Which is why I call Milo.
Or at least, that’s the excuse I use as I press his contact name and listen to the dial tone buzz in the quiet of the station.
He picks up on the fourth ring.
“Hey!” he says brightly, sounding winded and half distracted. “Give me a sec—okay, I’m here. Are you okay? Is your head okay? Is your camp okay? Are you okay? Actually, start with that one.”
“I’m fine,” I say, sinking into the little chair beside the table. “Mostly fine. Ninety-five percent fine.”
His sigh is loud enough to be felt through the phone. “Am I supposed to guess which 5 percent is destroyed?”
“Only mildly dented,” I assure him. “Anyway, how are you? Where are you?”
“Wisconsin,” he says. “I’m taking in some hiking trails in Walworth County. You’re lucky you got me with a phone signal. The reception is a nightmare.”
I laugh, the tension in my chest easing. “Sounds about right.”
“So,” he says, and I can almost picture him narrowing his eyes through the phone, “what’s going on?”
“What do you mean?”
“You called me on purpose.”
“I call you sometimes.”
“You call once every three to five business years.”
“That’s exaggerated,” I protest.
“It is absolutely not.”
He’s not wrong, since we reconnected, he’s been a lot better than I have at staying in touch. As his big brother, with shared parents from hell, I really need to do a better job.
I clear my throat. “Okay. Fine. I’m calling because… I wanted to ask you something, and I need you to not make fun of me.”
“Oh no,” he says immediately, sounding gleeful. “What did you do? Did you fall off a log again? Did you lose your pants to a river? Did a raccoon outsmart you?”
“None of those things. Stop listing them.”
“Then what?”
I hesitate. The words feel absurd even before they leave my mouth, but if there’s one person who’s earned the right to hear my absurdity, it’s him.
“Have you ever… seen anything weird on your photography trips?” I ask. “Like, really weird. Not ‘I forgot bears can stand up’ weird. More like… unexplained weird.”
Silence.
Not long, but long enough for my heart to thud once, sharply.
“Milo?” I prompt.
His voice is too careful when he answers. “What kind of weird?”
Oh. Oh no. I did not expect that.
“I don’t know,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. “Footprints. Shapes. Things that weren’t animals you recognized. Sounds you couldn’t explain.”
Another silence. Then he exhales. “Elias, are you asking me if I’ve seen something out there… like a monster or something?”
