day. Sorry. Really don't understand it, Sam. The store has been operating in the red

ever since I was hired to manage it. What am I doing wrong? I don't know. No one comes in here, ever. And Jimmy refuses to let me post advertisements, says they're unsightly. But how does he expect me to pull in business? I had nothing.

I just shook my wide-eyed head at her. Sorry, Sam. Go ahead and go out to the front. She didn't have to tell me twice. The front didn't end up being much better. I could hear a mirror crying over the store's dated music track. Her sobs went from painfully audible to muffled whimpers. After half an hour, I couldn't take it anymore.

I was entirely unequipped to deal with a woman's emotional breakdown so I decided to call Mira's husband, Owen. He answered on the second ring. I breathed a sigh of relief when I heard his truck pull up outside and saw the tall, girthy Owen step out.

I'm sorry to call you at home, Mr. Daly. I didn't know what else to do. That's okay, Sam. You did the right thing. He looked haggard, as if the situation wasn't new to him. Is she okay? Yeah, we're just going through some things. Owen ran a hand through his hair.

As Mira told you about her appointments? No. Well, we've been trying to have a baby for a few years. Painful years. It's just so goddamn important for her to have a baby. Did you know she blames me for our fertility issues? He walked around the room, glancing at the pictures on the wall and talking to the air. I understand why it's important.

to her. I just don't understand the obsession with it. You know, because she's the last McCasky on the planet? I mean, does she even realize that our baby wouldn't be a McCasky? He'd be a daily. Never marry a woman with four dead uncles. The obsession with lineage and... Four dead uncles? Yeah, you know, the famous ones? The four brothers who died in the Drisking mines? Well, see, that only left her dad. And her parents were only able to conceive her, which leaves her as the last McCasky. So of course you can see how this is all my fault. I looked at him blankly, and he sighed. I'm sorry, kid. These problems are way over your pay grade. With our medical issues and mirrors absolute abhorrence to our other option, I just... How did they die? I was desperate to talk about anything else.

The McCaskey boys? I don't really know. They died on the mountains somewhere. Have you heard of the skin men? Skin men? Yeah. I don't think so. What about barasca? Owen Daly squeezed his eyes shut and pushed in on his temples with his fingers. What?

What does a barasca have to do with anything? Owen? Mira's voice squeaked from the doorway. Baby, are you okay? Sam called the house. I want to do it. You do? I called him.

His eyes flipped over to me. Sam, why don't you take off for the day? Mura and I will handle things here. Uh, okay. Yeah, I'll just... I bolted for the door. Once I was out of the parking lot, I called Kyle. Weird shit is going on in this town.

What happened? I can't explain it over the phone. Where are you at? I'm at Kimbers. Are you off work? Yeah. When I pulled up, Kyle was sitting on the curb outside Kimber's house. She came out when she saw me and gave Kyle a hug.

I'm so sorry. 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 wanted to make sure you're okay. I'm okay, and my dad will be home soon. Text us when he gets home, and we'll come get you.

I wish I could, but I'm babysitting tonight until 7.30. Kyle and Kimber hugged goodbye, and then she rushed back into the house. as something crashed inside. So what's going on? You're still wearing your apron, you know. I peeled it off. Mira had a breakdown.

Really? What happened? I told Kyle the full story, paying particular attention to the four uncles. Yeah, the McCaskys. I've heard of them. Didn't know Mira was one, though. I thought they were all dead.

Yeah, I guess she's the last one. Do you think the McCaskey deaths have anything to do with all the disappearances? It had been years since I'd mentioned anything about Barasca, and Kyle choked a little on the drink. I don't, I don't know, man. I mean, maybe if the disappearances started after they died. How can we find that out?

Ask your dad. There have to be police reports. What if I can't ask my dad? I don't know, then. What about records? The historical society people, maybe. Yeah, we can try. then. 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, Sammy, why do you care about this? I'd known the question was coming, but I'd hope to have more answers myself before giving him one. It's just about Whitney. Kyle didn't ask anything more. The historical preservation society, was at the back of the antiquities shop, and the owner, a stone-faced Mr. Dranger,

eyed as we walked through his store. At the end of the hallway, we found a small room with two desks pushed together. They were stacked high with books and folders of loose paper. We could hear someone typing behind the stacks. I cleared my throat. Hello? A small woman popped up from behind the desk.

I recognized her as the same woman who gave her, us the lecture in sixth grade. Hello. How can I help you, boys? I have a few questions about Drisking's history, I guess. Oh, great. Is this for a report? Have a seat, boys. She gestured to the empty chair sitting behind the other desk. Kyle sat down, looking uneasy.

Yeah, it's for an essay we have to write. I think you gave a lecture to us like five years ago with Jimmy Prescott. Oh, yes, I give that lecture every year. year with Mr. Prescott. Yeah, it was you and one other guy, too. A bald guy. Kyle shifted uncomfortably in the wooden share. Yes, that was my fiancé, Wyatt Dowding.

He passed several years ago. Oh. So, um, Miss... Scanlon, but you can call me Catherine. I hated calling adults by their first names. Catherine, um, we want to know about the McCasky kids. Catherine shook her head. Oh, a dark part of history there.

But history, nonetheless. When did it happen? And how did they die? We don't know. I mean, they certainly perished in the mines, but their bodies were never recovered. I would think dehydration and exhaustion killed them within days of getting lost down there.

That was 1953, I believe. And the mines closed that. That year? Around then, yes. There was a legal spat between the city and the Prescott family who wanted to leave the mines open until the bodies were recovered. The city won, and the mines were condemned. Wait, why did the Prescott's care? Don't you want to write this down? Kyle tapped his temple twice with his finger. Catherine shrugged and continued. The Prescott and the McCaskey families are closely related. Tom, Precott. Prescott was paying teams of unemployed miners to go down in the mines and search for the boys.

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 was structurally unsafe. After the city banned the recovery teams from the mines, members of the Prescott family started going down there themselves. One of them, a cousin, I think, died during the search. from a fall down a shaft and the city reacted. This than a week later, they had the mines collapsed. With bombs? Well, with explosives.

