There I was on a Friday night, voluntarily freezing my ass off in an Arby’s parking lot, waiting for eight suburban moms to drop their boy scout sons off so we could spend a sleepless night in the woods together. I was just a kid, probably four or fifteen, and was only going along because my dad insisted that camping built “character”. Frankly I didn’t even know what he meant by “character”, though it did seem at times to be synonymous with both machismo and incontinence. I knew it was important to my dad that I went, and that maybe it would help me develop into the kind of man that he was, something that (despite my teenage rebellious streak) I wanted for my life. So, I went. I was already starting to regret my decision as we piled into the Scout Master’s van, shoving and trampling each other in a fight for the front seats like refugees gunning for the last boat out of town. After I took a third elbow to the ribs I began seriously considering an Uber ride back home, but knew Dad would be waiting there and so I persevered. Eventually the winners were decided, and the rest of us packed into the back like sweaty pubescent sardines. I didn’t like to roughhouse - I found it barbaric and also I wasn’t very good at it, so I ended up with a spot in the very back. The air conditioner didn’t work back there, and 15 years of warm boy scout grime had congealed into a goopy film that coated the entire pleather bench. It smelled like old baby vomit, like the nooks and crannies of an inner city Chuck E. Cheese, and it made me carsick before I even sat down. We rolled out of the parking lot and drove eastward. I took my last look at our town before we got onto the highway and headed for the middle of nowhere.

Thanks to the media, people have certain misconceptions about boy scouts. Many see them as eager do-gooders who spend their time helping old ladies cross the street and build wheelchair ramps.( For an example, see Russell from the Disney movie “UP”.) This accounts for maybe 1% of boy scouts. The rest are reckless nerdowells who want to spend their free time playing with knives, learning how to light stuff on fire, and making spears with their knives. Most of them couldn’t care less about civil engagement, the Scout Oath, or learning how to tie a bunch of fucking knots. Sorry if this ruins your image of Boy Scouts, or if you are one of the 1% that actually gave a shit about the program, but this is (or at least was) the reality of scouting. It was basically a band of attention-deficient teens and preteens looking for an excuse to screw around and not take showers. I was expected to survive a weekend in the wilderness with these kids, and the van ride was already killing me. Someone farted five minutes after we left, and the smell accumulated and lingered in the back. I hope you can empathize with my situation.

We reached the edge of civilization, where buildings became sparse and interwoven with dark, foreboding groves of trees. At night, the woods can hide all sorts of mysteries that wait, hidden from the human senses, until you are right upon them. We drove on through the dark stretch of wood, the road turning from black to a worn out gray and narrowing until it could barely qualify as a two-way street. It wasn’t long before, itching for stimulation, some of the boys began to complain. One whined that his new hiking boots were too tight and they were giving him blisters, which was odd because he was sitting down. Try as we might, we couldn’t get him to put his shoes back on and soon I was wishing we really were at an inner city Chuck E. Cheese instead of what was rapidly becoming the most noxious environment known to vankind. I seriously thought about asking our doomsday prepper Scout Master if he had a gas mask somewhere in the van, but decided that he wouldn’t give it to me even if he did. The only voice of reason in the chaotic van ride was Marla, a super badass fifty-something year old woman who had grown up in Alaska working as a tour guide for rich hunters from the lower 48. Fighting soon erupted about the foot smell, and Marla was the one who eventually put it out. With a few snaps she quieted the boys, and a quick order made the shoes go back on in a flash. It wasn’t long, however, before a new complaint was voiced by one of the boys that sent ripples echoing through the troop.

“I’m starving,” one boy sighed. His name was Cole; he had thick glasses and breathed loudly through his nose.

“You should have gotten something from Arby’s, we were waiting there for like ninety minutes.” I told him.

“I wasn’t hungry then,” Cole explained. I was about to ask how it was possible for him to be starving if he wasn’t hungry forty-five minutes ago when another boy chimed in.

“I’m hungry, too,” Jacob complained.

“I’m starving,” said Levi. Soon a chorus of hangry boys rang out so loud and unanimous that nobody except for Scout Master Steve and I noticed we had rolled into a clump of thick fog. It didn’t last very long, but it was sudden and so thick it blocked out all of the windows. For a moment, all I could see was swirling dark gray. Then, quickly as it had appeared, the fog billowed away and left us back in the forest, or at least a forest. It wasn’t very perceptible but if I squinted hard at the trees zipping past us I thought I could see a glowing blue light in the distance. It looked like a deep blue sun was rising far away, deep within the trees. The road bent and we started heading straight in the direction of the glow. The closer we got to it, the stronger the light became. It went from a faint royal to a brighter baby blue which grew into a sharp, electric neon blue, almost like the world’s biggest bug zapper was waiting for us up ahead.

