The weeks where I felt I could enjoy the semester had quickly dwindled away and the time was drawing ever closer when I would need to decide on the topic of the most important project of my college career. The final essay would determine whether I received my degree or not, whether I would be on the fast track to the career of my dreams or would be doomed to a slow meander towards insignificance. For the life of me I couldn’t decide even what the subject of it should be. My degree was in environmental studies and the final report was something that wouldn’t just need to be good, it would need to stand out if it were to be successful. Each day seemed to shoot by quicker than the last and as the time before the deadline withered away like leaves on a parched vine, I started to become quite nervous about my predicament. I ended up calling my colleague, Jackson Pryce, for a lunch meet up one Saturday as he had grown to be a close confidant of mine whom I could typically depend on for advice regarding such academic predicaments. Before I knew it, that Saturday arrived, and I found myself sitting in the booth of one of my favorite cafes not but two blocks from the main campus in a quaint downtown area of Vancouver. The scent of spring was starting to trigger my hay fever, faint wafts of verdant pollen saturated air managed to sneak their way into every nook and cranny, very much including the café I found myself in. My overly sensitive allergies had always been a source of frustration for me, especially when they made my love of the outdoors feel somewhat unrequited, but I was determined to brush it off. The content of that meeting was too important to let a bit of a stuffed nose postpone.

  Jackson had a history of being scatterbrained. He and I had briefly shared an apartment, and I could scarcely recall how many times I had to remind him that he had begun to use the oven, or that his wet clothes had been sitting in the washing machine. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart, in fact when he managed to buckle down and put his mind to something, his academic performance especially, would put all others to shame. His struggle was typically with more basic things, such as remembering when he agreed to meet with his old friend for coffee, so it wasn’t long after our agreed upon meeting time that I grew to suspect he had lost track of time. Just as I was getting up from my chair, about ready to concede that he had possibly gotten the day wrong, I heard his voice come from behind me. “Cormac, Cormac, so sorry I’m late but I’ve got a good reason, I promise.” He seemed like there was something he knew that he couldn’t wait to tell me, like he might burst from the tension if he weren’t allowed to impart his knowledge to me. We had talked on the phone about the reason for the meeting, maybe he had put some thought into my predicament. The thought began to get my hopes up. Perhaps Jackson had found some piece of information that would be helpful to me, I began to hope.

  “Alpine Bluff Campgrounds.” He said as though those four words were a magical spell that would solve all my problems. “What?” I almost spit back, perhaps a little more perturbed by his tardiness than I had even realized. I was ready to get back up and walk away at that very moment, slightly irritated that the supposedly helpful bit of information he had for my dilemma was the name of some campsite. The idea that he might be insinuating a camping trip was what I needed when I had less than a handful of weeks remaining to turn in a paper that could spell the beginning or end of my professional career made me sour on the whole meeting. I was having second thoughts, to say the least. “Now Cormac, hear me out.” he sputtered. “Alright, go ahead and elaborate.” I responded, not even trying to conceal the impatience in my voice. “I heard from a few friends of mine in the Botany program that someone found what they were certain was a new species of fern near that campground at the base of the Rockies. They found something that’s not listed in any contemporary records, without question, but what’s even more interesting.” He paused and looked around before continuing, seeming like he wanted to make sure no one was eavesdropping, “Supposedly these new ferns are bioluminescent.” I scoffed audibly at the suggestion. I had never heard of something so ridiculous. It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel, not something any responsible academic with half a mind would even consider. Still, I had to give Jackson some credit, conversationally he was like an expert angler. Knowing just how wo maneuver himself to keep my attention hooked. He was a compelling storyteller, the emphatic nature with which he spoke and the enthusiasm he had for his own words was enthralling, but the bioluminescence part was just a bridge too far for me. “No such thing exists in this part of North America Jackson. I can’t believe I let you talk me into-.” He cut me off before I could finish the sentence and flashed his phone right in my face.

  On the screen were a series of pictures of what I had to admit, looked like bioluminescent plants. There was no way to tell whether the pictures were doctored or not, but I had to admit, they certainly didn’t look fake. If they had been doctored, it would have been the best photoshop I had ever seen. No, it was too realistic to be faked but I still had a difficult time wrapping my head around it. “N-no, that’s got to be from somewhere else in the world, New Zealand or the caves of Mexico or something.” I attempted to brush it away, but he persisted still. “I swear, my colleague from the botany program sent me these, I know he wouldn’t lie. These photos are from just north of the Alpine Bluff Campgrounds just at the base of the Rockies. They took these pictures towards the end of a trip they had planned up there. I don’t think they fully understood what they had found. Liam, there’s a good chance you could launch an amazing career for yourself if you documented an entirely new species in your Keystone paper.” The idea made my heart race, although I had mixed feelings about penning an academic paper on someone else’s find. I expressed that concern to Jackson, “They said it’s fine, Cormac, they’re not trying to secure a degree right now, I really think this could be what you were looking for. Imagine it, submitting your final paper on a newly discovered plant species, unlike anything else in North America. Environmental agencies would be falling over themselves trying to hire you.” Despite the outlandish nature of the discovery, I concede that the idea of my emails being flooded with job offers was a tantalizing concept. “It’s quite a drive from here, a few hours, but that’s nothing for the chance of writing a paper unlike any other, right? We could get a few people on board, in fact, two guys from that very program have already told me they’re open to it. We could plan a nice weeklong camping trip, which would give you all the time you needed to document every detail of the species, gather some samples, even get started on your paper so it wouldn’t just be a vacation.” I hated that what started as a ridiculous story had begun to seem like a potentially life-changing discovery that I was taking more seriously with every word he spoke. Still, I was hesitant. The notion that the same man who needed to be reminded that my cat did in fact need to be fed daily when I was out of town for a week, might be giving me the lead that could define my career made me nervous to say the least. However, I knew my paper was due in less than a month, and if I didn’t take up the lead, it would mean I was going back to the drawing board, not ideal given such a slim time frame. With great reluctance, a nod of the head, and a cheering of our coffee mugs, I begrudgingly agreed to Jacksons plan.

  It was decided we would set out a week from that very afternoon. As Jackson had suggested, preparations for the excursion weren’t difficult. Essentially after one trip to the supermarket, one trip to the campus outdoor activity center, and a spell of packing, we were ready to go. The week went by quickly, yet my nerves refused to subside. Even as I found myself preparing my notebooks, my stomach continued to twist and churn with the suspicion that the gamble on finding a new species of bioluminescent fern could turn out to be ill fated and might spell the end of my career before it even began. The idea that all of it could blow up in my face haunted me at every moment, the closer the day of departure drew. I knew I would soon be crossing my Rubicon.