And that's what led to the incident, as it's called. 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 for the implosion, and, well, they accidentally broke into Drisking's water table. The city went in a debt trying to purify the water of silt and iron ore. It wasn't until years later that things started getting better, thanks to the Prescott's who truly did revitalized Drisking.

Kyle's phone chirped and he pulled it out of his pocket. It's Kimber. She wants us to come over. Okay, thanks, Mrs. Scanlan, or Catherine. Sure, if you have any other questions, feel free to come by. We're almost always open during the day. Thanks. So what do you think? 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 refuse to help them find their kids and were actively working against them? Maybe they forgave and forgotten. Kyle shrugged. Does Jimmy Prescott seem like a guy to forgive and forget to you? Ugh.

No. 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 the driveway with two young boys who were playing in the front yard. 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 then ran off to continue their game. Once they'd left, we explained everything that had happened that afternoon to Kimber, while she listened and rocked the baby in her arms. Well, Sam is right. That's weird. But why are we concerned about something that happened decades ago? Whitney. A flash of surprise caught Kimber's face, and she walked over to put the baby down in his playpen.

She came back and pulled me into one of her famous, super comforting, not at all awkward, Kimber 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 find her, we need to start at the beginning. Phil was on to something. Every mystery in this town is one piece of a larger puzzle. It's all related. I think we need to go to the source if we want answers.

The source? Jimmy's dad. Tom Prescott? He's crazy. He's the horse's mouth, though, isn't he? Jimmy isn't likely to know half as much as his dad will. But... As Kyle and Kimber argued,

I watched the kids chase each other around the tree in their front yard. There was something carved in the bark. Words. Not unlike the triple tree at Amber caught Ford. I was too far away to read what it said. He got you, he got you. This game man got you. Now you have to die.

He was touching the tree. No, you weren't. One of them got you, and now you have to meet the shiny gentleman. No-uh. You're cheating. I shuddered and turned away from them. Where's the nut house? Is it close? It's not a nut house. It's more like a hospice. I heard he's at Golden Elm in Cape Girardo.

Kyle pulled out his phone. That's about 40 minutes away. I'll check the visiting hours for Tuesdays. Sam, do you work tomorrow? I work every day, but I'll get out of it. 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 my way. When the final bell rang at 3.30, I grabbed my bag and booked it 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 logic that I could see. By the time we arrived at Golden Elm,

there was only 20 minutes left for visiting hours. We're here to see Mr. Thomas Prescott. Old Tom? Wow, he hasn't had a visitor since his son came in around Christmas. Oh, how lovely, I'll get someone to escort you. An orderly led us down a long corridor and pointed to a room at the end. He likes to read in the sunroom.

We found the room empty, save for an old, thin man, sitting at a table sliding chess pieces over a backgammon board. Tom Prescott? Kimber smiled. He didn't look up, and I wondered if he'd heard 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, Goddammit.

I'm Thomas Prescott. Don't call me Tom. People's kids used to have more respect. I'm sorry, sir. Kimber sat down in the chair opposite him. You kids have no respect. Do you even know who I am? It's my son's fault.

That boy's mama should have whipped him, but she was soft, and now he's running around my town, Getting drunk and spreading his vulgarity. My apologies, Mr. Prescott. I never meant to be disrespectful. We're from Drisking. You're the man who built our town.

We greatly admire you. The town was dying, and then you fixed it. I did what I had to do. It was my town. It still is. Who are you, little girl, to come? Come in here and suggest otherwise. Oh, no, I...

As for who we are, we're Miram McCaskey's kids. Huh. So your aide is granddaughter. That explains why you're not there. Kyle and I exchanged a look over Kimber's head. We're right here, Mr. Prescott. You know what I meant, young lady. 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. It's still my town. Is the money still coming in? Well, you're here, aren't you? They didn't like it, but they took the money. They didn't know everything, but they suspected so. and they kept electing Cleary and they kept taking the money. Prescott picked up a pawn and ran his fingers 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 anymore. Well, of course he isn't. The elderly Prescott slammed his fist on the table again, and 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. The dust of my crumpled empire. What about the skin men? What are you talking about, boy? Man, the treehouse, the triple tree. What is it?

What is it for? Triple tree? Is that what he's offering a... We only paid triple the price for a short while when things were slow. Where is Barasca? 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, you get him in here. Ada, get my boy on the phone. You tell Jimmy I want to talk. You tell Jimmy. 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 surprisingly imposing for his fragility. We were already backing toward the door when the orderly came in with a disapproving look on his face and shoot us out. 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 skin 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 Baraska than ever. I could feel it around me.

I just couldn't see it. I snapped out of my thought when I realized Kyle was pulling over, off the road. He put the car in park and turned around to look at me in the back seat. Is this really about Whitney, Sam? Kimber watched us with worried eyes. Yes. Why? The cops? Even your dad confirmed that Whitney ran away. I don't believe them. Look, Sam, we're getting pretty deep in here. And I'm with you every step. But I have to know that there's a reason we're doing this. Kimber is involved now, 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. It was all about the powder. If Baraska really did move drugs, did I want to involve my friends any form. further. This wasn't their fight. I loved these people. Could I really risk their safety for my own vendettas? As much as I wished I could let them go, I knew I needed them in this with me. 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 it away and crossed my arms, but immediately apologized. Kimber smiled in a forgiving sort of way. Kyle sighed. He was interrupted by the piercing ring of Kimber's phone. She scrambled for her cell to silence it, but when she saw the name on the screen, she quickly answered. What? Wait, what? What do you mean? Dad? Hello?

No, wait, slow down. Hello? She took the phone away from her ear. Something happened to my mom. She's at the hospital. Her face was growing pale. Kyle threw the car in gear and screeched out of the parking lot. We made the 10-mile trip to the hospital in as many minutes, which was criminally fast on the surface streets.

