The class of ’99 disappeared during their senior trip, and now, 22 years later, a shocking find comes to light…

They were all dead, you know, he began, his voice shaky but resolute. The ones who didn’t, the ones who resisted, they were never seen again, never heard from, just gone. Jarrett paused, his hands trembling slightly as he wiped them on his pants.

He had been sitting in front of investigators for hours now, but the weight of his confession had never been so real, so suffocating. His words had already started to unravel the decades-old mystery. But this, this was the moment when the truth would finally emerge.

It started the day the bus broke down, he continued. We were miles from the nearest road, deep in the forest. The engine sputtered and died.

We couldn’t move the bus, we couldn’t get it started. So we waited, and waited. Jarrett’s voice quivered as he relived the memory, the dissonant sounds of the forest creeping back into his mind.

That’s when they found us. He leaned forward, his gaze locking with the investigators. They wore these robes, grey, like they’d been living in the dirt.

I think they called themselves the Chosen. They said they were from an off-grid sanctuary, a place of peace, a place to escape the outside world. They told us the world was falling apart, that society as we knew it was crumbling.

Jarrett shook his head, his eyes drifting to the floor. It sounded like a joke. But we were stuck.

No one had signal on their phones, and none of us had any idea how to fix the bus. So we followed them. We didn’t have a choice.

The investigators exchanged glances, their faces impassive but keenly focused. Jarrett was speaking now with more urgency, his voice rising as the story poured out. At first, the commune was peaceful.

It felt almost too good to be true. They gave us food and told us we could rest. They promised us everything we needed.

They took care of us and gave us shelter. The air felt different there, like it had weight, like everything was slow. But after a while, things started to shift.

Jarrett paused again, his breath catching in his throat. They started talking about reconditioning, how we needed to let go of our old lives. Our past.

We weren’t allowed to talk about where we came from, what we were running from. They told us we had to forget everything. They called it Klenzenji.

The word hung in the air like a warning. Jarrett’s eyes flickered with something akin to fear, something darker than mere recollection. They gave us food, he continued, but it didn’t taste right.

It was off, like they were drugging us, dulling us. Some of us started getting these vivid dreams, nightmares that felt too real, too intense. And then they started making us sleep in shifts, very controlled, very specific.

They want to know when we were awake and when we were asleep. It didn’t matter if you were tired, you had to follow the schedule. He rubbed his eyes, clearly exhausted by the memory.

Some of the kids started to resist. They couldn’t take it. They wanted to leave, but they were too afraid.

They were terrified of what would happen if they didn’t comply. I saw a few of them try to escape. I heard their screams when they were, when they were dragged into the woods.

They were never seen again. The room was deathly quiet, the words hanging in the air like a sinister fog. Jarrett’s lips trembled as he spoke again, his voice growing quieter.

They told us they were the chosen ones. The world had ended outside those woods. The only thing left was their commune.

They said we were chosen to live in a new world, to be a part of something greater. But it wasn’t a choice. It was a prison, and those who didn’t accept it.

He swallowed hard, his throat dry. They were sacrificed. Jarrett’s eyes flickered with a cold, distant fear.

I wasn’t the only one who saw it. Those who tried to leave, the ones who fought back, they were offered up to the forest. No one ever came back…