Chapter Fifteen
I tuck Luke back into bed after his shower. He had another intense coughing fit while trying to get dressed, bad enough that I had to physically help him lie down. He isn’t going to be any help to me like this so I would rather have him sleep it off for the day.
Before leaving the room and letting him sleep, I ask, “What are we going to do, Luke? We can’t stay here any longer. I really don’t think it's a good idea to just walk out of here on foot but I also don’t see any other options.”
“I agree, going on foot is a bad idea, especially when I feel this shitty. And, no offense, you can’t tell which way is north to save your life,” he says, trying to smile through his exhaustion.
“Someone is bound to show up at some point. I only have this place booked a few more days so, at the bare minimum, some cleaners will have to show up. We just need to bunker down a couple more days and get help from whoever comes.” He struggles to stay awake as he says the last few words, so I simply nod my agreement before making sure he has everything he needs and letting him get some sleep.
“Yell if you need anything,” I say over my shoulder as I turn to pull the door closed, but he is already asleep.
I let my mind try to work through our problems as I head back downstairs.
I can’t think of a better plan than Luke’s, but I hate the idea of staying out here any longer.
The main issue is I don’t think he could manage walking through the woods in his state, even with my help.
All I can do, right now, is cross my fingers and hope he feels better fast.
When I get to the kitchen, I pace around for a bit before stopping and looking back out the window.
I feel like I need to see if the doll is still there.
It isnt, which makes me feel relieved but also feeds that nagging corner of my mind that doesn’t know how reliable I am right now.
Before I step away from the window, the shed catches my eye.
Maybe I should go and give that a second look through.
I don’t have anything else to do and I can’t just sit around waiting to see if Luke will get better or worse.
I walk over to my bag, grabbing a sweater and the beanie Luke brought for me.
It feels like the temperature drops every time I step outside.
_____
It’s midmorning now and the property feels safer when the sun is higher in the sky, but I know better.
I grab one of the kitchen knives, wishing I had the bear spray but it’s in Luke’s bag upstairs.
I don’t want to risk waking him by going to look for it.
I stop at the front door, my hand hesitating on the deadbolt.
I peer out the window, looking back and forth as I scan the tree line.
I take a deep breath and hold it before slowly opening the door.
Wind hits me hard, stinging my face. The sun is tricky; it makes you think it's warmer and more alive than it is. The second I step outside reality strikes–this place is old and dead. It’s freezing and abandoned.
It strikes me how odd it is that this place would be rented out by anyone.
How hasn’t this place been shut down? Which pulls my mind straight back to doubting myself.
It can’t be as bad as it feels. This is all in my head, but it doesn’t change the fact that I want to leave.
I make a beeline for the shed, not looking around, not letting myself get distracted.
I open the door with ease this time, stepping in and pulling it closed after me.
I’m not taking any chances as I hoist the wood plank back on the door, securing myself inside.
Immediately, I feel more at ease. Please let there be something useful here.
Now that I can spend more than a few chaotic moments, I find a light switch that works.
My mind becomes even calmer with the light on and everything feels like it’s going to be okay.
I slow down and decide I need to look through every shelf and table.
I start back where I found the flashlights, setting the knife on one of the shelves as I empty every box and recycled coffee can.
I find it’s mostly discarded tools or various types of nails, bolts and screws.
I move on to the table under the window.
The top is mostly bare, some pencils and paper are scattered around but not much else.
There are two drawers on the front of the table.
When I open the top one, there are two walkie-talkies in it.
My heart beats fast, excitement pulsing through my veins.
I switch one of them on but there’s nothing but static.
I don’t give up as I start flipping through the channels, calling out into the airwaves for help but never getting a response.
After a few minutes of feeling hopeful, it becomes clear that something isn’t working.
They aren’t picking anything up, but that doesn’t mean they would be a terrible thing to have on hand for Luke and me, so I set them to the side to take with me.
