The Brooklyn Trail

The Note

I wiped the murk from my eyes, attempting to ground one of my senses as I tried to gain my bearings.

I remembered how I got here. The branch I'd grasped for stability as I explored the thick brush had snapped off its host, sending me into an unexpected and unwelcome freefall. The vertical nature of the hillside had been obscured by the cedar fronds surrounding the area. As I tumbled, flailing helplessly, I remembered seeing a stone jutting out of the under brush, passing through my peripheral vision at a point where if I'd hit it, I'd have lost consciousness immediately. The thought stuck with me, even as I felt the familiar scratch of rolling across the forest floor give way to the unfamiliar feeling of nothing.

I had counted to the best of my effort, and came out with 0.8 seconds before my right leg crashed onto the surface below, cushioning the blow to the rest of my body. I registered feeling cold first, and my clothes becoming heavier against my skin. The sting of pain soon concealed the feeling, however. In my shock, I'd connected the tightness of my lungs to having the wind knocked out of me, and inhaled deeply to dispel the breathlessness. I felt my lungs fill with water. Gagging, I sat up, unable to see my surroundings but connecting the near-drowning and pain in my leg to having fallen into a shallow body of water.

My eyes stung, protesting against my aggressive rubbing, but the blurriness in my vision subsided. I could see now. It was a stream I had fallen into, significantly deeper due to the mid April run-off. My vision was limited, and I was unable to locate the possible ledge I'd tumbled into the stream from.

Panic set in as I realized why I was unable to spot the ledge, or the height of the cliff, or even the width of the stream I'd been laying in. It was dark. Very dark, so much darker than when I'd last opened my eyes.

In my panic, I began crawling out of the stream, in a direction which I am unsure of only that I think it is the right one. As I grasped dry shoreline, I shifted my weight onto my legs in an effort to heave myself into a standing position before emitting a cry of pain.

I collapsed onto a mossy surface which was, at the very least, warmer than the water. Touching just above my right knee-cap, I felt a sudden pang interrupting the throbbing pain. It wasn't broken, to the best of my knowledge, but when you're lost in the woods there's little difference between a brake and a sprain.

I laid back down, staring up as I saw the stars occasionally peak through the cloud barrier. This was how Brooklyn died, I thought to myself. This was how she died and this was how I was going to die. I would be reported missing in the morning, and searches would begin in the afternoon, but nobody would find me, like nobody found her. I'll fall into unconsciousness and die from hypothermia. I could be bleeding internally and I wouldn't know because right now I'm just so cold.

On my first trip here the first thing I'd noticed were the signs. They were loud, gaudy, and clashed with the surroundings so much I couldn't help but stare at them through the car window. I only noticed the date printed on them, though, as I drove into the McDonald's drive-thru in town.

MISSING SINCE APRIL 15TH, 2006

It was so much effort for such an old case I couldn't help but gawk, staring at the portrait of a girl with long, dark hair. She was gazing at the camera and landing a smile which, combined with the tilt of her head, would have been completely disarming were it not for the circumstances.

I'd opened my laptop the second I'd entered the hotel room, quickly entering 'Brooklyn Yates' into the search bar and clicking the first result.

"Brooklyn Yates, missing since August 15, 2006.

She was last seen at 9:45 pm while visiting with a group of near Prudhomme Lake. She reportedly excused herself to the bathroom, and walked into the nearby forest.

After 30 minutes, her friends became worried, and began to search for her. By 11:58 pm, the local authorities were notified, and she was reported missing the next morning.

Gender: Female

Weight: 135 lbs/61.2 kg

Height: 5'3"/ 162 cm

Age: 17 years

Hair: Red, medium length

Other Identifying Features: Constantly wore a copper chain around her right wrist, featuring a hand-engraved salmon pendant

(Pictured Below)

Brooklyn Yates was not prone to disappearing for long stretches of time, and was exhibiting no odd behaviour prior to this event. Her family and friends miss her very much, and want her to come home safely.

A $150000 reward has been offered for her safe return home.

For any tips regarding the investigation into Brooklyn's disappearance please contact 1-250-555-4339.

Last Updated: February 1st, 2010"

It had been interesting to me at the time, but I'd concluded quickly what the rest of the community had come to accept. Brooklyn Yates had died and had been dead for years. She became lost, wandering deeper into the woods in a state of panic. The hysteria and lack of site caused her to stumble, knocking her unconscious. Maybe after that she was attacked by a wild animal. All I knew was Brooklyn Yates was dead, and the grief suffered by the Yates family had become an accepted aspect of life within the coastal town, and so the posters were kept up.

Returning back to my unfavourable reality, I felt myself shiver against the cool breeze. I needed to move if I didn't want a crappy selfie of mine immortalized onto a billboard on the side of the highway. I rolled onto my stomach, then recoiled from the sudden shot of pain. No pressure on the right leg, I guess. Biting my tongue to suppress a yelp, I moved into an awkward army crawl across the damp undergrowth. The forest around here was vast and filled with various opportunities for shelter. I could take refuge under the cover of an old cedar, like the ones I'd hide in as a child. The lower branches formed a wall around you, convenient when you're playing hide and seek. Necessary when you're trying to survive the night.

As the breeze dulled and the terrain grew harder to crawl across I knew I was moving further into the forest canopy. It suddenly became even darker as the moon was shut from view, almost as if I were crawling through an abyss. I imagined the darkness staring at me, mocking my pathetic crawl across the forest floor

The familiar tickle of cedar brushing across my face filled me with relief as I crawled through the branches. I reached out, the rough scratch of bark against my palms never felt more relieving. Pushing myself up against the trunk, I stared back into the darkness, feeling wary but too tired to worry about the dull snap I heard a short distance away.

As I drifted off, I unwillingly began slipping against the tree. I jolted awake as I felt my head smack against something....rigid, and soft. In the darkness I couldn't make it out, but as my hands grasped at the edges my fingers slipped against something cool. A piece of metal stitched into the fabric. The familiarity caught up to me.

A suitcase.

Mustering up the will to lift my head, I clasped the zipper and dragged it across its seam. The teeth hadn't rusted, oddly enough, considering the dampness of coastal rainforests. I felt inside, clasping onto the rounded metal object laying against the inner fabric. My heart fluttered as I felt the plastic button, and the sense of relief as the area around me lit up after I pressed it was incomparable.

I returned my gaze back towards the suitcase's contents, as I looked for anything else that might help the situation. Painkillers, if my luck stuck it out.

Shining the flashlight against the bottom of the suitcase, I felt my eyebrow quirk as I saw what the light reflected against. A manilla envelope. I picked it up, tearing off the sealed top. Turning it upside down, its contents tumbled back into the suitcase with a dull 'thunk.'

There was a gold pocket watch, seemingly frozen on the twelfth hour, and a copper bracelet with an unmistakable salmon charm. One I had seen before, being worn by a young girl staring down the highway...

Despite my recollection, it was the note that drew me in, texted onto the blue screen of an old Nokia phone

"Brooklyn Yates is alive."

Suddenly, the watch began to tick.