“The Tremblays,” I interjected, reminding him of the names we’d seen on all the things they’d left behind.
As far as we’d been able to deduce, the Lakehouse had been a vacation home for a family called the Tremblays.The father Mitchell, a dentist and outdoorsman, the mother Erin, a nurse and avid reader, the son Ryder, and the daughter Avalyn.Their spacious, well-stocked home on a private lake, and the multitude of smiling family photos showed an affluent, healthy, happy family.
When we – Boden, Remy, Serg, Max, Ripley, and myself – moved into the Lakehouse, I had taken Avalyn’s pink pastel bedroom, and Max had taken Ryder’s hunter green bedroom.And just like that, we moved into their lives.We played with their toys, wore their clothes, read their books, fished in their lake.For seven years, we had lived as they did, and we had been happy.
“Right, the Tremblays,” he agreed.“Well, we don’t know what happened to them, but they never came back.So we lived there and took care of it, and I do think that made it our house.We even had to defend it a few times.”
Mostly, we had to secure it from weather or zombies, but there had been a few times where other survivors would stumble onto us.Generally, if they were kind and respectful, we had helped them out, but sometimes, they tried to take what we had.When things turned violent, we had always made sure to protect our home.
“But once we left it, it wasn’t really ours anymore,” Boden reasoned.“In this world, you only have what you can defend, and we haven’t been there.”
“Until Remy went back,” I said.
“Right,” he replied noncommittally.
For days on end, Boden and I trekked through the wild woods.Sometimes, the birdsongs and buzz of insects were disrupted by the distant howls of wolves or the death groans of zombies, but both groups stayed far enough away from us that we never actually saw them.
We travelled cautiously, steering clear of calving elk and moose.Once we’d spotted a grizzly bear (Ursus arctos horribilis) still thin from the long hibernation, but nonetheless with far more meat than the two of us could handle on our own.Boden left it be, and we moved on.
On the afternoon of the thirteenth day of our travels, I finally began to see things that were familiar to me.Forests and fields where I had ventured out, foraging with Serg, checking traps with Remy, or playing with Max.
We’re almost home, I realized, and a wistful longing washed over me.
So many beautiful, rose-colored memories returned.Of Max and Serg and Remy and Boden and Ripley.Nine years ago, we had moved into the house as a beleaguered family of six (counting the lion), and in the years that followed, we had healed, we had grown up and grown together.
And now, we were returning fractured with only the two of us.
“I wish Fae were here,” I said as Boden and I made our way along the winding trail through the woods.“I would’ve liked to show her where Max and I grew up.”
“Maybe when she’s older, we can bring her back here,” Boden suggested.“Assuming that here is somewhere we still want to visit.”
The trail led us right by the cloudberry bushes (where Serg and I would harvest berries for jam every year) before meeting up with the long gravel driveway.Though the driveway was far more grass than stones these days.Boden had always tried to keep it somewhat maintained with an old scythe, but now it grew up to my knees.
Finally, the Lakehouse came into view.It had faded some over time, but the majesty of the chalet-style house was hard to diminish.It sat on the top of a hill, overlooking a lake surrounded by forests with the mountains in the distance.
Other than the overgrown lawn, it looked exactly as we had left it.But when we drew closer, I realized that wasn’t quite true.We’d boarded the windows and doors before we departed, but now, most of the planks were gone.
Someone had been here.
In the window nearest to the front door, the curtains rustled.
Someone wasstillhere.
“Remy?”I called out, and Boden immediately put a hand on my arm, silencing me and stopping me in my tracks.
“We don’t know for sure if she’s here, so we need to be cautious,” he said firmly, and his other hand hovered above the machete sheathed on his hip.
“They’ve already seen us.”I motioned to the window with the rustling drapes.“There is no element of surprise.So we might as well knock and introduce ourselves.”
Boden frowned like he meant to argue, but our attention was immediately diverted by the sound of the front door opening.A crossbow greeted us first, pointed out through the open gap of the door, and a young man’s face hovered behind it.
“Well, that’s not Remy,” Boden muttered under his breath.
5
Stella
“What are you doing on my property?”the young man demanded.
