“Take a left,” I tell him. “Ninety degrees.”
He turns and begins walking again. I wait until he’s gone a couple dozen paces or so and then have him take another left and we begin a ‘mow the lawn’ pattern.
Another rumble of thunder moves by overhead. This one is louder than the previous and it lasts for a handful of seconds. I really need us to find this cabin. It’s not safe being surrounded by tall objects in a lightning storm.
I’m kicking myself in the ass for having completely fucking ignored the weather. This could turn into a really dangerous oversight. How old was the picture with the cabin? I didn’t even think to look or ask questions. It was about solitude. The pristine location.
The only thing we truly have going for us right now is that there aren’t any predators on this tiny island. Nothing but birds and maybe some small mammals.
Dana stops abruptly and I almost plow into him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I don’t think we’re alone on the island,” he whispers.
Not going to lie. Chills race down my spine. Great. Now we’re in the middle of a slasher movie. Fucking nutballs.
I hand the tote of food to him and take a few steps in the direction he’d been staring. My heart races as I look. Yep, there’s definitely movement. Fuck, fuck, fuck. What did I get us into?
My heart almost stops in relief when I realize what we’re seeing move is the very edge of a flag dancing wildly in the breeze. I turn back to him to take the tote and kiss his cheek. “Fucking brilliant, hot stuff. You found the cabin.”
He stares at me in shock. Laughing, I turn and lead the way. We’d probably just barely missed it through the dense trees on our way by the first time. It blends in rather well.
As we get closer, I can see how incredibly tiny it is. A couple hundred square feet at most. Which is entirely fine. I don’t need a five-star hotel room. Just shelter from the storm.
We get to the door as a streak of lightning, bright enough to have me momentarily seeing stars, flashes overhead. “The door should be unlocked,” I yell over the booming thunder that follows.
Dana rushes to the door and throws it open, but he doesn’t go further. The building is dark. I shove the tote into his hands again and grab the lantern just inside the door with a cord sticking out of it. I pull the cord off and turn it on.
Thankfully, it gives off some incredibly impressive light. Holding it up, I illuminate the cabin, assuring that there’s no one else here. Neither of us wants to be stuck in the middle of a slasher film. It’s blessedly empty, so I step inside.
“Come on,” I tell him and grab his arm, hauling him out of the rain. “Set the tote down by the table.”
I shut the door. It rattles with a gust of wind, so I secure it with the doorstop. That does the trick. It no longer sounds like the boogeyman is trying to bust up in here.
Sighing, I turn to look around. Straight ahead is a woodstove, and behind it on either side are neat towers of wood. To the right is a small bed, caught somewhere between a twin-sized and a double. I see a couple of totes under it, likely holding linens. At the foot of the bed is a door with a half-moon, meaning outhouse. I think I read that there’s a composting toilet, so that’s a win.
Right inside the door is a small round table where Dana’s standing beside the tote of food we brought. On the opposite side of the cabin, across from the bed, is a counter half the length of the wall. The rest of the wall is full of floor-to-ceiling cabinets.
Okay, this is going to work just fine. First things first—time to get dry.
CHAPTER 6
DANA
The cabin is small and cold. I’m not sure if the chill is from the storm, the fact I’m soaked to my bones, or maybe I’m a little shaken from thinking there was someone on the island. There are a ton of horror movies that begin in storms. I don’t want to live one.
“I’m going to start a fire,” Peyton says. “Want to see what’s in the cabinets? Look around? Be nosy? Grab the second lantern right there. Just unplug it.”
I nod. The lantern is a modern, battery powered rechargeable lantern and gives off a lot of light. It makes the cabin look a little less freaky.
Lantern in hand, I move further into the small area as he heads for the wood stove. There aren’t many places to explore except the closed cabinets, so I head for them. I feel sloshy. My feet squish and squeak in my sneakers.
The bottom two shelves are filled with bottled water. The next shelf is stacked with linens and towels. The next shelf is stocked with all kinds of first-aid supplies. Up next is a shelf of thick plastic-packed… meals? Oof. I bet those are delicious. Rounding out the supplies, the top two shelves are packed full of what appear to be clothes.
Under the counter beside the cabinet are some pots, bowls, cups, and utensils. No sink. Probably no running water. That explains the gallon of hand sanitizer on the counter.
Turning back into the room, I find a framed statement on the wall and stop to read it.
