When I get outside, the sun is still out, which means it’s hot. The mud on my clothing has dried, and my shorts and shirt feel stiff and uncomfortable. Tonight, I’m going to wash out all my clothes in the sink and hang them up to dry overnight. It would be nice to have another outfit ready, in case we need to make a quick getaway, but I desperately want clean clothing. It’s worth the risk.
I lean against the side of the cabin, but something scrapes against my back. I turn around to look at the wood of the outer wall of the cabin. There are five claw marks gouging the desiccated wood. The claw marks are deep enough that I can stick half my index finger inside.
The claw marks look just like the ones on the trees in the forest.
I turn around and stare off into the woods surrounding the cabin. It looks so dark and foreboding. I listen for a minute and hear nothing. I can’t believe we were lost out there for two days. But inside the cabin, we’ll be safe. Safe from whatever creature was scraping against the wall.
I wonder about the man who lives in this cabin. I wonder if he built it himself. The furniture looks homemade. I imagine him being a big, burly guy with a full beard. The sort of guy who keeps a gun in a hollowed-out Bible.
But the real question is: Where is he?
Does his absence have anything to do with the claw marks? Are we really safe inside the cabin?
And where is his gun?
Far in the distance, I hear a sound. Like a howl. It’s not close, but it’s not that far either. I take a step back and hit the wall of the cabin. I squint at the branches of the tree across from me.
Did those branches just move? Is there someone out there?
“Claire?”
I nearly jump out of my skin. I clutch my chest, trying to catch my breath. It’s only Jack. He’s standing a few yards away from me, the rifle in his hand. Now that he has it back, he’s not going to let it go again. He’ll probably sleep on top of it.
“Hey,” I say.
As he gets closer, I noticed how pale his face looks. He washed the blood off his hands at the stream, but there’s still blood all over his jeans, staining the fabric almost brown. He puts one hand against the wall of the cabin for support. “I need to show you something, Claire.”
“What?”
He just shakes his head. “Come with me.”
I hesitate. I remember what Noah said yesterday about how Warner saw Jack and Michelle disappear together into the woods. Of course, it’s still daytime, but I still have a bad feeling about it. And then there was that howling sound in the distance. Maybe it’s not safe. “Should Noah come too?”
“No.” He grabs my arm firmly. “Come on. You have to see this.”
I feel uneasy, but on the other hand, I don’t think Jack means me any harm. And I have to admit, I’m curious what it is he wants to show me so badly.
I follow him, but my misgivings multiply as we get to the edge of the woods to a small, dark path. A few minutes ago, I was swearing to myself I would never go in there again. I haven’t changed my mind. The whole time we were in the woods, I had this horrible sense something was hunting us. And that feeling hasn’t entirely gone away.
“Jack…”
“Please, Claire.” He turns his brown, bloodshot eyes on me. “You need to see this.”
Without waiting for my answer, he takes my arm again and drags me along beside him. I’m about to protest, but then he stretches out his arm and shows me something that makes my heart stop in my chest.
Chapter 33
CLAIRE
It’s a truck. A big green pick-up truck, badly rusted in the back, with a big dent in the left fender.
“I knew there had to be a vehicle around here somewhere.” He nods in the direction of the truck. “It didn’t take me long to find it.”
“Why is it parked out here?”
“Come on.” Jack takes my arm again. “I’ll show you.”
I don’t know if I want to know anymore, but I dutifully follow Jack to the truck. Maybe this is a way out of here. If we’ve got a vehicle, we can make it to the main road, hopefully.
As we get closer to the truck, it becomes obvious it’s about as beat up as everything else in the cabin. Clearly, the big guy with the Bible gun is the owner. But why did he abandon the truck in the middle of the forest?
“Look at the driver’s window,” Jack says.
I creep closer, holding onto the side of the truck so I don’t lose my balance. Before I even get to the window, I realize the truck isn’t empty. There’s a man in the driver’s seat. A big man with a thick, matted beard and a tangle of graying hair. I take another step closer and I see the vacant look in the large man’s dark eyes.