  Despite my nerves I had been able to get just enough sleep for the few nights leading up to the big day. Jackson put me in contact with the other two men from the Botany program who would be accompanying us. My anxiety subsided only slightly when speaking with Greg and Max, the friends Jackson had been referring to, over the phone in a group phone call to finalize plans for the trip. Even though I couldn’t see their faces, I could hear the excitement as they detailed the sight of the bizarre glowing plants, and it gave me at least some comfort. At the very least it provided some reassurance that others were vouching for the discovery besides Jackson. It seemed like they could sense how I was feeling regarding the whole situation, and their tones did their best to reassure me. “It really is incredible Cormac” Greg said, I could imagine he was forcing the most convincing smile he could on the other side of the phone line. “I’ve never seen anything like it, really” Greg added. Their words did do a good deal to calm me down for the moment.

  Even though I had their reassurances, the nerves over the whole matter pursued me doggedly. The sense that I might have been making a giant mistake clung to me like gritty beach sand, persistently clinging to my legs long after leaving the shore, agitating and coarse. The thought of abandoning the whole plan and throwing together some hasty backup project at the last minute occurred to me more than once. I could write some mediocre paper on something that had probably already had many volumes written on it and hope that I managed to pass by the skin of my teeth, I thought. Perhaps my chances might even have been better if I had done so, I thought. As I laid awake in my bed, a mere two nights before we would leave for Alpine Bluff, the thought that I still had time to call the whole thing off loomed over me, bearing down on me like an imposing specter. As I weighed the decision, I finally accepted that it was too late to turn back, preparations had already been made, and I didn’t believe I had the stomach to call all three of my colleagues and tell them I had gotten cold feet, not after we already had a reservation made, and packing nearly complete. Having accepted the course of action, I gradually drifted off into a fitful slumber.

  I felt as though I moved through that next day on autopilot. Early in the morning it was painfully apparent that I was inadequately rested. Fortunately, most of the preparations were done at that point. As I sat at my table, savoring the heat of the bitter cup of coffee I held in my hands, the only thought I had was, “If I’m really doing this, I might as well go all in”. I did my best to let go of my reservations throughout that last day, it was more a day of mental labor than anything else, though it went by quickly. Most of the day consisted of simply finishing the last few tasks of preparation as I did my best not to fall asleep. I think I had been much more exhausted than I realized. It wasn’t only the inadequate sleep from the previous night, I think the weight of the endeavor I was preparing to undertake was far heavier than I understood at the time, and that weight finally caused me to buckle, falling asleep likely no later than 7pm, with the last half packed bag still sitting next to me on my bed.

  Then the big day was finally upon us. I shot awake, flying to my clock fearing I had overslept, but was relieved to see my clock reading 5:45 am. I had more than enough time to finish loading my van and make the rounds picking up my colleagues. As I stood in front of the SUV’s full of camping equipment, it felt surreal. Something about the small hours before the crack of dawn had a dreamlike quality to them, almost otherworldly. Maybe part of it was the idea that I was going about my day when much of the world was still fast asleep. But it was more than that, the peculiar mixture of reds, oranges, and lavender hues of that first morning light felt special to me, unique from the light of any other time of day. As I packed the last bag and got in the driver seat, I felt like I was viewing the whole experience from outside my own body, like I had perhaps wanted to think I was not an active participant in the imminent venture, but an outside observer. Perhaps that sense of view was a coping mechanism to manage the anxiety. The brisk chill in the air that seeped in from the cracked window of the front seat sent a rush of exhilaration through me, snapping me back to the reality of the situation. As the sun was just peeking over the misty Vancouver horizon, its rays poking holes of light through the fog, painting a picture of the typical natural beauty associated with the pacific northwest in the distance, I took a short moment to marvel at it, before making the drive to pick up the others. I made my way to Jacksons apartment first, he lived on the further outskirts of Vancouver, on the way east towards the Rockies. Greg and Max had stayed the night in his living room in sleeping bags, almost like they wanted to get into the camping mentality ahead of time. They struck me as the type of avid outdoorsmen who reveled in these types of ventures. As I pulled up to the driveway of his complex, I noticed all three were already outside, bags packed and ready to go, Gregs much older car stuffed to the brim with equipment. “Are you sure you didn’t forget anything?” I asked, wanting to make sure we wouldn’t find ourselves all the way out there only to realize some crucial piece of equipment had been left behind. Heads shook across the semicircle we formed around the two cars. It was decided that Max and Greg would partner up in one car, and Jackson and I would be in the other, and we would do the same with our bunking arrangements for the week. It made sense since while I had no problems with Max or Greg, I wasn’t terribly familiar with them either. With that, we were off to either make or break my career. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat as the engines started and we pulled away from the scenic seaside city we called home. The further the skyline of Vancouver sunk into the distance, the more real it all became.

  The trip to the campsite was long but the views along the way were magnificent. The road we took into the mountains twisted and turned like an asphalt serpent slithering through some of the most pristine landscapes of natural beauty the world has to offer. Regal pines towering over crystal blue lakes, snowcapped peaks draped in clouds of mist, and the vast blue skies of the great white north all worked in tandem to steal the breath from my lungs. I simply couldn’t peal myself away from the window. The wild majesty of the British Columbian landscapes pushed the anxiety so far away it was almost as though each kilometer away from Vancouver was another away from my fear and anxiety over my future. That drive towards the mountains provided the most relief I had felt in weeks, but it ended far too soon. Before I knew it, we were pulling up to the circular gravel drive of our campsite. It was like experiencing the perfect movie that seemed to end far sooner than it should have. I felt almost incensed that the drive had concluded and the time to partake in research work had come, despite that being the very reason for the journey in the first place. Then it came back to me, the nature of what I would be documenting, and my awe over the landscape was replaced by a cautious curiosity regarding the supposed glowing ferns found near that area. I would soon find out if Greg and Max were sincere in their words. I had little reason to believe either of them would lie to me, but still the fear persisted that perhaps all of it could have been nothing but an elaborate prank, the idea lurked in my mind ominously. My heart sank and my stomach felt sick at the very thought of it, despite my more rational side rebuking the idea.

  We had left Vancouver just before the crack of dawn, so we found ourselves approaching the sign for the Alpine Bluffs Campgrounds around 11 am, with plenty of daylight ahead of us. That gave us all the time we needed and then some to get checked in, and to set up all our equipment. Tents were pitched and a welcoming fire was crackling by early afternoon to stave off the bitter chill of the brisk mountain air consistently peppering our surroundings. I was pleased with our timing to say the least. At that point I began to set up my field equipment, as well as layout all the documentation I would need to organize to have every aspect of my keystone paper ready to write by the time we returned next week. If all went according to plan, I would still have two weeks to write and edit my final draft. It was a tight window to get all that done, but doable none-the-less. My sense of cautious optimism was continuing its metamorphosis into an excited anticipation for the possibilities that could open for me. As we were setting up, I had asked Max and Greg no less than a dozen times if they had remembered where they found the ferns that brought us to the site. They reassured me each time, with ever dwindling patience for my repetitive anxious questions. At one point Jackson felt the need to intervene, proposing a quick hike to shake the nerves. Even to me, it sounded like a good idea. Research aside, the notion of getting my blood flowing by hiking through all that magnificent scenery had an unquestionable appeal. I didn’t need further convincing, and we proceeded with our hike soon after. No sooner than boots were laced up did we hit the trail.

