 When the call about the missing campers and the abandoned campsite came in, I was sitting in front of the park ranger station, watching a fire that crackled in the rusted old pit that's been here for decades. The flames were slowly eating the wood, the heat occasionally sputtered and spat as the pine logs were devoured. It's one of my favorite ways to pass the time out here. A fire, like watching fish in an aquarium or animals in a zoo, is endlessly captivating because it's a tiny bit of nature captured and put on display. The same reason people come here to the Spruce Ridge National Park, and just like a fire, the woods here can scorch you if you're not careful. I shuffled back inside, took the call, and headed out for the rendezvous point after listening to the report for a few minutes. Another couple gone missing, not too out of the ordinary, at least not yet. So I loaded my gun, hopped in my jeep, and headed out as the sun began to recede past the trees. The searing summer sun peaked out from between dense fur limbs that surrounded the rocky terrain on all sides, sweeping over the horizon as far as I could see. I passed glimmering ponds filled with algae and pavilions filled with brown picnic benches. As the jeep bounced up and down on carefully maintained blacktop and redded brown roads filled with dirt and rock, I could practically hear the croak of frogs, the chirping of crickets, and the hum of a few dragonflies as I sped past. No matter how long I was a park ranger, I never got used to the thrill of the great outdoors. The serenity you could find in the fresh air was eternal, as was its sheer size. It reminds me of the pioneer days when it was just a few families alone in the vastness of the frontier, and it was a very unforgiving frontier. Back then, there were no rangers or park security like me to make sure no families got lost. First aid didn't exist, and Mother Nature never suffered fools. Some people have forgotten that. But Mother Nature never hesitates to remind people about what she can do. Lately seems particularly active on that front in these parks. I carefully maneuvered the jeep through hills, which were bigger the farther I got away from the base. The wind lashed through the cracked windows as I passed fallen cedar trees on the way to my destination. I love these woods, but I never forgot how merciless they can be, and how many people have met their end out here. How many bodies have been buried right here? How many people went out into these woods and simply never came out? There's no way of knowing for sure, but these woods have been around for centuries, and that's enough time for death to plant a seed for every tree out here. I was dispatched to find Libby and Dale Morrison, a well-to-do couple that had gone out on a camping vacation. Their empty campsite had been found by a group of hikers, and since no one had seen the couple for a few days, I was sent out to take a closer look. Funny enough, while I've always loved the outdoors, I've never liked camping. If you fill out enough missing persons and death reports, you learn fast to treat the woods like a tiger or a lion. They might be stunning to look at, but never forget what can happen when you encounter them. Although plenty of people have wised up and learned how to camp safely. Camping certain places alone is a bit like putting out a candy bowl on Halloween with a please take one sign with no one to watch. Not everyone who walks by has to ignore the rule and do whatever they please. All it takes is one. It may have only taken one person to make my brother-in-law Jerry vanish a few weeks ago. National parks seem so humdrum and tame, but anyone who works at one knows there's a lot of dark things that happen within those trees. Colts will meet here, drug deals go down and go wrong, people vanish, and plenty of murders all happen within these woods. Bodies are dumped here and found days, weeks, or even months later, all torn to pieces from the animals, and no coroner could figure out how they got that way. I've interviewed plenty of applicants who think this job is some cakewalk and an easy paycheck. They all get a nasty wake-up call sooner or later and it either sobers them up or makes them run out of here like they've been chased out. And I've seen things that I don't blame them for wanting to run from. People have been afraid of monsters in the woods for centuries. I don't expect that to change anytime soon, no matter what modern technology exists. That's why the single best alarm system that ever was invented is man's best friend. The minute a dog starts barking, you know someone, or something, is there. But when you're outside and your dog whimpers and runs away like the ground is on fire, well, that's your cue to get out. It's no coincidence that in all the time I've been on duty here, I've never had to deal with a situation where one or more person involved had a dog. Never. Back at the station that houses my office, there's an entire bulletin board with missing person's flyers. Most of them are couples or entire families. Wholesome looking, happy, and smiling at the camera, like they don't have a care in the world, which is usually how they end up on the wall in the first place. I was about to find out whether the Morrison's would join them. It's not a task I enjoy at all. In the five years I've had this job, I've taken off maybe 10 of those flyers, and not because the people on them were found safe and sound either. Most people on it are the type of people who think because they have GPS and cars with all the latest bells