The man sat at the desk looking at a map. But not just any map, a map of Virginia. In front of the map was a placard. Samuel Joseph, Historical Investigator. Samuel had cracked some of the most bizarre cases in history. He had figured out the Disappearance of the Sodder Children. The Sodder Children who had run off to France due to Child Abuse. He was a world wide renown detective, but there was one case that had always stumped him.

The Lost Colony of Roanoke, Virginia. He had been investigating ever since he had started. After he learned that one of his great great great great great great great grandfather, John Joseph, went missing, he knew it was his calling. He knew everyone who had been lived in that village. He knew every event until 1587 - 1590. Samuel looked at the clock. It was getting late. He took the keys off his desk and walked down to the garage.

“Sarah, can you please close up,” he asked his secretary. His secretary nodded and looked back at her monitor.

Samuel was a man of few words, but everyone listened when he did talk. Samuel wasn’t a quiet man by nature, but by choice. The car was parked outside in the same place as it was everyday. It was a brand new BMW 5 series. Samuel was one of those people who was loyal to BMW because of personal reasons. He had a flashback. His whole family was in the BMW, turning on to the interstate when BAM! A truck hit them straight on. His whole family died except for him. He rarely talked since then.

Sam burst into tears. He got in the car and started to drive. The roads were calm and placid. He decided to take a scenic route, not for the scenery, but for the fact that he could drive as fast as possible.

The route was a single road at the top of a cliff, shadowing a river. There were never any cars or policemen. As he was speeding down the road, a deer rushed onto the road. Samuel was astonished. He swerved, but he realized his mistake. He was falling off the cliff. The last thing he saw was a giant boulder blocking the car. Samuel swerved, but it was too late. The car clipped the boulder and hit the river 50 ft below.

Sams world went dark.

When he woke up, all he saw was a candle light. He looked around. It was a cabin. He heard the door open. A woman of about 30 years old walked in with some food. It looked like porridge.

“Where am I,” Sam asked. The woman looked at him weirdly.

“Why it is Roanoke. You poor thing, you must have hit your head so hard on that rock.” She replied sarcastically.

Samuel was wide awake, he looked around frantically. He saw a british flag in the middle of the room.

“What year is it?” he asked.

“July 24 1588,” another ironic reply.

He looked around. Then he impulsively ran outside and almost fainted. It looked like he had landed in a dream. An amish dream. Everything was so old schooled. There was cattle and horses everywhere. He saw men, women, and children wearing the oldest clothing he had ever seen. He stood shocked.

As standing, a man tapped on him and asked, “Thank you.”

Samuel was confused and asked, “For what?”

“You saved my son. He was being chased by a bear and you stood up to it. If it weren’t for you Jason, my son would be dead.”

Samuel looked at the man curiously, and saw a resemblance. He went wide eyed, and almost cried. The man looked exactly like him.

“What is your name sir,” Samuel asked the man.

“John Joseph,” he replied, “I was a british mercenary who came to Roanoke for the peace. Again thank you, Jason White.”

The man walked off without saying anymore, but what he had said was proof enough. There was more to the mystery of Roanoke than Samuel knew. The first was that he had met John Joseph, his ancestor, and that a person named Jason White never existed in Roanoke in 1588. Jason White was a lost man.

After looking around the island, he found a beach. It was facing north toward Boston. He noticed that the shadows were getting longer, so he decided to head back and get some sleep. Samuel had a tough time going to sleep because he never was able to wrap his mind around the fact that he had time traveled. But when he did go to sleep, Samuel would be awoken by a sight that shook him as much as the day his family died.

The next morning he heard screaming. He looked out, it was still dark. He ran outside to see someone gasping for air. His throat had been cut and blood was coming out of his mouth.

“The western Indians are coming,” he said so faintly. Then he dropped dead. The light left his eyes.

“It was an Indian attack,” Samuel muttered to himself. But then he asked himself another question: Who were the western Indians?

He left the gathering and went back into the cabin. He saw a map in the corner. The Appalachian Mountains were to the west. Then it hit him. The Apache Tribe. They were an aggressive tribe that was very reclusive. They were the dictators of all native americans. They wanted all the power.

Samuel then went outside. He stood on the rock and tried to get everyone's attention. Nobody was listening, they were all focused on the dead man.

“AIIIIIIIYEEEEEEE!” Samuel yelled. That got everyone's attention. They all looked at him, scared and anxious. He continued, “The Western Indians are coming for us. So w-.”

“Who are you and who are the Western Indians?” A voice interrupted.

“I am Jason White. The Western Indians is known as the Apache tribe. They will kill us at all costs,” a shiver of fear swept through the crowd, “We need to get to the boats and leave now.’

“What about our stuff,” a voice asked.

“Where will we go?” another asked.

“How can we trust you?” someone asked.

“Because he has already saved my boy. And as leader of this village, I say we do it,” a voice replied. Samuel looked at behind him, and saw John looking at him. Everyone nodded in agreement.

“Everyone get to the boats. Get your most valuables and head towards the north. I will lead them astray by writhing Croatoan on the tree over there. They will go to Island to the South. Do not go south.”

Everyone rushed into their cabins when they all heard it.

“AYYYYYYYYYYY!!” It was a real Native American this time.

“Go. NOW!” Samuel yelled. Everyone rushed to the beach while Samuel found the knife and wrote out the word Croatoan on the single tree in the middle of the village. As he was writing it out, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He felt something warm pooling down his chest. He looked down, a  6 inch spear had just pierced his chest. He felt faint, he was losing vision. He looked behind him. An Indian was standing behind him. One thing ran through his head at that time. Even though Jason White would be a lost man in History, he would be a saviour for the 115 people that he had saved. Then the world went black and quiet.

Samuel woke up to see that he was behind the wheel of the BMW, still speeding on the road that he had “died” on. He stopped the car, and slowed down. He waited for the deer. Then it appeared. It looked at him and ran by him. He waited until it was out of sight and began driving again towards his home. All the way there he contemplated if he should publicize Jason White and Roanoke, but in the end he didn’t because some things are meant to be kept lost and Jason White and the Lost Roanoke Colony was one of them.