The door screeched open.
The smell hit first—rot and mildew, sharp and sour.
“Gah,” Caleb muttered, his stomach wrenching. Something had died in there. The smell crawled up the back of his throat, thick in the worst way.
Titus swept the light slowly. Inside, trash was piled up against the back wall. Old food containers, flattened cans, and something dark on the floor. An animal lay crumpled in the corner, fur matted, its stomach torn open.
Caleb sucked in a breath and immediately regretted it. His chest tightened. For one awful second, he thought this was it.
“Jesus,” Nate muttered.
“No sign of a person,” said Titus.
He scanned the floor, the walls, desperate for something that meant she’d been here.
There was nothing.
Just rot and trash and the echo of another wrong turn.
Caleb walked back to the truck, jaw clenched.
Another locker. Another miss.
And the sky had gone fully dark.
They didn’t linger. The locker door was shut, the broken lock left hanging as they backed away. Past the tree they moved, on to the next locker.
The radio crackled.
“We’re at the third locker on the north side,” said Chase, his voice tight.
Caleb’s breath caught. The cab was silent.
“It’s empty. No sign of her.”
Caleb swallowed the disappointment.
“Copy,” Nate said. “We’re en route to the next locker.”
They followed the main access road south, the dirt packed hard enough to suggest it was still used. Maybe an old utility route or fish and wildlife.
Nate leaned forward. “Spur road coming up.”
It was barely visible—a narrow path branching off the main track. The road dipped slightly, angling toward the water.
Across the lake, faint lights glimmered. Laughter and music drifted over. Life going on.
Normal. It made his skin crawl.
The farther they drove, the darker it got. No lights, no markers. Just trees and the smell of lake water drifting in through the open windows.
Then the road ended.
Black water stretched beyond the headlights.
Caleb braked hard.
“This is it,” Nate said.
