Silent Night

Austin scanned the forest, eyes narrowing. “They should be right around here somewhere,” he said, uncertain. "We're looking for a big red rock."

Tall pines towered over the rocky terrain leaving a scent in the cool breeze—sweeping across the shaded landscape.

“There were four or five medium dead trees piled up, nice and dry. I bet we won’t need firewood for a day or two.” Austin tightened the bundle of twigs in his arms, fastened with a yellow rope, and trekked uphill, eyes scanning for familiar landmarks. He was keeping up impressively well for a kid who hasn't even hit double digits yet—determined and focused. Being out in the wilderness seemed to suit Austin quite well.

“We should just head back with what we've got. Mom and Aunt Kayley are probably almost back, and I’m starving—I can’t wait for breakfast.” I turned and started down the hill.

Loose rocks shifted beneath my feet. I glanced back—Austin was still climbing. “Austin, come on, we’ve got enough,” I called, but he didn’t answer, still distracted by his hunt for the treasure trove of tinder.

I adjusted the branches in my arms and scanned the horizon for signs of camp. Everything looked familiar and yet nothing did. Had we passed that crooked tree before? Or that thick patch of thistle?

“Austin,” I said again, impatience creeping into my voice. He stopped and turned, brow furrowed, then followed behind.

“Where’s the creek?” I murmured, scanning the hill with wide eyes, as my pulse began to rise.

“I don’t know. We should’ve hit it by now.” Panic seeped into my thoughts. My arms ached under the weight of the branches. I darted my eyes up and down the hill, searching—nothing.

“We probably came down at the wrong angle,” I said, my voice quivering as a sharp gnawing hunger clutched at me. I rubbed my stomach absently and searched the path with hazy eyes, each step heavier than the last as a knot of uncertainty tightened in my gut.

Austin hesitated, then nodded.

We abandoned our last trail and followed a rocky ridge. If it ran far enough, I figured it might merge into the creek near camp.

Shadows shrank into dark halos beneath each tree. The sun was directly overhead, pressing down with its weight; every step felt heavier, each breath edged with uncertainty. I started to think about camp mom and Aunt Kayley were probably back by now, making lunch, assuming we were horsing around on a nearby trail.

My contemplation was abruptly broken by a sudden off-key racket from behind me"Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright, round—".

“Austin! Enough.” I snapped. “Christmas was four months ago—give it a rest will ya.”

Ever since last year's Christmas musical, he’d been singing Silent Night over and over. I could barely focus on finding camp with his off-pitch crooning drilling into my brain.

Austin frowned and stopped behind me. “You know, you’re a real jerk.” He dropped the bundle of twigs he’d been carrying and sat on a large flat rock jutting from the ground.

I let my bundle fall, the rough grain of bark imprinted on my arms. “And you're a baby”

“Am not!” Austin replied indignantly

“Are too!” I taunted back. “Look, I'm sorry for snapping, I'm just really hungry.”

“I'm hungry too!” Austin complained.

Everything around us looked wrong. Unlike the forest before, there was no green here—just thin, brittle trees, dry leaves, and tall patches of lifeless gold grass. No birds or bugs. No life anywhere other than my brother and myself. Just a dead zone.

“We need a plan,” I said as panic slipped into my voice, retracing our steps wasn’t an option. We’d been back and forth, up and down, only getting farther from camp. "We should pick a direction—higher or lower—and follow it until we find something man-made.”

Austin shrugged. “Sounds good. But I’m ditching the wood.”

“Yeah, forget the firewood. Keep the rope—it could be useful.” He bent down, untied the bundle, and left the wood behind.

“So, up or down?” Austin inquired.

“Downhill,” I said. “It’s easier, and most roads are at the bottom, right?”

“That works for me.” He said with a shrug.

Unburdened by the wood, our pace picked up. We continued until we reached a clearing where the trees finally thinned—revealing a gravel road.

We froze, exchanging a glance before breaking into a sprint.

“Which way should we go?” Austin asked, his tone lighter, hopeful.

“Doesn’t matter. Roads lead to people; once we find someone, we’ll borrow their phone and call Mom.”

“I guess we go this way, then.” He turned left, and I followed.

For the first time since getting lost, my shoulders eased, and breathing came a little easier with the promise that lay ahead. We walked down a few bends, the terrain sloping gently, where we reached a pile of gravel left behind from the unfinished road.

I exhaled sharply. “Okay, that was a colossal waste of time, but now we know the next direction has to be right.”

We turned back, gravel crunching underfoot, the sun’s rays bordering on unbearable.

After what felt like an eternity, we stumbled across a rounded cement structure built into the mountainside. I tried the door handle but it stubbornly stayed still as I twisted. We banged on the door for good measure but it looked abandoned anyway. We pressed on.

The road bent, then again. Gravel shifting underfoot. And yet again another dead end.

“What the hell? Who builds a road that goes nowhere?” My voice cracked, frustration spilling over, “What are we supposed to do now?” I sank to my knees, exhaustion pressing against me.

Austin stared, shocked at my outburst, before his expression softened into concern.

“Well… I guess we go up. Maybe if we climb high enough, we can see something.”

