If You See A Man Out On The Ice, Do Not Let Him Aboard

Everyone knows the legend of the SS Edmund Fitzgerald, especially if you reside within the Great Lake Region. The 729 foot, 13,632 gross ton Great Lakes Bulk Carrier was comparable to the Titanic. Hull No. 301 was launched June 8th, 1958 in River Rouge, MI. She would only last for a grand total of 17 years. 

Multiple bad omens occurred on the morning of her launch. Three attempts of breaking a champagne bottle during the christening, a large wave that took out infrastructure below, and a heart attack resulting in a death. In hindsight it seemed like she was cursed from the start. When she sank on November 10th, 1975 the SS Edmund Fitzgerald sank with all 29 passengers. 

Lake Superior holds a great many secrets. Just as much a tomb as it is a body of water. Cold, deep, and dark… Even so, three underwater explorations were made. They occurred in 1989, 1994, and 1995. During the last exploration in 1995, with the help of a varied group, the Fitzgerald’s 200lb bronze bell was recovered. As was another item, but it did not belong to this ship. 

The item that I am referring to dear reader, is an article that was recovered from a smaller unknown ship that had sunk the same day – a journal. The contents of which I shall recount for you here.

My name, although it is unimportant to this post, is Evan Guthrey. I work at the Great Lakes Ship Wreck Museum in Whitefish Point, MI. Although my position here is unclear, based on the number of odd jobs I have been assigned, you could call me a researcher or analyst of sorts. Since attendance has been dwindling over the last few years, I was tasked with digitizing the more interesting portions of our historical artifacts. We (I and all the people at GLSWM) hope that this should be enough to entice you to stop by. 

I would like to extend my heartfelt condolences to the family of Luther Blackburn, as well as the families of the rest of the crew of the SS Lily Marina. The journal that I’ll be transcribing belonged to Blackburn, and tells a story that even I can seldom comprehend. A tale of the fiercest winter storm, and the man they found out on the ice. 

November 8th 1975 – Superior, Wisconsin 

The air has a chill the likes of which I have never known. Even as my gloved hands grip the pen, my knuckles ache. There are many a good place to eat by the docks. The plate that is in front of me is full of bones and crumbs, barely enough left for a mouse. The room I have rented was humble and small, just the thing I needed. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in months, but last night I did. 

Maybe it was the way the air smelled of crisp, clean water. Like snow was getting ready to fall at any moment. The flakes had already accumulated in shallow piles across the ground. Superior was known for its lake effect weather, winter came faster here than the rest of the world. I didn’t mind at all, in fact, it made me excited. It had been a long time since I had squeezed myself into the lower decks of a Laker. This time, I wouldn’t be one of the grunts, I would be taking the role of ship medic. 

Being a medic was the only thing I seemed to be good at now. The Vietnam War was my shotgun style of learning, and I was quick on my feet. The Navy sent me on my merry way once I had served my time, and I was grateful. I had seen too much carnage, too many unnecessary deaths while serving. That’s some shit you never want to see again, let alone talk about. Those memories will be kept for me alone. 

The Captain, a salty man named Thurston, met me just before sundown. Apparently things had not been so peaceful, even here in the US. Looters and pirates still roamed the waters and I had to be wary. Nothing could be as bad as having to look a child, and the barrel of a gun in the eye. As long as I didn’t have to kill anyone or lay witness to the use of extreme torture, I was alright with just about anything. 

We would be leaving at sun up, and all I had to bring was myself. It sounded like an easy enough job to me. Before I shut my eyes tonight, I will look upon the land once more surrendering myself to the void of a lake. The SS Lily Marina would be my lady for the next few days, and I could not wait. 

I hope the other members of the crew and I get along. It would be unfortunate otherwise. Once I return from my journey, I’ll have to stop by and see my parents. I hope they’ll forgive me for not visiting them first. 

L. J. Blackburn 

*Hi! Analyst Evan here! The first entry was short and sweet, a slice into the life of a nomadic ship medic. I was even fooled by how calm and peaceful it was. Upon further research, Luther Blackburn was a decorated soldier. He was awarded the Navy Cross and the Navy Unit Commendation. How cool is that!?

