Seven and half hours later, nearly delirious from a lack of sleep, Caspar begins to arrive at his destination. The forest had given way to highway, and the highway into desert. Now, the desert is giving way to canyon as the right edge of the road drops off into a sheer cliff side. 

Caspar’s RV rocks ever so slightly as it descends down an increasingly steep road.

He grips the wheel tightly as he looks out onto the endless expanse of rocky plateaus and cornflower blue skies. A paranoid wriggle of fear makes itself known as he pictures falling off and down into the gaping maw. There's not even a guardrail to save him if he swerves. 

Luckily, he’s nearing the gate. It seems he’s one of the first to arrive at the check-in station this morning.

“Hello, welcome to Palo Duro Canyon,” a portly woman greets cheerily from the short, squat building.

Caspar musters up a tired smile. “Hi. I need a camping pass. Are there any spots available?”

The woman eyes up Caspar’s disheveled appearance. “We have two RV camps with available spots. Hackberry and Sagebrush.”

“Sagebrush sounds good. I’m staying seven days.”

“Alright. Your campsite is number 125. That’ll be 120 dollars.”

Caspar opens his wallet, handing over the cash reluctantly. In return, he gets a neon yellow pass and a laminated map. “Keep the pass in the dash, extinguish all fires when you’re done with them, and stay on the official trails only.” 

That’s ominous. “Got it.”

The woman smiles again. The gate opens. “Have a safe trip.”

Caspar pulls away from the ranger station and down the winding road. After passing the visitors’ center, he’s treated to another sight of the canyon. 

Unlike the forest surrounding Duncan’s cabin, the terrain here ebbs and flows in elevation. Caspar can’t help but feel small in the face of it all. Lucky for his nerves, things even out as he reaches the campsite. He drives slowly past each spot, looking out for 125. 

He finds it. Fortunately, the spot he has been assigned is perfect. It’s smack dab in the middle of the campground, in the line of sight of multiple other RVs and tents. Thank fucking God for it too. He needs the sleep.

After parking, Caspar searches through the RV’s rear external storage. He finds it—his tent hammock! He grins as he holds it up, examining it for holes or wear and tear. It’s in perfect condition, with even the rain fly neatly bundled up in the bag. 

There's two trees sharing his little camping spot. He sets up the hammock between them quick, happy to find that the steps are still fresh in his mind. When everything's in its place, he climbs inside, not even bothering to change his clothes. The hammock is shut with a satisfying ziiiip!  

As he settles into his little makeshift bed, Caspar finally relaxes a tad. He looks out the small mesh window on the side. 

Other RVs are starting to pull in. Families are starting to wake up and emerge from their tents for breakfast. Caspar sets an alarm on his phone, listening in as kids giggle and propane tanks spark to life. If he closes his eyes tight enough, he can pretend it's the sound of his mom nearby, setting up the camp stove to make cinnamon rolls with him. 

He falls into another shallow sleep.

This time, there are no more dreams. Just wind, cicadas, and the shadows of clouds overhead. 

When he awakens six hours later, he spends the rest of the day researching, resting, and snacking on trail mix and beef jerky. He’s finally starting to feel somewhat normal by the time midnight hits. The bite on his neck has begun scabbing over, and the final traces of venom have left his system. He’s ready for a new hunt.

The next morning, he awakens to the sound of wings overhead, causing a momentary panic. It’s not until he hears the soft cooing of mourning doves that he calms. Just some birds. But wait, what time is it?

Caspar jolts in the hammock, causing it to swing back and forth. It’s 6:31 AM, nearly half an hour behind when he was supposed to get up! 

Why didn’t his alarm go off? Did he sleep through it?

He escapes his comforting cocoon, shivering as a chill invades the hammock. He’s a little shocked the cold desert air didn’t penetrate through the thin lining. A quick hot shower in the RV rectifies the goosebumps, and he drinks some coffee as he reviews his research.

He pours through the multiple threads on social media, hiking blogs, and news articles he collected. Most of the disappearances are being attributed to unprepared hikers exploring off-trail. Caspar ponders that as he starts to pack.