  We initially decided that we would not use this first hike to inspect the ferns, but rather we would go south of the campgrounds to circle the small lake which Max and Gregg did not have time to explore before. Lake Stalwart was the name of the body of water. It was less of a lake, and more of a glorified pond, but it was still serene and picturesque, nonetheless. It was an old horseshoe lake, the glacial ravine it had once belonged to had long ago dried up. It sat at the base of a valley hidden amongst an ample reserve of towering pines. As we drew nearer to the lake, we couldn’t help but notice that a great number of the trees appeared to have been knocked over, as though some large object had come barreling through their canopy, the sight caused each one of us to raise an eyebrow. Branches littered the floor, clearly knocked over from the treetops. It was a peculiar site to say the least.

  “Perhaps a storm? A harsh gale whipping some branches off isn’t unheard of” Greg proposed, clearly trying to find the most reasonable answer. “Could be, but it’s hard to say for sure.” Max answered. “I’d say if we keep going, we might find out what caused it.” He finished. The melodic chirping of birds persisted along with all the typical movements of the forest. The trees would heal, the biosphere would move on, so we did our best not to trouble ourselves with the cause of the damage and to continue with our hike. Still, the site of such violent destruction made me uneasy.

  Eventually, after about a half hour or so of hiking, we began to see the crystal blue waters of lake Stalwart shimmering through the gaps in the trees. The closer we drew near, the more of the scenery came into view. As small as the lake was, it truly was beautiful, its waves shone like a sapphire hidden in the forest. Most of it was inaccessible from the shoreline we immediately found ourselves at, because the lake had carved itself quite deeply into the land during it’s time as a part of the glacial ravine, leaving it looking like something of a crater, and the only component having anything like a beach was on the opposite side from where we stood.

  The water was so clear it looked as though the entire lake was made of glass. We simply couldn’t help but stand there for a bit and marvel at the sight. Greg suggested we hike the perimeter of the small lake before returning to camp, giving ourselves an opportunity to take in its picturesque glory from every angle. Of course no one disagreed. It was only a little extra distance, and the views would be well worth it, I thought. Most of the hike to the lower portion of the lake was downhill so we took that portion with caution. The path curved around the bend of the lake with more and more of the rocky cliff side of the north shore coming into view. As we hiked on, rounding the bend towards the shore, something else came into view, something that gave us pause.

  Many lakes of the Canadian wilderness are famous for being so clean and crystal clear that you can see right to the bottom of them. Lake Stalwart was precisely one such lake. You could see every inch of the lakebed, and in the center of that lake, initially obscured by the cliff side of the north shore which we first saw it from, was something that none of us could quite explain. It looked like a large boulder at first glance, but upon closer inspection, its shape, surface, and color were totally unnatural. It was like a perfectly sculpted and smoothed egg, with its surface shining slightly beneath the water. It had an onyx, slightly metallic color to it that matched none of the stone in the surrounding area.

  “What on earth is that?” Max asked as he keened his neck downward to get a better look. “Maybe it was worn down by the waters over the years to look like that?” Greg proposed. “No” I interjected, “nothing erodes into a shape like that. That doesn’t happen naturally.” While the three of us were discussing the possibilities regarding the object, we had failed to notice Jackson behind us, disrobing. “For Christ’s sake, what do you think you’re doing?” Max asked, as he noticed what looked like our colleague preparing to go for a swim. “What do you think? I’m going to get a closer look.” “You know that water’s going to be freezing” I reminded him. “I did the polar plunge for charity three years in a row, I’ll be fine. I’ll get a quick look and be out before you know it. You want to find out what it is right? How else do you think we’ll find out without getting a better look at it?” Clearly there was no dissuading him. No sooner than he finished that last sentence was he backing up, readying himself for a running start before barreling towards the lake front.

  For all his childish antics, at the very least you couldn’t say he wasn’t athletically talented. In fact, that might have been an additional reason for bringing him along. While none of us could have foreseen finding some strange object at the bottom of a lake, I could hardly say I wasn’t curious, and Jackson probably stood the best chance out of any of us of being able to get up close to get a good look at the thing. I wasn’t too worried for his safety; he was a strong swimmer after all.

  Jackson plunged into the water perhaps a bit less gracefully than he intended, a wild splash shooting upwards from his less than stellar dive. No doubt the judges would have given him a harsh score if he had been partaking in a diving competition. Another nice aspect of the water being so clear was that we could clearly see where he was the whole way as he plunged below those surely frigid waters. Jackson swam his way down to the object with somewhat impressive speed. Seeming to have made it down alright, he paused and seemed to look the object up and down, carefully examining every detail of it he could.

  No matter how adapted to modern life we all become, there remains deep within our DNA, the survival instincts we gained from thousands of years of roaming the savannahs of eastern Africa as a species much lower on the food chain than we are now as modern humans. Those instincts honed through that vast period have assisted us ever since, via the alarm system they instilled within us, set to go off when something just doesn’t feel right. When we suddenly feel our safety is thrown into jeopardy, that ancient instinct that sends bolts of fear rushing through our nervous system has been a mechanism that has served us as a species for generations. As I saw Jackson pause in front of that object, that primal alarm system sprang into action. What specific danger he was in, I couldn’t say but my nerves were suddenly telling me he had placed himself in a situation he shouldn’t have. I got a sudden pang of fright, as I sensed he was in danger. Not but a moment after I experienced that sense of alarm, an ear-splitting metallic screech emanated, seemingly from the object at the bottom of the lake. It was so loud it made the three of us at the surface clutch our ears. Given the agony I felt from the sheer overwhelming volume of that tinny shriek, I knew it must surely have deafened Jackson. The sound only lasted for a few moments, but it was more than enough to leave the three of us on the surface shaken. Jackson, however, seemed to be faring far worse. Once I had composed myself, I looked back to the bottom of the lake. I could still see him there, but he appeared unconscious, floating limply in front of the sunken egg like structure. My sense of unease quickly shifted into one of outright panic. “He’s not moving, he’s not moving!” I barked as I shook Max and pointed to the lakebed. I had thought Greg was still gathering himself from the shock of the earsplitting sound, but I was mistaken. As it were, while Max and I were panicking over the state of our colleague, Greg had been getting ready to do something about it. When finally noticed where he was, Gregg was practically at the tree line several meters behind us, evidently preparing to dive into the lake with a vigorous running start. The lack of hesitation as he leapt into those chilling waters was admirable. Most would have simply been thankful that someone was acting in response to the catastrophe, and I was grateful, but I couldn’t deny the undercurrent of frustration with myself over not being the one to do something. Seeing Greg dive down and Grab Jackson, even seeing him struggle to carry him up as he returned to the surface wearing a strained expression on his face, our incapacitated colleague in tow, made me furious with myself. I felt so useless. Helpless to assist the person who cooked up the whole idea of this excursion for my sake.

