“Is it—” Dakota whispers.
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” I swing my machete, making sure the brain’s split. “Let’s check the rest.”
She nods, but she can’t stop staring at the thing. Neither can I.
If the rats are turning now, we're more fucked than I thought.
We clear the remaining cabins, maintenance shed, and boathouse. Nothing but dust and emptiness, except for one cabin close to the lake, where three sleeping bags are laid out on beds.
But no sign of any people.
No signs of Cameron, Rosa, or the others.
No signs of struggle either, which I count as good news.
Maybe they’re just delayed.
And the people who have been here… Gone.
Back outside, Dakota’s shoulders slump as she scans the empty compound. “They should be here by now.”
“They’re probably taking it slow with Amelia. Being careful.”
“What if something happened? What if they never?—”
I place my hands on her shoulders, turning her to face me. “Cameron knows what he’s doing. Rosa would never let anything happen to Amelia.”
Her eyes find mine, searching for reassurance I’m not sure I can give. I see doubt creeping in—the uncertainty eating at her, the way her teeth catch her bottom lip.
“Isn’t it weird though? The place is empty, but the gate was unlocked. Those cars…” She nods toward the parking area.
“Off-season.” I scan the tree line, unease prickling along my spine. “Still…”
“You think something’s wrong.”
“I think we stay alert.” I’m about to rest my hand on the small of her back, but stop and walk toward the lodge on the hill. “Let’s get settled before dark.”
“So we just wait?” She falls into step beside me, knife still ready in her hand.
“We prepare.” I glance at her. “And we wait. Not much else we can do.”
Her lips form a thin line, and I can practically hear her thoughts churning and worrying about Amelia, wondering if her parents made it, questioning why the hell she’s stuck with me instead of her sister.
“If they’re not here by morning,” I say, “we’ll?—”
“We’ll what?” Her voice sharpens. “Go looking for them? Leave without them? Head to your secret cottage in the woods?”
There it is. The anger I’ve been waiting for.
“We’ll figure it out,” I say. “But right now, we need to make sure we survive the night.”
“Fine.”
Not fine. Nothing about this is fine. But it’s all we’ve got.
I lead her toward the larger cabin set on a small rise near the lake’s edge.
Tactical advantage: clear sightlines in all directions, elevated position, solid log construction with minimal windows on the north and west sides. A single entrance we can fortify, plus the back door that opens onto a covered porch overlooking the water. Perfect defensive position if—when—we need it.