Kyle slammed on the brakes at the emergency entrance, and I ran inside after Kimber. A deputy was already there waiting. He refused to answer Kimber's questions as he led us down the hall to her father. When the deputy swung the doors open, I saw my dad standing next to Kimbers, and I immediately braced myself for the worst. Kimber's dad took her in one direction, and my dad and I went in another. Before he said a word to me, I saw Kimber crumble to the floor on the other side of the room.

I looked at my dad for confirmation, and he gave me a sympathetic nod and pulled me into a hug. We sat down in a corner, and I stared at my hands as he quietly explained. that Mrs. Desterro had gone grocery shopping at around 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, founder. I watched Kimber Whale from across the room as her mother's body grew cold in the morgue beneath us. Do you think she blames herself?

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. I pushed the hat up off my face and looked over at Kyle, who was admittedly a wreck. His eyes were bloodshot, his face sallow and his red hair was slick with grease. Dude, it's been two days. She just needs some time, but she'll be okay. She hasn't answered any of my texts, and I've left like nine voicemails. I think I'm going crazy.

Just give her some spacemen. Yeah, but she's my... Am I... I sat up and pulled the chair up right behind me. Look, Kyle, I know you want to help Kimber. I want to help Kimber. But she hasn't answered our calls, been to school, or answered her door. She doesn't want to see us right now.

Kimber knows what's best for Kimber. What about the suicide note? You think that has something to do with it? We don't even know if there was a note. Kimber's dad was pretty messed up when he said that, and I probably misheard him anyways. I asked my dad, and he said there was no letter. Right, because your dad is such a beacon of 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 was sure of what I'd heard. Mr. Desterro 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 killed. killed herself. I'd asked my dad about the letter when he'd come home that first night, and he sighed, and both of his hands threw his hair in a tired sort of way. Sam, I don't know what to tell you. Anne Astero didn't leave a suicide note. With our best friend in mourning and our investigation on hold, Kyle and I had been existing in sort of a suspended state. We went to school intermittently, skipping classes here and there, missing end of your tests and smoking more weed than either of us could afford. Without Kimber there to keep us in line, we were lethargic, brooding, and irresponsible.

Kyle and I skipped the last two periods of the day and debated whether or not we should go to school the next day. He finally decided to show up for second period, which was fortunate because Kimber showed up in biology. I had my head down on my desk, resting on my 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 a half 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. How are you doing, Kay? 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?

He's been worried about you. I know. Things have been hard for me at home. It's okay. We're here for whatever you need. Yeah, that's... That's what I was hoping.

Since it was the last day of school, our teacher, Mr. Founder, was just happy to return our graded tests and let us bullshit for the rest of the period. Kimber talked about the arrangements for the funeral that weekend and shited me for skipping finals to get stoned. When the bell rang, I could tell that Kimber was 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 a shoulder, set her jaw, and nodded. As soon as Kyle saw her from down the hall, he slammed his locker shut and walked towards us with such intensity that I began to wonder if maybe he was mad. He pushed past a dozen people without so much. much as glancing at them and left an annoyed crowd in his wake. When he finally reached us,

Kyle threw his backpack against the wall and drew Kimber up into a protective hug and then kissed her. I couldn't help but groan and look away. Most teachers weren't bothering to take attendance, so I went to calculus with Kimber and Kyle, where they had the same conversation that Kimber and I had had last period. Towards the end of the hour, the conversation faulted and became uneasy. Kyle and I exchanged looks over the top of Kimber's head, and I nodded at him. Kimber, did your mom leave a letter? What? I heard your dad talking about a letter on the day that, um, 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 who stayed sitting on her desks. 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. I've known my dad all my life. 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 hour, we gathered up our things and walked out to my car. I sat in the back seat, letting Kyle and Kimber take the front. Kimber took a deep breath and continued. I know my dad has a letter, and I know it contains the name Prescott.

Prescott? Yet somehow, I wasn't surprised. That family was the axis around which everything evil spun. 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 his bedroom. He hasn't been well.

Do you think she was having an affair with Jimmy Prescott? Kyle desperately wanted to confirm that his relationship with Kimber hadn't been the cause. I shook my head. I'm guessing you need to think bigger than that, Kyle. I agree. With everything we know about the Prescott's, I'm pretty sure this isn't about an affair. It's all connected, 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. Does that make sense? I think she did something to me. Kimber's voice broke over the last sentence. And Kyle pulled her over, kissed the top of her head, and whispered words to her that I couldn't hear. I gave them a minute. So we need to get the letter? Yes.

Kimber's voice was still wobbly. How do we get it? If it's in his bedroom, we just need to wait until her dad isn't home. You don't think I thought of that? He never leaves his room. Not since we got home from the hospital. Not even to eat. So we need to get him.

him out. No, we need to get me in. Tomorrow is my mom's funeral, and half of drisking will be there, including my dad. I need to leave without him noticing and run home so I can find it. Okay, that's easy enough. Without my dad noticing. We both nodded but stayed silent because it looked like Kimber was weighing something more. My dad, he's been very...

cold and I think he blames me. Can you guys help me? Absolutely. We spent the rest of the lunch hour crafting a plan far more strategic than the mission likely called for. After the service, Kyle and I would engage Mr. Disterro in conversation and then Kyle would get a text from a distraught Kimber telling him she was having a breakdown. Kyle would leave to go comfort her and they would take my car to the De Stero House. I'd stay behind to keep an eye on Kimber's dad. I went to work that afternoon for the first time since Monday. Mir was in a much better mood and let me go home early again. I went straight to bed. Just before 5 a.m., I got up to go through my clothes, looking for something appropriate for the funeral. My dad came in before he left for work and found his disheveled

panic son looking helplessly through a pile of black jeans and t-shirts. He smiled pityingly and led me to his own closet. My dad and I shared not only the same face, but the same build as well, so finding something suitable to wear was easy. He asked me to apologize to Kimber for having to work through the service, and tell her he sends his love. And Estero's funeral was at an Episcopalian church on the other side of town. I picked Kyle up at nine and saw he was also wearing a suit of his dad's,

though he didn't fit it nearly as well. and was constantly pulling at the sleeves and readjusting the belt. Unfortunately for Kyle, he was much taller than his dad. When we went inside the church, we found Kimber at the back of the room, tucked into a chair, a heartbreaking puddle of curly red hair and tears. Kyle sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug. There's no one here. Hundreds of friends in this town, and no one came.

