Bit stood and turned at the waist, stretching his lower back muscles. Eugene had warned that the cabins weren't luxury accommodations, but Bit also hadn't expected this trip to take on features of camping out in the wild.
The room flickered into darkness for a split second, though the screens remained untouched due to the additional battery backup unit he’d brought from D.C. At least he was stocked up on instant ramen packets and a healthy supply of Skittles and Twizzlers, not that he’d touched the latter since his run-in with Paula Stillman.
What he really had a hankering for was a large pizza and garlic knots. He’d texted Sylvie a little while ago, and she had promised to deliver. She and Brook should be here soon, with Theo maybe ten minutes behind them, given that the weather had turned somewhat faster than the forecast had predicted.
The generator outside whined higher, the sound barely audible over the wind's persistent howl. Through the only window in the cabin, the swirling snow was illuminated in the security lights he'd installed yesterday. The pines at the edge ofthe clearing bent under the weight of fresh powder, branches dipping dangerously low.
Bit grimaced when the generator made another odd noise, but he still reclaimed his chair in hopes of finding some information on the reentry program where Heather Moore had volunteered. Theo had been provided some names, so it shouldn’t take long to produce a few background checks.
A sharp thud echoed against the back wall of the cabin.
Bit swiveled in his chair, staring at the location of the sound. It had been solid. Solid enough not to originate from the wind or some settling timber.
“Snow,” Bit reasoned before swallowing hard. Images of oversized bears and hungry coyotes formed in his mind, and he realized that maybe loose dentures weren’t all that bad. “It was probably just snow sliding off the roof.”
He turned back to his screens, muttering over and over again how there was nothing to worry about. After all, bears and coyotes were highly intelligent. They were probably hunkered down somewhere warm, waiting out the storm.
Wild turkeys, on the other hand, were feathered demons. Someone had taken a video of a tom turkey attacking some joggers on the Anacostia Riverwalk Trail. Bit had shown it to Theo, but not even an entire rafter of wild turkeys could prevent that man from keeping to his daily jogging routine.
Before Bit could touch his keyboard, a second thud followed, softer than the first but somehow more deliberate. He reminded himself that the perimeter sensors would have alerted him if anyone approached within fifty yards of the cabin.
Maybe he should have made the distance at least seventy-five or one hundred, but he’d thought at the time such a large coverage area might be overboard. He should have trusted his instincts.
Bit shifted warily in the chair, his stomach tightening as he quickly minimized his work windows and pulled up the security feed. He cycled through the cameras he'd mounted around the property. The security cameras revealed only swirling sheets of snow. No discernible shapes or figures interrupted the relentless fall, offering no hint of movement beyond the storm's icy grip.
“This is how every horror movie starts,” Bit whispered, letting out a nervous laugh that sounded forced even to his own ears. “Isolated cabin. Snowstorm. Weird noises. Next thing you know, there's an axe through the door.”
The generator's whine suddenly dropped in pitch again, dimming the side lamp momentarily. In that half-second of semi-darkness, he reached for his phone. Brook and Sylvie had to be minutes out, right?
“Get it together, Bobby,” he told himself, using his actual name as his sister did when she wanted him to be serious. “You're a professional. With a gun. And training.”
Something scraped against the outer wall. The sound was different from previous noises. He stood, not taking his focus off the security footage at the back of the cabin. For a brief second, he thought he caught sight of a dark blur in the right corner. It was gone as quickly as it appeared. No alarms were activated, which meant it was probably just a trick of the snow-heavy branches.
Bit switched to the perimeter camera feed, enlarging the window to fill his central monitor. The high-definition display showed nothing but a white sheet of snow, pixels blurring as the wind whipped flakes against the lens. He leaned closer, eyes straining as he toggled between camera angles.
The northeast corner, facing the tree line.
The south side, overlooking the path to the other cabins.
The western approach from the main road.
Nothing but snow and darkness in every frame.
He pulled up the motion detection logs just to be certain. Since no alerts had been triggered, that meant whatever had passed by the camera hadn't crossed the invisible parameter line he'd programmed.
Or there had never been anything there at all.
He drummed his fingers against the desk, considering his options. It was probably nothing, and his imagination had gone into overdrive. Yet his unease persisted to the point of initiating a sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He reached up and shifted his knit hat.
Sylvie would never let him hear the end of this, should he fess up...which he usually did at some point.
“Shit,” Bit groaned, pushing off the desk. “I hate being the responsible one.”
The expletives continued under his breath as he shoved his phone into his front pocket. He shrugged into his heavy winter jacket, zipping it to his chin before wrapping a scarf around his neck. Gloves, hat pulled lower, boots laced tight, and flashlight in hand. Each item was another layer between him and whatever waited outside.
As an afterthought, he wrote on a sticky note that he’d left the cabin to walk the perimeter. If anything happened to him, at least the team would know there was foul play by another individual or a feathered demon.
Bit drew a deep breath, gloved hand on the knob, and counted down from five before yanking open the door. His eyes watered instantly upon stepping outside into the frigid air. Wind clawed at his clothes, somehow managing to find every gap in his layers. He squinted against the assault of snowflakes, sharp as needles against his exposed cheeks.