and whistles, there's nothing to worry about when you camp or venture into the woods. A lot of people who venture out here have that attitude. If they're lucky, they realize the mistake and live to talk about it. Other times, not so much, but maybe their fate can help teach others a lesson. I've certainly had to deal with my share of journalists, documentary filmmakers, law enforcement officers from various divisions, private investigators, and inquiring relatives and friends, the professionals I have no problem dealing with. They're just doing a job, same as me. That's not to say they don't take what happens seriously, or feel bad for the parties involved. Not at all. But they're used to dealing with stuff like this for the most part, and it rarely touches them personally. Only rarely do I see the look in their eye that tells that what happened here will haunt them. On the other hand, dealing with family members in that situation is by far the worst part of my job. I'd rather stumble upon a million bodies than have to deal with grieving family members. I've done it too many times. But it never gets any easier. Never. And it shouldn't. It was dark by the time I arrived at the Morrison campsite, which was a long way from any main area. As expected, they'd spared no expense and had gone camping with brand new gear that I was certain they'd just bought. Brand new equipment, cooking gear, and a black SUV that was still gleaming like it was fresh off the lot. I did have to concede that Mr. and Mrs. Morrison picked a terrific spot, right on the lake. It was a clear night, and the moon glistened off the calm surface, which looked like glass. No matter what happened on the job, night time was always my favorite time to work, or do anything else. So long as I took proper precautions, I suppose it's the same reason people think about hitting up an old flame late at night. In the modern era, it's easy to look down upon more primitive times and their fears about what lay just out of sight in the darkness, but come out here at night when it's pitch black, and those fears suddenly become far more relatable. Modern technology may be the 21st century, but where your flashlight ends, it's the 19th century. All it takes is for your flashlight to run out of batteries, your GPS to fail, or your car to not start. And you're no longer in modern times out here. You're right back where your ancestors were. But at least they knew how to survive in conditions like that. As I looked around the campsite, the stars gleamed out of the sky and looked brighter than usual. I don't think people think about space as in really think about it and what it entails. It's a stunning concept, to behold, the vastness of the galaxy and all the galaxies beyond it. When you think about it, Earth is nothing more than a tiny apartment in a massive skyscraper when you think of how massive space is. The phrase outer space involves gargantuan size and a scale that is unfathomable. When pondering this, the two most terrifying concepts in their implication are that you are completely alone in the universe. And you are not alone in the universe. Which one is more terrifying depends a lot on the person. The phrase in space, no one can hear you scream, is so much more than a movie tagline. It's a simple fact. Because not only can no one hear you scream, you might not even be able to scream. Which is one of the most horrifying feelings a human can experience. It's like calling for an ambulance. Only to be told, help isn't coming. The woods are the same way, as it's no coincidence they refer to space as the final frontier. It's also what makes someone going missing in a huge park like this such a nightmare for a search party. In a populated area, you can rule areas out and narrow things down. But out here in the woods, someone could be literally anywhere. The Morrison campsite wasn't torn to shreds like it had been attacked by a wild animal, nor did it resemble the scene of a horror movie style bloodbath. It looked like countless campsites that had been abandoned without any afterthought. Had it not been for their car nearby, I would have thought they just left on a whim. Their car, a shiny black Cadillac SUV with a grill hood that gleamed in the light from my flashlight, was still here. So that meant they either left in someone else's car, they ran off somewhere outside the park, or they were still here. But it wouldn't be the first time I've seen couples ditch one vehicle out here to get in another. So the question was, what caused the Morrison's to flee from where they'd set up shop? It certainly wasn't because they needed to use a bathroom. In my experience, people almost always flee due to fear. But fear of what? I scan the area slowly with my flashlight. The Morrison certainly spared no expense. The RV was top of the line, certainly a step up from sleeping in a tent. You don't leave equipment like this for no reason, especially if you're someone with money. A quick check revealed that none of the car's tires had been slashed. And from all appearances, it looked to be in good condition. Since the RV's front door was halfway open, I wasted no time in climbing the metal steps and peering inside. As expected, everything inside was top of the line. Most of it looked like they had just bought it at the store a week ago. I carefully climbed inside and with one hand on my gun, I slowly checked the bathroom and bedroom. The bathroom was a jumbled mess of tubes and bottles and the bed was unmade. But everything was perfectly in order. Nor did it look like anything was stolen. I