Both State and National Parks, no matter where they are, are notorious for missing people for a reason. Monsters roam the undeveloped land, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and take their prey back to their den.

But really, it's kind of a cow versus shark situation. That is, while monsters do hunt humans in national parks, it’s much more likely you’ll step on a copperhead, fall into a gully, get caught in a flash flood, or just plain fall and break your neck. 

For that reason, Caspar packs his bag with not just monster hunting supplies, but necessary survival gear to avoid the naturally hazardous landscape: a generous amount of water, dry food, a first aid kit, a flashlight, a phone battery, SPF 50, and a thermal blanket. 

Thanks to that he feels confident as he pulls the RV out from its spot. Or at least, feeling confident in his ability to challenge the natural hazards. 

He parks the RV at the entrance of the  trail. With one last goodbye to the blissful AC, he starts his journey.

Caspar looks at the map as he walks. His finger moves down the legend until he finds his location, the Lighthouse trail: the park’s most popular and iconic trail leading to the Lighthouse rock formation. Take sufficient amounts of water, as the most heat-related injuries and deaths for both pets and people occur here. 

Caspar takes a sip from his bottle  as he flips to the back. 

PALO DURO CANYON STATE PARK

Discover history, hoodoos, and habitats.

Here in the “little grand canyon,” you'll uncover a wild palette of color and diversity as you explore the geological marvel of Texas’s premier state park. From the deepest canyon floor to scenic overlooks, you can learn all about the diversity of the Texas Panhandle Plains. 

HOW TO STAY SAFE

• UNDERSTAND YOUR LIMITS. Ensure you’re wearing sunscreen, insect repellant, and appropriate shoes/clothes. 

Check, Caspar thinks

• DRINK PLENTY OF WATER. Dehydration can set in quickly traversing the trails. For every person, bring one quart of water per mile. This goes for pets too!

Caspar takes another sip. Check.

• INFORM OTHERS OF YOUR LOCATION. When possible, never travel alone in the park. Inform someone of your estimated departure and return times. 

Caspar sighs. There’s not really anyone to tell, anyway. Would anyone come looking if Caspar fell down some dusty creek bed? Probably not. Nobody in his circle really has a habit of noticing that kind of thing. 

Well, besides his uncle. But after their last fight, Caspar doesn't expect him to be worrying about Caspar’s silence.

• POTENTIALLY HARMFUL PLANTS AND ANIMALS ARE PRESENT. You’ll have opportunities to see them on the trails. Do not harass or damage fauna/flora.

Despite the circumstances, Caspar’s actually excited for that. He really wants to see a roadrunner, and already walked past a few fruiting patches of cacti. Does “take nothing but photos” apply to ruby-ripe prickly pear?

• WEATHER CAN CHANGE QUICKLY. Check forecasts before embarking on any hikes or activities. Be prepared for changes in forecasts.

The forecast already predicted nothing but blue skies for the foreseeable six days. No chance of getting wet here. 

Suddenly, Caspar’s thoughts are disrupted by a chatter above his head. Looking up, he spots a familiar sight. A cardinal. 

He stops to watch it pass overhead. Its scarlet red wings carry it high over the rugged landscape, cutting a dramatic silhouette against the dawning sky. Following close behind is its mate, a tawny-brown female. 

Caspar’s mind drifts back to the shadow of Malakai’s wings. Did they change when he changed sex? Did they deepen to a dark red, like a cardinal’s? 

“Ah. Fuck. Get your head together, dumbass,” says Casper. Why does he care about the damn color of a demon’s wings? He never wants to see that monster ever again.

He turns his attention back to the trail. True to the brochure, it’s not exactly an extreme hike, but there are challenges. Just a mile in, Caspar almost steps on a groggy scorpion, has to scale a small rocky outcropping, and stop for a stunning yellow, black, and red long-nosed snake. Well, actually, he could’ve passed the snake, but he felt compelled to at least pause for a moment to admire it as he rehydrated. 

As he empties his first water bottle, however, he spots something more interesting. A fork in the path, not marked on the map. 

Unflinchingly, he walks into the unknown.