The reality ended up not being much different. In the sudden cacophony of hungry voices, one rang out above the rest.

“Look, a restaurant!” One boy pointed towards the source of blue light. We all turned instinctively and saw a tall blue neon sign that read ‘All U Can Eat Buffet - 24/7’. Below this, in smaller letters, were the different types of cuisine they served. The list was long enough that it would have dissuaded even the bawdiest foodie. With so many different types of food, all being served 24/7 in the middle of the woods, there was no way any of it was very good. But, “all you can eat” sounded like the most enticing fantasy to most of those boys, and a worthy challenge to the rest, and they all started begging Scout Master Steve to pull over. Our troop mantra could have been “boys will be boys”. Steve resisted initially, alternately promising we would love his rabbit stew and scolding us because real survivalists (which we were not and never wanted to be) didn’t eat at buffets. He threatened to drive on, but almost as though fate herself had heard the boys’ cries, in that very moment a tire popped. Cheers erupted from the benches and Steve cursed under his breath. Marla, who was also up in front, turned to him.

“Do you have a spare?”

“Yes, of course I do!” Steve said proudly. “The Scout motto is: Be prepared. Of course I have a spare.” Then his smile faded and he switched to a hushed tone. “But it’s pretty thin and old, and I don’t know if it’ll get us all the way to the campsite. Our best chance of getting back at all is probably to just turn around and go back to town once I put it on.” Marla nodded. From the faces the boys had made when Steve mentioned his rabbit stew, she knew they wouldn’t be very disappointed to know that the trip was off.

“I guess we could at least let them eat at this place,” Marla said. “To be honest, all their whining about being hungry has me feeling a little famished, too.” My own stomach growled when I heard Marla say those words. Hunger, like most human sensations, is very suggestible. “Though I don’t know why they want to eat here, of all places.” Steve laughed at this.

“To a hungry teenage boy, an all you can eat buffet is like dying,” he chuckled, “and going to heaven. I’ll change the tire, you go in with them.”

“Are you sure?” Marla asked.

“Oh, believe me, I’ll be happier changing the tire.” This made them both laugh. Then Marla turned around to address the scouts.

“Ok boys, listen up. Scout Master Steve is going to have to change the tire and he doesn’t know if the spare will make it all the way to the campsite so we’ll probably just have to go home.” All of two boys groaned, and someone whispered ‘Thank God’.

“Since we won’t be able to make Steve’s delicious rabbit stew…” Marla paused for dramatic effect, “he’s graciously decided to buy us all dinner.” The boys erupted in cheers again. She winked at Steve. There was a cute dynamic between them. I wondered if maybe they were having an affair. The scouts went pouring out of the van faster than they could recite the Scout Oath. I waited for my turn in the back seat and looked at the conspicuously conspicuous restaurant outside. What were the chances that our tire would pop right in front of it? I wondered to myself. No one else seemed to share my concern, or even notice that there were weeds coming up through the road in front of the restaurant, which didn’t seem to have any name except for “All U Can Eat Buffet”. There was also a suspicious lack of cars in the parking lot. It seemed to me that a restaurant with food from twenty different countries would have a few cars in their parking lot for staff, or at least a delivery driver. Perhaps they were all in the back, I thought. It was a weird place for a restaurant, for sure, but I was hungry and any place sounded better than the back of that van. What was the worst that could happen? Mass food poisoning? Still sounded better than staying in the van. I hopped out and ran over to the others.

Steve popped in to pay for our meals, then popped back out to fix the popped tire. Inside, Marla led us to the front desk where an elderly Chinese man greeted us. He listed off all of the different food options available and where they were located. The physical restaurant was huge from the inside, with probably eight or nine different large rooms that presented wide tables and countertops spilling over with copious amounts of delicious smelling food. Our eyes widened like gobstoppers as the host toured us through the labyrinth of culinary delights. The food looked good, almost too good. I had to get up close and examine some honeydew to make sure it wasn’t plastic. Everything was so overwhelmingly perfect that I almost didn’t notice Marla, already with her plate, sampling the macaroni salad. She took a taste, and her mouth twisted into a pleased smile. The host shepherded us into the next room, “Seafood and Mongolian”, while behind us Marla scooped more and more macaroni salad onto her plate. Then there was a wet plop! I turned and saw Marla’s head buried in the vat of macaroni salad, munching away under the surface. Some other boys noticed and laughed. I wanted to go check on her, but the host ushered us on.

