Dead Signal

Maya felt like a zombie. Three days at her uncle's "wilderness retreat" meant zero service, which meant her iPhone was basically a very expensive mirror. Her parents had promised this forced family bonding experience would be "good for her soul," but so far, it was mostly just trees and awkward silences.

"You gonna stare at that black screen all day?" Jamie, her older cousin, kicked at her boot. He was wearing that ridiculous bear hat he refused to take off, even in summer heat.

"At least I'm not wearing roadkill on my head," Maya shot back, slipping the phone into her pocket. Her mom had insisted she pack vitamin supplements, claiming they'd help with "nature withdrawal." Whatever that meant.

A calico cat—some stray that lived around the main lodge—wove between their legs, purring like a tiny motor. Maya scratched behind its ears, the only genuinely friendly thing here.

"Tomorrow's the hike to Old Miller's Ridge," Jamie said, suddenly serious. "Uncle Marcus says there's actual bear activity up there. Like, fresh scat and everything."

Maya perked up. "For real?"

"Yeah. But you know what they say about bears..." He lowered his voice dramatically. "They can smell fear. And also Cheetos."

She laughed despite herself. Maybe Jamie wasn't totally insufferable.

That night, around the campfire, her phone buzzed. ONE bar. Maya's heart jumped—Zoey had texted! Something about Noah's party Friday and who was hooking up with whom. She started typing back, her thumbs flying, when Jamie flopped beside her.

"You know," he said, poking at the fire with a stick, "last year I came up here right after I crashed my dad's car. Thought my life was over. Spent three days doom-scrolling until the battery died. Then I actually looked around." He gestured at the stars, more numerous than she'd ever seen in the city. "Realized some stuff's bigger than my stupid mistakes."

Maya's thumbs hovered over the screen. The message from Zoey suddenly seemed less urgent.

"There's a bear," someone whispered.

Everyone froze. Across the clearing, a massive shadow moved. A real bear. Maya's breath caught. The cat—braver than all of them—hissed and arched its back before sprinting toward the cabins.

The bear sniffed the air, glanced at them with dismissive indifference, and lumbered off into the darkness.

"Okay," Maya whispered, her heart pounding. "That was actually kind of amazing."

"Yeah," Jamie agreed. "Better than whatever's on your phone."

Maya looked at her screen, then slipped it into her pocket without finishing the text. Some moments deserved to be lived, not documented.