I looked around and 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, and some family I recognized from barbecues at Kimber's house. Ex-Sharef Clary and his wife Grace were there, talking quietly in the corner with a few of Dad's deputies. Only a few other funeral goers trickled in before the pastor began getting people seated for the service.

I noticed the casket at the house. the pulpit for the first time. I had to wonder at the simple, unadorned, almost ugly coffin that had been chosen for Kimber's mom. I knew the De Starros had money, quite a lot of it actually. It was an interesting, almost insulting choice. As a somber music began to fill the room, Kyle and I stood Kimber up and started over to the pews. Halfway there, she stopped. I'm ready. Ready for... To leave.

I can't be here anymore. It's a disgrace to my mother. Kimber raised her head a notch and squared her jaw. He knew this look. There would be no reasoning with her. Kyle and I traded a dubious look. With the low turnout, it would be a lot more obvious that Kimber was missing from the service. You guys go over and say what we rehearsed to my dad.

I'll text you in 30 seconds. Kyle nodded and started over to Mr. Distero. He was finally standing, looking over at the front pew reserved for him and his daughter, with a nervous hesitation. Mr. Desterro, I'm very sorry to hear about your wife. She was a great woman who raised a wonderful daughter. Do great women commit suicide leaving their wonderful daughters behind? Do great women jump off buildings and make spectacles of? of themselves, do they leave their families to deal with the publicity?

Kyle's phone chirped. Thank God. Oh, that's Kimber. Kyle said it a little too fast, before he'd had time to actually look at his phone. Oh, man, she isn't well. She says she's been crying and feeling sick. I'm going to go sit with her. No.

Mr. Destero yelled so suddenly that Kyle dropped his phone on the ground. Not you. You don't help my daughter. You don't even talk to her. He can go. He pointed at me. Uh, okay. I turned around and walked back to where I'd left Kimber, but she wasn't there.

I checked the bathrooms and the lobby of the church before I realized my car was no longer in the parking lot. I pulled out my phone and sent her a text. Where are you? I waited in the hallway, tapping my phone against my hand nervously. After a minute or two, my phone vibrated. Kyle slipped me the keys. I'm sorry I left without you guys. I had to get out of there.

I'll be back before the end of the service, I promise. Be safe. Shit. It was now imperative that I'd not be seen. I went to the men's bathroom, locked myself in a stall, and played brick-brick. for the longest 20 minutes of my life. When I knew the service wouldn't go much longer, I texted Kimber again. You on your way back yet? Did you find it?

I sat waiting, watching the minutes tick by. 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 a text popped up from Kyle The service was over Why aren't you guys back yet?

Did you find it? I left the bathroom stall And found Kyle staring out the window Looking for my car Kyle He jumped Where's Kimber? I don't know She left without me

What? Where is she now? I don't know Kyle She left without me She's not answering my calls or my texts Shit! We have to be have to keep an eye on her dad until she gets back. Yeah, well, he's not going anywhere.

Kyle gestured across the room. Three men were talking to Kimber's dad in the corner. The tallest was Killian Clary, who was flanked by two of his former deputies. Drisking's retired sheriff had his hand on Mr. De Stero's arm and was speaking to him in a hushed, angry tone. Kimber's dad was shaking his head and desperately objecting. The two deputies walked hurriedly out the front door of the people. church, and Mr. Desteros sagged against Clary in shock. Something was happening.

Call Kimber. Now. I tried again, and this time the call only rang once before it was sent to voicemail. I threw up my hands, looking desperately at Kyle. Again. He said, and took out his own phone. I tried again and heard Kyle connect to someone on the other line. Phil? What part of town are you in?

I need a ride. It's an emergency. Yeah, man. I'm at Northridge Church with Sam. I'll owe you. Kyle hung up, and I tried Kimber again. 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 nervously against my leg.

Come on, Saunders. We threw occasional looks back at Kimber's dad, until Clary stood up and ushered the inconsolable man out of the church. Suddenly, Kyle's phone chirped, and we both looked down to see Kimber's name flashed on the screen. Kyle sagged against the wall in relief. I found it. Kyle opened the text and furiously typed to reply. They're coming for you, Kay.

We both stared at the phone, waiting for a response. We got one just as Phil's sedan pulled lazily into the parking lot. They're here. It was the last message we got from Kimber. When Phil dropped us at the distero house, we found the front door unlocked, and the house empty. My car was sitting in the driveway, unlocked with the keys sitting on the front seat. 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'd left it.

Kyle was an absolute wreck. He called Kimber so many times, I was sure he'd killed her battery. After half an hour of undignified 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 she's missing. She left the funeral early, and Clary was talking to her dad,

and then Samson and Greg left, and I think they went to her house, and they got her. I think they're still working for Clary on the side or something, and I think they took her somewhere. She... Whoa, whoa, slow down. Come by the station and let's talk. I'll take a statement and send a couple officers over to the house 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. I sped down the road with a silent white-faced Kyle. I turned into the Butler County Sheriff's Office, and he was out of the car.

car as soon as I slowed down. By the time I got inside, my dad had Kyle by the shoulders and was nodding at everything Kyle was telling him. When my dad saw me, he ushered us into his office 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 an official statement from you both. You should know that right now, it looks like the Desteros left town voluntarily. No, no way, Mr. Walker. Kimber... My dad held up his hand for silence. Let me rephrase. Jacob D'estero left town voluntarily. Kimber is a minor and has no legal rights here. If her dad decides that they're leaving, then they're leaving. But she's not answering her phone. And we went to her house, Dad. Nothing was packed. Maybe they're going to her relatives.

