Chapter 49
Dusk was closing in, the light thinning as the woods swallowed the road. Tree branches scraped along the sides of the truck.
Caleb’s heart was racing. They put their faith in the idea that she was in one of the lockers, told themselves she was in one of them. She had to be. But what if she wasn’t? His jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it. He forced his hands to stay steady.
The cab stayed silent as they drove toward the second site. Silence felt louder than sirens.
“It’s close,” said Nate, glancing at the map.
They hadn’t been on the road long when his radio crackled. Caleb’s pulse spiked.
Good news?
“Nothing at the second locker,” Chase said. “We’re moving on.”
Caleb’s gut wrenched. His mouth went dry.
No matter. They had to keep going. Had to keep the faith.
Nate pointed ahead. “Next right. Another dirt road.”
The road narrowed down to a single rutted track. Headlights bounced off bushes and low branches.
Then they stopped. A fallen tree lay across the track, its trunk thick, roots ripped up with dirt still clinging to them.
“Fuck,” Caleb muttered. This couldn’t be happening.
They were out of the truck in seconds. The air smelled of damp earth and pine sap. The light in the woods was dim. Darkness wasn’t far off. Caleb dug in, boots slipping as they pushed. The tree didn’t move. Pressure built behind his eyes, hot and blinding. They were burning time they didn’t have.
“Any chains in the truck?” Nate asked, wiping sweat from his face.
Caleb shook his head.
Nate blew out a breath. “Alrighty then. By hand, it is.”
They repositioned themselves, boots skidding in the dirt. Someone counted off. Sweat ran into Caleb’s eyes. His arms trembled.
They attacked it again, prying and shoving, muscles burning as they heaved together, giving it everything they had. Finally, the tree shifted just enough to open a narrow gap along the edge of the road.
“That’s all we’re getting,” Titus said.
By the time they piled back into the truck, Caleb’s hands were scraped raw and shaking. The tremor pissed him off. He shoved it down and started the engine.
It was enough. It had to be.
But it was time wasted, and they didn’t have any to spare.
Another two minutes and the second locker came into view, swallowed by vines and overgrown bushes. If they hadn’t known it was there, they would’ve driven right past.
Caleb parked, and they were out of the truck before the engine fully cut.
The door was even more rusted than the last, the metal pitted and flaking. The padlock was swollen with corrosion.
Titus grabbed the bolt cutters. They stepped back as he braced and snapped through the lock.
The door screeched open.
The smell hit first—rot and mildew, sharp and sour.
“Gah,” Caleb muttered, his stomach wrenching. Something had died in there. The smell crawled up the back of his throat, thick in the worst way.
Titus swept the light slowly. Inside, trash was piled up against the back wall. Old food containers, flattened cans, and something dark on the floor. An animal lay crumpled in the corner, fur matted, its stomach torn open.
Caleb sucked in a breath and immediately regretted it. His chest tightened. For one awful second, he thought this was it.
“Jesus,” Nate muttered.
“No sign of a person,” said Titus.
He scanned the floor, the walls, desperate for something that meant she’d been here.
There was nothing.
Just rot and trash and the echo of another wrong turn.
Caleb walked back to the truck, jaw clenched.
Another locker. Another miss.
And the sky had gone fully dark.
They didn’t linger. The locker door was shut, the broken lock left hanging as they backed away. Past the tree they moved, on to the next locker.
The radio crackled.
“We’re at the third locker on the north side,” said Chase, his voice tight.
Caleb’s breath caught. The cab was silent.
“It’s empty. No sign of her.”
Caleb swallowed the disappointment.
“Copy,” Nate said. “We’re en route to the next locker.”
They followed the main access road south, the dirt packed hard enough to suggest it was still used. Maybe an old utility route or fish and wildlife.
Nate leaned forward. “Spur road coming up.”
It was barely visible—a narrow path branching off the main track. The road dipped slightly, angling toward the water.
Across the lake, faint lights glimmered. Laughter and music drifted over. Life going on.
Normal. It made his skin crawl.
The farther they drove, the darker it got. No lights, no markers. Just trees and the smell of lake water drifting in through the open windows.
Then the road ended.
Black water stretched beyond the headlights.
Caleb braked hard.
“This is it,” Nate said.
Caleb was already out of the truck. Then he froze. Cold slid down his spine.
Tracks, boot prints clustered near the locker, and drag marks cut away from it, long and uneven, leading straight toward the water.
Whatever had been taken from the locker hadn’t come back. Neither had his breath.