Big Bend (g/t)

Zoey

Zoey

My gaze remained fixed on the narrow section of road I could actually see in front of me. I knew my headlights were bad, but I hadn't realized how bad until I was out in the literal middle of nowhere, with little more than the crescent moon above to offer light. My phone had given up on trying to find reception a while ago, as had I. I was about to pull over so I could actually look at the paper map beside her when she saw a faint glow in the distance.

Finally. Something, I thought. It looked too dim and concentrated to be the town I'd been looking for - Marfa. Still, it was better than nothing. I decided I'd stay on the current road a bit longer - it seemed to be leading towards the light.

It wasn't until I was pulling into a parking lot outside a dark building that I realized where I was, and only thanks to the sign directly in front of me.

"Big Bend National Park," I murmured. That was sort of near Marfa, I thought I recalled from the map. Maybe. Admittedly, I wasn't too sure about that - I had only the vaguest recollections of hearing the park's name before. I thought I remembered it being on the news a few months back - Jake had been ranting about it at one point. I had mostly just been relieved that he wasn't yelling at me, though, and hadn't paid much attention to what had drawn his ire. Knowing Jake, it could have been anything from a vaguely "liberal" sounding policy to someone's haircut in the background that he didn't like. It probably said a lot that I was sitting in the dark god knows where, in an unfamiliar state, and still felt relieved to be away from him.
Sighing, I turned on the overhead light in my car, grabbing the map from the passenger seat.
Big Bend was near Marfa, as it turned out. Relatively, anyways, since the town looked to be about an hour away on the map. Groaning, I looked from the map to the dark desert surrounding me. I didn't want to get back on the rural, winding roads that had taken me here in pitch blackness, with only a faint idea of where I was going. After all, if I'd gotten lost by at least an hour once, who knows where I might end up next time. I looked to the visitor center in front of me.

At least this was something.

I could spend the night here, and figure out how to get to Marfa in the morning. Maybe I could ask someone for directions then. Or at least be able to see my  map without risking careening into a dark ditch. It wasn't like this was the worst place I would have slept, afterall. I glanced around the parking lot again. I guessed it was probably day use only by the complete lack of cars there. Still, National Parks allowed camping, right?

There's probably a campsite or something nearby, I guessed. There was a road heading behind the darkened visitor center. And in the direction of the faint glow of light I had seen earlier. I glanced at the clock. It was a little past ten. Late, but not so late it seemed unreasonable someone else might be up. I decided I'd follow the road for a bit.

Best case scenario, I found a campground or someone I could ask for directions. Worst case scenario, maybe I could find a spot that was at least a little bit out of the way to get a few hours of sleep in without getting a ticket. I had only been driving about five minutes when it hit me how dark it was, aside from the dim glow of lights in front of me.

What is that? I'd assumed it was the visitor center at first, but I'd passed by the dark building already now. I pulled my car into an empty dirt lot on the side of the road, deciding I'd check it out. It dawned on me that this was exactly how people died in horror movies. But this was real life, not a movie, and I figured I was probably far more likely to stumble across a tailgate at a campsite than an axe wielding maniac. Plus, they might be able to give me some directions. Getting out of my car and switching on my phone's flashlight, I realized there was a somewhat steep cliff about a hundred feet to the side of where I'd parked. The light was definitely coming from beyond it. I walked over, growing more curious.