by Sean Rodman
I realize that I’m begging like a little kid, and I stop. Then there’s just the sound of the wind rattling the windowpane. Even I know that I sound crazy. Like I’m totally losing it. I look at my hands. I’m still shaking. Maybe I am losing it. Finally Edward speaks.
“Have I not been clear?” he says. I expect him to be angry, so somehow it’s worse when his voice is so calm and flat. Then it gets even creepier. He reaches over and gently brushes some melting snow from my red jacket. “My poor boy.” He lifts one hand and gently cradles my cheek. But his expression hardens. “I have the only keys to the truck. We leave when I say we leave. And you work until I say that you stop. Am I not perfectly clear?” A thin slash of a smile creases his face. His eyes don’t smile. “Do you need me to help clarify this for you?”
I flinch away from his cold fingers and shake my head.
Chapter Twelve
I slam open the heavy wooden door to the outside and keep moving. Josh runs to catch up to me as I walk quickly toward the Swamp. The snow is still coming down in thick curtains, but at least the wind is easing off. That will make what I’m about to do easier.
“Dylan, man, you okay?” Josh says. I don’t answer, just keep crunching forward through the ankle-deep snow. “How about I make us something to eat? Sandwiches. We can sit down, talk things through.”
I stop and face him. “Don’t you get it? I’m done. I’m done with this place. I’m done with Edward.” I fumble with my jacket zipper, trying to tug it farther closed. “I’m done with being scared all the time. Scared of going to sleep. Scared of what I might see when I’m awake,” I say quietly. I give up on the zipper and keep walking up the hill.
“What are you talking about?” says Josh. We follow the path around a turn and head toward the Swamp. There are branches down all over the path, small ones torn loose by the wind.
“Since the start of this week, I can’t sleep without having these nightmares. And then weird stuff keeps happening when I’m awake. Like out at the Point.”
Josh stops me as I’m about to walk up the steps into the Swamp.
“Dylan, there was nobody there. It was just shadows or something,” he says. He looks worried. Really worried. “You said it yourself—you haven’t been sleeping. You’ve been acting kind of weird.”
“I’m acting weird?” Unbelievable. “What about Edward? He’s acting normal? The guy is dangerous!”
“He’s mean. He’s a bully. But he’s… Edward, you know? We’ll just stay out of his way until Harvey gets back. Do our jobs. Get paid.”
I turn away from Josh and walk into the Swamp. A moment later, he follows me inside.
“Okay, what about the generator dying on us?” I ask as I pull out my backpack.
“The belt burned out, like Harvey said. What else would it be?” says Josh. He sees me start putting clothes into the backpack. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to walk to town.”
Josh sits down heavily on his bunk.
“What? That really is insane. It’s, like, two hours to drive to town,” he says, “never mind walking in this storm.”
“You don’t get it. Things keep happening. The generator belt didn’t just burn out. There were these footprints. And cabin seven. The way it was trashed. Those marks on the wall… it was something—”
“It was an animal that got in. Like that raccoon we caught.” Josh watches me stuff a sweater into the backpack.
“Yeah, about that.” I stop packing and face Josh. He looks really concerned. About me. That’s when it hits me. It’s all going to sound crazy. Even if I showed Josh the dead raccoon I found, what would I say? That a bunch of ravens led me to it? That I think Edward used his old chef’s knives on it?
“Josh, listen.” I put the backpack down on my bed. “I know this doesn’t make any sense. But I need to leave. I can’t stay here. I came up here to straighten out my head. But now it’s making me crazy. Maybe literally.” I shake my head and laugh a little. But it’s not really funny. “You can come with me, or you can stay behind. Your choice.”
“You’re actually serious. You’re going to walk out.” After a moment, Josh shakes his head. “Just wait until Harvey comes back. He’ll tell us what to do.”
That’s it, then. What am I going to do, carry him out? And for what? Maybe he’s right. But I’m still feeling the rising panic that I felt in Edward’s office. The pressure that keeps on building. The sense that something bad is happening all around me. I look at Josh, sitting on his bed with his pencil drawings pinned to the wall behind him. He’s in a different world than me.