As you continue reading, please remember that this is a one for one copy of the journal’s pages. None of what you read is conjecture on my end, nor is it embellished. I will also warn you that some of the content may be considered horrific and should be tread lightly. Thanks again, and if you are in the area please remember to stop by the Great Lakes Ship Wreck Museum!*

November 9th, 1975 – Lake Superior 

I would have never guessed my first day back on a ship would end so poorly. Such odd occurrences in such a short amount of time. I had awoken just before the sun came up, frost covering the meager window of my room. Packing up the few items I brought was a quick task, and soon I was off towards the docks. SS Lily Marina was a sight to behold, even though it was moored near the gigantic Fitzgerald. Most would have been drawn in by the sight of the larger ship, but the small beauty of the Marina was more enticing to me. 

Captain Thurston greeted me merrily and introduced me to most of the crew. Only a handful of names stuck in my mind. Case, the ship cook was a larger man with curly red hair. Richard, who was the Captain’s first mate, reeked of cigarettes and wore a blue stocking cap atop his head. A few of the other names were Westley, Howard, Lyle, amongst the ones I couldn’t remember. They seemed like a good crew, one that wouldn’t have too many scuffles unless it revolved around a game of cards. 

I felt at home early off. The medical area of the ship was small yet stocked with just about anything I could ever need. Unless there was an accident, I expected to be doling out meds for stomach aches. That was an easy enough job. I figured most of my time would be spent alone under the deck, most likely reading one of the books I had brought. My time being away for war kept me from a great many of my hobbies. Classical literature being one of them. Peace by Gene Wolf sat deep within my bag. 

I was almost comfortable when the commotion began. A ruckus of whoops and voices traveling throughout the ship. Pretty soon my name was called, and I was forced to the surface. My services were in need. Out of seemingly nowhere, the weather has started to change. Brisk waves and whipping wind had turned to large flakes of snow. In almost white-out conditions, chunks of ice started to appear within the water. Large enough that the Captain had commanded for the lookout to give better instructions. We now had obstacles to dodge. It was during that time that something truly odd had happened. 

“There’s a man in the water!” The lookout called from his perch. “Man down! Man in the water!” 

Most of the crew had looked around wildly, wondering who had been stupid enough to fall from the ship. We were only hauling farming supplies. There was no reason to be out on the deck in such horrid conditions. It wasn’t like we were a fishing vessel, looking to bring up catches of crabs from below the choppy surface. It was not one of the crew who had fallen, they were all still squared away safely on the ship. The man in the water was strange. Standing atop a large chunk of ice, still as a statue, sailing on it like a surfboard. 

“What are you waiting for, let’s bring them aboard!” The Captain’s voice rang out. 

That was when my services were called for. Once the rescue mission commenced, the Edmund Fitzgerald disappeared into the distance. Our ship was last in the line of three, we were the only ones who had the time to stop and help. When the man was pulled from the water, the crew was in shock. He was completely naked, skin paler than the winter scene around us. His hands and feet were starting to turn black, along with the other unfortunate appendages that hung from his body. He was also taller than most men I had seen. Probably coming in at damn near seven foot-tall. 

“Jesus Christ, what was he doing out there on the ice? Naked at that?” I half yelled to the crew that carried him in their arms. 

They looked at each other and shook their heads. I was an idiot for asking them a question they weren’t capable of answering. I took the lead towards the medical bay and beckoned them to follow me. The man’s head lolled back as he was carried through the narrow metal pathways. In the brief glimpses I got of his face, I felt a strange sense of familiarity. It struck me as odd, the feeling. How could I have known this man? 

“Place him here,” I said, waving my arm to the stretcher-like bed. It was covered in white crinkly paper. As the man was placed atop it, it buckled under his weight. I shouted at the men to bring me as many blankets as they could find before they ran off into the belly of the ship. Then, we were alone. 

“Sir, can you hear me? What is your name?” I said, trying to shake their frigid shoulders. 

A small groan was all I got. Moving around the small room like a mad man, I found any and everything that could warm the man up. Saline that had been warmed up was connected to an I.V. drip. Rubber hot packs were added to all of the arterial zones. In the armpits, between the legs, wrists, ankles, and neck. Once those were in place I covered them in layer after layer of blankets. 

Then, I sat down in my chair and prayed. There was a chance that they were already dead. There was a chance that warming them up would not do anything to save them. But, you’re not dead until you’re warm and dead. That is what my training has taught me. I clasped my hands together and leaned forward on my knees. Watching and waiting was all I could do for now. They had to have the will to pull themselves from the edge of death. 

