bamboo doesn't grow in dark spaces. [80K Words / Complete]

chapter one.

Gravel crunched under the tires as they pulled up to the trailer. Case studied the rundown camper through the cloud of dust kicked up around their car. Its red-and-white paneling was weathered and discolored, so bad it was noticeable even at night. Easily mistakable for something left abandoned to rot in these West Virginia woodlands, if it weren't for the shiny, black pickup truck attached to its front. An orange glow lit the square window on the side. Some Wrong Turn vibes, but it wasn't too bad. For a drug deal, anyway.

Evan put the car in park and turned off the engine. It was quiet without the low rumble. Not eerie or tense. An emptiness. Like the vacuum of space.

"Man, fuck this shit," said Miles.

Case and Evan both turned to face him in the backseat. Both quick to shut him down with firm voices saying "Dude, it's fine, chill out," and "Don't be a pussy!"

Miles shook his head. "This is some Deliverance shit!"

"What do you expect, a fucking office building?"

"I expect a group of hillbilly rednecks to come out and jack our car or kill us."

Evan laughed. "You're so paranoid."

Case wasn't in a laughing mood. He'd spent over six hours in a car, road trip all the way from Fredneck County, Maryland, to meet a dealer he'd found online. Sure, 400 miles was a long way to go to buy drugs – but he was after the good shit. Everyone at school was drinking stale beer and smoking dirty weed. Some girls had started snorting raw cacao powder they got from the organic health-food store. Case figured if he was gonna spend money on drugs, then he was gonna do it right. Something worth bragging about, something to self-medicate with after his first break-up, something to remember the summer he was seventeen.

"Listen—" His friend stared at him, teeming with I don't want none of this white-boy bullshit energy, so Case added a smile; a bit of charm to win him over. "Alright, yeah, it looks a bit seedy. But we're just grabbing what we came for—two minutes tops, I swear—and then an hour from now, picture it: we'll be camping under the stars, some good tunes, a few drinks, maybe a few early fireworks. We'll be having such a great time that this shithole or the shit back home . . ." Case caught himself, going quiet before his thoughts could wander or his words slip. "None of it's going to matter. Okay?"

Miles sank into his chair, pensively chewing his bottom lip. Good, Case was getting through to him.

"C'mon," Case added with a rousing chuckle and a playful bump of friend's knee. "We didn't drive all this way just to bail now, did we? We're here, we'll get what we came for, and we'll leave. It's fine. It'll be worth it, alright? Trust me."

Miles sighed, relenting to this white-boy bullshit, and the plan was back in motion.

Evan killed the lights and they stepped out of the car. They were a long way from civilization, the only sound coming from the cicadas filling the space with an electric hum like a livewire. It was dark but the moon was low and full, illuminating the clearing. Case took a deep breath, steadying the nerves that were beginning to rise. He smelled dry earth and residual sunshine. The air pressed in on him, thick and heavy with heat and the tease of a storm that may or may not break.

The trailer door opened, rattling on its rusty hinges. Case took the lead, walking up to meet the dealer. He'd spoken to the guy a few times online but never seen a face. He had a mental image – someone dirty, a white-turned-brown wife-beater, grizzly beard and neck tattoos.

A man stepped out. His large form – towering height, broad shoulders built of muscle – blocked out the light coming from inside the trailer. For a moment, he was nothing but a giant made of shadow.