We wait tersely for several more minutes before the word reaches us. It’s the body of an unknown hiker, most likely a suicide.
The search resumes, pausing only for a brief lunch break. I estimate we’re about three kilometers or so past the nearest hiking trail, and there are still no signs of Kagura or any of the film crew. We’re only allowed to search until the five-kilometer mark, with the more experienced professionals exploring the rest of the 3,500-hectare-wide forest. It will take weeks, possibly even months, to cover the whole area—if that is even possible. I doubt Aokigahara will ever be fully explored. As the day wears on, hope that Kagura is still unhurt in these woods sinks like the sun.
A halt to volunteer rescue efforts is called at four in the afternoon. Parts of Jukai are already too dark to search, and some other groups have reported stands of trees where darkness was nearly absolute.
Callie and I are bone-tired, our clothes dirty and our hands scraped and bruised from climbing and sliding. I’m sweaty, and my muscles ache from the exertion and the weight of my bag. Bringing my backpack turned out to be a bad idea after all.
“We’ll come back tomorrow,” Callie says, ever the optimist. “And the police and rescue teams are going to keep searching, so they might find something too.” The others in our group are already starting their retreat, heads bent and eyes downcast.
“Sure,” I say, but my heart’s not in it.
As Callie turns away, my eyes catch sight of something on the ground, almost hidden among the leaves. It’s only several feet from where we stand.
“Hey, Callie. Look at this.” I walk over and crouch to get a better look. Then I let out a whoop of excitement. Staring back at me is a handheld video camcorder. It’s a little the worse for wear but still intact. For all I know, some careless tourist with a hankering for expensive gadgetry dropped it, but most tourists don’t head this far out. It could belong to one of the Ghost Haunts crew.
“Callie, I found something!” I call out again, but Callie is nowhere to be found. She’s gone. For that matter, so is everyone else. I’m all alone. Even the ghosts have disappeared.
Crap.
“Hello?” My voice bounces off the trees, loud but futile against the growing darkness. I shout again, aware of the panic in my cry, but the trees are silent. No one is there. I grab my whistle, but the shrill sound yields no response.
Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap.
“Okiku?”
When she appears, relief cartwheels through me. She doesn’t react when I close the distance between us and throw my arms around her, though her hollow eyes look startled. “Ki, where is everyone?”
She shakes her head.
“Callie was standing literally three feet away from me. There is no way she could have vanished—”
“There is something here.”
“A good something or a bad something?” I ask her.
Okiku shoots me a look.
“Of course. Why did I even bother asking?” I wheel around. The light is fading fast, and I’m going to have to act quickly before it gets too dark to see, much less find Callie and the others.
All my misgivings about lugging my heavy backpack are forgotten. I drop to the ground and rummage through it for a flashlight. I flick it on and splay it nervously across the trees, trying to find any other signs of life. But other than me and Okiku, who technically isn’t really any kind of life at all, there’s nothing.
The darkness in this place no longer creeps on me; it rushes at me with a well-placed headbutt. But what chills me to the bone is the sudden hushed stillness, which is different from the silence. It’s the feeling that no one else is meant to be here—but something is. I swallow hard, trying to keep my voice from squeaking. “Okiku, any idea where to go next?”
Okiku hesitates. “Something is here,” she says, her voice very soft. “It limits what I can sense. We can travel the woods forever with no end in sight. But I can sense something else. There.”
“Doesn’t sound like we have a choice then.”
I reach out and take her hand. It’s not something I usually do with her—Okiku tends to shy away from physical contact—but after a moment of hesitation she squeezes my fingers.
The flashlight keeps me from tripping over most of the foliage, but without an actual path to follow, progress is painstakingly slow. I try checking my phone, but the lack of signal makes it an expensive paperweight until we get out of Jukai. Even the clock isn’t working. The numbers skew wildly. It tells me it’s 7:00 p.m., and then 8:31 a.m., and then 76:92 p.m., before settling into what I can only presume is a default error code.
My anxiety has been growing ever since Callie and I got separated. Now, after this voodoo trick with my phone, it’s peaking into the higher registers of panic.