I can't theorize as to why she wouldn't 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 very likely that Kimber will be back by the fall. The fall?

Sheriff Walker, that's three months away. You need to investigate now! Kyle, I know you're upset, and no one said we weren't going to investigate thoroughly. Like you investigated Whitney's disappearance thoroughly? Sam, I am 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 will never give her up. And what about the deputies that left the funeral to go after Kimber?

Samson and Greg. He sighed. Boys, Samson and Greg left the funeral because I sent them out on a call. I stood up, violently knocking over my chair in the process. Oh, come on, Dad! The sheriff slammed his hands on the desk and stood up. All right, that's enough. 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 I care about the De Starros 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 war path and let us handle this. Now Ramirez is waiting in the hall to take your statements and then both of 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.

We 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 cry, but not the last. lying. I shook my head. I didn't know what to believe. Kyle turned his face away from me.

I know he's lying. Something bad happened, and he knows. Like what? I watched Kyle try to collect himself. Fucking talk to me. What do you think happened? Kimber's gone. Like all the others.

She's a... She's gone. Baraska? I punched the steering wheel. How the fuck had this happened? God, not Kimber. Please not Kimber. Was all of this because of me?

Had her mother killed herself because of something I'd done? Something we'd found out? Was it my fault Kimber was missing? If I thought for one minute that was true, I knew I would crack into a million tiny pieces. No, not Kimber. Yes, Sam. Fucking think about it.

it. It's all the same. Horaska, the skinned men, the triple tree, your sister, the mountain, it's all the fucking same. It's the Prescott Empire. And now Kimber's been fucking, fucking consumed by it. Where do we go? What do we do? What do we do? Kyle threw his hands up in frustration. We have to go to Ambercott, right?

and all starts and ends at that fucking tree, Sam. Surely you've figured that out. We've been to that treehouse a million times, Kyle. There's nothing there. I don't know where else to go, Sam. I sighed. Treehouse, it is. We drove in silence, both of us trying desperately to get a hold of ourselves.

I parked in the space next to the trailhead and saw several bikes tied to the post. As we made up our way to the West Rim Prescott-Oar Trail, we passed Parker coming down it with a couple of his friends. I nodded to him, but Kyle said nothing, just stared up at the trail reaching for the only place he knew to go. It was almost dark by the time we reached Ambercott, and there was a 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.

And the same dense black hole began to consume my stomach, as it had all those years ago when we were searching here for, Whitney. But this time had to be different. 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 terrified that we would hear the piercing metal screams of the monster at Barasca that we'd become so accustomed to over the years. We knew that if it rang out, all hope would be lost. I dropped Kyle at home an hour later and promised him we'd find Kimmer. He gave me a shallow nod and disappeared. appeared inside his house. My dad was waiting for me in the kitchen when I walked in a few minutes later.

I ignored him and walked over to the fridge. 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 relate to. Anne had been depressed for a good long while, Sam, over 20 years. years. That weighs on a person. I ignored him and continued making my sandwich. I was dying inside, wondering if I could even trust my own father. She was suffering, Sam, and sometimes people who suffer that deeply don't know of any other way out. She saw her depression hurting her husband and her daughter, and maybe she thought she was doing them a service. Mom's depressed,

I said, without taking my eyes from the cutting board. He sighed. Your mom is coping okay, and this was very different, Sam. Kimber's mother had been depressed since she was in her 20s. I shouldn't be telling you this, but early in her marriage, Anne suffered multiple miscarriages. Infertility can be very hard on some couples. I'm going to bed. Kyle and I are getting up early to look for Kimber.

You still look for her too? I threw the knife in the sink with a loud clang and turned to look at my dad for the first time. The sheriff stood up from the kitchen table. Looking as tired and disheveled as I felt. Yes, him. And I finally believed him. The next morning when I pulled up to Kyle's house, Parker came out to meet me.

I rolled down the window and cool morning air wafted in. Hey, Parker. Kyle's not here. He left around five. Stole my dad's truck. He's pissed, so you'd better go. Thanks. I said, and then rolled up the window.

and took off down the street. I drove around all morning looking for Kyle and calling his cell, but he didn't pick up until around noon. Sorry, man. Kyle sounded a bit more stable than yesterday. That's cool. Where are you at? I don't know, exactly. You in the woods?

Hey, well, let me meet you. Okay. I was only five minutes away, so I arrived before Kyle had time to get down the mountain. Mr. Landy'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 very much doubted Kyle cared at this point. I crossed my arms and leaned against my car as I waited for him,

staring up at the familiar dirt trail. When Kyle finally showed half an hour later, he was covered in sweat and dejection. So, nothing. All right, well, let's keep searching. We hiked miles and miles of the mountain that day, and the days after. If the sun was out, so were we.

Kyle was growing more and more desperate, crossing onto private property 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. And 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 working on Kimber's case, but the De Stero House remained as empty and dark as the space between the stars above it. Eleven nights after Kimber's disappearance, I was awoken by the screeching sound of death at Barasca. I cried myself back to sleep to the tortured din of Kyle's own agony next door. We had failed her. Kimber, it was dead.

When I pulled up to his house the next morning, I could tell that it was all over for Kyle. His skin had taken on a yellowed color, and his voice was flat and void of emotion. It's not over yet, Kyle. Yes, it is, Sam. Kimber's dad is missing, too, you know? Maybe it was him instead that was... That, um... I...

I couldn't bring myself to say anything more. You know, we're living in hell. Drisking is hell. I couldn't disagree. The town I'd grown to love, seemed so unfamiliar to me now. Whitney hadn't been an outlier like I'd thought. Missing people were the norm here.

And that would make Jimmy Prescott the king, Satan himself. As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Kyle punched the car door, awaking from his dead in state with enraged vigor. I stared out the window. I'll fucking kill Jimmy Prescott! You know he's involved in all this. Sam, you...

