Page 132 of Serenity Falls

Serena

Harold’s cabin was smaller than I expected. Two floors, four windows, two up and down. A ramshackle porch ran around the front and, above the door, a pair of deer antlers hung lopsidedly.

Up close, you could see it was in poor repair. One window was smashed, a tree branch poking through it. The roof was full of holes, and creepers had started to claw their way inside. It didn’t take long for nature to try to reclaim what people built. Like it needed to remind us that our time here was only temporary.

‘Wow,’ Milo said. ‘What a crock of shit.’

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. But he was right. I don’t know what I had thought this place would look like, but this was just a crappy old hunter’s cabin.

‘So,’ Milo said, holding out an arm. ‘Shall we?’

I shrugged. ‘Well, we’ve come all this way.’

We climbed the rickety front steps and Milo pushed at the door. It swung open easily with a creaking sigh, like an exhalation of breath.

Inside, it smelt stale and a bit damp. We swung our flashlights around, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air and thick cobwebs draped from the beams. For some reason I had expected the lodge to be empty, scattered with the detritus of teens partying. Broken bottles, stubs of joints. But to my surprise, it was furnished: a sagging sofa and leather armchair, a bookcase stuffed with books along one wall and a small round dining table with four chairs. To our left was a kitchenette, two dishes still stacked on the drying rack by the sink.

‘O-kay,’ Milo said. ‘This is cool.’

Cool was one word. Creepy was another. It felt almost like the occupant might still be here, in the kitchen or upstairs sleeping.

‘Do you think this place is really empty?’

He turned to me. ‘Yeah, ’course. I guess no one ever bothered clearing it out. C’mon, let’s check out some more.’

We traipsed up the narrow staircase. Two bedrooms, beds neatly made, and a cramped bathroom, a little mildewed. No personal items except a Bible beside one bed.

We made our way back downstairs. After the initial surprise of the place being furnished, it felt a little underwhelming. And there was something else, something scratching at my brain, a thought trying to get out. I stared around. Something about the way the lodge was laid out, the decor. What was it?

‘So,’ Milo said. ‘We’re here. I guess we should do the traditional thing.’

‘Which is?’

His eyes danced. ‘Get drunk.’

‘Well—’ I reached into my backpack and brought out the two cans of beer. ‘I brought these.’

Milo regarded them dismissively. ‘I think we can do better than that.’

He reached into his own backpack and pulled out a bottle of vodka. I stared at it. ‘Where did you get that?’

‘My mom’s room.’

‘What?’

‘Oh, she thinks I don’t know she keeps a stash of booze hidden in her closet, but I know.’

‘Won’t she notice it’s gone?’

‘Maybe, but she can’t accuse me of stealing it without admitting she’s a secret lush, so—’ He shrugged and plonked himself down on the sofa in a cloud of dust. He unscrewed the bottle, took a swig and held it out.

‘Wait—’ I looked around. The room was dark and the flashlights were going to run out of juice. I could see half-melted candles in holders.

‘Did you bring a lighter?’

‘Nope.’

‘Okay, hang on.’ I walked over to the kitchen and pulled open some drawers. Bingo. Cooking matches. I took them back into the living room and carefully lit the candles. There were half a dozen, and they gave the room a warm, flickering glow.