Jack Kilborn - Endurance

Letti slowed down, squinting into the trees, looking for the road. At first, the endless forest and jutting mountains had taken her breath away with their beauty. But after hours of the spectacular view, she began to feel intimidated. Letti hoped the race course was clearly marked, because if one of them got lost in this wilderness, they’d be lost forever.

When the odometer hit the magic number, Letti rolled onto the narrow shoulder and coasted to a stop.

“Are we here?” Kelly said, poking her head up through the space in the front seats and giving JD a pat.

Letti checked the numbers again. Then she rechecked the map.

“According to this, yes. But there’s nothing here.”

“There.” Kelly pointed. “See the tire tracks?”

Letti followed her daughter’s finger, and saw two barely visible tracks, almost completely hidden by weeds, leading into the forest between a small gap in the trees.

“That’s not a road,” Florence said. “That’s not even a trail.”

“It matches up to the map. And look.”

Letti pointed to a tiny sign, hanging from a tree. It read RUSHMORE INN.

“Why would they paint the sign green?” Florence asked. “It blends into the trees. And it’s so small.”

Letti turned the wheel and pressed the gas.

“Letti, you can’t be serious. What if we get stuck?”

“We’re driving an Audi. It’s all-wheel drive.”

Florence clucked her tongue—something she did when she was displeased. “Let’s go back into town. I’m sure there are other rooms available. I’ll pay for it.”

Letti bristled at her mother’s words, and any doubts she had about this road vanished, replaced by anger. Pay for it? Now Letti was determined to see this through, even if they had to drive over a log jam to do it.

The Audi’s tires dug in and performed as advertised, traversing the bumps, divots, and rocks without getting stuck. But the suspension left something to be desired, the shocks bouncing them around like a carnival ride. Twenty yards into the woods the sun disappeared, forcing Letti to flick on her brights. Though overgrown, the path was relatively straight, and no trees or large obstacles got in their way.

Boy, it’s dark.

In southern Illinois, on the Great Plains, even a moonless night was starlit. But this was like swimming in ink. Letti had the window cracked open, and she could practically feel the darkness seeping in.

Then the car jolted, the front end tilting downward. Letti whacked her head against the steering wheel, causing the horn to honk, and JD bounced against the dashboard, uttering a surprised yelp.

Letti pushed herself back into her seat, but the car still canted on an angle, like they were driving down a steep hill.

“Mom?”

“We went into a hole, or a ditch, or something. Are you both okay?”

JD hopped onto Letti’s seat, his big paws between her legs. He growled at the driver’s side window.

“JD! Down!”

The growl became a sharp bark, and the dog’s entire body tensed. Letti stared where JD was looking, out into the woods. She saw only blackness.

“JD? What’s wrong, boy?”

Kelly patted his head, her voice full of concern. “There’s something out there, Mom. He senses it.”

Letti put a hand on his collar. JD was baring his teeth, and he stood rigid as a statue, his hackles up. The last time she’d seen the dog act this way was a few months ago, when someone tried to break into their house at three am. It turned out to be their drunken neighbor, mistaking their house for his. JD had gone Cujo at the intrusion, leaping at the door with such force he’d knocked out the security window.

She certainly didn’t want a repeat of that right now.

Letti pressed the brake and shifted the Audi into reverse, giving it a little gas.

The wheels whirred, but they remained stuck.

“I can’t see anything out there,” Florence said, her nose pressed to the glass. “It’s like staring into a grave at midnight.”

Letti gave it a little more gas, shouldering JD aside and watching the RPM gage jump.

The car still didn’t move. She wondered if the Audi was on its undercarriage, the wheels off the ground. She would have to go check, see if she could—

JD barked again, clipped and loud, surprising the shit out of her.

“JD! Down!”

Letti gave the dog a rough shove, pushing him off her lap and back into his seat. Then she reached for the door handle.

”Letti!” Florence yelled in her ear. “Don’t get out of the car!”

Her mother never raised her voice. Ever. Not even when Letti was a child. So hearing it now felt like a slap. Letti recovered quickly, turning around in her seat to look at her.

“What’s the problem, Florence?”

“There’s something out there,” Florence said.

“JD has never been in the woods before. It’s probably a rabbit. Or a deer.”

“Or a bear.” Florence looked solemn.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Indulge an old woman. Turn off the car and the headlights for a minute.”

Letti sighed. “Florence...”

“Please. What can it hurt?”

Kelly leaned forward. “What if it’s that guy with the gun, Mom?”

“We’re a long way from him, Kelly.”

“What if it is a bear?”

“Then hopefully he’ll help us get unstuck.”

No one laughed. Sighing, Letti flipped off the ignition and killed the lights.

It seemed even darker now. Darker, and unnaturally quiet. Letti couldn’t see her hand in front of her face.

Then a light came on in the backseat.

Kelly. Holding up her iPod, its screen bright white.

“Turn that off, dear. With no light, our eyes can adjust to the darkness.”

Dear? Florence never called me dear.

Letti chided herself. She wasn’t in competition with her daughter.

The light went off. Everyone waited. Letti wasn’t scared. She never got scared. It was a useless emotion, like guilt, and worry. Even if there was a bear out there, the thing to do was deal with it, not hide from it like frightened children.

“Have we waited long enough, Florence?”

“Shh. I hear something.”

“What?”

“Right next to the car.”

Letti felt the gooseflesh rise on her arms.

“Are the doors locked?” Florence whispered.

Against all common sense, Letti lowered her voice as well. “Why? A bear is going to pull open the door?”

“I don’t think it’s a bear,” Florence said. “I think it’s something else.”

Letti found the lock button, flicked it twice to make sure. Then she pressed her face to the window, trying to peer outside. Slowly, her eyes began to adapt, and she could see her breath fogging up the glass.

Letti wiped it off with her palm.

It didn’t wipe off.

She rubbed harder, her flesh squeaking on the window.

The condensation stayed there. And as she squinted at it, she watched the fog get bigger.

Hold on... it’s not on the inside.

It’s on the outside.

Someone has their face against my window.

JD went crazy, jumping fully on top of Letti, his claws digging into her thighs, barking and scratching at the glass in full-on attack mode. Letti’s face was buried in his muzzle, fur getting up her nose. She gave the dog a rough shove, turned the ignition, threw it into gear, and jammed on the accelerator.

The engine whined, then the wheels found purchase and the Audi lurched forward, climbing out of the ditch, bouncing its occupants against the ceiling, JD falling into the passenger seat. Letti cut the wheel hard to the right so the rear didn’t get stuck, and all four tires bit into the dirt as she fishtailed. She flipped on the brights, gasping as something darted behind a tree only a few feet away from them.