Maybe? I'm pretty sure the Prescott's are just running drugs. Yeah. And so what? He's recruiting people to be drug mules or something? Yeah, probably. I agreed for Kyle's sake, though I didn't really believe it. The Great Beast Machine of Baraska gave off the distinct stench of death.

And though I knew that physically it was impossible to smell death all over the mountain, it didn't change my mind about it. We drove over to Fourth Street Gourmet Coffee and went in to buy our usual provisions of rock stars and beef jerky. As I paid for the four pack of cans, I noticed Mira waiting on coffee at the opposite end of the bar. I could tell 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 can't come in again today. I've got something I need to... Sam! Oh my gosh, how are you? Um, I'm okay. Oh, good. Don't worry about coming in. I'll hold down the fort. I'm sure I can call Emmeline if I need help. What have you been up to lately that's so important? My mind blank. Just as I started to stutter out some bullshit about helping my dad, Kyle appeared behind me. We're trying to find Barasca.

You know, Owen told me you asked about that. It's just a story, Sam. That legend has been around since I was a kid. Yeah, well, we're looking for our missing friend, Kimber. We think maybe. Maybe she's there. I trailed off lamely. Oh, really? I thought I heard that Desteros were staying with relatives in Maine over the summer. She's not. Kyle's voice was sour, and I knew his patience was thin.

When we got back into the car, we each popped open a can of Rockstar and started chugging. He finished the energy drink in under a minute and crumbled the can in his hand. I don't like your boss. Mira, why not? I don't know. She's just off. Well, she's been going through some shit. 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 I thought he might know. He seemed to know about a lot of other things. And did he? Nah. I took a long gulp of the sour drink and slowly brought it down to my lap as I recalled something Owen had said. Well, actually, yeah. He called it eight. Baraska instead of just Baraska. You know, like it's a thing instead of a place?

And is it? I don't know. I pulled out my phone. You don't even know how to spell it. We need to talk to Catherine Scan one again. That's what Kimber would say. He was right. Catherine was probably the best person to ask.

I threw my can out the window and sped around the corner to her office, hoping she was open early. I was relieved to find the door unlocked, and we hurried past. the antiquities and blown glass to the back of the store where we found Catherine sitting behind her desk. Boys, you're up quite early for summer break. How did the essay go? Uh, great. Actually, we're here for more help.

Personal interest. Catherine raised an eyebrow. Call me impressed. I needed to get right down to it. If by some small chance Kimber was still alive, then every second counted it. We're here because we want to know about Baraska. Ah, yes.

I remember that legend as a kid. Tell me, I leaned over her desk. Well, the term Barasca is just an old, outdated lexicon. The word was used by miners to describe an underperforming mine. Kyle shook his head. We've been looking at mines. So all the mines in Butler County are Barasca's? Well, generally it's only the first mine in the system to run dry that you'd call a barasca.

Do you know which mine ran dry first? Not off the top of my head, but I think I have those records here somewhere. Catherine walked behind her desk and opened a drawer of loose files. Was the first mine that ran out of ore the same one those kids disappeared in? The McCaskies. Oh, no, I don't think so. that particular mine was the southwest mine was very close to town here we go

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 the north central mine Kyle walked over to the desk and braced his arms on it.

But where is it? Where is that mine? Catherine pulled a wrinkled map out from underneath a nearby stack of papers. Let's see. That mine was up further around the mountain, a little harder to get to. She pointed at a small dot on the map that was at least six miles from where we'd been looking. Can we take this? Of course. I'm sure I have copies.

As we rushed out of the building, she yelled to us. Great. You boys have fun. Fun was far from our minds. It's so far from where we've been looking. We need to go there now. We need to get a gun. A gun? Where are we going to get a gun? From your dad.

He's not going to give us a gun, man. Fine. Then let's scout the place first, and then we'll come back. back with a gun. That didn't seem like a good idea to me either, but what choice did I 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 up the beaten path, realizing that we'd have to travel past Amber caught Ford on the way. I knew in my heart that we were on the right trail. We passed the treehouse, which was a sight of the side of the house, which was a silent as the morning. We walked on in the woods, further north than we'd ever been before.

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, and that we were painfully emotional and unprepared. By noon, we had been hiking for hours without a break, 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 as 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 broke through the tree line and found before us a quiet encampment. A large wooden signpost stood near the entrance of a mine. It had to be a century old, and though most of the letters had rotted off over the years, from those remaining I could guess that it had once said, Drisking Underground Mine. What was left, however, read Skin, N-D-M-I-N. Skinned men.

Kyle pointed to the north end of the camp. We stepped into the vulnerability of the clen. There were several large buildings still standing. The boarded-up entrance to the ore mine was set back in the mountain. We're not getting in there. Let's try that building. Kyle pointed to the largest building which was two stories tall. We counted to three and then ran to the large wooden doors of the old building. They were cracked open.

And when we squeezed inside, I had no doubts that death was indeed present at Baraska. 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 tint. This is the machine. People die in 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 to find an obnoxiously large green truck parked against the building.

This is Jimmy Prescott's truck. I know whose truck it is. 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 there was only the dragging sound of our bodies through the dirt. Kyle turned to me and put a 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 ran across the gap between the two buildings. I did the same.

As soon as I reached the wall next to him, Kyle whirled around and put a finger to his lips and then pointed up to a window directly above us. There were noises coming from inside. And even to me, a 16-year-old version, the sound of sex was unmistakable, an animalistic grunting in the tired, objecting groans of an old mattress. Kyle was already gone, all caution abandoned, sprinting 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, the stench of great suffering.

Kyle kept running. I followed him in, past crates of Raymond noodles, MREs, bottled water, and boxes I had no time to read. I crossed another threshold and was suddenly surrounded by people. I skidded to a halt and realized I was standing in a dorm. Rows and rows of beds on either side of me had people strapped to them. Some were wearing dirty rags and some wore nothing at all. Many seemed to be bloated and sick. I waited for one to call out to me, but they all remained silent.

