Site 123 — Behind the Book

Site 123 cover

Photos, fragments, and field notes from the place that became the story.

This book was fun to write. The initial outline for Site 123 was finished in a single camping trip, following a group of friends into the woods on a weekend that was anything but typical. I mixed in my own camping misadventures, added a little darkness and horror, and Site 123 was born. We all grow older, get busy, and take different paths in life, but memories and friendships hang on. I’m still trying to get everyone back into the woods again. Until then, these pages — and this site — are me missing my camping buddies more than they’ll ever know.

Trail Runner camper backed into a wooded campsite with awning and lights

Excerpt — Tuesday Arrival

A half hour later James was sitting on a camping chair overlooking his little piece of heaven. The 2013 Heartland Trail Runner was backed in just right, awning pitched low for rain, lights strung along the edge, two picnic tables tucked beneath. Beyond the fire ring and the gravel and the trees, there wasn’t another human in sight — just one distant bulb on the comfort station and the promise of a golden beverage.

Camp chairs circling a smoky fire ring at Site 123

Excerpt — Time to Replenish Body and Mind

Camping was wonderful. Camping was relaxing. Camping brought happiness and helped to replenish body and mind. James wanted a campfire every night, not to cook on, but to sit beside with a strong spirit or a frothy beverage, watching the smoke climb into the trees while the rest of the world forgot he existed.

Forest trail and fallen log near the campground

Excerpt — The Way In

Dirty white stones, brown soil, leaves and twigs — the edges of the road were a patchwork of rock and roots, keeping tires from sinking and campers from getting stuck. Off the gravel the trail slipped into green, and somewhere past that fallen log the real path ended and the fictional one began, where the woods started keeping their own secrets.

Field Note

First Night at Site 123

I rolled in on a Tuesday afternoon when the campground felt like a graveyard — hosts, a few stragglers,
and me. After the dance of backing in alone, filling the water tank with my “stick tool,” and leveling the
camper with no spotter, I sat in a chair by the fire ring with a cold beer and nothing but insects, tree
frogs, and that single comfort-station light for company. That quiet is where the story really started.

Writing Detail

Scenes Written on Location

The Tuesday-morning coffee ritual, the drive into the park, the water-station stick wedge, and the
electronics spread on the dinette table were all drafted in this camper with the door open to the trees.
A lot of James’s voice — his bad coffee, his hazelnut addiction, his love of gadgets and over-preparing —
came straight from actual nights at Site 123.

Reality vs. Fiction

What the Book Changed

The campground layout, gravel edges, and crude potable-water stations are almost word-for-word true.
The chaos — missing cash, guns in the wrong hands, a gatehouse at 3 a.m. — is where fiction takes over.
In the wider universe, Dr. Stevens runs these same woods at night and stumbles into Site 123 near the
climax, watching without intervening as a woman is dragged toward a vehicle.

Personal Note

Why This Site Matters

I met my camping friends “Thomas” and “Shanelle” here — names changed to protect the innocent — along with
cornhole with Redds, boating, fish fries in near-darkness, and more campfire stories than I can count.
Site 123 is equal parts real memories and invented horror, which is why it keeps showing up in my head and
on the page.

In Site 123, modern friendships, jealousy, and desire grind against the blunt fact of survival — where
checking in is easy, and getting out costs more than gas.

Photo Strip — The Real Site 123

A few more glimpses of the real campground. Each frame links back to a moment, a character, or a scene from the book.

Back of the Trail Runner camper deep in the trees

The Trail Runner setup onto its own little pocket of woods — James’s “home base” for the week.

Foot up by the campfire in the late afternoon sun

Legs up, fire going, sunlight spilling through the trees — the calm before the story turns. It’s fun to watch drivers pull in and attempt to back in their campers.

Sun cutting through the trees at dusk

Dusk through the trees. This is the kind of light I imagine when the woods start watching back.

Exterior of the brown comfort-station building

My comfort station in daylight. However, at 3 a.m., this stops feeling comfortable, stops being safe…

Inside the tiled restroom with sinks and stalls

Bright tile, echoing footsteps, and that one moment you realize you’re alone in the whole building. The silence lingers longer than it should as she steps back outside, the light behind her cutting off too quickly. That’s where the quiet ends — and where she’s taken.

Dinette table covered in electronics, snacks, and camping gear

The electronics spread: laptop, speakers, controllers, toilet paper, and iced tea — James’s real “master list.” It was just as important as food and drink.

Sookie perched on the back of the camper seat

Sookie, my four-legged editor keeping watch from the back of the dinette — she’s never far from the words or food…

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The blue “Smurf” waste hauler broke loose and rolled downhill, full of black water and gaining speed. It was headed straight for people we hadn’t met yet. That’s how I met my camping buddies.

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The campground was still holding the storm. Puddles sat in the gravel, the grass was dark and wet, and every step sank slightly into soggy wood and earth. Site 123 looked quiet, clean, and unsettled — like it was waiting.

