Chapter 5 #2
The temperature had dropped significantly after sunset. This high up, I’d probably need the wood burner to keep the cabin comfortable overnight for at least another week. So, I snuggled beneath the heavy down duvet plus a flannel-lined quilt and shut my eyes, ready for some much-needed sleep.
Except it stubbornly wouldn’t come.
The wind picked up, and lying down, I could feel the way it blustered against the wooden panels, rocking the tower ever so slightly. A chill crept in, and I stuffed a pillow between me and the outer wall for added insulation.
Scritch scratch scritch scratch scritch
What was that?
I sat straight up, holding the covers to my chest while I tried not to breathe too loudly in the dark, ears strained.
Scritch scratch
Scritch scratch scritch
The sound came from outside.
I stood and snatched my bear spray and a flashlight off the counter, holding them at the ready. My boots waited by the door, but I didn’t waste time lacing them up, slipping into my fleece-lined Crocs instead.
I was self-aware enough to know they were a heavyweight contender in the World’s Ugliest Shoe competition, but the thought of Josh’s disgusted face if he saw me wear them earned an instant purchase.
Plus, they were practical. My kind of shoe.
SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH
Fuck! It was closer now, and sounded big. Was it climbing the stairs?
A gust of wind, stronger than the others, rattled the north-facing windows. I couldn’t see movement outside, but that didn’t mean much when it was this dark.
Or when your intruder was see-through.
SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH
Flipping the lock, I slowly opened the door and braced for something to attack. My exhales trembled out, and the flashlight wobbled in my grip.
What if the ghost came back?
Or, what if it wasn’t a ghost this time? What if it was something worse? A murderer? Or a bear?
I had no hope of outrunning a bear on a good day, let alone in Crocs. Or a hatchet-wielding serial killer, for that matter.
Please, God, I cannot die in Crocs.
I quickly flipped the straps into sport mode so they were secure on my feet before tip-toeing outside, bear spray first.
My vision narrowed to the flimsy beam of the flashlight—I should order one of those crazy bright torches to pick up on my next trip into town—but after a quick sweep around the deck, I could at least breathe easier that the immediate vicinity was clear.
SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH
I whipped around, shining the light through the cabin windows and out the other side.
Eyes gleamed at me in the dark.
“Oh, fuck,” I whimpered, true fear setting in. What the hell is that?
Like an idiot, I froze in place, unable to tear my gaze away from the bright, blinking eyes. I couldn’t see its body or how big it was, as the glare of the windows obscured it. I made another pathetic sound, and its head tilted this way and that, deciding which parts of me would be the tastiest.
Then it made some sort of…chattering noise, as if to scold me for disturbing it, instead of the other way around.
You’re the intruder here, it seemed to say.
My turn to blink, and then squint, straining to see its shape. I took a step to the left, and it skittered across the railing to the opposite corner, like it was coming around to chatter at me some more. Or rip my throat out.
Hard to be sure.
I scooted backwards. Was it going to eat me? I held out the bearspray, ready to aim and pull the nozzle…
“Tower Seven, this is Tower Eight. Come in.”
I screeched.
This time, I couldn’t pass it off as anything remotely rugged. The bear spray fell out of my hand when I jumped, startled, and rolled.
Right off the edge of the deck.
“Fuck!” I yelled and scrambled after it, only pulling back right before I crashed through the dangerously loose railing.
SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH SCRITCH SCRATCH
The terrifying creature pitter-pattered away and shimmied back down one of the tower’s wooden stilts, frightened off by my scream.
Or maybe I’d asserted dominance.
Yes. I’d go with that.
The flash of its tail just before it disappeared stole any of my remaining dignity, however, as I was finally able to identify the life-threatening predator that’d nearly eaten me on my first night in the middle of Nowhere.
“Goddamn raccoon,” I grumbled.
Fuck. Now I had to schlep all the way down the stairs to retrieve my only method of defense. Although I wasn’t sure what good it would do, when the tower seemed more intent on chucking me over the railing than anything else.
“Tower Seven, this is Tower Eight. Do you read?”