So in the end, I don’t say a word to Josh. I just shrug the backpack onto my shoulders and head out the door. I stand on the path for a moment. Waiting to see if he’ll follow me. But he doesn’t.
I step off the path and head into the woods.
Chapter Thirteen
In the summer, I used to take my mountain bike out almost every day. A couple of the guys showed me where to find the old logging trails and deer paths. So I know that if I take this one path from the resort grounds, over a big hill, I’ll come out on the main road and cut almost an hour off my walking time. It’s midafternoon now, so I figure I can get at least three hours of walking in. That should get me to the highway, and from there I can hitch a ride to town. Josh was wrong, I tell myself. It’s a solid plan.
Of course, in the summer the deer paths are a lot more obvious. My breath steams in front of me as I climb the gentle incline. The falling snow means I can’t see more than ten feet around me. By the time I reach the crest of the hill, the wind has picked up again and reduced visibility even more. I start the descent toward the road, slipping a little on the loose snow. I grab hold of a tree to steady myself. Then, with a crack, the branch I’m hanging on to snaps. I wobble, the weight of my backpack throwing me forward. Before I know it, I’m crashing through the brush, rolling down the hill. I see a rock coming at me and try to protect my head with my arms. There’s a flash of pain. Then darkness.
When I come around, I’m sure I’ve been out for just a couple of minutes. But when I look at the darkening sky, I realize it’s been longer—closer to an hour. I’m wet and cold. I stand up slowly, feeling nauseous. Nothing is broken. But my head is pounding. I gently touch my forehead and wince in pain. No real blood. Just a big, swollen patch near my temple.
I look around, trying to get my bearings. The snow is still coming down, so I can’t see where I fell from—everything is covered in a thick sheet of white. I’m starting to shiver with cold. Moving anywhere is better than staying put. I pick my direction and start walking toward the road. At least, I think it’s toward the road.
A little while later, I’m less certain. It seems to be getting dark really fast. I stop and peer through the birch and pine trees. Trying to see past the screen of white snow. No sign of the road. I feel short of breath and nauseous again. What was I thinking, heading out into the forest on my own? I’ve got to find the road—otherwise I’m in serious trouble. My breathing is getting fast, ragged. I drop my backpack and frantically dig inside it. My phone. Maybe through some fluke, I’ll get reception. Call for help. I stare at the little blue screen. Hoping.
Nothing.
It’s when I look up from the phone that I see him. Red jacket like the employee one I’m wearing. Josh? He came after me! I start stumbling through the underbrush, yelling out his name. The snowfall thickens, and I lose sight of him for a second. When the snow stops, I find myself in a clearing. Alone.
“Josh!” I scream again and again, until my throat is hoarse and sore. Nothing. Did I go the wrong way? I spin around, scanning the clearing and the trees beyond it. Nothing. Except—there, a flash of red under the snow near a big maple. I limp closer.
There’s a small mound at the base of the old tree. I kneel down next to it and brush snow away from the little patch of red showing through. It’s part of a jacket with the logo of Ravenslake Lodge. There’s a name embroidered just below t
he logo—Allen. The rest of the jacket is buried under dirt and dried leaves. It’s been here awhile. Carefully at first, then more forcefully, I push away the earth from the jacket. My gloves are torn and dirty, but I keep going, clawing at the cold dirt. Part of my mind is telling me to stop. Knowing what I’m going to find. Then my fingers touch something smooth and curved, and I see a fragment of white shining through the brown earth. A few more scoops with my hands, and I see it through the gathering darkness.
Bone.
The sweep of the brow. A hollow eye socket. Some teeth. A skull. I let out a strangled cry and fall backward. Scramble away from the thing in the snow.
Chapter Fourteen
I run across the clearing, half blind from the snow. From tears. Then I think I hear Josh’s voice. I don’t stop. I’m sick of imagining things. I’m not going to be fooled again.