  Greg practically threw Jackson onto the shore, sputtering and spitting himself, while Jackson still appeared unconscious. “He wasn’t under long, mouth to mouth should be able to clear any water from his lungs.” Greg snapped. “I know mouth to mouth, give me some room” Max responded. He administered the treatment, and after a few painstaking moments, Jackson coughed up a splatter of lake water, his eyes fluttering open with a confused daze. At that moment I should have simply been elated that my friend seemed to have survived the ordeal. While I was relieved to say the least, the emotion that overpowered me was still that overbearing guilt. At that point both of our colleagues whom neither of us knew particularly well, had done everything to handle the crisis, while I, Jacksons closest friend there, had stood on the sidelines in a panicked state of uselessness. I had frozen, cracked under the pressure and I hated myself for it.

  Once Jackson had some time to recover, we decided it would be best to get back to the campsite. After all of that, our desire to be out and about was understandably diminished. We all stood there for a moment, looking at the strange discovery we had made in that lake in an entirely new light. Whereas we initially found it a curiosity, we then saw it as a menace. It was something unknown and dangerous, mysterious and alien, almost predatory even. The thing had nearly drowned our colleague after all. We couldn’t even begin to fathom what it was. I had a thought for a moment, a fantastical theory, perhaps inspired by watching too many science fiction movies, that it might not be of this world. Fantastical as it was, at the same time, after what had occurred, the idea didn’t seem too far off.

  We began the walk back, Max and I supporting Jackson on our shoulders, since he was still somewhat woozy from his episode. Greg made perhaps a more reasonable suggestion. “Do you think it could be some kind of military technology?” I had always thought it was the Americans who were the ones with the penchant for leaving their military equipment strewn about like a child with their toys but the notion that our government could be conducting similar pet projects didn’t seem too far-fetched. Especially not when compared to my theory. Whatever it was, it didn’t look at all like any kind of weapon, frankly I didn’t know what it looked like. All I knew at that moment was that I wanted to get far away from it. Looking over the faces of my companions, I could tell that the feeling was shared among the group. Everyone appeared shaken, faces sunken, hearts likely beating quickly. We were supposed to be having a nice trip to help me figure out my final essay, but that disturbing experience made it feel as though the entire atmosphere of the endeavor had made a distinctly dark shift. What were we to do about what we found? Should we report it? Should we leave? As we deliberated, we got yet another shock. Out of all of us, Jackson of all people, interjected, arguing against leaving. “Look, I’m fine. Shaken up, sure, but fine. We came out here for a reason. Let’s just get some pictures of those ferns, help Cormac finish his project and try to put whatever that was behind us.” The rest of us were a bit taken off guard by that. “Are you sure? You almost drowned?” Greg said, as though he was unsure if Jackson recalled what had just happened to him. “Yeah, but obviously let’s just avoid that lake from now on. We’ll be sure to let someone know about it when we get back, right?” Jackson continued. “Maybe we found something we weren’t supposed to, and maybe the proper authorities will know how to handle it better.” “I think you’re right that we might have found something we weren’t supposed to, but are you really sure we should just continue on with our business here?” Max asked, equally shocked. “For the last time, I’m fine Max.” Jackson seemed adamant. Frankly, he seemed more interested in following through with this project than I did. Suspiciously so, even.

  He had a stern look about him, distinctly out of character. I had to admit, it caught me off guard. Jackson had always been somewhat of a free spirit, an easy-going character. I had long considered him ill-suited for a scholarly path in life, and suspected he was only in university because his parents pushed him to do so. He was my friend, so I held reservations of thinking badly of him, but that notwithstanding, there had been times when he acted like a downright slacker with no sense of follow through. Out of all the things he could possibly display motivation for, someone else’s school project was an incredibly baffling choice.

  I had been so preoccupied with the ordeal, and Jacksons odd disposition regarding it that I failed to notice the sky beginning to take on a copper hue, indicating the onset of dusk. Somehow, maybe due to all the commotion, our grasp of time had managed to completely evade us. Having already been disturbed enough by the incident, I felt we had experienced more than enough excitement for the day and had no intention of compounding that by adding the experience of stumbling back to our campsite in the dark. “Alright, well, he seems like he’s ok, and I don’t think there’s anything we can do about…whatever that is down there right now. It’s starting to get dark; don’t you think it might be a good idea to make our way back to our tents for the time being?” I had hoped my reasoning would be convincing enough. To Max and Greg, it seemed to be, as they both promptly nodded their heads in agreement. Jackson, however, wore a reluctant look on his face at first. He then looked at each of the rest of our group, as though attempting to read the room, and after that quick glance he modified his expression. “Yeah. I suppose that’s a good idea.” It’s always a peculiar thing when one’s words and one’s tone seem to give such contrasting messages. That reply Jackson gave my suggestion was a perfect example of such peculiarity. Although, as odd as Jacksons behavior was, it didn’t change the fact that the sun was beginning its descent at a more rapid pace, slipping below the horizon quicker by the moment, and if we didn’t make haste, we’d quickly find ourselves in a worse situation. Our hike back to our campsite proceeded at an expedient pace, perhaps even bordering on reckless at times. As I found myself trudging the path back to our base of operations, I felt that the chemistry between the four of us had inexorably altered. Before Jackson’s swimming incident and the strange behavioral shift that followed suit, there was an air of excitement, of possibility and adventure. But after, that sense of wonder had been sapped out of the air like a sponge sucked it right up. Looking around at my companions, it was clear that they felt the same way. As the hike continued, I began to fear we might not make it back before nightfall. After rounding the bend towards the latter half of the trek, the sun had totally sunk beneath the horizon, leaving us in a kind of darkness I forgot existed, having spent so much of my life within the well-lit confines of urban Van Couver. It caught me off guard, and a sense of renewed unease welled up in my mind like a geyser. I noticed something about the terrain of the hike between our campsite and that strange lake that I hadn’t seen before. I knew it was a somewhat winding path through the forest, but I hadn’t noticed that it took place on a very slight hill. So slight, that I hadn’t noticed we were scaling the hill on the way to the lake, and about halfway we started to descend. Right then and there we stood on what would be considered the peak of the hill, atop which in the dim moonlight, revealed two things. One of which, thankfully, was our campsite, the silhouette of which could just barely be seen through the trees. It was a comforting sight, the knowledge that we would still be able to make our way back despite the rapid onset of darkness was a great relief. However, that brief respite of comfort was whisked away immediately by the other revelation. From behind us, there was another kind of light, clearly distinct from the moonlight. It was an eerie glow in the distance that beckoned our eyes towards it like a siren. My eyes were snatched by that unnatural glow, and I couldn’t help myself but attempt to locate its source. Unfortunately, I did. My eyes traced that otherworldly glow, back to the very lake where Jackson had nearly died not but a short while earlier.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  My eyes grew wide as I could see a specter-like glow seeping out from between the branches of the trees, clearly coming from the water that two of my colleagues had been fully submerged in. My first thought and worst fear was that we had stumbled upon some sort of radioactive hazard dump. That somehow, we had missed the warning signs, and had unwittingly stumbled our way into being a terrible case study. The tragic irony of having come all the way out there to pen a study of my own, but instead possibly becoming the subject of a study myself at some point, made me sick. I felt a lump in my throat as thoughts of a Canadian Chernobyl filled my mind. How foolish we were to approach so directly, something we had such little knowledge of. What kinds of horrible consequences had we unwittingly brought upon ourselves? As shameful as it was, I first thought of my own health, I worried about radiation sickness, cancer, and the myriads of other health hazards that might befall me. The fate of my two colleagues who had been closest to that metal egg looking object came as an afterthought, which shocked me out of my selfishness. I had only been on the shoreline, Jackson had swum right up to the object, and Greg had retrieved his unconscious body from not far away. I prepared myself for the worst as my head swiveled to look at the two of them. I imagined hair falling out, radiation burns, the image of my colleagues reduced to irradiated husks of their former selves. However, what I saw was what shocked me most. They appeared completely fine. Even Greg looked a bit shocked as he gave himself a look over, seeming also to have been expecting something horrible to have happened to him after witnessing the glowing coming from the water that he may have even at that point still had a few drops left yet to have dried. His grimace of shock gave way to a look of relief as he too came to see that at least upon the surface, he appeared not to be suffering any egregious health effects. Jackson too appeared perfectly healthy, but as I looked to him, the strangest thing occurred. The moment my eyes first met his, for just a moment, I noticed he appeared not to be concerned in the slightest, but as soon as he noticed me inspecting him, he seemed to quickly act like he felt the same worry as Greg and myself. It didn’t appear that he was sincerely worried, but simply that he wished to give the impression he was. It was such a quick shift, that I doubted it was something I could confront him over, but it certainly acted as billows to grow the kindling of suspicion I was beginning to regard him with. I began to suspect Jackson was aware of something that he was concealing from the rest of us.