Some watched me through tired, dead eyes, and others turned their heads away from me. I realized they were all women. and the bloating I saw seemed to be pregnancies. Some of the women were strapped down and others were not. I looked for Kyle and found him standing further inside the long room, looking back at me with the same confused wild expression I knew was on my own face. I yelled at him, but he was already running again. I lost Kyle before I'd taken five steps to follow him.

I looked around for another door and saw one cracked open on my own. my left behind a row of beds. I stared straight ahead as I made my way there, desperate to avoid the 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. When I reached it, I pushed the door open and found the source of the noises we'd heard outside the building. 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 Christy, treating her like an animal. She watched me through half-opened eyes, but she didn't call for help. I thought I saw a tear run down her cheek

before she turned her face away from me. What the fuck? Jimmy's head snapped around to look at me and briefly registered surprise before he smiled in a way that turned my insights to ice. He didn't stop what he was doing, and I wanted nothing more than to run over and push him off of Christy, but To my utter shame, I couldn't force myself to come any further into the room. Kyle's voice immediately cured me of my paralysis. I turned and ran back toward the sound of Kyle's voice. Kyle! Back here!

Hurry! Please! I found Kimber! I followed his voice through the maze of rooms as a cacophony of noise followed me. Their voices were weak. I'll get help. I'll help you. I promise.

I promised them as I followed Kyle's voice, still screaming desperately from an adjacent room. I sprinted across another threshold and saw him, hunched down near a corner bed, helplessly yanking on a leather strap. I 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. If Kimber looked at me through the same accusing empty eyes as Christy and the others, I couldn't bear it. Go around the other side. I buckle the straps. Kyle had the high-pitched voice and wild desperate eyes of a madman.

I did as he'd said with shaking hands. Jimmy's voice rang out from somewhere in the building. I had just freed Kimber's ankle and was working on her wrist. She whimpered when she heard him and buried her face in my shoulder. Fuck your girl. I'll fucking kill you, Prescott! You sick fuck! I'll stop all your...

Bones and lead you out, you little! You little! Kyle had lost all reason and strategy. He was filled with rage instead of fear. I pulled Kimber's wrist from the final strap. Go now! We pulled Kimber up off the bed and realized that her legs couldn't support her. She was heavily sedated and breathing weakly.

We braced her on either side and moved as quickly as we could through the nearest doorway. We were in another dorm. I could see sunlight shining through the door at the end of the long room, and we raced towards it. 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 sight of me. Whitney? Sam! I can't.

I turned toward him as tears ran down my hot cheeks, and Kyle saw her too. I can't. I can't stay. I've got to get Kimber away from here. Good luck, bro. Then, we were both running in different directions. Whitney's hair was stringy, and her face was thin. Everything on her looked brittle, except for her stomach, which sat on top of her like an overblown balloon. She refused to look at me and flinched as I tried desperately to unbuckle her from the bed.

I hadn't even finished the first belt when I heard, Jimmy behind me. I didn't bother to look at him or stop what I was doing. I admire your grit, kid. Jimmy sat down on a bed behind me, giving no objection to what I was doing. You probably think your friends will get away. There's no sense in false hope, is there? There's no sense in any of this. My voice cracked over the last word. You're wrong about that. But just so you know, Claire's out there looking for him already. People make a lot of noise coming down off this mountain.

Trust me on that. I said nothing and moved to Whitney's ankle. You know, Clary was supposed to retire from this business. Unlike the previous sheriff, he kept a few horses in the race. Horses? Yeah, 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 toward the door while I went after Prescott,

but all she did was rubber wrists and itch her collarbone. Then she put her arms back where they'd been, turned her head away from me, and shut her eyes. My stomach fell. Run! I wanted to scream at her, but I knew we were both dead. You want to know what this is, Sam? I shrugged. It didn't seem to matter now. You should know. This might all be yours someday. We need fresh blood. You see, it's all about the babies.

I stared down at Whitney and her swolely. and belly. You wouldn't believe how much money is in the industry. My dad was a smart man. He knew we didn't have anything of value. Back then, the Prescott's were out of work minors just like everyone else. So he sold my brother off and pay the legal fees to fight the city. I mean, some people will pay five figures for a newborn, you know, even back then. The organizations that buy them, well, they buy in bulk. And our overhead is very low, as you can see. Jimmy stood up and pulled a gun out of his waste ban. Try to understand, Walker, 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. I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to be here listening to this. I didn't want to see Whitney so broken, and I didn't want to wait for inevitable death. Why don't you just kill me? This isn't a Bond movie. I don't care about any of this shit.

Jimmy laughed. Kill you? Christ, kid. If I could, than I already would have. But I'm not allowed to kill you. I've been trying to decide if I want to kill your sister, 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. Jimmy took two steps towards me and punched me so hard in the face that I thought I heard my cheekbone crack. I fell back on the bed, fighting the stars behind my eyes. I can't let her go, you little shit. 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. As soon as this one's out of her, she's got a date with the shiny gentleman. A loud ringing suddenly filled the room. Jimmy held up a finger and pulled a phone out of his pocket. I got to take a business call. Jimmy walked over to a corner of the room, and I desperately started to pull on Whitney. We got to go. We've got to go, Whit. We can't stay here.

They're going to kill you. My head whipped toward the door as I heard a truck pull up outside. Jimmy ended his phone call, and Killian Clary walked in, pushing a limping, bloody Kyle in front of him. Lose something, Prescott? Where's the girl? Couldn't find her. God damn it, Clary, go back out there and find her.

Jimmy snatched his gun off the bed and shoved it into the back of his waistband. Now listen here, you little shit. I ain't your fucking employee, and I don't have to. 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. Clary threw Kyle down on the floor and spit near his feet.

I gotta do your fucking job now? Jimmy walked over, and without any 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 dizzy from the blow. Where's your girlfriend, Landy? Prescott raised his boot and then stomped down hard on Kyle's ankle. I can do this all day again.

