Shattered Silence

His unyielding confidence grated on her last nerve. She shook her head, unconvinced. What town? Had John's “shortcut” veered them closer to the coast than she’d realized? She squinted, barely making out the faint golden light peeking between the tall, straight trunks of the pines. “I don't think that's a town.” For one thing, there weren't lights. Just one. Still, maybe they were closer to civilization than she dared hope. As he'd done all day, John ignored her misgivings and tromped onward. “I'm going to climb the hill and check it out. It's definitely a town.” She rolled her eyes at the back of his rain slicker and muttered to herself, “Of course he knows better than me. That's why our day hike has turned into this six-hour death march.” She leaned back against the rough bark of a towering pine, sheltering under its branches for a bit of respite from the steadily pouring rain. Her hands were numb with cold, and she could no longer feel her nose or toes. This was January in coastal northern Oregon. Sunset came early this time of year, and the light had already grown soft and gray with dusk. Well, even softer and grayer than it'd been when they'd started their hike midmorning. This was Oregon, after all. Gray skies were the norm this time of year. Jenna set her jaw, torn between annoyance at John and fear. They had maybe an hour at best before they found themselves stumbling around the forest in the pitch-black with little more than half a bottle of water between them and a couple of power bars stuffed in their packs. At least she'd had the foresight to pack her raincoat and wear proper hiking boots and thick socks. But when the temperatures dropped after sunset, would the cold grow life-threatening? She shook her head at herself. Jenna had grown up in the Pacific Northwest. She knew her way around the wilderness. And yet she'd allowed her not-even-boyfriend John Sinks to convince her to take a shortcut he promised would lead to an amazing viewpoint. Only now, they were far, far off the trail with no clue how to find their way back. Lost. Her throat tightened. She'd allowed herself to be led astray by this doofus who wouldn't even commit to calling her his girlfriend, despite the fact that they'd been seeing each other for almost three months. She let out a heavy sigh, unsure if she was more frustrated with John for getting them into this mess or with herself for letting him. He'd already climbed the hill out of sight, and she decided it was time she take the lead in getting them back to the car. If only she could figure out where they were. One positive—she'd taken the time to study the posted map near the entrance to the trail. She closed her eyes, picturing it in her mind. Had they stuck to the trail, they’d have veered west toward the coast, then headed north and looped back around to the starting point again. But where the trail had begun to veer north, John had suggested his “secret shortcut.” They’d continued west off the trail, toward the coast. If he really had spotted the lights of a town, it meant that they were nearer the ocean than she'd anticipated. She slowed her breathing, and as her heartbeat quieted, she closed her eyes and listened. A few birds squawked in the distance. Leaves rustled—probably a squirrel darting through the underbrush. Raindrops pattered the leaves and branches overhead. And below it all came a quiet, rhythmic whoosh… whoosh. She opened her eyes. Waves. They were near the coast. Damn. They were worse off than she’d guessed. And they need to be careful, too. If they were close enough to hear waves, that meant they were near the steep, tall cliffs that lined much of the coast. They needed to watch their footing lest they inadvertently drop off the edge to their deaths. Hot anger flushed Jenna’s chest. If she died following this dude around the forest, she would come back to haunt him so hard. Refueled by her anger, Jenna oriented herself so that the sound of the waves came from behind her. If they kept the sound to their backs, they'd be heading east and likely meet back up with the trail or at least the highway. If they found the road, they could hitch a ride back to their car or into the nearest town. “John,” she called. She got no reply. No way was she going to bother climbing that tall hill in the opposite direction of where they needed to go in search of him. Instead, she began picking her way over wet, matted leaves, fallen logs, and curled ferns. “John,” she called again over her shoulder, but still he didn’t answer. Teeth chattering and shivering with cold, Jenna hiked her way through the underbrush, vowing never, ever to follow some guy out into the wilderness again. She knew better than to go off the path, but John had seemed so confident, she hadn’t wanted to seem like she was second-guessing him. She shook her head at herself. She’d risked her life so as not to hurt this dude’s ego; never mind he’d had no trouble stringing her along for months, hurting her own sense of self-worth. She scanned the tree trunks for any sign of the path or the highway. As she approached a steep slope down, her gaze landed on something unusual amidst the forest floor—a bright splash of red. She came to a halt, unease flooding through her. “John,” she called again, more uncertain this time. “Yeah?” came the muffled shout. She spun toward the sound, her annoyance with him momentarily forgotten. Her heart thudded against her ribs—a mix of fear from the eerie silence around her and relief that she wasn't alone in it. “John, come here.” “Hold on.” But Jenna didn't wait. She crept toward that odd, unnatural color, which stuck out among all the green and brown of the forest. As she neared, her throat closed, and the hairs rose on the back of her neck and arms. She squinted. The red appeared to be the fabric of a shirt, or a sweater maybe, peeking out from under a pile of stones. Heart racing, she edged closer, picking her way with sideways steps down the slope. She kept her eyes on her steps, careful not to lose her balance. It wasn’t until she’d reached a small shelf of level land that she looked up. There, mere feet from her, lay a small hollow nestled on a flat stretch before the hill continued in a sharper drop. Her gaze darted around the confusing sight. A tangle of matted blond hair. Unnaturally blue hands with blackened, chipped nails protruding from the sleeve of the red sweater. A leather strap binding the hands together with a metallic, rune-like pendant resting on top. Stones piled on a body. The head… not where it should be. Rose-colored crystals had been placed over the eyes above the leering, gaping smile. Jenna’s piercing scream echoed around the forest. Wings