So I almost run right into him. Josh. For real. Standing there in a big black parka, headlamp shining from out of his furry hood.
“Dylan! I thought I’d never find you, man. I’ve been out looking for ages. “I was about to give up.” Chest heaving, I try to catch my breath.
“I need you to see something,” I finally gasp. “I need someone else to see this. I need to make sure it’s real.”
Josh protests a little, but follows me back into the clearing. The skull is still there. He just keeps staring at it, framed in the circle of light from his headlamp.
“Is it…real?” he says.
“I think so.”
“Who is it?” he whispers. “Who was it, I mean?”
“I don’t know,” I say. Then I remember what Tom said. About the kid who went missing. I tell Josh, and he nods hesitantly.
“I always thought that was just a story.”
“Maybe not,” I say. With the adrenaline dying away, my head starts throbbing badly. “We need to get out of here.”
“Okay,” says Josh. He shakes himself loose from looking at the skull and stares around the forest on the edge of the clearing. “We’re actually pretty close to the road. The snow isn’t falling much now. We should be able to follow my tracks back.” He starts to trudge away and calls over his shoulder, “Don’t get any crazy ideas about walking out to the highway tonight either. We have to go back to the lodge before it gets too cold.”
“Wait, Josh,” I say. He turns. “Thank you, man. I think you might have, you know, saved my life.” Under his hood, even in the twilight, I can see him smile.
“We’re even now.”
He’s right about the tracks. The snow has stopped falling, and the full moon even shines out occasionally through gaps in the clouds. It’s pretty easy to follow Josh’s footprints back to the road. The road itself, however, is in bad shape. We climb over a couple of big tree trunks that have been downed by the wind. I’m standing on top of one trunk, about to slide down the other side, when I realize what this means. Harvey isn’t going to be able to bring the truck back. He’s going to be stuck at the highway. I don’t say anything about this, and neither does Josh. I think we both want to pretend that this isn’t true. That Harvey is going to find some way to get back in here. And get us out.
It takes about two hours to walk to the Swamp, but it feels like we walked all night. Right away, I crawl into my sleeping bag, even though I’m wearing my clothes. I close my eyes. I feel like I could sleep for a week. Just as I’m drifting off, Josh nudges me.
“Shouldn’t we go tell Edward about the…thing?” I open my eyelids, which feel like they’re made of lead. He’s staring down at me, worried.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “Wait until I get a little rest, okay? I’m wrecked.”
“What about your head? Shouldn’t we get that checked out?” Josh asks. But I only hear him distantly, fading away, as I fall asleep.
The dream is different this time. It starts like a series of snapshots in black and white.
Raven’s Lake. Still and calm. Empty except for the raft.
A tree full of black ravens, like black leaves clustered on the branches.
The Point. A shadow, someone on the edge of the campfire.
Cabin seven. The marks on the wall, deep gouges in the wood.
The skull, peering out from under dead leaves and dirt.
Then the dream snaps into motion, full color.
I’m underwater, and I think I’m going to be forced to watch my brother drown, again. But then I realize that this is different. I’m in the lake, diving down to save Josh. He’s stuck on the bottom, feet tangled in weeds and mud. I pull myself down. Deeper into the water, reaching out for him. But when I see the red jacket, I realize it’s not Josh. I swim closer and see rotting flesh. Decomposing skin. The corpse looks up at me and his lips move. I drift closer to him. And somehow, through the water, I hear his whisper.
“Seven.”
Chapter Fifteen
I have to flick my lighter a few times before it catches. The candle slowly brightens. I bring it closer to Josh’s bed.
“Wake up!” I hiss at Josh, shaking his shoulder. He looks confused. Fumbles for the glasses beside his bed.
“Why are you dressed?” he says. “What the hell are you doing?”
“We need to go to cabin seven,” I say. “I need your help.”
Josh sits up and rakes his hands through his long hair. “I thought we agreed. We’ll wait until morning, then we’ll go tell Edward and Harvey about the…body.”
