Griegg's Gorge

SATURDAY A.M.: Northern County police state a series of 911 calls were made during the evening of Friday, May 17, from an area known by locals as Griegg’s Gorge: a large swath of wild, wooded terrain, notorious for funnelling inexperienced backcountry recreationalists away from the road during winter months. While snow has melted in the region and overnight temperatures have been mild, there remain concerns for the wellbeing of the lost individual or individuals. Local search and rescue teams are currently surveying the area to pinpoint signs of recent activity. Anyone with information is encouraged to contact Northern County Police Department.

It had been a long night already for Lisa, who was part of a team of call-takers answering 911 calls for Northern County Ambulance on the night of May the seventeenth. Just a regular Friday night, really, with the drunken antics of party-goers and F.C. supporters still celebrating the local team’s victory some hours ago keeping the call lines busy. 

Most of the events weren’t life-threatening, and an unfortunate amount signalled the ongoing abuse of emergency services for issues that simple adult-ing would otherwise have rectified: “Yes, ma’am, I understand, your daughter has menstrual cramps. Do you require an ambulance for that?”

“Okay, sir, this man is unconscious on a bench, is that correct? Can you call out to him and see if he requires help? Oh, he woke up? He was just sleeping? Oh, I see. Alright, bye now.”

A new call came in, pinging in a remote area that was inaccessible by road. The automatic location identifier placed the closest receiving cell tower at 1,220 metres from the caller. This was Lisa’s radius; her starting point to find this patient. She gave an inward groan.

“Northern County Ambulance, for what—”

A man’s voice interrupted. “I need sah-m haalp,” he slurred. 

“Where are you, sir?”

But the caller didn’t seem to hear her question, as he rambled on incoherently. Lisa encircled the mouthpiece of her headset with her hand to make an echo chamber, leaned into it and repeated: “Where. Are. You?” 

Lisa could hear the caller stumbling around. “Listen, I need you to stop moving around. Are you on a trail?” She asked, continuing to enunciate clearly into her mouthpiece so he could hear her.

But the caller didn’t answer her question and kept loudly moving about. “Haalpuh meh. Amin tha goorj.”

Lisa tried to remain patient. “Stay where you are,” she repeated. “How. Did. You. Get. There?”

But there was nothing except for a continued rustling—“Hello? HELLO?”—and after a few moments, the line dropped dead. 

Calling back the number was futile. Each attempt went straight to voicemail: a generic, “Hey, leave a message!” Lisa figured the phone battery had died; what luck.

But Lisa wasn’t too worried. It wasn’t her emergency; this was just her job. This man had obviously made a silly choice—or two—and left himself unprepared for this wilderness adventure he was now on. She could only do what she could with the information he had provided her. 

So she called the service provider of the phone number that had called and asked for the subscriber information on file. “Hmm, it’s a Manitoba number,” said a woman on the other end of the line. “Subscriber is Jennifer Harrelson at 556 Woodland Avenue in Easton.”

An out-of-province number with a female subscriber. A stolen phone, Lisa thought immediately. Or it’s his girlfriend’s phone or his mother still pays his phone bills, she reasoned with herself, attempting to be less judgemental and failing.

“Okay, thanks for that. Any alternate numbers on file?”

“No, sorry love.”

Feeling a little guilty, Lisa passed the scant details she had to the police, who would notify and activate the local search and rescue contingent as needed.

“That’s it?” The police dispatcher asked, harried from his own night of heavy call volume.

“‘Fraid so,” Lisa said apologetically, before advising that an ambulance would be staged only when more details were known and a meet location for search and rescue crews established—which, she surmised to herself, would not be until daybreak.

She hung up and clicked ‘offline’ on her phone board. Hungry for an excuse to leave her chair, she stretched and meandered to the office kitchenette to put a new pot of coffee on.

A few minutes later, she was back at her desk, headset back on, a new call coming in.

It pinged in a similar area as before. There was some rustling on the end of the line, and then: “Help me—” said a panicked male voice, before the line immediately dropped.

The call came from an untraceable emergency phone that could not be called back; a burner phone.

Lisa paused for a moment, adding the new and incomplete file to the existing one in the same area—Griegg’s Gorge—with some notes, before she realised another call had been added to the file already.

“Hey Lisa,” Ellen called from across the room. “I took another call for your Griegg’s Gorge event. Some guy saying, ‘hurry up, I’m in the Gorge,’ before he hung up. I tried calling back but the phone’s been turned off.”

“This guy just won’t give us a chance to help him properly,” Lisa called back, getting exasperated. “Though he does seem to have an endless supply of phones to use,” she added, noting that the file now listed three different cell numbers as having called 911 to the one area.