  The ensuing silence among our quartet was deafening. It seemed, by a commonly held expression, that we were all aware of the situation, and none seemed content with it. But at the same time, it seemed none of us could begin to figure out what to do. After what felt like far too long, Max finally broke that silence. “We should go to the hospital.” His words were straight to the point, albeit quiet and punctuated by a slight tremble at the end of the last word. That sentence was like a stone tossed into a still lake, causing waves to ripple out in all directions. “I agree” Greg replied after a moment of hesitation. “But…” he trailed off. “But what?” Max retorted. “Who knows what on earth we just got ourselves into? What kind of substance you and Jackson are completely covered with? We need to get the two of you to an emergency room to get checked out, and it wouldn’t hurt for Cormac and myself to get looked at either. Why on earth, wouldn’t we do that immediately?” The distress in Max’s voice was so visceral it seemed to increase the tension of our situation all on its own. Then suddenly Jackson chimed in. “Because we’re at least 500 kilometers from the nearest hospital, and secondly, have you noticed how many signal bars your phones have?” The grimness of his tone felt like a swift gut punch as I realized he had a point. I quickly pulled out my phone to check, and sure enough, we had failed to realize our campsite and the whole surrounding area, all the way to lake stalwart, appeared to be a total dead zone. The sense of panic that had started as a whisper was building to a bellowing crescendo as each member of our group subsequently checked their cell phones as well, and the horrible realization loomed over us like a fearsome specter. We were on our own.

  “Look, it doesn’t seem like anything is happening right now, I know I feel fine. I know that there could be something wrong, but I don’t think speeding down the winding narrow roads we took to get here in the pitch black is going to accomplish anything but get us face down in a roadside ditch. How about we go back to camp, keep an eye on our conditions and rest until morning. Then as soon as it’s light out, we can get out of here and go straight to the hospital back in Vancouver.” The uncharacteristically reasonable way Jackson spoke made my head spin. It was like he was a completely different person after being pulled out of the midst of that bizarre sunken structure. I racked my brain for a retort, but I could think of nothing. As far as I could figure, that was the best course of action in the immediate moment. A hesitant consensus was attained based on Jacksons plan, and we commenced the remainder of the hike back to our campsite in tense silence. It took a bit longer to get there once darkness had completely engulfed us. I think because nobody wanted to add a twisted ankle from hastily charging back to our list of problems. Fortunately, Max remembered to bring a flashlight with him. Even though the small flashlight seemed ill equipped to cut through the pitch blackness of the untamed wild we found ourselves in, it proved just sufficient to guide us back to our tents. Despite being thankful for the little light we had, I found my pulse racing faster as it traced the snarled branches of the trees, the irrational fear that something might spring out from the brush gripping me like a vice. Even as we finally arrived at the campsite, the dense shadows that surrounded us felt hostile. The few smoldering embers of our fire cast a glow that almost seemed to do more harm than good in terms of setting a feeling of unease. Few words were spoken as we readied ourselves for bed. Greg and Jackson diligently cleaned themselves up. Using the soap and water we boiled upon arrival to rid themselves of as much of the lake water as they possibly could, as Max and I kept a close eye on the two of them in the dim light of the lantern located in the very center of our campsite.

  When we picked out that lantern at the camping surplus store back in Vancouver as we prepared for the journey, I had imagined it would be more than enough to keep everything illuminated. It seemed I had yet again vastly underestimated how dark it can get away from the glimmering lights of civilization. It was a cloudy night as well, so we didn’t even have starlight to assist. What little eerie moonlight that was able to seep through the clouds mixed with the lantern, was still pathetically insufficient to combat the oppressive blackness that covered us like a thick blanket. That little lantern was providing little more than a small sandbank of light in a vast sea of shadows. It was incredible, I thought, how quickly the nature of that excursion had completely changed, and how the environment we found ourselves in had transformed from one of inspiring beauty to into that of a fearsome trial that I feared would push us to our limits. As I settled into my sleeping bag, I thought it amusing that I had nearly completely forgotten to take notes but felt at that point it was of little consequence. At least compared to the circumstance we had found ourselves in. Whether I would even get a final essay out of that folly of a camping trip was in question, but I didn’t even care. I had more primal concerns after all we had been through, I just wanted to be able to get back safely. With that last thought I gradually sunk into a light and fitful slumber.

  I don’t think I hadn’t been asleep for more than a few hours before a frantic rustling from outside my tent woke me. It was the kind of sudden clamor that causes one to shoot up from their slumber, their heart hammering away in their chest. In that brief period of having just been roused from my slumber, I struggled to gain my bearings. Those few frantic moments, soon enough gave way to all of it coming back to me. The hike, the swim, that ear splitting metallic noise, and then the strange light coming from the lake. All those memories returning felt like the arrival of an unwelcome houseguest that I was powerless to rebuke, a troublesome intruder that I could do little more than simply contend with as best I could. But then my attention returned to the cause of my sleep’s disruption. The rustling from outside my tent. It sounded like someone was stumbling around in the dark. At first, I was ready to dismiss the noise as simply one of my colleagues needing to use the restroom. I was prepared to ignore the sound and go back to sleep, but then another sound became noticeable. It was faint as I had just begun to hear it, but unmistakable. The sound was of a low miserable moaning, one that suggested the person making it was in a great deal of discomfort. The knowledge that we had agreed to keep a close eye on the condition of our two friends who had been submerged in the dubious waters of lake Stalwart prevented me from returning to sleep. I had displayed far too much cowardice on that trip already, and the feeling of guilt fueled me to emerge from the refuge of my sleeping bag and quickly dress myself to check on whoever was making that sound.