After a few hours had passed, I made sure to replace the heating elements before checking the vitals of the patient once more. They seemed to be coming around, but were still not awake. A familiar grumble moved its way through my stomach. The smell of stew wafted its way through the closed door, causing my mouth to water. Looking over the patient one last time, I slipped out into the confusing maze of metal and made my way towards the kitchen. 

Case greeted me with a warm smile. His voice was calm and inviting as I entered the mess hall. In one pot he had beef stew, in another was what looked like a huge yellow cake. I smiled as I recognized the cornbread. A delicacy of the south, one of my favorite foods of my past. Squaring my shoulders, I walked up to the kind but imposing man. 

“Evening, Case. Could you get me a bowl, and a slice?” I asked while eyeing the food. It smelled amazing. 

“Anything for the ship medic. If all hell breaks loose, we have to make sure you’re on the top of your game.” Case smiled before turning around to face the stove. I heard the sounds of bowls and plates clinking together before I was presented with my food. As the boat rocked, the soup waffled back and forth within the ceramic. 

“Thank you, Case. I shall enjoy this meal,” I took the food from him almost greedily. 

The stew went down fast, too fast. I thought about asking for more but then thought of the other crew members. Not knowing if everyone else had gotten to eat, I decided against it. Making sure I cleaned my bowl and plate, I returned them to the jolly cook. He took them with a curt thank you and sent me on my way. 

When I returned to the medical bay, my eyes widened to their fullest point. The bed that had been filled with the man from the ice, was now empty. Blankets and hot water bottles littered the floor. The I.V. had been ripped out, the bloody cord also laid on the ground. I winced at the thought of the man tearing it from his flesh in a frenzy. They must have awoken and became scared from the unfamiliarity. Pulling myself from the room, I wandered the halls looking for any signs of life. 

That was when I noticed the trail of blood. It wasn’t anything major, just a few drops here or there. I had to search carefully so as not to miss anything. Eventually I noticed that the blood trail led towards where we were keeping our haul. A collection of dried soy beans and corn for farm usage. The equivalent of animal feed. That was when I heard the sound of crunching. 

It sounded like biting down on week old stale bread that had been baked too long. Or like rocks being slammed together. Crunch, crunch, crunch. And then cough, cough, crunch. I saw that the door to the hold was ajar when it should have been closed. The trail of blood had ended at the opening, disappearing into the darkness. I felt my heart beat quicken as I approached the cracked door. Reaching up an unsteady hand, I pushed, and the metal groaned beneath my touch. 

“Hello?” I whispered softly. I was scared, unsure of what sight waited for me behind the threshold. 

There it was again, crunch, crunch, crunch, cough. When I finally grew the courage to peek inside I saw something I could never unsee. The man from the ice had his back to me. His naked body, shades of white and purple, was squatting down in front of an opened bag of feed. Using both hands interchangeably, he shoveled heaping handfuls of dried soybeans into his open mouth. The man tried to chew and swallow, but his bloated cheeks spared no room. He could barely even close his jaw, his mouth was so full. Then, I watched as he projectile vomited whole kernels of soybean back onto the floor. 

I was disgusted and distraught. “Please! Stop what you are doing! That is not meant to be eaten!” 

The man stopped what he was doing and turned to face me. With eyes as wide and as sad as a child’s, the man’s mouth fell open. Out of his slack jaw fell tons of seeds, covered in strings of saliva. I stifled a gag and pushed forward into the room. Slowly, the man stood up from his crouch. As he reached his full height, I felt a shiver pass through my body. His tall and slender frame felt imposing. It felt like when I was a child standing in front of a scarecrow on my grandfather’s farm. Something horrific and just a step shy from being human. But this man was human, and he needed my help. 

“Please come back to the medical bay with me. If you are hungry, let me fetch you some food. You are unwell and need to be treated.” I pointed at the man’s hands and feet. With how black they were, I was sure necrosis had already started to set it. There wasn’t much I could do about the ruined product, but that wasn’t really my issue. What I needed to deal with was the health of my patient. I needed to keep my oath to do no harm. Finally the man moved towards me, and I led him out of the room. 