“You don’t get it. Harvey isn’t going make it back by morning. You saw the road, right? There are trees down all over the place. And you think Edward is going to help?”
With his round glasses and bed head, Josh looks like a flustered owl. He shakes his head slowly.
“I don’t know,” he says. “This is bigger than us. We need to tell someone.”
“We can’t trust Edward,” I say. I lean in toward Josh and lower my voice. “And there’s something else going on. I just saw something.”
Josh looks uneasy. The candle flame flickers, then steadies.
“Saw something? When?”
“It’s hard to explain.” I rub a hand across my face. The headache is back, throbbing in my temple. “It was in this dream I just had.”
Josh pushes his glasses up. Blinks a few times.
“You know how you sound, right? You don’t trust anyone. Your dreams are telling you what to do.”
“It’s not like that.”
“No, it’s exactly like that. You need to get it together. You probably have a concussion or something from that fall. You’re not thinking straight.”
I turn away from him, furious. I shouldn’t need his help. But the truth is that I’m scared. I’m scared of what I’ve seen. In real life and in my dreams. And after being alone in the woods, nearly dying out there, I don’t want to go out alone. It’s like I’m a little kid again. Scared of the dark.
I look at the black window, showing my pale reflection in the candlelight.
I’m sick of being scared.
Maybe it’s like my dad says—I’m making myself see scary stuff, when in fact there’s nothing at all. I’m jumping at shadows. But I know there’s something going on. And it’s like I’m being shown a path and I have to walk down it. Maybe if I get to the end of the path, the bad stuff will stop.
“Stay here, then,” I say. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Dylan,” Josh says. “C’mon! What are you going to do? Get lost in the woods again? Be smart about this—” His words are cut off as the door slams behind me.
I pull up the hood of my jacket against the cold. Clouds have rolled in again across the sky. It’s pitch-black as I walk through the cold night air to cabin seven. I test the door—locked. Our keys don’t unlock staff cabins, just guest cabins.
I slam my shoulder into the door. There’s a sharp crack. The door swings open.
I walk into the cabin, playing my headlamp around the dark space. It looks the same as when I left it. A couple rows of bunk beds. An old bookshelf. Bathroom at the
back. A woodstove in the center. I walk over to the marks on the wall and kneel down.
Deep gouges, all around that loose board. I remember thinking that Harvey would make us fix it up. I fumble around the board, testing, pushing. Nothing. I scan the cabin with my headlamp, my eyes finally settling on the woodstove. There’s a long black iron rod—the fire poker. Perfect.
I shove the tip of the poker under the board and push down. Twice. Finally, it gives. I pull the board away from the wall just far enough to reach inside. My hand closes around something dry, soft, square. Papers?
I’m about to pull my hand out when I freeze. Over the low moan of the wind outside, I think I hear something. A slam. But then nothing else. Maybe it’s just the wind knocking things around. I gently pull out what I’ve found in the wall. A small brown notebook.
I sit down on a bunk and carefully open it up. White pages covered in blue ballpoint pen. Sloppy handwriting, a little like mine. Dates at the top of each page—it’s a diary. I flip back to the front cover. There’s a name. Allen Ender.
Allen. The name on that scrap of jacket out in the woods. The name of the body. The guy who went missing.
I feel dizzy for a second. I feel that sense of pressure building up and up in my head. My hands start to shake, and I nearly drop the notebook on the floor. I take a deep, ragged breath and steady myself. I turn to the last pages of the diary. All these entries are dated October, after Allen had volunteered to stay on and close up the resort. One word keeps appearing on all these pages—Edward.
As I read, I realize that Allen had it even worse than Josh. Allen was alone up here that fall, just him and Edward. And Edward had decided that Allen was his personal project. Allen was a slacker who needed “training.” He’d send Allen swimming out to the raft and back, just like he did with Josh. And other stuff. He’d wake Allen up in the middle of the night to carry wood to the cabins. Make Allen scrub the kitchen floors before he was allowed to eat. Cruel, petty stuff.
