Page 211 of Silent Shadows

Maya’s laugh echoes across the sandstone.

Wet around the edges.

Owen says nothing for so long I wonder if he passed out.

Then Taylor chimes in, “Owen says ‘yep.’”

Miles finally inhales.

A real breath.

His hand shakes as he keys up the radio.

“I don’t…” His voice breaks. The radio crackles in the silence. “I don’t think we tell anyone.”

He lets the line go quiet, and no one opens it up to argue or to agree. The answer feels obvious.

The truth belongs here.

To stone. To shadow. To silence.

Some things stop being true once turned into spectacle.

The walk to meet up with Jax and Maya feels unreal. Owen and Taylor plan to meet us at the Machine. The radios stay quiet.

The ridge glows pale under moonlight.

Miles keeps reaching for me absentmindedly.

My sleeve. My hand. The small of my back. Like he’s grounding himself. Checking that I’m still here.

As we walk the trail back to camp, stars spill violently across the sky. Cold air curls through sagebrush. Nobody hurries. Nobody needs to.

The Mystery Machine glows when it comes into view, yellow light spilling from the windows.

Home. Ridiculous, but right.

Once we’re inside, Jax grabs an entire bag of pretzels, curls up in a corner of the couch, and bursts into tears.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Maya tosses him a blanket and sits next to him, laughing hard enough to nearly cry herself.

He wails through a mouthful of pretzels. “I just… I thought that if we ever actually found something, I'd be filming it. Or screaming. Or becoming internet-famous. But…” He wipes his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “I just wanted to keep that moment. For us.”

That’s Jax. People think he's chaos, but somewhere beneath all the jokes and the endless stream of nonsense, Jax believes harder than any of us. In people. In moments. In memories. In being fully present no matter what.

And tonight, the one person who's spent years making sure nobody misses a moment chose not to press record. For the first time in his life, Jax wasn't worried about capturing the memory. He trusted himself to keep it. And maybe that's why he's crying into a bag of pretzels.

Jax smiles through tears, blanket around his shoulders, crumbs all over his shirt—every bit the weird, wonderful heart of this family. Maya puts an arm around him, and he lets his tears fall.

Miles stays near me, quiet in a way that feels full instead of distant, like his whole nervous system is still marinating in what we experienced. We give Maya and Jax space and sit on the steps of the RV, not ready to move on from what just happened.

Once the 4Runner pulls up, Taylor and Owen get out, but linger, not coming inside.

At first, I don’t think much of it. Taylor stands near the edge of camp, arms folded tight across her chest, staring out toward the ridge line like she’s trying to memorize it.

Wind slides down from the rock shelf, sharp and cold now that the adrenaline’s wearing off. She shivers once. Tiny. Barely visible. But Owen shrugs out of his jacket, steps beside her, and drapes it over her shoulders as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.