Landing at the Regional
The plane descended through a thick blanket of clouds, the world below gradually coming into focus as the aircraft prepared for landing. Zack’s head rested against the window, his eyes half-open as he watched the landscape appear beneath them—rolling hills, dense forests, and winding rivers, all bathed in the warm glow of the early evening sun.
The familiar hum of the engines provided a steady backdrop to his thoughts, but the sudden, bone-rattling thud of the plane’s wheels hitting the tarmac at Batesville Regional Airport jolted Zack fully awake. His heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively gripped the armrest as the plane bounced once, twice, before finally settling into a smooth roll along the runway.
“Welcome to Batesville, Arkansas,” the flight attendant announced over the intercom, her cheerful tone at odds with the groggy passengers who were slowly coming to life. “The local time is 5:42 p.m., and the temperature is a warm 82 degrees.”
Zack blinked, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep as the plane taxied toward the gate. The overhead lights flickered on, and passengers began to stir, unbuckling seatbelts and reaching for their belongings. Zack remained seated for a moment, his eyes drawn to the small screen on the back of the seat in front of him, which displayed the date in bright letters: August 2nd, 2048.
It felt strange to Zack—so far removed from the world he had known growing up, yet here he was, living in it. He sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt and grabbing his backpack from under the seat in front of him. The air inside the cabin was thick and warm, a far cry from the cool, crisp atmosphere of his home back in Rockford, Illinois.
As Zack stepped off the plane and into the jet bridge, he was immediately hit by a wave of humidity that clung to his skin like a damp blanket. He shuffled forward with the slow tide of passengers, feeling somewhat disoriented in the unfamiliar surroundings. The terminal was bustling with activity, a mix of tourists and locals moving about with varying degrees of purpose. Zack scanned the area, searching for a familiar face, but all he saw were strangers—faces that only served to remind him how far he was from home.
He pulled out his phone, checking for any messages from his sister, Emmaline, or the rest of the group. The screen was blank, save for the time and a few notifications he ignored. With a sigh, Zack slipped the phone back into his pocket and continued toward the baggage claim area.
Zack’s thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a familiar figure standing nearby. Turner, his sister’s friend, and someone Zack had met only a few times, was leaning casually against a pillar, scrolling through his phone. His posture was relaxed, but there was an air of melancholy about him as his fingers tapped nervously against the screen, his expression betraying a hint of insecurity–something that made Zack hesitate for a moment before approaching.
“Turner?” Zack called out, his voice hesitant, almost swallowed by the noise of the terminal.
Turner looked up slowly, his eyes taking a moment to focus on Zack. Recognition flickered across his face, but instead of a smile, there was just a small, almost imperceptible nod. He stuffed his phone into his pocket, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as Zack approached.
“Uh, hey, Zack,” Turner mumbled, his gaze flickering around the terminal before landing back on Zack. “Didn’t… uh, didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Yeah, um… yeah,” Zack replied, awkwardly adjusting the strap of his backpack. “The flight… it was, uh, it was alright, I guess. Woke up… kinda scared when we landed. Didn’t, um… didn’t sleep much.”
Turner nodded again, the silence between them growing thick. “Yeah, I, um… yeah, that happens. Sometimes.”
Zack shuffled his feet, unsure of what to say next. He glanced at Turner, who was staring off to the side, his mouth slightly open as if trying to find the right words. The pause stretched on, both of them caught in the uncomfortable quiet.
Finally, Turner cleared his throat. “The, uh… the others are in the food court,” he said, almost too softly. “Emmaline… she’s, um, really excited. About the trip. I think.”
Zack nodded, managing a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yeah… she’s been… she’s been talking about it a lot. She… uh, she can’t wait to get to the cabins. Surprised… she hasn’t already dragged us all there!” he said, his voice growing with his word as his joke came out louder than he meant.
Turner’s lips twitched, not quite a smile. “Yeah. She’s… excited.” He hesitated, then added, “Do… do you want to… get some food? Before we go?”
“Uh, sure,” Zack said, nodding a bit too quickly. “Yeah, that… that sounds good. I’m… kinda hungry.”
“Okay,” Turner replied, his voice barely above a murmur. “Let’s… go, then,” he said, pointing a pair of finger guns to his left, towards the food court.
They started walking side by side, the space between them filled with the hum of the terminal and the quiet shuffle of their footsteps. Neither spoke, both too wrapped up in their own thoughts, unsure of how to bridge the silence. Turner’s hands fidgeted in his pockets, while Zack kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, occasionally stealing glances at the people passing by, as if searching for something to say.
As they neared the food court, the sound of laughter and conversation grew louder, offering a welcome distraction from the awkwardness hanging between them. Zack spotted the rest of the group sitting at a large table, their animated chatter a stark contrast to the quiet tension he and Turner shared.