Something wasn’t right. There was too much food for a small restaurant in the middle of the woods, but something else was bothering me as well. Besides the silent host who was very persistently escorting us into the bowels of the seemingly endless restaurant, there didn’t seem to be any other staff. There weren’t any servers, or any people bringing out new trays or removing old ones, or anyone wiping down the tables. I thought back to the carless parking lot and started to wonder if there really wasn’t anyone here except for us and this old man. I took a good look at him, and that’s when I noticed something that really worried me. Even though he seemed to be walking, his feet weren’t moving. It was like he was gliding over the floor. I hadn’t noticed before because I was in the back of the group, but now that I had picked up on it I couldn’t believe I didn’t realize sooner. He wasn’t walking, he was floating. What the hell was this place?

I started to feel dizzy. The room, with its piles of dazzling food, moved around me at a mile a minute. Meanwhile the host passed plates out to the other scouts, who quickly dispersed throughout the building. His silent smile burned through me. I tried to call out, but couldn’t. My heart was in my throat. We were in some kind of human fly trap, and for some reason I was the only one who could see it. It didn’t take long for the toxic effects of the food to work on the other boys. I watched Cole take a bite of apple crisp before plunging his face into the pan. Meanwhile Levi was shoveling mashed potatoes down his throat by the mouthful until it pushed out of his nose like a playdough toy. A kid named Paul was cracking mussels open like a wild animal and couldn’t get them in his mouth fast enough. Oil and brine mixed with saliva foamed down the sides of his face. Joshua had his face hidden in a hot pan of crawdads. I screamed when he stuck his head up for air. His skin was red and covered with blisters, puss oozed from open sores around his eyes and nose. He looked like a burn victim, and yet after taking a quick gulp of air he stuck his head back in the hot pan for seconds. I desperately tried to run over to Paul and yank his head out of the tray but I couldn’t move. I screamed out of fear and frustration, which caught the attention of our gracious host. He had his back to me but his head turned almost 180 degrees to face the source of the screaming, which unfortunately for me was me. He then spun the rest of his body towards me, again without moving his feet, and slid forward with that artificial grin.

“I can tell you are displeased. We want you to enjoy yourself here. Please accept a free dessert, on the house.” He pulled an ice cream sundae from behind his back with one hand and placed it on my plate. With the other hand, he offered me a spoon. I froze, not sure what my next move should be. I didn’t want to upset this thing, be it a robot or alien or whatever, and I definitely did not want to eat anything. He stood there, his hand outstretched and unwavering, waiting for me to accept the spoon. Cautiously, I accepted it and decided I would try to fake eat to appease the smiling creature in front of me. I grabbed it, pretended to dip it into the ice cream, and then stuck it in my mouth and moaned a big “mhmmmmm”. He stood there, looking at me. He didn’t move at all, not even to blink.

“Geez, they need to develop a more life-like model” I thought to myself. Anyone who wasn’t drunk on their food could instantly notice that something was off about him. I stared at him while he stared at me. If he were a real person, it would have been a very awkward moment indeed. However, given that he wasn’t a real person and was instead some kind of waiter from hell, bent on destroying a group of innocent children, it was less awkward and more pants-shittingly frightening. I couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t leave me alone. I pretended to take another bite, and really tried to sell it.

“Mmmmm, so tasty! Thank you so much!” I said, hoping that would do the trick. The host didn’t move a muscle. His blank smiling face was now only about twelve inches from mine. Had he gotten closer? I wondered. A quick glance at his feet gave me the answer. His feet were slowly gliding in my direction, bringing him nearer to me. I began to panic. I wanted to run away, but my own feet felt stuck in place again, like I was standing in a block of concrete. In desperation I looked around at my friends, hoping that someone was lucid enough to come help me, but everyone was completely entranced under the mysterious food’s spell. That’s when I realized what I was doing wrong. The host was closer, just barely six inches away, so I had to act fast. I turned so that my face was hidden from his view and flopped my face forward until it was almost touching a bowl of pudding, which was the closest thing that wasn’t hot enough to boil my skin, and began flailing my arms around and making slurping noises with my mouth.