Clary sat down on a 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 shit! Jimmy punched him again in the face, and Kyle went limp. You killed him. killing him. I jumped off the bed, running at Jimmy in a red rage. Clary stood up and caught me with no effort at all, pinning my arms 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. After a full minute of this, Jimmy stood up and rubbed his bloodied fists. Last chance, Landy. Fuck. Kyle said, through a wheezing, rattling breath of air, Jimmy spat on him, raised his foot up 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 Clary's arms, and he dropped me into a puddle at his feet. Jimmy bummed a cigarette off Clary, and they stood next to Whitney's bed, watching me cry. Jesus, what a mess. Clary lit a new cigarette. All right, Sam. Take your friend.

Fuck that. That little landy shit ain't leaving here. You want to clean this mess up, Prescott? I got up from the floor. I'm not leaving without my sister. 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 caught the keys and stared at him. at them. 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. Without looking at the two men, I grabbed Kyle 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 stay calm as I dragged him out of the building. Clary and Prescott watched me, taking drags off their cigarettes and saying nothing. I knew they were 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 Clary's old Ford and pushed Kyle into the passenger seat, wincing as his head rolled around like a ball on a string. It took me almost an hour to get down the mountain, even though I took the overgrown road at ridiculous speeds 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 cart and an IV ready to push into Kyle's wrist. I left Clary's truck where it was and spent the next two hours in the waiting room staring at the floor. No one came to take a statement from me or ask me any questions. Kyle's mom arrived just before my dad 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. Does anyone even fucking care what happened?

Sam? He didn't turn to look at me. I am doing my best on damage control, but if Kyle dies, there is nothing I can do to keep you out of court. You think I did this? We're not going to tell your mother. She has enough to worry about. Dad, it's... Kimber. It was fucking Prescott and Clary. Sam, you arrived at the hospital in Killian's truck. I talked to them both. so frustrated and full of rage

that my next words came out a jumbled stuttering mess that ended in a helpless scream. We pulled up to a light and my dad turned to look at me. Samuel, we will never speak of this again. Do you understand? Are you fucking kidding me? Kyle might die.

I saw Kimber. Enough. If you want this to go away, you will keep your mouth shut, make no statements to anyone, and listen to your lawyer. I don't know why you beat your best friend to death, and frankly, I don't want to. You are not. Fuck you! I screamed at him, threw open the cruiser door and started running. He didn't come after me. Not that day or any other. Everyone in town thought I was a violent thug,

so 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 paying for the room. I went back to pick up my car from the trailhead, that it was gone. I hoped it was Kimber who had it. and not some towyard. I read the paper every morning for mention of Kyle's condition. I saw the Daily's birth announcement about ten days later. Mira had just had a son that they named William. But I knew Mira hadn't been pregnant.

The shiny gentleman lit up the valley with its song of death that same night, and Whitney was gone. 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 only an empty husk remained of my best friend, I left his house and hitched hiked out of town. I spent four drunken drug-fueled years in Chicago.

And then one day, I came home 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. I knew Kimber's handwriting better than my own. Inside was a letter. The letter. I read it only once.

Kimber I need to tell you some things I know you aren't going to understand why we did the things we did you're everything to me and you'll always be my daughter do you understand 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 it's not your fault darling this town has done horrible things read this letter and leave this place. To understand, I'll need to start at the beginning.

Somewhere along the way, decades ago, the major population of Drisking became unable to bear children. People blamed the town for letting the iron ore leak into our water table during the explosions in the mines. They were never quite able to fix it and were drinking the same water today. Or is toxic and exposure causes infertility in many people. The town did and still do. does suffer greatly from its effects. And the Prescott's, they solved the problem that no one could

solve. It was an ugly solution, but most people were happy to look away when they were able to raise families again. They took girls, Kimber, mostly women from nearby cities, 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. The sheriff's have 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 the people in town began to whisper, but we again turned the other cheek when the city was suddenly flooded with money. The traffickers paid so well. People had well-paying jobs again, so we said nothing, and those that did were taken to the

mountain. There is 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. After a price is agreed upon, a meeting is set at a tree halfway between our town and the baby mill. Sometimes kids play there now. Think you played there. The Prescott's and the sheriff are the ones who impregnate the girls and the children are named after them. 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 refine ore, the shiny gentleman. Their bodies are crushed, and the blood and skin stripped away, and what remains of them and their stolen children and the dust of their bones. and that dust is crushed to a fine powder and 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. Run away and never come back and never speak of it to anyone. Their industry has deep roots 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, Mom. You have been listening to the No Sleep Podcast production of Boraska by C.K. Walker. The script was adapted for audio by C.K. Walker and Gabrielle Lux. This audio presentation was produced by Phil Mikulski.

Original musical score by Brandon Boone. Original artwork for this episode is courtesy of Sabu. This audio presentation starred Matthew Bradford as Sam Walker. Jessica McAvoy as Kimber Destero. Jeff Clement as Kyle Landy. Mike Flanagan as Sam's father. Nicole Doolin. as Sam's mother, Kate Siegel as Mira McCaskey, Todd Faulkner as Jimmy Prescott,

Alison Crane as Anne Destero, Erica Sanderson as Catherine Scanlan, Mike Delgadoo as Sheriff Cleary, Ellie Hirschman as Phil Saunders, and David Cummings as Thomas Prescott. And featuring the No Sleep Players, Nicole Goodnight, Atticus Jackson, Dan Zapula, Addison Peacock, Kyle Akers, Alexis Bristow, Corinne Sanders, Tisha Boone, and Wendy Corrigan. To learn more about the No Sleep Podcast, please visit the NOSleeppodcast.com. I'm your host, David Cummings. On behalf of everyone at the No Sleep Podcast, we thank you for listening and for making our seventh season so successful. We hope you'll join us on October 9th for the start of Season 8.

This audio production is copyright 2016 by Creative Reason Media, Inc., all rights reserved. Boraska is copyright 2015 by C.K. Walker. No duplication or reproduction of this audio program is permitted without the written consent of Creative Reason Media, Inc.