Thunderstorm over, we crawl out of our tents. Everyone but Josh.
‘Hey, aren’t those Josh’s hiking boots?’ one of us whispers. There they are, abandoned in the middle of the road.
We gather around his tent, calling for him to show himself. No reaction.
‘We have to check if he’s okay.’
‘Where could he have gone? During a thunderstorm, without his boots?’
The questions echo through the woods. We shudder.
‘Do you see blood? I think I see blood.’
We see blood.
‘Pack up, everyone. Trip’s over.’
It’s all gone a bit too Blair Witch for our liking.