  I threw on my coat and stumbled out of the tent. I struggled a bit with the doors zipper, clearly still feeling a great deal of grogginess, but soon enough found myself greeted by the bitter chill of night. I scanned the environment for movement. After a few moments of searching, just as I was beginning to fear I had lost track of the source of the commotion, I managed to catch a glimpse of some rustling branches. I had to assume those branches were rustling in the wake of whomever had clumsily trudged past my tent. I quickly grabbed a flashlight and began my pursuit. Had I more time to think, I might have thought it strange that the path the struggling member of our party took, was not along any of the clear trails we had known of but was directly cutting through dense forest. But in my haste, I thought nothing of it, propelled by my concern and sense of duty, perhaps overcompensating for my previous inaction. I trained the flashlight on the patch and as quickly and carefully as I could, I embarked in pursuit of my potentially ill colleague. It was difficult but I just managed to keep pace with them, following the breadcrumbs of rustling branches they left in their path. The dense brush of the forest whipped and scratched at me from every angle as I struggled to push through the tangled mess, but sure enough I was able to follow the sound of that same moaning through the dark dense forest. As I closed the distance between us, I noticed that it seemed like whoever it was had also brought a flashlight with them. I thought it strange that despite the agony they seemed to be in, they somehow had the presence of mind to bring light with them. This made me question all of it even more, but I was just about certain that I could see dim light emanating from just up ahead. Part of me wanted to call out to them, but two things stopped me from doing so. First was that I couldn’t discern who it was, and second was a more instinctive reason. I couldn’t say exactly why, maybe it was just due to the culmination of all the preceding events of the day resulting in an overabundance of caution. Whatever the reason, something in my gut urgently told me not to make myself known to the person I was trailing. I don’t know why I felt that as I plodded and plowed through those branches, but that sense of purpose kept me silently and diligently in pursuit of my colleague.

  The further we trekked from our campsite, the more uneasy I felt. Still attempting to shake the last remnants of sleep from my mind, I had begun to feel as though we were travelling troublingly far. I began to have second thoughts. I thought perhaps I should return and notify the others, that maybe it wouldn’t make sense to continue my pursuit if the result was two of us getting lost and endangered instead of one. A second thought, however, returned me to my initial purpose. I feared whoever it was could be delirious from illness. What would happen to them if I were to lose their trail, and our group was unable to find them again? The knots in my stomach caused by that thought kept me going. The longer my pursuit lasted, the more I found the blurriness in my eyes fading and my vision adapting to the dark environment. With that improved awareness of my surroundings came an increased capacity to navigate the tangled woodland efficiently, and I began to finally catch up with my wayward colleague. As I drew nearer to the rustling sound of footsteps a few meters ahead of me, the groaning became more audible and something about the sound deeply unsettled me. Even more disturbing was that the light became clearer as well, and I could tell it was certainly not the kind of light emitted by a flashlight as I had previously suspected. Coming from up ahead, was the same kind of unearthly light that I had seen a few hours prior from the sight of lake stalwart in the distance.

  Connecting those dots was like finding a key that opened a pit in my stomach deeper than I knew myself capable of feeling. It made me stop abruptly as I felt the need to rethink the situation. Had we walked all the way back to that freakish lake? What on earth could have inspired my distressed colleague to come back there, I thought. But then I thought about it more, and even though we seemed to have been blindly stumbling through dense forest, I remembered that we had gone in a different direction from the lake, namely a path. Had they somehow found a shortcut back to it? A particularly notable moan from ahead snapped me from my thoughts, and with a new sense of caution, I continued to follow, albeit in a stealthier manner at that point. I was certain I wanted to keep an eye on my lost companion, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to get too close. Our path took us another ten or so meters ahead before I started to notice the trees becoming less dense. The spectral light from up ahead was growing brighter with each step, making me swallow dryly. Finally, it got just bright enough, and the trees just spread out enough that I could make out the form of a person still, several meters ahead. I couldn’t yet discern which of my colleagues it was, but I did notice something that captured my attention like a ravenous wild dog clamping its teeth around the first meal it had in days. The pictures of those ferns that brought us out there to begin with, that strange sickly green light they emitted, was coming from up ahead. As I nervously approached, I noticed it wasn’t ferns, but instead a bizarre lichen, some kind of fungus, generating that same unmistakable glow, and it was utterly everywhere. Not far from where I stood, the glowing fungus seemed to be growing on every living thing in the forest. It was in the branches of the trees, on their trunks, lightly peppering the grasses and other plants that comprised the forest floor. It was as though the stuff had fallen upon the forest like a fresh dusting of snow. My pace slowed at the sight of it. My unease rose like the tides, and a feeling of nausea bubbled up in my stomach as I noticed that the foliage and the landscape weren’t the only things covered in that otherworldly fungus. I finally got a better look at the person I had been following as they limped and stumbled clumsily towards that clearing. I felt bile rise in my throat, as my stomach and mouth engaged in a custody battle over who would retain the little food I had left within me. I could see that it was Gregg, and roughly half of his body was covered in that treacherous green fungus.

  My mind felt like a macintosh computer struggling to process the most modern and advanced programming as it attempted to make sense of what I was seeing. The way Greg moved was so unnatural, the way each leg would make such abrupt, jerking steps as his upper body hung limp reminded me of something from a George Romero movie. It was like his body was being piloted by something that wasn’t used to such a vessel. He stumbled into the clearing, as though his mind were miles away, totally unconcerned with the peril of the environment around him. He moved towards the very center of what appeared to be a circular break in the trees where the concentration of the glowing lichen culminated in a singular brightly glowing structure that looked like it was from another world. The closest thing I could compare it to is, a sort of imitation of a tree. The trunk of the thing was nearly translucent, almost looking like crystal, and flashes of multicolored light pulsed beneath the surface like aurora borealis. The base of the thing was a gnarled twisting mass of vine like appendages having the same crystal-like appearance. The way they curved and twisted almost made them look like the tentacles of a jellyfish or some other kind of bioluminescent beast of the deep. The branches of the ‘tree’, for lack of a better term, could be likened to the fanned bands of a moth’s antennae, overlapping to form a mimicry of foliage, though upon further inspection, the ‘antennae’ appeared to writhe and twitch with the subtle breeze that flowed through the forest. Truly it was unlike anything else in this world, like some unholy amalgamation of animal, mineral, plant, and fungus. An unholy combination of lifeforms that stood there, defiantly mocking the laws of nature. My strong suspicion was that it couldn’t be of our world. It was like something straight out of the mind of the most outlandish science fiction writer, so bizarre that my eyes struggled to accept it was real. I remained glued to that spot, hunched low, uncertain of what to do. All it seems I could do was watch as my colleague, or, whatever remained of him, lumbered closer to that alien thing. He limped and stumbled until he stood just below those antennae like branches and there he just stopped, standing as still as a statue, slumped awkwardly to one side, his head and arms hanging slightly to the left.

