Refract

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

A bit of a scary happening tonight...


I went to the trailhead of the Bartram trail in the Tuskegee National Forest to watch sunset and do a bit of reading. I arrive around 7:00pm, get out my book, and enjoy myself for a good half hour or so. Then a Chevy camper van pulls into the trailhead parking area. Normally, this is no big deal, but I think to myself that it's a bit odd, because it's nearly dark out: there's not enough time for somebody to go on a mountain biking trip, and anybody who's going hiking or camping would have had the sense to start at least an hour ago if they weren't planning on sleeping in the car. Then the van begins to back up, and it turns itself so that it's facing the entrance to the lot, just where it would need to face if, say, it wanted to leave. I think it's gonna zoom off, positing that maybe somebody was just turning around. Instead, though, the van backs up all the way, and shuts down. Nobody gets out of the car. A few moments pass. Still nobody. I turn back to my book, but, a little unnerved, I get out my phone and set it so that I can call somebody with the touch of a button in case somebody approaches me menacingly. Still nobody gets out of the car.

A few minutes later, another car pulls into the lot and pulls the same maneuver, parking itself directly adjacent to the van. Nobody gets out of this car either. The night continues falling; I return to my book, hoping that nobody approaches me. More time passes, and it's starting to get too dark to read. I have to leave soon, lest my situation worsen through darkness. Still nobody gets out of either car.

It occurs to me to get on the phone, with somebody, anybody. I make a call; nobody answers. Another call; still, nobody answers. I'm alone out there, unable to even get in touch with anyone via phone. But I figure that the illusion is sufficient, that if it appears that I'm on the phone with somebody who could, of course, call the cops immediately, I'll be just as well off. I call my mom's voice mail.

``Hey, mom, I'm here at the Bartram trail of the Tuskegee National Forest, at the trailhead on 29. Don't worry, I just came to do a bit of reading and watch the sunset at the trailhead, I didn't go hiking without notifying anyone. But there are these two cars...'' I describe the situation, and begin walking towards the parking lot. As I emerge from the brush, the Chevy's engine turns. My heart starts racing. ``And the engine just turned on, but still nobody's getting out of the cars.'' I walk over to my own car, peering into the van, staring at the white car, some make I can't identify in the gloaming. I insert my key into the lock of my own car, then BEEP, BEEP, BEEP! ``We're sorry, but you have exceeded the maximum length for a voicemail message.'' Now I'm completley alone, no record whatsoever of what's happening. I duck down into the vehicle. CLICK. I lock the doors immediately.

I put the car into reverse, and face the exit; the chevy remains on, but its lights are off, it still seems to be in park. I pull out of the parking lot and speed away on the highway, leaving the psychos behind.


But I just now realized something. There was another car in that parking lot. Somebody else was still in the forest, perhaps to return to their vehicle moments later. They don't know what awaits them at the parking lot. I wonder if I should have called the cops...

Too late now.