“Over here,” I call out to him, through the trees.
“It’s here. We’re here.” I push the branches obstructing my view of the creek, my heart racing with anticipation. “Come on!” I scream, looking over my shoulder.
Where is he? He was right behind me.
“Alistair?”
I have to see. Have to see the fall. Is it still here? I can’t hear anything. I look around.
Where are the birds?
“Alistair!” I step through the thick foliage, my eyes searching for the fall. But the creek is dry, empty, and ringed with dead leaves and dirt. I shiver, watching the trees around me.
No animal lives here. Nothing lives here.
The silence cries out to me, and I spin around, suddenly aware of the absence around me.
Absence. Nothingness.
“Alistair,” I call out again, weakly, my own voice echoing back to me.
Then
