Chapter 12
Rowan squinted through the windshield and watched lightning streak across the sky, highlighting the thick, dark clouds. Why not add early spring thunderstorm to the list of things that happened today?
So what if there was only one thing on the list?Ex-boyfriend objects during weddingmade for a stupendously epic, one-item list.
Fat, heavy raindrops splattered on the windshield faster than the wipers could clear it, obscuring her view of the narrow road. It’d been a couple of years since she’d been up there and the last time she’d ridden with Claudia. The headlights bore a small hole through the darkness so she barely made out the outline of the narrow bridge before she rattled over it. At least she knew she was close to the cabin. Unless there was another narrow wooden bridge over a wide creek. She leaned closer over the steering wheel and slowed to a crawl. Finally, the lights glinted on the batteredturn here if you’re lostsign.
She’d asked Claudia the first time where people turned when they weren’t lost. She’d had no idea since they were never lost. Rowan knew then there was more than one way to be lost and envied her friend her confidence. Now, she knew where she was going and she still felt lost.
The road veered to the right and continued to wind through the abundant woods. Lightning cracked and lit the sky as she broke through the tree line into the clearing of the cabin. Another flash lit up the small two-bedroom cabin, giving the whole scene an ominous and creepy feeling.
“This is how horror movies start.”
She pulled parallel to the door so she had only a few feet between her and being under the covered porch.
“Alone in the middle of nowhere, Rowan thought she’d reached safety when the solitary cabin came into view.” She affected a dramatic movie-preview voice. “But much like Hansel and Gretel, she would soon learn appearances are always deceiving.
“Awesome. I’m freaking myself out.” She grabbed her phone from the console to pull up the notes app where she’d saved the code for the lock box. Claudia had explained her dad had done that one year after they’d lost the keys and paid out the wazoo for a locksmith.
She shut off the engine and the sound of the rain pounding on the car increased. “Shoot. Maybe I should have gone to a hotel.”
No. She needed this time alone. To think. To not think. To do some freaking yoga in the woods even though she never did yoga, but the idea of doing yoga at a time like this seemed like something she should consider. Even if her version of yoga was propping her fuzzy sock-clad feet up on the back porch railing while drinking coffee and wondering if there were any bears in the woods that would eat her if she decided to actually do yoga.
An involuntary shiver slithered down her back and she shook her shoulders to get rid of it. Tossing her phone and keys into one of the shopping bags, she grabbed the handles and pushed the door open. Ducking her head, she pivoted out of the car, slammed the door closed, and squealed as the rain hit her. Soaked through before she made it the four steps to the steps leading up to the porch, she used a wet sleeve to wipe the drops off her face.
She fumbled with the push-button lock, tilting it up, trying in vain to see the numbers. A bolt of lightning gave her a glimpse of the two rows and she managed to enter the code by feel. The key fell out and she poked her fingers at the door to find the lock. She used her hip to push open the door and stumbled into the cabin, leaning against the door when she closed it.
Even though she knew it was futile, she flipped the light switches next to the door. Nothing.
“Generator.”
Setting the bags on the floor, she squatted and rummaged through them until she found her phone and turned on the flashlight. Staring at the phone in her hand, she looked at the door. “Why didn’t you do that outside, doofus?”
She hated blonde jokes, but at the moment it was probably appropriate. At least she could blame it on stress.
Standing up, she scanned the small open room. Everything was as she remembered it, right down to the crocheted afghan on the back of the couch.
She crossed to the back door and threw the bolt, going out onto the back porch. The cool air hit her body hit her rain soaked clothes. A small door on the left end of the porch led to the attached shed that housed the generator. Her flashlight glinted off the metal lock and she stepped back inside to look for the keys. Thankfully, they hung on a hook next to the door and were even labeled.
“Instructions…instructions…” Claudia had said there was a card taped to the wall next to the door, but the wall was blank. She scanned the floor and found it tucked partway under the corner of a metal locker. Curious, she opened it and found a gas canister. Shining her light in, she found it about three-quarters full.
She turned to the generator and grimaced. She didn’t even change her own oil and now she was going to start a gas generator so she would have electricity. This was either going on today’s list after she blew herself up or on the list of things she could brag about knowing how to do.
At least she had instructions—which she followed to the letter. Several minutes later, the generator was chugging away with less than half a tank of gas that would get her through three to four days if she didn’t run it during most of the day.
The true test came when she flipped the light switch.
“Hurray!” She closed and locked the door, then grabbed the bags from beside the door and carried them to the small table. “Not soStalker in the Woodswith the lights on.”
A shiver racked her body, reminding her she was still wet. She grabbed the shopping bags with the clothes she’d bought at Walmart and carried them into the bedroom, changing into a pair of cheap sweats and a zip-up hoodie. Going through the motions of unpacking the food and finding a pot and pan to make grilled cheese and soup helped her calm her nerves and settle into the cabin. It was still creepy, knowing she was alone with no one else around for miles. If this were a movie, she’d be calling herself stupid for being there. Thankfully, it wasn’t a movie, and she wasn’t a dumb blonde going down into the basement. Besides, if anyone had a reason to go on a murderous rampage it was her.
She carried her bowl and plate to the living room and propped her feet up on the table in front of her. Concentrating on her soup and sandwich, she avoided any deep thoughts about the day’s events. There would be plenty of time to analyze everything that went wrong when she was lying in bed trying to go to sleep. Thinking about it now wouldn’t stop that from happening and she’d rather do it just once.
Returning to the kitchen, she washed the bowl and plate. A loud knock at the door startled her and she dropped the soapy pot in the sink. She turned off the water and stood stock-still.
Maybe it was thunder?
Her hope died a quick death when another knock, sharper than the first, came from the door.