I jumped again, reminded of the voice that’d startled me in the first place. Now that I wasn’t about to leap out of my skin, I noted the feminine voice was kind, and maybe a little worried.
The two-way radio crackled again as I hurried back inside. “Tower Seven? Are you there? You didn’t check in on the main radio channel, and we’re getting worried. Do you read?”
I sat at the desk, reached for the small handheld device, and held down the talk button. “Hi, I’m here. Uh. Copy. So sorry, no one was on the main channel earlier, so I thought we weren’t checking in until tomorrow morning. I must’ve switched to a different channel by accident. Over.”
I cringed. I didn’t want to start off being the problem child of the group, and I was rusty on my radio chatter etiquette.
She responded a few seconds later. “Copy. No problem. There are still a few who haven’t checked in yet.
You’re not the last. I mostly just wanted to make sure everyone was situated, so I surfed a few channels to find you.
Call me an old worrywart, but you just can’t be too careful.
We all need to look out for each other. Over. ”
I softened. She sounded mature. Matronly, even. Some in the park had been lookouts longer than I’d been alive. “Copy. Thanks for checking in. Yes, we all need to be careful, especially with… You know. I’m Reece, in Tower Seven. Uh, I guess you know that. You said you’re Tower Eight? Over.”
“I’m Janine,” she answered. “Yeah, Tower Eight. Hello, neighbor. Aren’t you a hike in location? I’ve always wondered what that tower’s trail is like. You get settled in okay?”
So she had the full lake view. I mirrored her relaxed posture on the radio-speak. “Congrats on the assignment,” I said, a tinge of jealousy in my voice. “What a view. Yeah, I hiked in and am all settled, but the trip nearly killed me, heh.”
I cringed again. That joke wasn’t funny anymore. For a lot of reasons.
She chuckled anyway. Good. I didn’t want a stuck-up coworker. Neighboring lookouts often communicated and worked together to lock in the position of a fire for a speedy response. It would be best if we got along, or it could be a long five months.
“Don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I had a hike-in for nearly two decades. I’m an old biddy now, though, so I’ve spent the last few years at a drive-up location. Practically feels like retirement! With a view!”
“Sounds well deserved,” I said with a smile.
“Oh, we’ll get along just fine. So you’re all good, yeah? No ghosts?”
I burst out laughing. Fucking hell, if only she knew.
I wasn’t going to be that guy, though. Who knows what she’d think if I spouted off a bunch of nonsense about a ghost frightening me over the railing and then saving me before I tumbled to my death.
“All good,” I went with once I’d collected myself. “Everything’s great.”
There was a long pause. Had she heard the slight hysteria in my voice?
“Alright. Well, I’m going to move on to another channel to check for the others before bed.
You keep an eye out, and if you need anything, let me know.
We can always switch over to this channel so we don’t clog up the feed. It was nice to meet you, Reece. Over.”
“Wait!” I said. “Um. You wouldn’t happen to know how to keep raccoons away, would you?”
She laughed. “Depends on if it’s decided you’re the toilet, or the den.”
I dragged a palm down my face, shuddering at the thought of waking up to find raccoon scat all over the deck. “Great.”
Janine talked me through a few things to try before we signed off for the night. Tying plastic bags to the railing seemed like the most promising start. Hopefully, they’d scare it off for good.
Would that work on ghosts, too?
Braving a chance encounter with the killer raccoon, I trekked downstairs one more time to retrieve my bear spray and use the outhouse. Back in bed, I realized speaking with Janine had made the lookout feel a smidge less scary than before.
Maybe I didn’t want total isolation, after all.
Scritch scratch scritch scratch scritch
Except for that goddamn raccoon. “GO AWAY!” I shouted.
It skittered off again, scolding me as it went.
I dozed, thoughts of predators, ghosts, and serial killers circling round and round.
Right before I drifted off, I was struck by something so obvious I should’ve considered it hours ago.
I’d spent the day dwelling on whether or not I’d seen the Ghost of Dead Man’s Lookout, but had completely overlooked a question that was even more important.
Who was the Ghost of Dead Man’s Lookout? Could it be the maybe, probably serial killer, Charles Randolph?