“Slrrrrrr, mmm so good, slurrrrrp, oh yeaah” I mumbled and crossed my fingers, hoping that the silent man would buy the act. I watched through the reflection in the silver bowl as he stopped inching closer, turned, and whizzed away. He bought it. As soon as he was out of sight, I got my face as far away from that pudding as I could. I had been careful not to get any on my skin but still feared that particles in the air could make it through my nasal canals and infect me. I inched my way over to the nearest boy, Ralph, and tried to talk to him while he swiped butter into his mouth like his tongue was the world’s driest piece of toast. “Ralph!” I whisper-yelled. “Ralph, snap out of it! It’s me!” He didn’t react, not even to acknowledge I was there. I reached over and tugged sheepishly on the wrist that was doing the butter scooping, but quickly regretted it when he grabbed my fingers and bent them back farther than they were supposed to reach. I heard a pop, and my first three fingers swelled with sharp pain. It was all I could do to not scream. Clutching my now crippled hand, I backed away from my friend Ralph. It didn’t look like there was anything I could do to help him, or any of the other boys for that matter, so I decided that my best option was to gradually make my way towards the front doors undetected. I started to shuffle out of the room when I heard the kitchen door open in the next room over. I stopped and pretended to shove my face into a big, big salad. Three men and one woman walked out in brown draping robes. They went over to Levi and the woman ran a long fingernail across his back, like he was a sports car she was appreciating. The biggest man licked his lips.

“Let’s hurry and do this. I’m starving.” He said, rubbing his hands together greedily.

“Calm down,” the woman said. She lifted a lock of Levi’s hair and yanked it. He didn’t even flinch, just kept on eating. “They’re not going anywhere. Look at them,” she motioned around the building, “even for spellbounds, they’re out of it. This will be a piece of cake.” The group laughed together, and I shuddered. They were like modern Hansel and Gretel witches or in some kind of cannibalistic cult and planned on doing something terrible to my friends. I needed to get out of the restaurant and find Scout Master Steve, but had no idea how I would slip out unnoticed now that the Hogwartz crew was here. I was so busy worrying that I almost didn’t notice the figure standing across the table from me.

“Can you hear me?” I looked up and saw that it was Steve. What a relief it was to see him, and to see him not under the hypnotic influence of the broccoli slaw. I turned in the direction of the robed people to make sure they weren’t watching, then nodded to indicate I could hear him.

“Don’t eat the food,” I whispered. “There’s something wrong with it.”

“I know, I realized that when I walked in here and saw everyone like..” he looked around at his scouts, who were literally eating themselves to death, “well, like this.”

“What brought you in here?” I asked.

“Our tire didn’t pop on its own. Someone threw bent nails out across the road, like they wanted us to get stuck here. That got me a little freaked out, so I ran in here to make sure everything was okay. How come you didn’t eat anything?”

“I was the last one in line, and by the time I got my plate and everything I could tell that something was wrong. What do we do now?” I asked.

“Well, I guess we gather up the boys and Marla and get the heck out of here before anything terrible happens.” He said.

“What about those guys?”

“Who?” Steve looked confused. He hadn’t noticed the robed creeps. I pointed them out to him discreetly. “Oh, shit. Where did they come from? Damn it, that makes things complicated.”

“Should we call the police?” I suggested. He shrugged his shoulders.

“We could, but they’d never get here in time. Good thing is that I’ve got my gun on me. Here’s what I think we should do.” He leaned over closer to me. Up near me, I could see he was shaking, which as a kid really freaked me out. When you’re young, you think you can always rely on the adults around you to handle tough situations. Seeing a grown man that I respected so much shake with fear made me realize just how dangerous our situation was. “I’m gonna draw my gun on them. You, take these,” he tossed me his keys. “When I tell you to, go into the van and grab the climbing rope from the back.You’ll use it to tie them up. Do you remember your knots?” Around us, the boys stopped eating and stood up straight in unison, as if they were robots being controlled from a central remote. Unfortunately, we were too busy making our escape plan to notice.

“I- I don’t know. I think so” I stammered.

“That’s alright, I can walk you through it. Then, once they’re tied up nice and good, we grab the rest of the boys and get out of here, got it?” He looked at me, and there was a seriousness to his question. He was giving me the trust he would give an equal. He needed to know he could count on me. I swallowed the knot in my throat, nodded, and opened my mouth to say the words “got it” but was cut off by some different words spoken by a different mouth.