“I… I am hungry.” The man finally choked out when we made it back to the med bay. I was surprised by his voice, it sounded guttural and forced. 

“Do not worry, as soon as we have you settled I will get you some food.” 

I made due on my promise. As soon as the I.V. was back in his arm, I told the man I would be back and headed for Case. After quickly explaining the situation, Case told me to head back to the room and he would follow behind with bowls of stew. I thanked him many times before leaving the kitchen. Sitting alone in the room with the man while we waited for Case felt like torture. Over and over again he repeated that he was hungry. The same tone and cadence every time, sounding like a broken record. 

“Two orders of stew coming up,” Case said, as he entered the room. 

“Oh, Case, thank you!” I shot out of my seat and went to help the man. 

The man from the ice bolted upright in the bed, towering over us even when sitting down. He held out his frost-bitten hands greedily and took one of the bowls. Without the use of the spoon, he upturned the bowl and drank it down in big gulps. The man ate so fast that some of the thick stew broth trailed down either cheek, spilling onto his bare chest. 

“What were you doing out on the ice?”  I finally asked the man.

“Hungry. Waiting.” He responded between gulps. 

“Why were you waiting out there?” I asked him, eyebrows cocked in curiosity.

“Waiting for food.” He answered. 

I furrowed my brow and pondered what that meant. If he had said he was waiting for help that would have made more sense. Even so, it didn’t explain how he had gotten atop the ice, or why he was naked. I thought of drugs, or some sick punishment, but nothing made sense. Looking over at Case, he too wore a look of confusion. The man took the second bowl and drank that one just as greedily. 

“I’ve never seen a man eat my food with such vigor,” Case said, almost chuckling. 

“Neither have I,” I answered back. It truly was a sight to behold. 

When the man was done he set the bowl down on a small table and drew his hand across his mouth. Once the mess had been wiped, he licked the back of his hand not wanting to waste a drop. I felt a small shiver pass through me as I looked at the man’s face again. He looked so familiar. It was like a word on the tip of my tongue that kept escaping me. I felt rage start to fill me as I wracked my brain. My own memory was intensely frustrating, age and trauma punching holes in it. 

“Do you have a name?” I asked the man. 

“Lauren,” was all the man said in response. He still licked at the back of his hand like a cat having a bath. 

“Are you still hungry, Lauren?” Case asked, chuckling. 

“Hungry,” Lauren replied. He sounded like a robot, or like he was speaking while inhaling. 

“I’ll run back to the kitchen and get you some more food.” 

As Case turned on his heel, I sat back down in my chair and reached for my book. As I held it open in my lap, I tried to pretend I was reading. All the while I was watching Lauren with my peripheral. He had finally stopped licking his hand but traded it for something else. He had started to chew on his lips numbly. Peeling off the dead skin that had grown on his lips before chewing and swallowing. Then he bit down harder. I heard the sickening pop of teeth through skin. 

“Oh fuck,” I said, jumping up from the chair. I hadn’t expected him to do something so extreme. I screamed for him to stop, reaching for his arm as he struggled. He tried to keep me away, further biting into the skin around his mouth. He tore his own lips with a sickening sound, blood springing to the surface. I felt my stomach churn as I struggled to get him to stop. That was when Case burst through the door, dropping the stew at his feet. 

“Hold him while I prepare the sedative!” I yelled at Case. I flitted around the room like a butterfly on cocaine, searching for the syringe. Once I had found it, I pierced Lauren’s I.V. and depressed the plunger, injecting the medicine straight into his veins. Pretty soon, the struggling – and the biting – stopped. 

I looked down at the horror below me. Lauren’s face was smiling even though he was out cold. Not because he wanted to either. In the short amount of time that had passed, he had managed to tear off both the top and bottom lip. Gums and teeth exposed in a haunting and bloody smile. Case started to heave, as I pushed him out of the room. I didn’t want him puking on the floor, and the best way was to get him out of sight of Lauren. 

“What the fuck was that!?” Case screamed, gripping me by the shoulders. 

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this before. He just kept saying he was hungry!” I cried. My heart felt like it was going to burst out of my chest, my lungs lodged in my throat. My hands shook by my sides, not wanting to step back into the room. But, I needed to. I needed to keep watch, in case Lauren woke up again. I was utterly terrified but needed to continue my role as medic. 