stepped back outside and started to walk towards my jeep to radio what I'd seen. But when I was over halfway there, the skin on my arms prickled and I felt a chill run down my back. Despite the billowing humidity, I was chilled to the bone. I took a deep breath, carefully placed one hand back on my gun and walked the remaining distance, taking care to keep my back aligned with the RV. As I had the sense I was being watched, I'd felt this sensation before and you never get used to it. And just like dealing with grieving families, you shouldn't. Because if you do, the next grieving family may be yours. With paranoia and fear growing with each step, I mercifully made it to the jeep okay and slam the door shut. Before I radioed back to the base, I leaned back in the driver's seat and tried to relax. As I took another deep breath and reminded myself to just stay calm, I surveyed the terrain again. No car tracks aside from mine or the Morrison's, no evidence of a struggle and no sign of any other life out here. But that didn't mean nothing else was out here besides me. As if to answer that, a guttural roar burst out from the woods to my right and I practically shot out of my seat. It was the ugliest sound I've ever heard and there was no way a human was capable of making that noise. It was the kind of sound that seems to be a living, breathing, physical entity like thunder. Without waiting another moment, I started the engine, floored the gas pedal, and the jeep roared to life as I drove out of there as fast as I could. As I pulled away, I swear I could see the trees where the roar came from tremble slightly. It wasn't until I'd been driving for about 10 minutes that I noticed some heavy breathing that sounded pained. When I realized it was mine, I tried to take a deep breath and calm down. Once I'd done the former and was attempting the latter, I picked up my radio with a clammy hand and called in what I found and heard. I was surprised as my voice was far calmer than I felt. On the other line, my colleague sounded surprised but not skeptical. Maybe it was sincere. Or maybe when I had it back up and we all headed back there together, we might find nothing and they might just declare me paranoid. I didn't really care either way. I'd much rather be called paranoid than a crime statistic. I rolled along at a good pace until I rounded a corner and a figure standing in the middle of the road made me slam on the brakes. In the harsh light from the vehicle's headlights, I could see the figure was slight, wearing badly tattered clothes and was pretty beat up. But when the figure took a step forward, I couldn't believe it. It was my brother-in-law, Jerry. I rolled down my window in shock. Bobby, we gotta go. He said, he got in and I hit the gas and we roared out of there. He panned for a good 30 seconds before his breathing evened out. What happened, Jerry? I asked after he had a chance to rest. There's something out here, Bobby. Some kind of creature. A monster. Like something out of a TV show. And there's this group of people that know about it and treat it like it's real important. They think it's so important. They even kidnap people and offer it to the monster to eat. That's what happened to me. What kind of monster is it? It was the only thing I could think of to ask him. I don't know. How'd you get away? Remember that knife you got me for Christmas last year? The one you can store anywhere? Yeah, yeah. I had it in my shoe at the time they grabbed me. Once I had a chance, I put it to good use. And here you are, saving my neck again. The sentence was barely out of his mouth when the car went around a bend and I had to slam on the brakes again. But this time, the site was far more chilling as the road was filled with people wearing identical black plastic masks, the kinds you get in bulk at a party store. They also wore plain black hooded sweatshirts with the hoods pulled up. No one moved an inch as I stopped. They all just stood there, facing me. Then, almost on command, they all started walking towards the vehicle. This was the only QI needed to start the car and run right through them. Or that was my plan before out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blur of color and two of the masked people went flying and slammed into trees. When they landed, both of them were sporting deep scratches that were bleeding. This made the others stop immediately before they started to flee in opposite directions. But that wasn't enough because more of them fell prey to whatever was out there which I couldn't see. I hit the gas harder than I ever had and it wasn't long before the screaming and wailing was just a faint background noise. The two of us didn't say a word to each other until we reached the Park Ranger station. Gathered around the front were a few of my colleagues, but two of the people were dressed casually and matched the description of the Morrison's whose campsite I was sent to check out. My face must have shown my surprise because Mrs. Morrison walked over to me and shook my hand. I'm Libby Morrison, Paranormal Investigator. My husband and I were investigating the rumors of strange occurrences out here and we left the campsite abandoned in order to try to record what happened. Well congrats you found something, was all I said before I briefly explained what happened and I left it to the professionals. All together the bodies of 10 people were pulled from the park. The rest were rounded up by law enforcement and charged with various things and while that was going on I decided to hand in my resignation.