“Hey, you two!” We both whipped around to find one of the robed men pointing at us from the center room. The other three robed figures stood next to him, and all of the boys plus Marla were gathered around them in a circle, their heads hanging limply onto their chests and shoulders. They were all still and silent, totally hypnotized by those evil wizards and ready at their beck and call like a zombie army. We were the only two out of the group who weren’t standing in the circle, which probably tipped them off to the fact that we were not hypnotized and were planning to escape. That, and also that we had been talking about our plan to tie them up at gunpoint and escape. Apparently they had heard us, evidenced by what the man said next.

“We heard your plan to tie us up at gun point and escape,” the man cooed in a shrill, rasping voice. Steve let his head fall limp and began stumbling towards the center as if he was suddenly under their spell. “Nice try, Scoutmaster. We know you’re faking.”

“Must…obey…so…hungry” he mumbled as he walked with his arms held out straight in front, like an old school Frankenstein’s monster. When Steve passed me, he turned his head ever so slightly and gave me a wink.

“And we saw that little wink, too.” The man said. “So don’t even think about trying any funny business or your friends here are toast.” But this threat did nothing to deter Steven. He just kept on walking like a zombie towards the group.

“Wait,” said the biggest man. “Are you sure he’s not out of it? I mean, do you think he would keep pretending like this even after being called out? That’s a ballsy move if I ever saw one.”

“Shut up, Brother Thomas. Of course he’s faking it, we just saw him talking to the boy not two seconds ago.” The raspy-voiced man, who seemed to be their leader, said.

“I don’t know,” the big man replied. “In twenty years, I never seen anyone do something like this.” He shook his head in disbelief. Meanwhile, Steve continued stumbling his way forward, not even wavering in his dedication to the act.

“This is ridiculous,” the leader said. “Children, attack him!” He commanded the boy scouts and Marla. They all simultaneously lifted up their heads, turned, and charged towards Steve. However, before any of them could reach him, Steve pulled out his gun and shot the leader in the chest. As it turns out, dark magic isn’t very effective against a gun, which coincidentally settled a question I always had regarding a hypothetical wizard vs. muggle war scenario. Instantly, the group fell out of the mind-controlling spell’s power.

“Aaaaaaah!” The three other robed cultists screamed at their fallen leader. “Brother Humphrey, Brother Humphrey, are you alright?” The big man they called Brother Thomas bent down and began performing CPR, pounding on his chest right beside the gunshot wound. With every push, blood squirted out of the bullet hole.

“Stop, Brother Thomas! You’re just making it worse!” The woman yelled.

“We can’t let him die like this!” Brother Thomas wailed and started pounding Brother Humphrey’s chest even more vigorously, sending blood spurting every which way.

“What happened,” Cole said, waking out of his stupor. Levi gave him a confused look.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. All around, my friends started coming out of their haze. I smiled, relieved that they were okay and that Brother Thomas didn’t seem to understand how CPR worked.

“Scouts, listen up!” Steve shouted out to the group. “We need to get out of here at once! Is anyone hurt?” Only Joshua, the kid who had burned his face in the crawdad tray, raised his hand. “Josh, can you run?” Steve asked him. He nodded in reply. “Okay, we’ll get you bandaged up outside. Everyone, run as fast as you can to the van!” He yelled. Some boys started walking nonchalantly towards the door. “Run, now!” Steve yelled louder, and they all took off like spooked horses. Unfortunately, the witch reacted before any of them could reach the door. She raised her arm up high, swung it once around her head, and shot chains out of her hand which wrapped around the door handles, locking us inside.

“Not so fast,” She shrieked. “You killed our leader, our beloved Brother, the Grand Wizard Humphrey. He was a great man,”

“No he wasn’t, he was going to kill us!” I yelled. She eyed me, shocked that I had said anything. I guess I didn’t look like the kind to talk back to witches. To be honest, I was shocked too. “He was a terrible man.”

“Hush, boy!” She hissed. “He was the supreme leader of a great and secret society. One that feasts on the bodies of children like you!” Steve gasped, and cocked his head slightly in a confused stupor.

“You’re from…Planned Parenthood?” He asked.

“No, you fool! Planned Parenthood doesn’t eat babies! I should kill you just for saying something so preposterous. Who are you, Alex Jones?” I giggled to myself. I mean, it was stupid of Steve to think that. I guess it was typical of someone who spends their free time prepping for the apocalypse and researching conspiracy theories on Facebook. Hopefully she didn’t kill him for it, though. “We are the organization called the Red Cross. For millennia we have used black magic to sacrifice innocent souls to the devil in exchange for power and youth. And I know what you’re thinking. The answer is no, we’re not related to the other Red Cross. People always think we’re related, and it’s like ‘are you kidding me?’ We’ve been around for thousands of years and they started in, what, 1952 or something? Anyway, long story short, we’re going to sacrifice you all to the devil.”