“Can I listen to your play-back, quickly?” she asked Ellen.

“Sure thing,” said Ellen, grateful for some respite. She slid out of her chair to give Lisa some space, before heading to the kitchenette for a fresh mug of coffee.

Lisa found the recorded call and hit play. Ellen’s voice filled her headset: “Northern County Ambulance, for what location, please?”

A male voice answered; older, with a lilt in his accent—Australian, perhaps? “Gotta hurry up, I'm in a wooded area. I don’t know…” he said, before trailing off.

“Where are you exactly, sir?” Ellen asked.

“Hurry!” He demanded, slightly out of breath, and Lisa thought she could hear running in the background as the line dropped and the recording ended.

Lisa added some more notes to the file, and then returned to her cubicle.

SATURDAY P.M.: Northern County police state the bodies of four men were found in Griegg’s Gorge around midday on Saturday following an extensive search by local emergency services. The bodies, found separately, were in a state of decomposition consistent with having thawed from a frozen state. All victims were found without appropriate winter wear or ski paraphernalia, though they appear to have been in the Gorge for months. Constable John Healy stated: “We believe these individuals got lost while ski touring in the backcountry during the winter, discarded their ski equipment once they realised they were lost, and eventually shed their winter layers due to the effects of hypothermia.”

Forensic testing is underway to verify the identities of the individuals, but without any recent missing people reported in the area, authorities are appealing to the public for any information on who these individuals might be.

Before work the following night, Lisa and Ellen discussed the most recent police statement: There were four men found in the Gorge? Who had Lisa and Ellen been speaking with over the phone last night, then? Were there others alive in the Gorge that hadn’t been found yet?

Feeling thoroughly spooked, but also slightly thrilled by their involvement in the mystery, they both settled back into their cubicles and into the routine of a Saturday night on the job. 

After taking a call for an elderly woman who was stuck in her armchair, and a teenager greening out after consuming his first pot brownie, Lisa was no longer thinking about the four men. After a few more calls, she wasn’t thinking about anything else besides the time remaining until shift change.

And then, a call came in that pinged at Griegg’s Gorge. A chill went through Lisa. “Northern County Ambulance, for what location?” she asked. 

A shrill female voice answered, her sentences coming out together in a rush: “Hello?-help me, please-my name is Jenny Harrelson-I don’t know where I am-I’m in trouble-there’s so much snow-he drugged me-find—” before the line dropped.

Lisa felt feverish as she dialled in the number to call back. No dial tone; the phone was off.

She updated the police, before getting up to get herself a glass of water, thinking coffee would be too much for her nerves at that moment.

Back at her desk, another caller, this time pinging in a suburb not too far away. Lisa exhaled; just another regular call.

“Northern County Ambulance, for what location, please?”

A pause, before: “I have information about the bodies found at Griegg’s Gorge,” said a husky female voice.

Lisa’s heart began to race again. “Okay, thanks for calling, but you’ve reached the ambulance service, so I’ll just get the police on the line and you can speak with—“

“NO!” She barked. “I won’t speak with the police.”

“Okay, but ma’am, they will be better at—” Lisa started, before the line was dropped.

Cursing, Lisa re-dialled the number that had called. No answer. She tried again. One ring, two rings, three… and it was picked up. Silence.

“Hello, ma’am? This is Northern County Ambulance calling back…” No response. “Why don’t you tell me—“

“I have information about the bodies at Griegg’s Gorge,” repeated the female voice, speaking quickly now. “I know why they was there. All those people, they owed ‘im money. Well, she dinnit, but she got in the way, see?”

“She?” Lisa asked, blankly.

“Yeahh, she. Look I ain’t got any names, but it’s got to do with ‘Ades Revival,” she said before the disconnect tone rang sharply in Lisa’s ear once again.

Lisa forced herself to breathe, as she dialled the police number one more time.

WEDNESDAY P.M.: Northern County police state that four bodies found over the weekend in Griegg’s Gorge were the victims of foul play. The three men and one woman—previously mistakenly reported as four men—were not known to each other, but were all found to have links with a drug trafficking group known as ‘Hades Revival.’ Thanks to a tip received on Saturday night, police were able to locate Austin Phillips, 55, leader of the group, who has been charged with kidnapping, sedating and transporting each of the four victims to the remote location over several weeks in January, and leaving them without adequate survival gear, save a phone to organise remittence for allegedly overdue drug payments. Police report that each victim tried to use the phones to call 911, but that, presumably due to the cold conditions and remoteness of the location, each phone failed during attempts to contact emergency services. None of the victims were successful in leaving the heavily wooded area before succumbing to hypothermia. Upon the seasonal thaw, all four phones revived to transmit the callers’ final messages, which were received by 911 operators last week.