Listener discretion is advised.

Terry and Shayna started pitching a tent in the dark,

enveloped by the sounds of crickets and the river that they had decided to set up camp next to.

It was June 22nd, 1977, in Klein Falls, an Oregon State Park.

Their hair was still salty with sweat from their long bike ride that day.

The two undergraduates were seven days into a cross-country bike ride,

and they were eager to get some sleep.

To Terry, the forest represented freedom, an unbound individualism where you could have

some space to be unbothered by anyone. But that night felt different.

Something felt off to Terry, and judging by Shayna's darting eyes, she felt it too.

Thick in the air was the unmistakable sense that someone was watching them.

But maybe they were just tired, Terry thought, as they crawled up inside of their tent.

They had another large chunk of the ride to do tomorrow and needed to get a good night's sleep.

Though the feeling of something lurking was getting worse, nothing strange presented itself in the woods,

so they decided to go to sleep. But then, sometime in the night, Terry wakes up.

She's heard something. A car is pulling up right next to their tent.

The park wasn't that big, but there was enough space for someone to set up a tent further

than a few feet away from them. Why would this person need to park so close?

But before she can think, she's hit with the sound of the engine revving and then bam!

The car plunges straight into their tent, running over Terry's right side and pinning her.

Before she can even muster the strength to try and get out from under the vehicle,

she sees the outline of a man, carrying an axe, coming straight towards her.

...