The only sounds in the forest were those of the wind, making the branches of spruce trees creak and crack. I refused to look at the camera display screen any longer. As each second ticked on, the more the swaying bodies made my skin crawl. It wasn't easy to function with swinging phantom figures occupying the surrounding forests.

Zeke pointed. "We're close to that ranger station." Excitement lit up his face. Even his lips curled slightly in the corners. "Let's go get some help asap."

"Okay," I agreed, trying to focus on anything other than the unseen entities of the forest. "But what about Felicity's dad's car? Shouldn't we use it?"

"Good idea." Zeke nodded. "The keys are in one of my packs I left by the camp. Let's get the car, then drive to the station. This way we could get back to Felicity and Atem faster. And try to get the hell out of here."

"Why didn't you guys just drive the car to our campsite and park it here?" I scratched my temple. "I mean, you walked all the way over there for your tent and stuff and then walked back instead of driving."

"Oh." He swiped the air dismissively. "Felicity didn't want to. She thought she might need to ditch us and go to the other camp if it got too boring or something. I think she was setting up an excuse ahead of time."

"Really?" I didn't understand her unwillingness to get along, but trying to figure that out was more welcoming than thinking of the horror that awaited us in the forest. "Does she have a problem with me or something? Is it Atem? Both of us? I don't get it."

He only shrugged, and I followed as he headed toward the second campsite. Before we got too far, the fire in our camp seemed to burn just as brightly as it had when we first started it. Odd how the wood hadn't burned to coals as it should have. "It's been hours, and that fire is still going strong."

"Yeah, I noticed that too." Zeke continued toward the camp, not even slowing down to look back at the flames. I had to jog to keep up with him, but we made it to the camp within minutes with the help of our phone lights. Much less than the ten minutes it would have taken with a leisurely stroll.

I aimed the flashlight as he dug through his pack. "This has something to do with the notebook. I know it. I just can't put my finger on it."

"Does it matter?" He didn't even look up, keeping his eyes fixed on the contents of the large bag.

"It matters if it helps us get out of here," I added. "The one and only thing I'm worried about is the unpredictability. No author wants to be predictable. I mean, there's certain things readers expect, like tropes."

"Okay?" Zeke overturned the pack, emptying the contents onto the ground, and plucked through the clothes, gadgets, and items.

"In romance, the heroine and the hero come together, then something pulls them apart, but they always come back together by the end for their happily ever after. That's expected, right?" I waited for him to answer.

"Sure." Zeke continued to dig into the other bag, tossing the useless items aside. "If you're right, and we're experiencing the plot of a book, do you really think it's a romance?"

"No," I scoffed, trying to get the images of dead bodies swinging on trees out of my head. "Of course not. What I'm saying is that I'm worried about the little tricks authors add in their books to keep readers guessing. The twists and surprises."

"Like the hanging bodies?" He looked up at me, his blue eyes full of fear. "Those sure surprised me. What the hell, right?"

So much for trying to keep the image out of my mind. "Exactly." I nodded. "We need to be on our toes. Think ahead at what might come down the line."

He sighed, scratching his head. "Hopefully nothing else will happen and we get the hell out of here."

I scoffed. "How many books have you read that end at the inciting moment?"

"I don't know what that means." He smacked his knees in frustration. "Did we just come all the way here for nothing? I can't find the car key."

"Did you leave it in the car?" I pointed the light to the car and the dirty white paint reflected the light back at us. "Maybe Felicity has it?"

"I put it in my bag. I'm pretty sure about that." He rushed to the car anyway, the light on his phone penetrated the tinted windows. He tried the door. "Damn it. The doors won't open, but I don't remember locking them. At least I don't think we did."

I shook my head. "This doesn't seem right." A sense of unease crept down my spine as a shudder. "This is exactly what I mean. A twist."

"Wait, what?" Zeke paused at those words, just as on edge as I was. "What's gonna happen?"

"I don't know." I scanned the forest, finally braving the fear. "This isn't my story."

"Well, what would happen if it was?" He prompted.

