Life never failed to disappoint me in those days. My job in the warehouse was unfulfilling at best and soul-sucking at the worst. My family was a chore and a half to deal with, and my apartment was the bare minimum needed to be livable. The city was busy and always far too full of hustle and bustle that I could never relate to. People were, well, people. There were so many faces with assholes rather than ones with a smile, that I often wondered why living in the city was worth it. Of course, all I could think of at the time was getting away from it all. The open road beckoned and the edge of civilization was fast approaching as I drove my beat up old truck across the desert highway. The mountains that ringed the valley loomed ahead with the sun having just started to rise over the peaks. It was the dawn of a new day and the struggles of everyday life could no longer reach me out there. The wilderness was open to me. I could only hope that this extra-long weekend would be just what I needed to reset. The radio and the sounds of the open road beneath my wheels were the balm my frayed senses so desperately needed. 

The weather that morning was still cool, though by mid-day I was sure that temperatures would again break the hundred degree mark. That's the way it was in the Arizona desert. The Sonora could be unrelenting in the Summer, but Autumn had well and truly set in finally, despite it being the beginning of October. I was wistful for the chill of winter, but there was still a good month before the valley of the sun saw it’s coolest season. Of course, there was one last stop I simply had to make before I could truly leave civilization.

The gas station sat as it always had on the side of the road. The building was obviously old and not in the best of condition, despite being clean and orderly inside. The pumps were obviously aged and were oftentimes far slower than modern gas pumps. But this station was the only one this far out and it held a special place in my heart, as it represented the border between what was behind me and what was still yet ahead. I pulled the truck into the pump area and killed the engine. Opening the door was a breath of fresh air, tainted though it was by old gasoline and oil. Here in the borderlands I would find the real start of my journey, I just knew it. Of course, it always was. I had been driving out and hiking in those mountains almost every other weekend for the last six months. 

There were a lot of people that got nervous around the mountains, superstitious even,though I supposed that made sense. They were in fact called the Superstition Mountains. All sorts of legends surrounded the range of granite behemoths, including the rather well-known legend of the Lost Dutchman’s Mine. Many other rumors and myths were perpetuated, but all I  knew was that I felt more at peace in and around those mountains than I ever did in the city. I just needed to get a few last minute supplies and gasoline before I finished the drive to the area I had chosen for basecamp.

The bell over the door jingled brightly as I walked in. For some reason that sound had never gotten old. Old man Ira was behind the counter that day, which was a relief. I didn’t like the two employees he kept anywhere near as much. They just weren’t as friendly and lacked the spark that the elderly proprietor possessed. 

“Welcome in! Oh! Allan! Good to see you again, my boy! out to hike again?” He never changed. That’s what I loved about him. Always cheerful and actually bothered to learn my name unlike the others. I had talked with him in length quite a few times about the area and places I could hike. He stood up as I entered the small convenience store. The man knew how to treat a customer and always was respectful. Of course, with my privileged insight on him, I knew that he wasn’t just a harmless old man either. There was a handgun stashed under the counter that the man knew how to use. There wasn’t going to be any two bit would be thugs getting an easy score out of this place as long as Ira manned the counter.

Unfortunately, I was still shaking off the dust of the city from my tattered mind as I walked to the coolers and could only really nod in response at first. I grabbed a big jug of water and a couple larger bottles of fruit punch flavored sports drink. A bag of locally made beef jerky also found its way into my hands when I passed the racks holding snack foods. I unloaded my pile onto the counter and finally found my voice again. “Yeah,” I said. “I have four whole days this time. I took my two paid vacation days for the quarter and stacked them on this weekend so that I could have the time to explore the eastern side of the mountains. Maybe go check out the circle stones.”  

One of the many oddities about the Superstitions, beyond the legends of the Lost Dutchman’s Mine, were the circle stones, a series of stone circles that dotted the landscape. Archeologists believed that they were used to track celestial bodies. The east side was also higher in elevation and generally cooler than the western side nearer the city of Phoenix. I loved hiking, however, and the cooler temperatures were exactly what I needed. I had enough gear in my bag that I could have stayed out there for a week if necessary. Better to be prepared, after all. 

“Well, be careful then, son. The rangers don’t patrol that area as heavily as they do the western trails. If you get lost, it might be a long time before someone finds you.” Part of me seriously contemplated if that were really such a bad thing. I didn’t really have much to look forward to on my return to regular life. That job was grating down on my last nerve and family had already snapped through the previous three. I didn’t want to deal with either any more than I absolutely had to. A girlfriend would have been nice, but I didn't have one of those either. At the time, I had chalked it up to being far too stressed over the rest of my life to deal with having to provide and care for another human being. It had never felt like the time was right. 

“Thanks for the advice, Ira. I’ll be careful, though. I’ve got my gear in the truck and I’ll have a full tank of gas by the time I’m done here. Oh, uh, twenty on pump two, please, by the way.” I yanked my wallet out and passed a few bills to the man’s already waiting hand. I tried to always use cash on these excursions. It helped keep me on budget and also avoided the pitfalls of using his bank card. For some reason the fraud prevention protocols in their computer systems loved locking down my card any time I tried to use it outside of Phoenix. Stupid Bank.

Ira gave me a smile and slipped the cash into the register, pressing a few buttons on the terminal. “You are all set, son. I’ll take your other items out of the change as usual. Just make sure you remember to come back in to grab them this time, alright?” Both of us chuckled at the gentle jab. Last time through, I had pumped my gas and absentmindedly got in the truck and left, only realizing that all of my change and items were still sitting on the counter ten minutes down the highway. I guess I deserved the teasing.

My truck waited for me outside. I walked out the door and straight to the pump. The handle pulled out and shoved into the filler neck just like it always did. I frowned when I noticed the new spot of surface rust marring the bed. That old truck had served me well over the years, but it really was getting old, and it showed. The paint had seen better days and the thing rattled down the road like one of those old push and pop toddler toys. But how could I say anything truly bad about it? It was my truck and I loved it. The frame was tough too, it handled the often dingy and rough roads in the back country with relative ease that any car wouldn’t have been able to match. The old thing had given me six long years of near flawless service with no real complaint. 

After replacing the fuel cap and nozzle a couple minutes later I returned to the counter inside. As I had come to expect, Ira had my things already bagged up and the remaining change sitting neatly next to it already when I walked in. I gave him my thanks and reached for the bag and change. Before I had even quite touched them though, Ira got a weird look in his eye and looked directly into my soul.

“I warn you, son, the Apache speak of a hole somewhere in those mountains that leads to the dark realms. We come to the day of last harvest soon and the beginning of Winter. The border with the other world is thin right now, mind that you don’t fall into it.” Ira was a bit odd at times, but this felt more serious than normal. The old man’s darker skin and hair betrayed some Native American heritage, but come on, a doorway to hell? That seemed a bit far fetched. 

“Don’t worry about me, sir, I know how to avoid trouble.” 

And suddenly, the look was gone and Ira was back to the kindly old man that ran the gas station. “Of course you do, Allan. I just want you to be careful out there. I suppose I will see you in a few days when you return, then?”

I nodded in the affirmative. “Yeah, I planned on it. I always need a drink and some snacks after a long hike. This won’t be any different. Have a good day, Ira.” The man waved goodbye and I walked out, groceries in hand. The truck spluttered to life after a single crank and I drove away from the station, eager for what was to come next and putting the odd warning out of mind. I don’t regret it now, but I had no idea at the time what I was getting myself into. There was a lot more than just a simple hike in my future.