Page 177 of Serenity Falls

‘No.’ He pushes through some more undergrowth. ‘I think we’ve found it.’

We step into a small clearing. It takes me a moment, and then the cabin reveals itself.

It’s a wreck. A ramshackle, decrepit wreck crawling with creepers and barely standing upright. And yet – maybe it’s me, maybe it’s the semi-darkness, maybe it’s my broken brain – it also looks kind of unreal. Like every witch’s cottage or creepy cabin in every zombie film I’ve ever seen. The crooked roof with just the right number of tiles missing, the leaning chimney. Even the one, broken window. It’s all somehow familiar.

But that’s not what’s bothering me.

What’s bothering me … is that there’s a light on.

53

We all look at each other.

‘Well?’

Davey sighs. ‘The trap door to the tunnel is inside.’

‘Great.’

‘There’s a bookcase, and this whole other room is hidden behind it.’

‘Even better. So, we’re just going in there?’

Davey takes a deep breath. ‘I’ll go first,’ he says. ‘You two follow. Any sign of trouble, I’ll deal with it. You two get down through the trap door.’

‘Okay.’

It’s not okay. None of this is fucking okay. I’m not brave or heroic. I’m a fucking teacher. The biggest risk I took before I punched that little shit’s father in the face was teaching kids outside without asking if they’d put on sunscreen.

I can feel my heart thudding, adrenaline making my limbs weak. We approach the cabin cautiously. Davey leads, I follow, Sadie brings up the rear. Davey pushes the door open. It creaks, just like I knew it would.

Inside, the cabin looks empty. It also looks just as I expected. Dark and dusty, sagging sofas, cobwebs draped over lamps. There’s a battered dining table, and a bookcase along the far wall, which has been slid open to reveal a secret entrance.

‘Whoah,’ Sadie whispers. ‘This is like … a movie set.’

She’s right. None of it feels real. Not the dust. Not the cobwebs. Nothing.

‘What do you think?’ I say to Davey.

‘The entrance to the tunnel is through that bookcase.’

‘Right.’

We approach it carefully.

‘Maybe you should stay back here,’ I say to Sadie. ‘We’ll make sure it’s safe.’

‘I’m coming with you,’ she says firmly.

I don’t have the energy to argue. I nod, and then we step through.

This room is large and comfortable: armchairs, sofa, a fireplace, a door leading to what I presume is a bedroom. At one end is a large desk and a leather chair. It immediately feels more lived in than the facade next door.

But maybe that’s because it is.

Someone is sitting at the desk.

As we enter, she turns.