"Ugh." I glanced back over my shoulder. "If this was a story I wrote, we would get the hell out of here and get to the ranger station before anything crazy can happen." It was wishful thinking more than an honest answer.

"Sounds good to me." Before I could register what was happening, Zeke's sweaty palm slipped into mine and we darted toward the ranger station.

The small, isolated building welcomed us with the glow of its warm yellow porch light. A calm instantly washed over me upon seeing it as if it was some sort of haven. A gentle, homey place to hide when escaping the outside dangers. The large welcome sign stood a few feet from the entrance. The words Ayahuasca National Forest stole my attention with its large white letters.

The closed sign still hung from the nail in the wooden door, swinging from side to side like it had when I first arrived, as if foreshadowing or mocking our situation. I tried the door, hoping out of luck it would easily open and we could stroll in, but it wouldn't budge.

"Step out of the way," Zeke ordered. I moved aside as he rushed the door like a running back and rammed it with the side of his body. The impact made the wood splinter near the doorknob.

"Yes, yes!" I nearly jumped with excitement. "You almost got it!"

Again, he rushed to the door, throwing the side of his body at it. This time the door jamb splintered, and it burst open on impact. He rubbed his shoulder and elbow and hissed in pain, but we entered the small room together. Our lights lit up the surrounding desks, chairs, and bookcases.

My eyes immediately scanned the room for a first aid kit, hoping Felicity and Atem were holding up okay back at the car. Urgency was in the air as we moved, quickly searching throughout the space. The images of her bloody and wounded head stayed in my mind. The only way to ease my worry was to find the medical supplies she needed.

I couldn't help but occasionally glance over my shoulder for what might want to make a surprise visit and emerge from the shadows.

A box of random items like hats, sunglasses, and water thermoses rested in the room's corner. A collection of belongings people left behind that the park ranger found and placed in the box in case they returned to retrieve it or come looking for it.

The larger desk was tidy, with an oversized framed map of the entire forest on the wall above it. From a quick glance, the Ayahuasca Forest was thousands of square feet of compact and dense spruce pine trees with a mixture of other variety.

The forest didn't even contain the components of the Ayahuasca, as the medicinal tea made from brewing the plant contained D.M.T. and its active ingredient was banned for being in the same classification as heroin or ecstasy.

While looking over the map, it described how they named the forest following visitors' claims of being enlightened after spending significant time among the tranquil and isolated forest. I scoffed upon seeing the word tranquil. I continued to skim the info on the map, taking note that the highway was near the ranger station, about a mile or so away.

"Have you found any medicine or bandages?" I asked, as Zeke checked each drawer of the desk.

"No," he huffed in frustration. "And I don't see a phone or radio or anything. What a waste of time."

"No place or event is a waste of time in stories." I turned to him, but he refused to look my way, possibly still shaken up. "Everything that happens in books provides some sort of purpose. There's a reason we're here."

"Okay, babe..." Zeke rubbed his temples in annoyance. "Listen, I don't want to upset you, but not everything has a purpose. Sometimes people do stupid things and just suffer the consequences. That's it."

"There's a reason we're here," I insisted, standing my ground. I could feel it in my gut. None of this was by chance or coincidence. "An author wouldn't just place us in a random scene for no reason. We need to figure out the reason. Maybe that will finally lead us out of here."

"Maybe it's just a shitty author who loves putting her characters in as much hell as possible for entertainment." Zeke's nostrils flared as he spoke. "Isn't that what fiction is, at the end of the day? A series of misfortune?"

I thought about it. And for a split second, I believed him. An author's job was to torture their characters, but I refused to believe there wasn't more to the plot. That there was a subtext or something substantial beneath the surface. "There's meaning here." I searched around the room looking for something, anything, to let me know I was on the right track. "There's something we're missing."

"Please, Ima." Zeke's irritation and anger were audible in his strained voice. He even coughed, clearing his throat. "Stop it with this stupid novel nonsense and help me find help. Why won't you get out of your head and back to reality for a minute?"

I stared at him unblinking, fully convinced that I was seeing the real Zeke for the first time. "I'm trying to help."