Emmaline noticed them first, waving them over with a bright smile. “There you guys are! We were starting to wonder when you’d show up.”
Turner and Zack exchanged a quick glance, both of them relieved to be in the presence of others. The awkwardness between them began to dissolve as they joined the group, the noise and energy of the food court offering a much-needed escape from their stilted conversation.
The smell of fast food, coffee, and fried snacks filled the air as they approached, and Zack’s stomach growled in response. The food court was a bustling hub of activity, with travelers seated at small tables, chatting and eating as they waited for their next flight or journey.
As Zack and Turner approached the table, the conversation between the group grew clearer. Calvin, as usual, was in the middle of an animated explanation, his voice carrying over the general din of the food court, in it was a noticeable edge, a hint of frustration that colored his words.
“—and you see, lobsters used to be so plentiful that they were considered the poor man’s food. They’d feed them to prisoners, slaves, even use them as fertilizer for crops. It was only when they started marketing them as a delicacy in the 19th century that the price skyrocketed.”
The waiter, a young man with a thick Southern drawl, stood beside the table, clearly less than interested in Calvin’s history lesson. He glanced at his notepad, then back at Calvin with a polite but strained smile.
“Uh-huh, that’s real interesting, sir. But I was just lettin’ y’all know that the seafood soup is the special this week,” the waiter said, his voice flat with barely disguised impatience.
Rosie, sitting beside Calvin, covered a smile with her hand but there was a tightness to it, as if she were holding something back, while Felicia and Jeremy exchanged a look, the corners of their mouths twitching with amusement. Jeremy leaned over to Felicia, his voice just loud enough for the others to hear.
“You think he’d order a history lesson if it was on the menu?” Jeremy whispered, a mischievous glint in his eye.
Felicia snorted, nudging him with her elbow. “Only if it came with a side of useless trivia,” she teased, her tone affectionate but edging on biting. Her laugh was light, but her eyes darted toward Jeremy, gauging his reaction. Careful not to push too far, the dynamic between them fraught with an unspoken tension, as if she was on eggshells.
“Better than ordering more burnt jokes,” Calvin shot back, rolling his eyes as he noticed Zack and Turner approaching. “Hey, you guys made it. We were just getting started on some dinner before heading out.” Calvin was the only one Zack had really gotten to know before the trip, having been in and out of Emmaline’s life for nearly a decade in various ways and for various reasons. He was typically quick witted but often had trouble in knowing exactly when he had went too far or how to properly respond to even the most basic of expressed emotions.
Emmaline waved them over to the empty seats, her smile as warm as ever but with it slight tension in her eyes, a worry that seemed to linger just beneath the surface. “Come on, sit down. We’re just about to order. Turner, Zack, what do you guys want?”
Zack and Turner exchanged another glance, both relieved to be out of their awkward bubble. Zack was the first to speak up, his voice a bit tentative. “Uh, just… I’ll have whatever’s easy. Maybe a burger?”
“I’ll do the same,” Turner added quietly, still looking slightly out of place among the more boisterous group, still a flicker of discomfort in his eyes, as if he was trying to blend in, to find his place in the group dynamic without drawing too much attention to himself.
The waiter nodded, jotting down their orders before heading off, leaving the group to resume their conversation. Calvin, now diverted from his history tangent, turned his attention to Emmaline.
“So, what’s the plan once we get to the cabins? You’ve got us doing a whole itinerary, right?”
Emmaline laughed, shaking her head. “Relax, Calvin. We’ve got plenty of time to figure it out. Let’s get our gear tonight and stay at the bed n’ breakfast, and we’ll think about everything up the mountain tomorrow. We have a full week.”
Felicia leaned back in her chair, her arm casually draped over Jeremy’s shoulders. “Sounds good to me. As long as there’s a hot tub somewhere, I’m in.”
“Or a cold lake,” Jeremy added with a grin, tightening his hand around Felicia’s. “Nothing like a swim to wake you up after a long drive.”
Rosie, chimed in, her words laced with an almost desperate optimism, “I’m sure we’ll have plenty to do. It’s all about enjoying the time together, right?”
Zack nodded, listening to the easy banter between his sister’s friends. He felt the tension from earlier slowly slipping away, replaced by the anticipation of the days ahead. Turner, beside him, seemed more at ease too, though he remained mostly silent, content to listen rather than contribute.
As they waited for their food, the conversation ebbed and flowed, with Calvin and Jeremy trading barbs while Felicia and Rosie tried to keep the peace. Emmaline, ever the organizer, made a few more notes on her phone, her mind clearly working a mile a minute to ensure that everything went according to plan, her usual authoritative mind typically helped her in her naturalistic leadership role among the group.