Next, I open the second drawer, and this one is filled to the top with all sorts of paper.
I pull the whole thing out and dump it out onto the table.
Most of its assorted paperwork—blueprints or designs in general.
One of them jumps out at me. It’s some sort of plan for the opening in the basement.
Not only the drawing of how he wanted to build it but a long list of the building materials he needed and notes on how long it took to build.
Luke was right; it is some sort of tunnel.
I flip around the piece of paper and sketched on the other side is a very crude map.
The first thing my eyes are drawn to is a house with a red circle around it.
It only takes me a moment to realize it’s the cabin and attached to it is a long, winding tunnel, leading out into the woods.
I take a moment to look over the page, hoping it could give me some clues to what’s around but there isn’t much on it.
Besides the cabin, there’s a tree drawn bigger than the others, a river and a very simplistic tower symbol but none of it is marked with anything definite.
It all feels very weird. I wonder if one of the old owners was involved with something illegal?
Running moonshine through the basement maybe…
some kind of serial killer sneaking bodies out into the woods…
I stop the thoughts before I can fall deeper into conspiracies that aren't going to help me.
As I keep sorting through, I find a few pages from a smaller notebook.
Pages that look just like the notes I found in the Bible.
As I look through these new papers, they reignite the dread that is becoming deeply rooted.
They are drawings, one of a hunched over, hairless, humanoid creature with long limbs and sunken eyes.
Another is a child, human but with the same sunken eyes and long arms. I shiver, unable to help but think of Maya and her sister, although I have no reason to think it would be either of them.
The last one is of what I think is a wolf or a bear maybe.
It’s on all fours but has no hair, emaciated but with human hands instead of paws.
All of them share the same glowing yellow eyes.
The orbs I’ve been seeing around the property flash in my mind and I shudder. Something has been watching.
I grab the walkie-talkies and the pictures, ready to run as fast as I can back to the cabin.
The second I get out of the shed, I feel eyes on me.
I don’t look. I want to but I force my eyes forward.
As I get to the top of the steps on the porch, I hear crashing through the woods behind me and then the screaming starts.
I don’t let myself become distracted; I get the door open and slam it closed, locking it behind me before stumbling backwards away from the door.
I don’t wait to see if anything appears; I just turn and run back up the stairs.
Not only do I want to check on Luke, but I need the immediate feeling of safety he brings me just by being near him.
I don’t stop running until I’m standing over him.
He is still under the covers, but his eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling, and he is quietly muttering something to himself.
I set the walkie–talkies on the bedside table before leaning in close, my ear right by his mouth, but all I can hear are incoherent, rushed whispers.
I softly say his name, setting my hand on his chest. He sits up frantically and pushes my hand out of the way, a scream of pain ripping from his throat.
He looks over at me with wild eyes, sweat dripping down his face and then his gaze drops to his chest, his hand firmly clasped to it.
He reaches down and lifts his shirt. Across his torso are three long, deep scratches, the skin around them already red and raised.
“Oh my god! What happened?” I ask horrified, barely able to stop myself from reaching out and touching the injured skin.
“Luke, when did this happen? You didn’t have this earlier. ”
“I don’t know. I was sleeping. I was dreaming, I think.” His eyes start closing as he slowly sinks back into the bed, but I pat his arm, keeping him awake.
“What do you mean? What was your dream? Were you sleepwalking again…?”
“I don’t… remember. I was in bed and then someone was pulling me through the trees.
They were singing, I think. Then... pain.
Then I saw you, standing over me,” he says and I can tell he’s scared.
I’ve never seen him scared before. I don’t know what to do or how to comfort him.
In all the time I have known him, I’ve never seen him need it.
I lean down, resting my forehead on his, feeling how much worse his fever has gotten. He isn’t getting better.
“It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m going to go grab your first-aid kit and fix you up.” He stares up at me with tired, frightened eyes before they slowly close.