"You're trying to make this more difficult than it has to be." He knocked a few books from the bookshelf with the swipe of his hand. One by one, they tumbled to the floor with a thud. "Can we stay levelheaded, please? Just until we get out of here. And then we can all go back to the fairytale business."

"Are you serious?" The anger I kept in check for so long suddenly boiled to the surface. "Did you not see the hanging bodies on those trees? Or the death car that tried to mow us down? What about the never-ending looping road or the undying fire? That's not how reality works, Zeke."

"I'm sure there's an explanation for all of it." He shrugged.

"My notebook," I added, glaring. "How could I write and predict everything that's happening now?"

He placed his flashlight on me, shining it directly in my eyes. "Look, I'm not saying you wrote that outline or anything. But there has to be a logical explanation, and arguing about it right now will get us nowhere. My character may be based on the stupid jock boy archetype or whatever, but there's one thing I'm not and I'll never be and that's—" He paused and stared.

"What?" I was almost afraid to ask.

"Your nose."

As soon as the words left his lips, blood tickled my nostrils. "Oh, no." My head pounded with pressure behind my eyes, and I buckled over from the pain. This could only mean one thing. "Atem and Felicity. They have the notebook!"

"I swear if Atem's reading that damn thing, I'll kick his ass myself," Zeke shouted. The bass in his voice added to the pain in my skull and I refused to open my eyes, fearing it would make it worse.

So, he believed the notebook held some significance.

Zeke tugged my forearm, pulling me until we were outside of the building. I opened my eyes to darkness, fog, and swaying trees ahead. When I realized where he was taking me, I pulled back, afraid of entering the forest. "I can't."

"If you want me to stop them from reading the notebook, we gotta go," he insisted.

Pain smoldered inside my head like molten iron. I cried out and dropped to my knees on the dirt road. I couldn't move, paralyzed by the intense pressure and heat. "Stop. Please stop," was all I could manage.

For a moment, there was a quick reprieve and Zeke pulled me to my feet and through the misty forest. I stumbled as I tried to keep up, but expecting the pain in my head slowed me.

I stared up at the trees and thanked the universe for allowing us free passage without battling any ghostly obstacles. Up ahead, through a break in the fog, sat the car, mangled and beaten against the tree where we left it. The headlights lit the fog surrounding it.

Atem opened the door, hopping out in a rush. He waved his flashlight in the air to get our attention. "Behind you!"

"Huh?" I turned just in time to see the noose of a heavy rope whip through the fog to lasso Zeke around the neck, swooping him into the air, feet above the ground. "Zeke!" I screamed.

The rope extended through the fog and suspended him several feet in the air by the neck. He kicked and thrashed, trying desperately to loosen the cord with his hands, but as he struggled, his face turned ashen blue. My eyes followed the rope to its opposite end, which connected to an upside-down body bag that shifted and squirmed with the rope coiled around the length of its form, keeping whatever inside trapped.

Instinct urged me to pull Zeke down by his legs, but doing so would only cause him more agony. "Help!" I called to Atem, who rushed over, leaving Felicity sitting in the passenger side seat. He stood under Zeke to support his weight.

Zeke used the tips of his toes to stand on Atem's shoulders, accidentally kicking him in the head as he tried to balance.

"Find something sharp to cut the rope!" Atem ordered above the sound of rustling trees and cracking branches.

"Right." I ran back to the mangled car, diving into the driver's seat. A quick glance at Felicity told me she was not in a better position. Wet blood trickled from her head even though she kept the cloth held against the wound.

"We're fucked," she groaned.

"No, we're not." I knocked the video camera aside and rummaged through the glove box, wishing I had a light and realizing I had lost my phone somewhere between the ranger station and the car. "There's nothing here. I can't find anything." I peeked over the dashboard and out of the windshield at Zeke, who lost his fight with the rope and Atem, who did his best to keep Zeke suspended.

I grabbed the hardest thing I could find, an ink pen, and ran back to Atem and Zeke. As I contemplated how to get the pen to Zeke and if it was enough to save him, the rope loosened, and he dropped.