I swallowed my frustration and stood. Again, we climbed.

The last traces of daylight slipped away as dusk deepened, and the chill in the air grew sharper pricking at my skin. The trees’ shadows reach across the land like grasping fingers. A thought crept in— if we had to spend the night, we would have nothing—no warmth, no shelter, an empty stomach, and very little light. Only a dark void filled with unfamiliarity.

As we climbed, I searched for a sturdy stick—something I could sharpen, something to hold onto. Not that my preteen physique stood a chance against predators, but at least it was something.

“Hey, Austin, I think we should stop here. It’s nice and open, and with the moonlight, I can see around us. We’ll take turns sleeping while the other keeps watch.” I handed him the sharpened stick. “It’s not much, but if something tries to mess with us, at least we have this.”

He swung the stick, shattering a brittle tree. He scanned the area. “What if it rains like the last few nights?”

I let out a shaky exhale as my eyes darted around sarcastically, noting how the sparse trees and rocky terrain offered nothing but exposure. “Then it rains—we don’t exactly have any options here”

Austin sat beside me.

“You should try to rest first. I’ll keep watch, then wake you when I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.”

Austin’s voice trembled as he admitted, “I'm scared”—words barely even a whisper. His fingers fidgeted with the hem of his worn jean jacket. “I've never slept anywhere but my bed” his eyes

shifted through the landscape hinting at his unease.

“That’s okay. Just rest your legs if you can't sleep; if you do manage to pass out I’ll be watching out.”

Austin began to hum Silent Night.

I tilted my head back—In contrast to the lights I was accustomed to, darkness swallowed me, I saw the stars in all their glory. Blues and purples fading into black, shining bright stars of white and gold punctuate the sky from horizon to horizon.

He hummed, and without thinking, I sang along: “All is calm, all is bright.”

Austin joined in. “Round young virgin, mother and child.”

Without warning, a single warm tear escaped, tracing a chilling path down my cheek. I blinked against the sudden build-up of salty tears sitting on the bottom of my eyelid. I swallowed hard, thinking about how Mom must be worrying.

His voice grew quieter, fading with exhaustion. Moments later, sleep pulled me under too.

Our dreams were quickly shattered though.

Yips and howls ripped through the night—guttural, primal cries echoing across the mountains. My heart pounded like a drum as Austin clung to me and I clutched the splintered stick as if it was our only lifeline. Each shriek and snarl tore at our nerves. We were rooted to the spot, breaths shallow and hands clammy. Adrenaline blurred time— the hours felt like minutes

Finally, the sun stretched over the horizon, spilling light across the wilderness. Without a word, we grabbed the rope and stick and kept moving.

After climbing for hours without seeing anything man-made, we found a rock wall with a thin stream trickling down its side. This was the first water that wasn’t thick with mud. We took turns licking the stone wall, drinking as much of the minerally water as we could.

Then we climbed.

The ledge ended at an impassable rock wall.

Another dead end.

Frustrated, I sat, breathing hard.

Austin looked down at a narrow ledge snaking around the wall. “Hey… think this wraps around to the other side?”

I stared. The options replayed in my head—turn back, or take the risk.

I refused to give up.

“I think we should try. Worst case, it doesn’t lead anywhere, and we turn back.”

I extended my hand, helping Austin to his feet. Carefully, we slid along the narrow ledge, inches of crumbling rock the only thing keeping us from a sheer drop—three, maybe four hundred feet below.

“Hold onto the wall,” I instructed as we inched our way to the other side of the wall.

“Austin, turn around, there's nothing but a drop over here.”

Austin inched backward, his breath uneven.

Then the rock beneath his foot gave way.

A section of the ledge crumbled, raining rocks down into the abyss.

“I can’t… it’s too far—there’s no turning back, “ Austin sputtered, his voice cracking like the ledge beneath him. His hands slick with sweat, dug desperately into the rough stone wall, his breath shaky from the growing terror within him.

“Don’t say that. We’ll find a way.”

“We’re stuck. There’s nowhere to go,” he choked out, sobbing harder.

I scanned the area. The stick, still tied to the rope, was slung around my shoulder. Above us, just out of reach but not impossible, a crack split through the rock wall.

“Austin, I need you to help me. Listen.” I spoke as steadily as I could. “Tie the rope to your waist—nice and tight. I’ll lift you—you wedge the stick into that crack, climb, and get onto the top. Then you can throw the rope down for me.”

I handed him the rope and stick. Austin hesitated.

“It’s fine. I’ve got you. I promise.”

He nodded, tying the rope around himself. I kneeled, bracing as he stepped into my hands.

I lifted him toward the crack.

Austin wedged the stick between two boulders, testing its stability. He pulled himself up, untied the rope, then threw it down.

I wrapped it around my arm and hoisted myself into the crack.

Now huddled inside the rocky crevice, we climbed higher, testing every rock for stability. I called out safe footholds, Austin following my lead.

When we finally reached the top, relief crashed over me. We had done it. We had gotten ourselves out of something tough and then literally came out on top.. Maybe—just maybe—we would find help.

