This happened forty-six years ago, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Some things you just don't forget, you know? I was working a logging camp up in northern Wisconsin, summer of '78. Twenty-three years old, thought I knew everything. My crew boss was a guy named Dutch Patterson, real old-timer, been logging since he was sixteen. Dutch had this saying he'd repeat every night before we turned in. 'Keep your backs to the fire, boys.' Never explained it, just said it every single time. Most of us thought he was just being superstitious. Old logger nonsense, the kind of stuff they tell greenhorns to keep them on edge. But Dutch was dead serious about it. He'd get this look in his eyes when he said it, like he'd seen something out there that we hadn't.
It was mid-August when I got stuck on a solo shift. My partner, Rick Donovan, had caught something, some kind of stomach bug, and couldn't work. The foreman asked if I'd do a night check on the equipment over at the north clearing. Standard stuff, make sure nothing got vandalized, check the fuel levels, that kind of thing. I said sure. Extra pay for basically walking around with a flashlight for a couple hours. Rick owed me a case of beer from a poker game anyway, so I figured I'd let him sweat it out while I made some easy money. Should have been simple. I headed out around nine o'clock, right when the sun was going down. Took the logging road north, had my big Maglite and a thermos of coffee. The walk was about forty minutes through pretty thick forest. Pine trees, mostly, real dense. You couldn't see more than twenty feet on either side of the road once it got dark.
About halfway there, I got this feeling. You know the one I'm talking about? That sensation when you're being watched? I stopped walking and turned around, shined my light back down the road. Nothing. Just trees and darkness. I kept going, but the feeling didn't go away. It got stronger. And then I started hearing it. This sound, like footsteps, but not quite right. Too light, too quick. night shifts are the worst - Marcus' Whenever I'd stop, the sound would stop. When I'd start walking again, it would start up again. I'm not a coward, but I'm not stupid either. I picked up my pace. The equipment site was maybe fifteen minutes ahead, had some lights, had tools I could use if I needed to. Figured if it was a bear or something, I'd be safer there.
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