Chapter 1 #2
Shane's jaw clenched, a muscle jumping in a way that shouldn't have been attractive but absolutely was.
We stared at each other for a long moment, and I became hyperaware of how close he was—close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body and see the silver flecks in his storm-gray eyes.
When his gaze dropped to my mouth and lingered there, my lips parted involuntarily.
Then footsteps shuffled above us—Walt, moving around on the second floor.
The sound broke whatever tension had been building between us.
"That's none of your business."
"How long has he been living here? Years? Decades?" I pushed, despite the danger in Shane's expression. "Why isn't he in a hospital? A care facility? Somewhere that can properly help him?"
Shane's jaw clenched so tight I saw a muscle jump. "You think I haven't tried that? You think I'm keeping a sick old man in an abandoned lodge for fun?"
"Then why?"
"Because the last time I tried to get him into a facility, he tried to kill himself.
" His words came out like bullets, sharp and painful.
"Stood on the roof of the intake building, ready to jump rather than leave this place.
This lodge is the only reality he recognizes.
Take him away from it, and he completely breaks down. "
The pain in his voice made me pause. "So you're what, playing along with his delusion?"
"I'm keeping him alive and as happy as possible." Shane's hands clenched at his sides. "I'm a certified paramedic with additional training in geriatric care. I manage his diabetes, his heart medication, his dementia symptoms. I've been his sole caregiver for two years."
"Alone? That's insane." I found myself genuinely concerned despite our confrontational start. "I'm Raven, by the way. Raven Duggan. And you're Shane?"
"Shane Wolfe. I own this place and several acres around it. And yes, I care for Walt alone.”
“What about the liability?”
"What would you have me do?" His voice rose, echoing through the empty lodge. "Lock him in a psych ward where he'll be sedated into compliance? Watch him waste away in a nursing home he doesn't recognize? He has no family. No insurance. No one else who gives a damn."
“What about when winter comes?”
“We camp together here when we can. I have a generator running. When it’s really bad, I tell him the lodge is being closed for deep cleaning and we stay in my cabin a few miles away.”
“Can’t you keep him there all the time then?”
“I work. I’m a paramedic. If he’s not watched, he comes right back here and starts “working’ again.”
"There have to be programs, resources."
"With two-year waiting lists and requirements he can't meet. Walt's been here on and off since the lodge closed. In his mind, he never left. This is his home, his purpose, his entire identity." Shane's voice dropped, exhausted. "I'm doing the best I can with an impossible situation."
I studied him for a long moment—this angry, exhausted man who'd taken on the impossible task of caring for someone society had forgotten. The medical supplies made sense now, and his protective fury.
"I can help," I said.
"I don't need your help."
"Yes, you do. You're running yourself into the ground. How long since you've had a full night's sleep? A day off?" I saw the truth in his face. "I can keep quiet about Walt. Edit him out of any footage. But more than that, I can create content that keeps people away from here."
"What are you talking about?"
"After my initial Halloween video, I can take away the temptation of exploring this place.”
“How?”
“I’m not sure. I just came up with the idea. Maybe give it a reputation for cops, security, whatever will keep people out." I met his gaze directly. "In exchange, you let me stay for a week so I can film my Halloween special. And I'll help with Walt when I'm here."
Shane stared at me for a long moment. "Why would you do that?"
"Because I know what it's like to watch someone you care about slip away, and have everyone else act like they're already gone." My grandmother's face flashed in my mind. "Because Walt deserves dignity. And because you're going to burn out and then he'll have no one."
Shane's expression shifted, something vulnerable flickering beneath the anger. "One week. You help with Walt, you keep him out of your footage, and you make this place urbex poison."
"Deal."
"If you betray him, if you put Walt at risk in any way, I will destroy everything you've built. Your channel, your reputation, your entire life. Do you understand?"
The threat should have scared me. Instead, it sent an unexpected thrill through my body. This man would burn the world to protect someone he cared about.
"I understand."
He stepped back, and I could finally breathe properly. "You can stay in the west wing. Don't go near Walt's area without me. Don't film him. And don't even think about mentioning him online." Shane turned to leave, then paused. "Why do you really do it? Explore places like this?"
The question caught me off guard. "Because abandoned places are broken and beautiful and forgotten."
He nodded, seemingly satisfied. "One week," he said. "Then you disappear and never come back."
One week in an abandoned lodge with a dangerously compelling man and his confused ward.
I pulled out my laptop and began reviewing the footage I'd captured before Shane arrived.
The thermal anomalies around Walt. The EMF spikes.
The way the temperature had dropped in his presence.
The audio of him humming with what sounded like harmony underneath—impossible harmony from voices that shouldn't exist.
My subscribers were going to lose their minds.