“I am staying far away from here. That was fucked up,” Case shook his head as he walked away. 

I wanted to beg him to stay, but knew that I shouldn’t. Case signed up to cook, not to witness a man eat his own face. That was my job, and mine alone. As I write this, the memory of Lauren’s face before the harrowing event, flashed through my mind once again. This time, it was paired with an image of a wanted poster and a full name. Lauren Anderson, wanted for looting and piracy. He was labeled as one of the greediest bastards to ever sail on Superior’s waters. Even though I finally remembered who he was, it did me no good. I still had to treat him just the same. 

Tonight I will sleep in the room next to the med bay, with one eye open. For I am scared of what is to come if he awakes from his slumber. Hopefully, tomorrow is a better day.

L. J. Blackburn

*Hello all, Evan here again. As we get into our last entry I implore you to read this passage on an empty stomach, for it is horrific. Although the journal entry is one of the most interesting things I have ever read, it gave me nightmares. I do hope that this tale of the thing that brings the winter, plagued by greed, inspires you to come and visit us. We will have the journal on full display for you to study at the Great Lakes Ship Wreck Museum. We hope to see you soon!*
  

November 10th, 1975 – Lake Superior 

I was awoken to the sounds of frantic voices and pounding on my door. Richard was screaming my name and wailing his fists against the metal. I shot out of bed and went to answer as Richard snaked himself inside and shut the door behind him. He was standing there, clutching one of his arms, which was bleeding profusely. It looked like his hand was dangling from a thread, wet bones showing through the fat and viscera. 

“Richard, what happened!?” I half screamed. 

“That thing fucking bit me!” He screamed back, clutching his wounded limb to his chest. 

Without a second thought, I ripped the belt from my pants and affixed it just below his elbow. Quickly, the blood slowed as it clamped down on the artery. What was a solid flow turned to a drip here or there. Richard was grateful for my fast thinking, his skin was already starting to turn grey from the blood loss. 

“What thing?” I asked him.

“That fucking monster that we pulled from the ice. I know it looks like a man, but it is not a man. Men do not run around on all fours tearing flesh from the bone with their teeth.” Richard’s voice hissed out as he groaned from the pain. 

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What the FUCK do you mean? I meant what I fucking said, are you slow?” This time he hissed in annoyance at my question. Truly though, even with what I had witnessed the night before, it was hard to believe. 

“Stay here, I will check next door and make sure the coast is clear. If it is, follow me into the med bay and I will patch you up as best I can. If what you say is true, then I need to sedate Lauren as fast as possible.” 

“It has a fucking name? And it’s Lauren?” Richard practically spat before laughing maniacally. “You shouldn’t bother sedating him, he should be shot on sight.” 

“That is a bit of an extreme,” I sighed, giving him a sideways glance. 

“Not if you’ve seen what I’ve seen. He didn’t bite YOU. He bit me, and others. I’m not so sure they fared as well as I did.” Richard was starting to look more grey as the time passed. 

I figured that I needed to hurry, and exited the room – making sure to close the door behind me. Inside of the medical bay I saw the remnants of the events from the night before. Blood and medical equipment strewn about the room. Lauren was nowhere to be seen and I was grateful. Grabbing all of the sedatives and gauze I could find, I returned to my room and patched Richard’s wounds as best as I could for the time being. 

That was when another scream tore through the air. It echoed and stretched throughout the belly of the ship. The metal network of pathways creating a haunting symphony of pain. I knew it was stupid of me, but I had to do what I could to help. Nothing good would come of me barricading myself inside of the med bay. Nothing good would come from hiding. I needed to steel my resolve and do what I could to help. That was my job, afterall. 

When I passed by the kitchen, my heart fell into my stomach. Chunks of skin with curly red hair littered the ground. Fragments of bone crunched underfoot as I unintentionally stepped upon them. I felt bile rise in my throat as I took in the scene before me. The kitchen and mess hall were truly a mess. Blood, skin, organ, and bone were laid upon the floor like a scattering of animal bait. Further into the kitchen, just behind the counter, was Case’s torn body. His abdominal cavity had been opened up. 

