My name is Gordon Ivis.

On August 9th of 2015, I emerged on foot from the woods onto a long, unmarked dirt road

just east of the Blaine-Fountain Town line in Northern Carolina County.

A little wobbly eye walked down the road toward a cutout in the trees, right parked my

car, and I got in, dropping my backpack and tentpack into the passenger seat.

A wave of faintness watched over me, and when it passed, I tried and vain for several

minutes to recite the names of the first five presidents.

I didn't even come close.

I drove away from that lonely area and as soon as I could get a cell signal, I got up my

phone and called a colleague of mine and left a message for him to meet me to days in

off Route 21 in three hours at 10 a.m.

I checked into the motel, and then I showered and shaved, looking hard at my exhausted pale

face in the mirror.

After that I collapsed on top of the bed, falling asleep instantly.

The alarm woke me just 45 minutes later.

Kurt Capremian, a sociology fellow at Francis Drake University, met me outside in the parking

lot, and we immediately began to drive 20 miles into the middle of rural Carolinas County,

directly back ride come from earlier that morning, toward a stretch of barren woods and

plains that nobody ever noticed.

We saw little bit, farms and forests as we went, passing fewer and fewer cars.

Eventually, we turned off onto that unmarked dirt road that stretched north and south, a

tractor-to-green town road and routes out of the area.

...