The story had been in the news for a while. It had caught my attention because I had remembered Tom mentioning it about two years ago. He had said that he should take a trip down to Rochester, Minnesota sometime to see what was going on.
People had been disappearing on Lost Creek Trail every two decades or so, no bodies had been found just their campsites ripped to shreds. He didn’t mention any other details because he probably didn’t want me to go and hunt whatever it was alone.
Of course, since he was dead now if I didn’t go who would?
My only issue was getting there from Massachusetts. It was almost a day’s drive and I didn’t have a car despite knowing how to drive. It wasn’t like it would help, I wasn’t sixteen-years-old yet and I’d only gotten my learners five months ago.
Raymond wasn’t going to drive me, he had work to do and Kate had to look after Danon. If I asked Kiara she’d tell Raymond…
My only option was to basically borrow a car.
That gave me an idea. Raymond had a car aside from the jeep that he used for work.
It was a Volvo 760 Turbo Wagon, probably the first car he had ever owned and driven. It was sitting in the garage and from the looks of it, it probably hadn’t been used in a couple years. The gas tank was three-quarters full; I’d probably need to fill it up again at some point in the trip down to Minnesota.
I didn’t know how well the car drove since it was probably about forty years old. Hopefully, it’d work enough to get me there and back without any problems. Hopefully everybody on the trip there was sober so I didn’t have to get in more trouble for getting into an accident as well as committing grand theft auto.
I’d have to leave in the middle of the night but I was concerned the starting of the engine would wake Raymond wasn’t a heavy sleeper. He wouldn’t be very good at his job then.
Lost Creek Trail was a trail in a forest outside of Rochester. I didn’t know what could have been returning to hunt people there every twenty years.
It could be ghouls, vampires, lots of things.
And people wouldn’t really pick up on it because they think people just get lost in the forest and can’t be found. They don’t expect to really find bodies because they think the people are just out camping somewhere or have run away.
My road trip would begin tonight at like 3:00 or 4:00 am after I was absolutely certain everyone was asleep.
I had stakes, machetes, flare guns, silver-tipped arrows, a pistol, and rifle.
Raymond hadn’t come home from work, yet and it was almost 8:00 pm. If he didn’t end up coming home tonight it might make my getaway easier but he’d probably notice me and his car missing sooner.
Raymond called Kate around eleven and told her, he was working through the night. Well, hopefully, my plan still worked and that I hope I had at least a five-hour head start or something. Even if he did notice I was gone he couldn’t track the car because it didn’t have a GPS but I guess he could still track my phone, which I needed to get to Minnesota because it had directions. I could use a physical paper map but that would be harder and didn’t really know how to read one.
Danon went to bed at eight and Kate at eleven-thirty. I stayed up till two to make sure Kate wasn’t awake and did an inspection of the house before to make sure everything was locked and that they were asleep.
I started the car and it actually ran pretty well for a forty-year-old car.
I started my drive to Minnesota down Interstate 90; it ran all the way there so I figured that it was the easiest route to take.
My plans were to drive at night and sleep during the day, it would have been easier if I had a partner. They could drive well I slept.
By the time I’d made it to Pennsylvania, I’d been driving for about seven hours and it was mid-morning. I had stopped about an hour ago and eaten some of the food I’d packed. I planned to be gone for a few days at the most and I’d only borrowed four hundred dollars for the gas bills on the way there and back.
It was going surprisingly well.
But, of course, that couldn’t last. I saw an obstacle ahead on the Interstate. A hitchhiker. A girl about my age, probably a runaway and probably looking for a ride to the next town.
I didn’t want to stop for obvious reasons but if somebody else stopped who knows what would happen to her.
I saw another problem as I got closer, she had a pistol, I had my own hidden under my shirt for reasons but I had no clue as to what she needed her’s for.
I slowed to fifty miles per hour and she turned around when I got within a hundred feet of her, she started waving. I slowed; I really didn’t want this girl found dead on the side of the road.
“Can I get a ride?” she asked eyeing me.
“Where are you headed?” I asked.
If we were going to different places that didn’t cross my path I would have a reason not to drive her.
“Rochester, Minnesota,” she answered.
What was in that town for her other than death?
“Sure, you’re not looking for some extra free cash?” I hint nodding at the pistol.
“Funny, I could say the same about you,” she nods at my rifle that is lying in the trunk of the Volvo. “Girl’s gotta protect herself from others.”
“So do I,” I agree.
“Where’s a boy like you going? Don’t you have a fancy private school to go to or something?” she asked.
She was flirting, cute. She was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, those looks had probably gotten her this far in life.
“Girl, I stopped going to school five years ago, I don’t go to no private school, that and I am not rich,” I joke.
“Why was that?” she asked out of curiosity.
I wasn’t about to tell anybody I met on the side of the road my life story.
“I’m going to Minnesota, you can join me if you like,” I add.
My phone rung then.
Raymond or Kate had finally noticed the car and me gone, taken them a while.
I had seven and a half hours on them now.
“Don’t you need to get that?” she asks.
“No, I need to do the opposite. Which is get moving so hurry up,” I answer.
She opens the door and slips into the passenger seat and puts her backpack down by her feet.
“Does the boy who just picked me up have a name?” she jokes.
I didn’t answer. I was regretting my choice.
“Names are overrated,” I reply continuing my road trip.
“Mine’s Eden,” she replies.
Great, are we best friends now, too?
“So why were you on the side of Interstate 90?” I asked wanting her to move on from questions about me.
“Trying to get to Minnesota,” she hints back.
“And why are we trying to get to Minnesota, Eden?” I ask.
“For a job,” she lies.
I roll my eyes at that.
Did I really just get myself into thirteen more hours with this girl?
No way I was letting her drive.
“Why are you driving to Minnesota?” she asks.
“One of my relatives wanted me to take care of something down here,” I reply. “Don’t worry I’m not committing any crimes.”
That was if you didn’t consider murdering supernatural creatures a crime.
“How much further away is it?” she asks. Her estimate by foot had probably been much longer compared to the car.
“Another fifteen hours probably,” I said that just in case we hit trouble or traffic. It was probably less than that.