Cary Tennis: Stories, Poems, Works in Progress

The Traveler: We went up high in the mountains, where it was quiet

Cary Tennis

We went up high in the mountains where it was quiet. There was an unused cabin up there, off the grid, not on Google maps, strategically hidden from the satellite scans, with no cellular footprint, having been lead-shielded from the start, no phones ever used up there, no trace of anything, just our analog trail, our knowing that it was up there, and we went up there, just a few of us, after the leader died, because it had gotten so crazy at the end we really started to lose it. Us. We who were trained to maintain at any cost, we’d started cracking. Each of us knew it. Each of us knew, in his own way, that he was showing damage, that all we knew about PSYOPS, about torture techniques and the manifold ways of disordering even the most resilient and resistant psyche, was of no help here. It surprised us. It surprised us and humbled us. We had thought we were prepared.