(3/4) Last Camp Before Treeline

PART III — “THE WRONG EVAN” I didn’t sleep. Just before dawn, Evan unzipped his

tent and stepped out. I called his name. He didn’t look back. I followed him at

a distance, keeping trees between us. He moved wrong—too stiff uphill,

never stumbling, never stopping to catch his breath at altitude. He led me to a clearing

I swear was not on any map. The ground was pressed flat, dead needles layered

like a mattress. And standing in the center… was Evan. Another Evan.

Same jacket. Same haircut. The one I followed stepped forward and spoke first.

“You don’t sound right anymore,” it said, looking at the other one.