Ribs broke through and pointed at odd angles. His skin was torn and jagged – body covered in large bite marks. Had we not been in a boat, miles from any sort of land, I would have thought a bear had come aboard and mauled the jolly cook. His face and most of his scalp was missing, the whites of his eyes and teeth glittered like jewels under the light. I stifled a cry as I pressed two fingers to his throat. The man was obviously dead, but a part of me had to check anyway. 

“Time of death, 10:22 AM.” I looked at the watch on my wrist, and stepped back from the horrific sight. It took everything within me not to vomit. Even during my tours in Vietnam, this was by far the worst thing I had ever seen. It was like somebody had planted a bomb deep within Case’s ribcage before setting it off. Another scream alerted me that there was no time to be standing around. 

I tore through the kitchen, slipping slightly on a wet piece of flesh. I caught myself on the counter and steadied my feet before trying to leave once more. Using the scream like a bat with echolocation, I made my way to the upper levels of the boat. Before too long, I heard the crack of gun fire tearing through the air. Then two more shots popped off before I was thrown into an uncomfortable silence. 

Sitting upon the stairs to the deck was Captain Thurston. He was bloody and breathing hard, missing half of one leg, and a few large chunks from his left arm and shoulder. The Captain looked at me with sorrow in his eyes. As if he had done something wrong. Panting as I ran up to him, I reached out a hand that he swatted away. 

“Do not worry about me, Luther. Take this,” Thurston handed me a revolver. Its weight was heavy in my shaking hand. 

“Sir, I don’t understand what is going on,” I practically cried. 

“You have to kill it. And if you can’t, you have to sink the ship.” The Captain gripped my arm tightly with his one good hand. He stared into my eyes with a fierceness I have never known.

“Sink the ship?” I questioned. 

“It can’t be allowed to make it back to land,” was all he said before passing out. 

I had no time to tend to his wounds, and held an unfamiliar gun in my hand. Using guns wasn’t necessarily something I had done frequently, even while in the Navy. At least I knew to pull back the hammer before firing, that much was true. Once again, I steeled my resolve and kept pushing through. Another scream tore through the silence, this one different from the rest. This was not a scream of pain, it was a guttural wail based in insatiable hunger. 

The man who had eaten his own face was leaving a trail of bodies with bites taken out. That much was clear to me. Based on everything I had seen, my oath to do no harm was thrown out the window. Lauren had to be put down like a rabid dog, and if not, we were to go down with it. My feet thundered up the metal staircase as I finally made my way onto the deck. 

Lauren’s naked body had transformed into something that only a nightmare could conjure. His pale skin stretched and pulled over bones that were way too large to be contained. His height had grown even more immense, most likely almost reaching eight foot-tall. His bared teeth and lipless face were a grotesque sight. Yellowed eyes stared back at me from across the way as he, or it, turned to face me. As if on instinct I held up the gun and aimed it at his head. Depressing the trigger a loud bang rang out through the sky. 

As the shot rang out, Lauren took off like it was the start of a race. Tearing across the deck on all fours. I watched as he galloped through the large snowflakes. I felt them melt as they made contact with my bare skin, burning slightly. The shot had missed. As I cocked back the hammer for the second time, Lauren grew ever closer. This time, the shot landed, hitting him right between the eyes. Even so, he kept running. 

“Keep him on the deck, keep him in sight!” Richard’s voice called out. I couldn’t see him, but I could hear him loud and clear. 

“What are you gonna do!?” I yelled back, doing what I could to stay out of the monster’s path. 

“I’m gonna ram us into those rocks to starboard!” Richard said. 

That was when Lauren changed direction, steering himself away from me. At first, I was grateful to be out of harm’s way, until I realized where he was going. Lauren was headed to Richard, and there was no way to stop him. Even as I shot him a second and third time, Lauren did not falter. He kept galloping on all fours, looking more animal than human. 

I didn’t make it in time. I wasn’t able to stop Lauren, I wasn’t able to save Richard. Hell, I wasn’t able to save anyone. All I could do was shut the door to the room they were in, and lock it. As I finish writing this entry, I shall seal this journal away into my waterproof oil skin. The rocks are coming, and they are coming fast. I am the last man alive on the SS Lily Marina, and I will go down with the ship. If, by chance, this somehow makes it back to land, and if you ever see a naked man out on the ice, do not help them. 

Lake Superior is insatiable, and I am merely the next to temporarily quell her hunger. 

L. J. Blackburn