  While I didn’t know exactly what would happen next, a rotten premonition that something horrendous would happen to him hung over me, it was a feeling suspended in the air like an unescapable stench that threatened to turn my stomach inside out. I remained as silent as humanly possible as I watched, jaw dropped in horror as a winding ‘vine’ of sorts, descended from the mimic foliage of the tree. The thing looked more like a tendril of translucent flesh that wriggled and writhed as it slithered towards Greg. Its appearance was sickening, everything about the whole situation was sickening, but what was most torturous was how I could do nothing but stare and weep silently, shedding impotent tears as the thing suddenly moved like a whip and snatched my companion into its brutal grasp. It squeezed him with strength that caused bones to crack in a gut wrench symphony of snaps. His limp form hung suspended in the air as it began to pull him up into its ‘branches’. As he ascended, I finally got a look at his face, and it was the stuff of nightmares. The same fungus that covered his head and most of his torso appeared to have grown from the interior of his skull, spilling out of his limp, hanging jaw and sprawling out of where his eyes once were. As if that wasn’t bad enough, I noticed another tendril emerge from the branches, this one possessing a razor-sharp spike at the end of it, almost like the tail of a scorpion. It didn’t take much imagination to guess what its purpose was but still I gagged at the thought. I was paralyzed with fear, wanting nothing more than to turn away before witnessing what I feared would happen but I couldn’t bring myself to move an inch. It happened so fast my eyes could barely register it. In one swift motion, as Gregg’s mangled body was held in the crushing grasp of the first tendril, that second barbed appendage shot out like a spring, the pointed end piercing his chest like it was tissue paper, causing a sickening crack and squelch to ring out through the air.

  Time stood still. I couldn’t believe it was real. I wanted it to be a nightmare, I desperately wanted it to be nothing but a fevered dream I would soon awaken from. After all, it was all so bizarre, it very well seemed like a dream. That was the fanciful lie I briefly attempted to tell myself. It was just a bad dream, and I would wake up in my tent any minute. I wanted to believe that with all my heart, but I knew it wasn’t true. To my abject horror, the situation was as real as it could be. The faint smell of blood that filled the air caused my nose to twitch in revulsion as those feathered branch-like antennae began to wrap around Gregs body and unceremoniously began stripping flesh from bone. The vision of the spiked appendage beginning to drain his insides simultaneously was too visceral, too graphic not to be real. The sounds, good God, the sounds I heard from those horrible branches as they effortless scraped the flesh off his body spurred my mind towards insanity, as what remained of Gregg withdrew further and further into the fleshy foliage. It happened so fast yet seemed to go on forever; my colleague was being digested right before my very eyes. I couldn’t look away, I wanted to look at anything else, to be anywhere else in the world, but I was there, and I simply couldn’t rip my eyes from the horrendous scene. It was a spellbinding kind of macabre spectacle that held my vision trapped like a hapless bug in a spider’s web.

  Then out of nowhere I was ripped from my stupor by a voice coming from behind me. “I know it’s hard to watch, but if it helps, he couldn’t feel any of that.” I had sprung sideways like a startled jack rabbit, leaping with a fear inspired strength I didn’t know I possessed, like I summoned the abilities of an Olympic long jumper. Impressive as that display of athleticism was, it was slightly undercut by the way I clumsily crashed into the brush not far away, incurring a series of scrapes and bruises as I scrambled to get to my feet. As I got my bearings, my eyes managed to locate the source of those ominous, treacherous words. My eyes focused on the form of none other than Jackson. He stood there between the trees, possessing an unnervingly calm and casual demeanor which when contrasted with the horrific events that had just unfolded before my eyes, was like a combination of musical notes that created a chord so sour and wrong it made me queasy.

  My mind was spinning like a whirling dervish. Attempting to pluck a singular question from the frenzied swarm of queries that grew with each new turn of horrific events was a task that evidently proved too much for me as I just stood there with the expression of a fish on land desperately gasping. Jackson continued. “It’s a lot to take in but try not to be overwhelmed. It will all make sense very soon.” That was when I noticed it. His eyes weren’t the same hazel that they had been prior. The normal appearance of his eyes had been replaced by the same haunting glow of the treacherous lichen that coated the forest and had taken over Greg. The glow that emanated from them looked like the menacing reflection of a cat’s eyes piercing creepily outward from pitch black surroundings. Somehow, he didn’t appear to have any of that stuff growing on him like Gregg had. He seemed to retain his consciousness, yet it was clear that whatever sinister force had infiltrated that forest was within Jackson as well. “W-w-what’s going on?” I stammered out the question, hating myself for how much the words quivered as they spilled out of my mouth. “Why is this happening?” With those next few questions, I seemed to regain some composure but still not as much as I would have liked. Jackson smirked like a jackal as he took a step closer to me. “I’m sorry Cormac. I haven’t been honest with you. Greg and Max were not the ones who found the lichen. At least, they weren’t the first ones.” The sinister tone in his voice sent shivers down my spine as I scrambled backwards, trying to get away from him. “It called out to me Cormac. It beckoned to its service, and its message was too incredible to refuse.” His cryptic words echoed as though we were in a cavern, I’m not sure if that was how they sounded or just how my terrified mind heard them. “It called me out here after it landed, it chose me to be its liaison, and it showed me the world that is to be.” He took another menacing step forward and I made another attempt to scramble away in kind. “Incredible things are about to unfold Cormac; everything is going to change.” I thought back to the lake earlier in the day. “B-but, when you fell into lake Stalwart, that thing, the sound it made, that has something to do with all this, right? It hurt you, why would you help it?” My questions came out in a frantic sputter. Jackson stopped his advance briefly. “It speaks a language you don’t yet understand, Cormac. When it first spoke to me, it spoke in a whisper for it had but a brief message. It simply told me to bring it sustenance and then return to its vessel for instructions. At the bottom of the lake, it gave me my next orders, but it gave me so much more. It revealed more of the vision it showed me the first time we communicated. The vision Cormac, it’s simply angelic.” He paused before crouching down to my level. “It showed me everything down there Cormac, it showed me such beautiful things. All will see the beautiful things it has to show us.” With those last words the ghostly green glow of his eyes intensified, sparking a fear within me that shot through my veins like lightning.