Zack, meanwhile, found himself caught between wanting to engage and the gnawing anxiety that made him second-guess every word. He glanced at Calvin, who seemed to be handling the conversation with ease, but Zack knew better. He could see the way Calvin’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, the way his laughter had a slightly forced quality to it. It was the same kind of mask Zack had learned to wear when the world felt too overwhelming.
Glancing over to Turner, who’s eyes flitted nervously between the others, his fingers drumming a silent rhythm on the table as he tried to read the room. Zack read Turner quicker than he could most, he often felt like an outsider, someone who had to work twice as hard to fit in, and the pressure was beginning to weigh on him. He wanted to contribute, to feel like he belonged, but the fear of saying the wrong thing kept him quiet. While this was all assumption, Zack was confident in his reading, as it was eerily similar to his own mannerisms and thoughts. Every now and then, Turner took a quick peak at his phone, a flicker of something–worry, perhaps–crossing his face before he quickly hit it behind a neutral expression.
When the waiter returned with their drinks, Turner’s phone buzzed on the table, drawing everyone’s attention for a brief moment. He picked it up quickly, his eyes scanning the screen before his shoulders slumped slightly.
Taking a sip of his drink, Zack looked over to his sister as Calvin made another quip at Jeremy’s expense. Emmaline’s brow furrowing slightly as she read a message she had gotten just moments prior. Whatever it was, it seemed to add to the weight he knew she was already carrying, though she quickly plastered a smile back on her face when she noticed her brother watching her.
“Everything okay?” Rosie asked, her tone gentle.
“Yeah, just… a work thing,” Emmaline replied, slipping her phone back into her pocket. “Nothing to worry about. Let’s just focus on the trip, okay?”
“Alright, folks, I’ve been doing some reading online, and I’ve found that Arkansas, back before the Confederate’s War, was known as the Natural State due to its beauty and lush scenery,” Calvin brought up with a pause to take a drink from his water. “Now we all know about the Siege of Fayetteville and how it’s three-month period was one of the bloodier conflicts during the war, but, did you know that due to the bloodshed that the Ozark’s witnessed through the war that it’s said to have developed its prior Ozark Howler myth into a possible demon?”
“Full of shit,” Jeremy hurled, with a wave. “Like a Howler monkey?”
“No, no,” Calvin chuckled, “The Ozark Black Howler, also known as the Nightshade Bear and as the Hoo-Hoo by some of the Indigenous tribes from around the area,” Calvin said matter of fact, repositioning his glasses. “It was this big furry creature with horns and glowing red eyes. Simply a folklore entity pre-war, but there were hundreds of accounts of sighting of this creature roaming the Ozarks during the war, often just before a massive attack. Due to this, it’s become known as a harbinger of doom. Even now, just a few weeks ago, there was some posts about new sightings of the Howler lurking near some of the hold battlefields.”
“Just a bunch of southern gibberish.” Jeremy replied as he took a big gulp from his soda.
At that moment, the waiter returned, carefully balancing trays of food. He began placing the plates in front of each person with the practiced efficiency of someone who had done it a thousand times. The group paused their conversation as the food was served, the smell of the dishes filling the air.
Jeremy, his tone dripping with sarcasm, glanced up at the waiter. “Hey, you ever heard of this Ozark Black Howler Calvin’s going on about? Big, furry thing with horns—supposedly a harbinger of doom?”
The waiter, his expression remaining neutral, nodded as he set down the last plate. “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. My granddaddy used to tell stories about it. He fought in the war, saw a lot of things most folks wouldn’t believe. He swore he saw the Black Howler up close once—said it was the size of a bear, with horns like an ibex, and eyes that glowed red in the dark.”
The group exchanged glances, some skeptical, others intrigued. Calvin leaned in, clearly interested. “Did he ever say what happened?”
The waiter shrugged, his disinterest clear as he collected the empty tray. “Not much to tell. He said it watched him for a while, just standing there in the shadows, then it turned and walked off into the woods. Figured it was a sign or somethin’—he didn’t like talkin’ about it much after that.”
Jeremy rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face. “Sounds like a tall tale to me.”
The waiter gave a noncommittal grunt. “Maybe. Or maybe some things out there just don’t have a good explanation.” He turned to leave, his tone flat as he added, “Enjoy your meal.”
As the waiter walked away, the group sat in a brief silence, the mood slightly more subdued. Calvin, however, seemed more energized by the story, while Jeremy just shook his head, still unconvinced.
“Tall tales or not,” Calvin said, picking up his fork, “It’s interesting how much folklore and war stories get mixed up. Makes you wonder where the truth ends and the legend begins.”
Rosie gave him a small smile. “Or if it even matters. Sometimes, stories are just stories.”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out, right?” Felicia added with a playful wink.
“Just in case,” Zack chimed in, grinning as he dug into his food.
The conversation shifted to lighter topics as they started eating, but the shadow of the Black Howler seemed to linger in the back of their minds, a curious thought that refused to be fully dismissed.