“Please, don’t do anything to these kids. They’ve done nothing wrong, they’re innocent!” Steve cried.

“Yes, that’s the point. Did you not listen to my speech?” The witch asked. She sounded offended.

“Please, if you will, take me instead. I will give you my soul if you agree to let the rest go.” I thought this was a bit of a humble brag, since it implied that Steve’s soul was worth more than the rest of ours combined. Surprisingly, however, the witch seemed to consider it.

“Well, that’s an interesting offer.” She mused, scratching her chin in thought. “The willing sacrifice of a soul, the laying down of one’s life for one’s friends. That kind of act generates so much innocent power that it might just be worth the rest. But,” She gave Steve the stink eye. “I don’t like you.”

“Please, at least consider it!” Steve pleaded from his knees. It was remarkable to watch someone offer his life for mine. Steve was different, and frankly a little stupid, but he was a good guy. The three robed cultists formed a huddle and debated his offer. Eventually, Brother Thomas spun around and addressed Steve.

“It looks like we’re going to have to pass,” he said.

‘What?” Steve yelped. “But why?”

“Well, it seems she just really doesn't like you.” Brother Thomas explained with regret.

“Because of the Planned Parenthood thing? That seems like an overreaction.”

“Yeah, well she’s really sensitive about that kind of stuff.” Brother Thomas went on.

“What do you mean, ‘that kind of stuff’?” The witch yelled. “You guys can’t even have children, so you know what? No uterus, no opinion!” She had a point.

“I’ll give you my soul.” The room went silent, and everyone looked at Marla. “Will you take mine?” The two men looked at their female counterpart inquisitively. She paused, then nodded.

“Okay, we’ll accept your soul,” she agreed, “but are you sure you want to go through with this? You’re the only woman here, I was planning on letting you go free.” This made me worry, but Marla didn’t even hesitate in her reply.

“I’m sure. I could never walk away from here knowing I could have saved my friends but didn’t.” She glanced longingly at Steve. If I hadn’t been so touched, I would have realized this was strong evidence to support my affair theory. But none of that mattered. Marla was doing something few people ever have the strength to do; she was helping others even when it was inconvenient for her in the gravest way possible. She was a hero.

“Ok, if you are sure, we’d love to have your soul. Come over here and take my hand.” The witch said, reaching a thin, pale appendage out from her draping sleeve. Marla slowly made her way over, taking one last look at the group as she did. Finally she arrived at the witch.

“Will it hurt?” She asked. The witch shook her head.

“Not even a little bit. At least, I don’t think so. To be honest I don’t have a clue. It’s not like you can ask someone how it went.” Marla winced at the witch’s callousness.

“So, this means I’ll die, right?” Marla asked.

“That’s right,” the witch nodded, and with that she snatched Marla’s hand. For a moment, everything went white. I heard a ringing in my ears, and the sound of a trumpet from off in the distance. Slowly the white faded away, and the real world came back into view with all its sights, sounds and smells.

“Put your shoes on!” Levi yelled. He punched Cole in the arm. I was surprised to see that we were back in the van, right around the spot where we had entered the fog before. At first I thought it had all been a dream and felt an immense sense of relief until I searched the front seat and noticed that Marla was no longer there. Gone was the silent yet brave, stoic and strong-willed woman who had entered the van only hours ago.

“Woah, Josh what happened to your face?” One of the boys yelled. It seemed that the rest of the scouts had completely forgotten what transpired in the mysterious woodland restaurant, which ended up being a trap for gluttonous little boys like us. I looked around the van, and no one seemed to remember what had happened to Josh’s face. They all laughed or gasped and chatted away about their theories as to why he was inexplicably “sunburnt,” and soon the conversation progressed to new topics, as normal conversations do. No one was too worried about the matter. They were more concerned with Minecraft, the girls from school, and Cole’s stinky feet that he wouldn’t cover up. It must be because they até the food, I thought. They had their memory erased. This made me realize that I might not be the only one with memories of the restaurant and of Marla’s sacrifice. I looked in the rearview mirror and found two red, watery eyes staring back at me. One other person remembered.