It’s pleasant, at least until the hull grinds up against the shore of the peninsula.
I jolt forward, startled by how quickly I ran ashore. For a minute, I just sit there and look up at the dense crush of poplar trees forming a wall in front of me. The sun may be warm and golden out here on the water, but the trees seem to swallow up all the light.
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea.
I force myself to stand up, though, thinking about Penelope’s last message, how it’s better to take action than do nothing. She isn’t wrong. Besides, the distance between the peninsula and my pier isn’t far at all. I could swim it easily. But I still feel like I just breached into some other world.
I slide my phone out and skim through the torrent of messages from Abi and Penelope. I ignore all of them as I type out my own.
Just landed.
That sets off a new flurry, of course.
Abi
Be fucking careful omg!
Penelope
Keep your phone out of sight. If you see anyone, play it cool and then get the fuck out as quickly as you can.
I decide to take Penelope’s advice to heart, slipping my phone back down into my pocket. Then I take a few hesitant steps forward, the boat rocking precariously underfoot. There’s one terrifying moment when I think the whole thing is going to tip over and dump me in the shallow, muddy water, but I manage to leap out and land on the shore with a huff.
“Last adventure for you,” I mutter to myself, then drag the boat further up on the shore so it doesn’t get loose on the lake.
I look up at the trees again.
They rustle in the wind, that soft, persistent rushing sound that I’m still getting used to. Plus, there’s all the usual insect sounds over here, too: the constant buzzing rattle of grasshoppers, the occasional whir of a cicada.
I swallow and do what I’m certain Penelope would tell me is a stupid idea, but which, in this moment, feels right.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice getting swept up on the wind. “Hi, I live across the lake!”
There’s no answer, just the rustle of the trees. I creep sideways along the narrow strip of dirt, the air heavy and damp and hot. The only respite comes from the breeze blowing over the water. The growth is so dense and tangled that I can’t imagine anyone lives out here.
But then I see it. A place in the underbrush that’s been stomped down, where the underbrush isn’t quite so thick. It’s not apath, per se, but I can tell that someone’s walked there more than once, forming a narrow, dark tunnel that goes deeper into the woods.
My heart hammers. I glance back at the houses again. Not just my house. All of them, with their big picture windows catching the golden light of the sun. I’m not actually isolated. I’m swimming distance from at least four other families.
I pat my phone, reassuring myself that it’s still in my pocket. Then I step into the woods.
It’s hot and still in here, and the thick, leafy branches stretch out to claw at my skin.Stick to the eastern side of the lake.I keep hearing the realtor say, shaking her head ruefully.The peninsula’s got a bit of a reputation, you know.If you like hiking, there are more well-maintained trails over in Nantahala National Forest.
Yeah, this definitely isn’t well-maintained. I keep swiping at my bare arms, certain I feel ticks crawling on me, although it’s probably just beads of sweat. The trees seem to bow down under the weight of the hot air, and my skin is already damp and sticky.
This is looking more like a path, though. I can just barely make it out through the dense undergrowth, but there are enough trampled ferns and bare patches of dirt that it’s clear someone has walked here, even if it was just Oliver. Although I don’t think Oliver’s footsteps are heavy enough to crush down the greenery like this.
Which is a thought that makes my heartbeat quicken. Because that means someonedoeslive out here.
“Hello?” I call out again. “I’m just a—” I’m not sure how to classify my relationship to Oliver. “Oliver’s babysitter,” I finally finish.
The forest ripples around me. Somewhere, birds cry out. I keep creeping forward, following the path until I step, suddenly and unexpectedly, into a clearing.
I stop, sweeping my gaze around. The light here is dim and dappled, like early twilight, but I can see that the space is large. Larger than you’d expect for a natural clearing, although it’s also quite overgrown, and the trees are tall enough that their branches still form a spiderwebbed roof overhead. Long, pale grasses grow out of the fallen leaves and mulch, along with a few dots of white flowers, pretty and unexpected.
Then the wind gusts, making the trees groan and the grass ripple. And I realize this isn’t a clearing, but a graveyard.
Not a new one, certainly. The glimpses of gravestones I see are old and cracked. I would have taken them for rocks, honestly, except that the one closest to me is still fully intact, even if it’s covered with a fine, velvety pelt of moss.