  As many questions as I still had, I felt that none of them would be answered if I stayed there with him. I feared I would surely meet a similar gruesome fate as my recently departed companion, undoubtedly still being digested by that otherworldly conifer. Being unable to think of any other course of action, I leapt to my feet before Jackson could speak another word and bolted diagonally. I seemed to catch him off guard based on the frustrated expression I caught him making as I dashed back through the forest. Perhaps he thought I was still petrified by fear, and underestimated the remaining survival instincts I possessed, but whatever the reason made little difference. I ran blindly through the brush, paying little mind to the additional cuts and scrapes I was incurring from the passing branches, nicking and jabbing at me with each step. I ran somewhat blindly; my general plan was to try and find my way back to the campsite. I thought finding one of our cars and using it to escape was my best chance of survival. The dangers of driving down the mountain roads at night paled in comparison to whatever Jackson and that abomination in the woods had in store for me. My plan though, was hampered by the fact that I could scarcely tell where I was running. I simply ran, propelled by nothing but sheer primal instinct. Escape from that gruesome scene, from that horrible glowing substance was my sole priority. Everything was a blur, I don’t even think I managed to hold on to my flashlight, in hindsight I think it fell into the leaves of the forest floor almost immediately after I started running, however that luminescent lichen provided just enough light for me to continue dashing through the woods like a madman, just barely managing not to lose my balance for a short while at least. The light of the fungus was not, however, enough light for me to notice every perilous detail of my surroundings indefinitely, and before long, I felt my foot snag on a jutting branch of a dilapidated oak tree. That sent me airborne for a moment, before I came crashing back down to the unforgiving forest floor. My vision went black for a moment as my head collided with what I believed to be the base of another tree. I tumbled and spun out like a race car, totally out of control after a wreck at the Indy 500. My world was nothing but pain for those few moments. I could scarcely say how many injuries I incurred as I helplessly tumbled and rolled between the hard forest floor and the jagged wood of the trees that sprung from it, but they must have been numerous. Finally, my ragdoll-like body came to a stationary position, after crashing into the base of a large fallen tree. And there I simply laid for some time, gasping and wheezing from a potentially punctured lung, or maybe just the adrenaline. I tried to stay as still as I could, as I wished for nothing more than to be as silent as I could be in my devastated state. I laid there and just tried to survive, savoring every last gulp of oxygen as I attempted in vain to fend off the blurring that started in the corners of my eyes. My efforts made no difference, and blackness descended upon me, as I drifted into the abyss.

  I’m not sure how long I was unconscious, but the sounds of indistinct murmuring and the light of dawn peeking through a dusty glass window began to rouse me from my comatose state. It took some time, but gradually my vision swam back into focus, and I began to take stock of my surroundings. I was no longer in that nightmare of a forest but appeared to be in an infirmary of sorts. The walls were the style of a log cabin, the floor polished concrete. Scenic photographs of Canadian forests lined the walls, with a map of British Columbia noticeable on one side and the seal of the British Columbia Forest Service on the other. It seemed too good to be true but somehow, the forest rangers seemed to have found me. A few of them were buzzing about in their crisp green uniforms, one sitting at a desk on the far side of the room, sounding like she was speaking urgently with someone on the other end of the line. Another appeared to be in front of the window, a burly bearded man, sipping from a steaming mug of coffee as he leafed through some papers in front of him. “Oh good, you’re up” came a voice from my right. I turned to see a slimmer, more fresh-faced ranger standing not far from the cot I was lying down in. I attempted to lean up to speak with him, but a sharp pang of agony sent me back to a lying position with a wince of agony.

  “You need to stay as still as you can, son.” Said the older bearded ranger. “It’s a miracle you managed to hang on until one of our patrols heard of a disturbance in your area and decided to inspect, but you took quite a beating.” The seriousness in his voice captured my attention, surely, he must have been the head of operations in that branch, I thought. “We patched you up as best we could.” Said the younger ranger. He displayed the most comforting smile he seemed capable of producing, before continuing. “But you do need proper care in a hospital. Ranger Martin over there is dispatching a medical helicopter now.” I realized he must have been referring to the woman on the phone at the end of the room. I couldn’t manage to say anything in response, I just let out a jagged breath, attempting to think of what I wanted to say. The longer I was awake, the more the events that brought me to that infirmary came back to memory and with each returning detail, I found myself becoming more and more disturbed. Jackson falling into the lake, Greg being covered in that fungus, the horrible alien tree that devoured him, and finally Jacksons chilling words before I managed to escape him.

  It came back slowly at first, like a slow trickle, and then it became a deluge of terrifying details that returned me to a state of outright panic. It started with a few stray beads of cold sweat dripping down my forehead, as my heart rate picked up, followed by the quickening of my breath as I greedily took in shallow inefficient gulps of air. I felt like a fish on dry land, no matter how hard I tried to suck in, it was like I couldn’t get enough oxygen to sustain myself. My head began to throb as I descended into a panic attack unlike anything I had ever experienced. Noticing my oncoming episode, the younger ranger came to my side and did his best to calm me down. “Sir, sir. You’ve been through a traumatic experience, but you need to stay calm, you’re going to be alright.” His words had little effect, and my composure continued to decline. I felt something sharp stick me in the arm and my surroundings again became blurry. Sound became muffled as madness crept into the periphery of my mind. Two other rangers approached, and I think I felt myself being restrained. I think I heard one of them say something to the effect of “I’m sorry, we just can’t let you hurt yourself.” I could hear what I believed to be the faint sounds of the chopping of helicopter blades from outside as I felt warmth flood my arm from the point where I was stuck. I looked down to notice an IV had been inserted. “The buzzing in my ears began to diminish as whatever medicine they were administering began to take hold. I felt my heartrate begin to slow a little bit and calm began to replace the frantic anxiety. “There we go.” Said ranger Martin. “Just breathe sir, the helicopter is here to take you to the hospital.” The care in her voice did in fact help me calm down just a bit, perhaps it was also the idea that I would soon be flown far away from that awful forest and all the horrors I had seen within it that soothed me.

  In my flustered state, I hadn’t realized that the cot I had been restrained to was on wheels. The older burlier ranger walked behind me and began to push the cot out of that infirmary and towards the helipad outside. The slight wind from the blades of the helicopter made it more real to me that I would be making my escape, that I would in fact survive and I clung to that thought for dear life, like it was my life vest of sanity in the raging tempest of madness it seemed my life had become. The closer we got to the helicopter, the less manic I felt myself become. The sight of the medical personnel inside, two men preparing to transition me from the cot into the helicopter and the pilot up front with his steady hands on the wheel gave me comfort. But then, just before I was placed onto the helicopter, the older forest ranger spoke to me. He spoke in that same gravelly voice. At first, I failed to register what he was saying. Maybe it was the stress of the situation, maybe it was the medicine that had been administered or perhaps a combination of the two, but I only managed to catch his words after he had already been speaking. I think he was also trying to give me some reassurance. I caught on to his wards part way through what he had to say. “-be ok. Just breathe and keep as calm as you can, they’ll be taking you to the best hospital in British Columbia.” I nodded at those words, taking great comfort in them, but what he said next unraveled that comfort like pulling the thread of a sweater. It took me a minute to truly understand what he said to me, and by the time I fully understood those last words, I was already in the helicopter.

  The panic began to return like water springing from a leak in a damn as it dawned on me. My mind finally pieced together what he had said and the personnel on the helicopter had to restrain me tighter as I began screaming at the realization of what those last words implied. He had whispered it into my ear, the words oozing out in that sinister tone. “Just be patient. It has such incredible things to show us. All will see very soon.” They were the same words Jackson had said to me the night before. The last thing I saw as I tossed and turned before the additional sedatives administered began to force me into unconsciousness were the eyes of that forest ranger as we rose higher and higher. His eyes had the same sickly green glow as the lichen I had seen the night before. They were the same eyes as whatever sort of monstrosity had become of my former colleague, Jackson.