Rocks tumbled down the wall.

“Careful!” I called back. Austin met my gaze, relief, and shock flickering in his expression.

I turned back, continuing upward hyper-focused on finding safe rocks to climb.

Then more rocks fell.

And Austin’s voice—half a word, then gone. As if it had been ripped from the air mid-sentence.

I turned and saw no one.

I peered over the edge, heart hammering and fingers cold and numb. Suddenly, a heavy thud shattered the silence—my breath hitched; the world around me narrowed to that single terrifying sound. My eyes were glazed over by tears welling, completely distorting my vision. I couldn't force myself to look down and verify what I had heard even if I was brave enough.

I barely mustered the breath to say it. Pressure crushed my chest, every inhale shallow, unreachable.

“Austin.”

Then I mustered the breath to scream his name.

“Austin!”

Silence swallowed everything. It spread like an infection, wrapping around my lungs, and pressing against my skull. Silence, as if the whole world had stopped to watch.

The world fell deathly quiet as if even the wind had hesitated. I slumped against a cold boulder, my fingers trembling against its rough surface. At that moment I sat petrified. Still, as the mountains—a heartbeat stretched into eternity— I felt the overwhelming weight of regret as my mind replayed every footstep, every missed warning, My jaw clenched shut as the thought echoed—maybe I should have turned back. We would have just been tired. Tired—and together.

Now I had to decide. I wanted to stay—to hold onto him—to keep him company, but he wasn't reachable from where I was. Staying would only mean that I would disappear too. No one would find us if I waited—let my body give in to the exhaustion. If I stayed, no one would know where to look. Austin didn't deserve that. I couldn’t just let him disappear just because I wanted to vanish.

Under the dim glow of twilight, my limbs burned with each labored step upward. Every rocky foothold felt like a final plea for escape. When my body finally slumped onto the sparse plateau, I could feel my limbs ignoring signals to move, my lips chapped and mouth dry as the coarse dirt I lay on.

Sleep came in fits, restless and cruel, dragging me through nightmare after nightmare.

Morning arrived with birds singing, and sunlight stretching across the mountains; by all standards a beautiful morning contrasting the turmoil thrashing around inside.

With shaky resolve, I made my way back to the edge where fate had claimed Austin. I traced the jagged line of the trees with my eyes, etching every ridge and mountain position into memory—a mental photo. A tear in each eye sat stubbornly refusing to fall, so I wiped them away. A silent farewell— a promise to make sure he got a proper burial. I turned my back and hollowed myself as I trudged forward, ignoring the brewing emotional storm inside.

Reaching the summit, I realized the view held no answers. Just endless wilderness. Endless nothing.

All we—all I—had endured, and still—nothing.

I was too hungry, too tired to keep going. I slumped against a tree, staring into the void, trying to force a plan through the fog in my mind.

Overwhelmed, I threw my fist into the tree I was leaning against and screamed. “Help me!”

My voice echoed back, mocking me.

I broke, curling into myself, sobbing into my lap.

Then—movement.

Leaves crackled as something rushed past. Fast.

I wiped my eyes, scanning the woods. Nothing.

Then the sound again—closer, charging.

I turned.

A blur, barreling toward me.

Our dog. Charging straight for me. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating.

Then he slammed into me, knocking me back, and licking my face all over.

“Boys!”

“John!”

“Austin!”

A familiar voice cut through the forest, It was Aunt Kayley.

I jolted upright.

“Over here!” I cried. “I’m over here!”

She stepped into view behind our dog, relief flooding her face. Then came the question—the hardest one I’d ever have to answer.

“I'm so glad I've found you. We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Where is your brother?”

I opened my mouth.

Nothing came out.

Then everything did—panic, grief, breath stolen from my lungs as I crumbled into a frantic sobbing mess.

Kayley pulled me into her arms, rocking gently. “Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. You don’t have to talk about it yet, alright? I’m taking you home to your mom. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

A ranger picked us up and transported us back to the campsite.

Mom was waiting.

I watched her scan the jeep, searching for faces—searching for both of us.

Then I saw it happen.

The moment she knew.

She crumbled before a single word passed between us, knees buckling beneath her, caved under the weight of what she had just realized.

Ron, Kayley's boyfriend, caught Mom before she hit the ground.

I ran with all the energy I had left.

I clung to her, both of us collapsing into each other, consumed by our shared grief, feeling its weight not alone, but in the comforting presence of one another.

Later, after I had eaten, and drowned myself in water, I told the park rangers everything.

Where he was. How I marked the ledge with the stick and rope.

A few days later, they found him.

Our camping trip ended abruptly.

I stood at the front door, there was no ‘Welcome home’, no laughter, no complaints, no Silent Night. Just grief, settling comfortably into the space Austin left behind.

I was unable to enter. I wasn't ready to go in. A past life waited beyond the door—unchanged, but I had changed a lot. My grief transformed our home into something unrecognizable.

The silence in our home after the funeral was a gaping wound in the life I had once known. Every corner of the house was covered in pictures and everyday objects that now only served as artifacts of Austin, in a museum curated by his absence, living on only in memory.