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By day, the raptor center was a place of recovery — injured birds, careful hands, quiet patience, and release. Temporary occupants came here to heal. But on one night, the same walls held something else entirely, and the story turned toward fear, control, and quiet oppression.

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The campfire burned low as a woman waited, watching the dark beyond the light for her friend to return. A noise came from somewhere just outside the glow, close enough to raise her head. She searched the trees and the empty spaces between them. Nothing was there.

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The outside enclosure lay in darkness, wire closing it off from the rest of the world. Inside stood a large, old tree meant for healing, its bark scarred by claws and time. Deep marks cut into the wood, evidence of years of wings, talons, and struggle.

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In daylight, the amphitheater appeared calm and ordinary. A killer was positioned nearby, blending into the campground and remaining unseen.

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Trying to escape, the woman pushed her weight into the gated enclosure. It gave slightly, but not enough to let her through. A sudden screech told her it was already too late. Looking over her shoulder only confirmed it.

Site 123 — Book Snapshot

Why Read Site 123?

A skewed psychological romance spirals into survival horror when a weekend camping trip collides with

obsession, bad luck, and a predator that knows the woods better than you do — two-legged and four.

Description

A Native American conservation officer on routine patrol finds a state park sliding toward chaos: missing cash
at the gate, weapons where they shouldn’t be, and campers who don’t match their stories. After a fight with her
boyfriend, Robin heads to the park with friends. Scott, convinced he can “win the weekend back,” follows —
searching sites, pressing strangers, and unraveling.

As storms roll in and tempers fray, chance encounters turn into a chain reaction: a blue waste tank barreling
downhill, a pizza joint stakeout in the rain, a late-night gate “inspection” that isn’t. By the time the sun is
gone, the woods are speaking with teeth.

In Site 123, modern friendships, jealousy, and desire grind against the blunt fact of survival — where
checking in is easy, and getting out costs more than gas.

Teaser

Your spot is perfect: partial sun, power hook-ups, the creek just close enough to hear. Hike, fish, boat, flirt
by the fire — until the wrong headlights pause by your pad, and your phone dies mid-text. Do you run? Do you
hide? Or do you go looking, one more time, for the friend who said they’d be “right back”?

Excerpts — Curated Moments

The Smurf Runs: A routine “partial dump” goes sideways — hoses pop, tempers flare, and a
blue waste hauler breaks free, careening downhill toward an oblivious couple by their boat. Dark slapstick
becomes omen: in these woods, small mistakes get loud fast.
Pizza in a Storm: Brian sprints through a deluge to his Monday refuge — beer, basketball,
and too-cold air. When his friends finally materialize at three pulled-together tables, the room feels off,
like everyone is waiting for the same name to be called.
Gatehouse at 3 A.M.: Mary, the volunteer, wakes to a smile in a DNR uniform and a pistol she
didn’t see coming. Boxes get checked. The door gets locked. “Open the safe.” The park isn’t just trees and
trails; it’s corridors, cameras, and leverage.
Convenience Store Grammar: SNACKS, BEER AND BAIT INSIDE. Missing comma; present threat. A
petite clerk with a holstered pistol meets a “customer” who quietly flips the sign to CLOSED. Politeness does
its dance with predation.

Themes & Triggers (Reader Advisory)

Obsession, stalking, and coercion
Violent encounters and survival situations
Law-enforcement deception and weapons
Dark humor threaded through rising dread

Fun Facts

The park setting is inspired by a real Southern Indiana campground I’ve visited repeatedly — first love at
Site 123.
The conservation-officer thread grew from field notes on routine checks that turn anything but routine after
dark.
In the larger First Responder universe, Dr. Stevens is running through the forest at night and
literally stumbles into Site 123 near the climax, drawn by the scent of blood. He watches, doesn’t intervene,
but takes an interest in the man dragging a woman toward a vehicle.
Published: April 1, 2024.

Loose Ends & Fatty Fires

I met my camping friends Thomas and Shanelle — names changed to protect their innocence — close to how the
story portrays them. Camping, hiking, cornhole with Redds, boating, fishing, lighting a fatty, roaring
campfires, a fish fry in near total darkness, and good times spent with wonderful friends; those are just some
of the memories I’ll never forget. Yes, I did receive that T-shirt as a remembrance of that dirty day where I
first met my camping friends.

Loose ends remain on purpose. If you find any that you are curious about, message me directly on social media
(no spoilers for others), and I’ll clue you in to why they exist. Other than the obvious one from the ending,
the magical number three rears its majestic head more than once.

*A “fatty” is a section of pine tree root heavy with sap. It burns hard and ignites quickly with little effort.
Under the right conditions, you won’t even need kindling or tinder.

I would like to send a shoutout to Jay, Janice, Thomas, and Shanelle for great times!