His limp body collapsed on top of Atem and they both hit the ground. I was at their side in seconds, barely keeping myself upright as my wooziness returned, but I unwrapped the rope from Zeke's neck with a few yanks.

He gasped for air, coughing, and spewing up phlegm onto the old pine needles and pinecones that littered the ground beneath us. I grabbed Zeke's phone, that shined from the spot on the ground where he dropped it, and aimed it at the trees to assess the threat.

The hanging figure was nowhere to be seen, only its loose rope coiled on the autumn patch.

Zeke sat up, scratching at his throat in a panic. His mouth moved but all that came out was heavy wheezing. Severe rope burns on the skin around his neck were gruesome, as the badly abraded skin looked raw. I tried prying his hands from the wounds, but he fought against it, insisting on pawing his Adam's apple.

"He needs a drink," Atem guessed.

"We don't have a drink," I reminded them, watching with wide eyes as Zeke ran to the car.

He pulled the back door open with a few hardy tugs. The metal cracked, creaked, and popped as it released. I got to the car, fuzzy head and all, just as he dove into the backseat and brought a half-filled bottle of Atem's special highway concoction to his lips.

"Wait!" I cried, but it was too late. As soon as he got a good mouthful and whiff of the bottle's rancid contents, he heaved and vomited just outside the door, tossing the bottle at the same time.

"Shit." Atem tugged his hair as he nervously ran a hand through it. "Sorry, man. There's no water. We left the drinks at the campsite."

I rubbed Zeke's back, seeing tears stream down his beet-red face and the fright and pain in his expression. "Are you okay?"

He shook his head, bringing his hands to his throat as he attempted to speak. Not one word was audible from his efforts.

"Oh, no." Had he damaged his voice box? And all because we had to rush over to stop them from reading from the book. I glared at Atem, needing to find an outlet for my anger. "What were you thinking reading the notebook?"

"You guys were taking too long." The bright headlights highlighted the bloodshot in his eyes. "I needed to know if you were okay."

"You nearly killed me!" I shrieked. "And Zeke."

"I tried to warn you," Atem said, watching Zeke as he calmed himself with steady breaths.

Felicity shifted in her seat. "You know, I'm dying here."

She sat with her head cradled in the webbed part of the broken window with the cloth cushioning her scalp against the glass.

"I'm sorry we couldn't find a first aid kit," I admitted. "But don't worry. You're gonna make it. I promise."

"Nope, I'm gonna die," she went on. "And you're gonna kill me."

Confused, I looked at Atem for an explanation. "What is she talking about?"

"The notebook." He pointed to it in the center of the dashboard. "It said 'the character is filled with a sudden rage upon discovering the devastating secret between her friend and her love interest.'"

Still confused, I shook my head and looked from Felicity, who sat defeatedly in her seat, to Zeke, who looked up at me with guilty puppy dog eyes. "What does that mean?" Even without knowing, my heart sank to the pit of my gut. The feeling similar to being hauled to the greatest heights and then dropped. I looked Zeke in the eye, knowing he couldn't speak but demanding he tried with my stare. I wanted to hear it from his own two lips. "What does that mean, Zeke?"

Atem took the words right out of Zeke's mouth. "Ima, you know exactly what that means." He bowed his head and shook it.

"Are you serious?" I glanced at Felicity, who dare not make eye contact, and landed my glare back on Zeke. "Are you fucking her?"

Zeke shook his head.

Felicity's chin dipped. "It started a few months ago. He was supposed to break up with you but never grew the balls. He felt it fizzling out. Or, how did you say it, Zeke? Never had a spark to begin with? Yeah, that was it."

Hot tears stung my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I sensed his pain by the way he watched me, but I knew that pain was physical and had nothing to do with his heart or mine. "I tried to break this off with you earlier. Why didn't you just end it then?"

"He didn't want you to break up with him," Felicity explained. "He wanted to be the one doing the breaking."

"Coward," I whispered in his face. "Maybe now that you can't speak, you would think harder about what comes out of your mouth. Asshole."

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