Page 52 of Sick(ness)

He hadn’t moved in over an hour.

Then it happened: a sharp clang from somewhere beyond the treeline.

Sawyer was on his feet before Addy had even opened her eyes. The sound came again: metal on metal, a short rattle that didn’t belong to the wind.

Addy bolted upright, her pulse slamming against her ribs. “Sawyer?”

“Stay down,” he ordered, voice low but calm. He crossed the room in two strides, snatching his coat and rifle.

“That was one of your traps,” she whispered.

He nodded, already listening hard. “The west side. Closest to the path we came in on.”

Addy’s stomach turned. “You think it’s—”

“I don’t know yet.”

The sound came again, fainter this time, as if whoever, or whatever, had triggered it was trying to stay quiet now.

Sawyer’s expression hardened. He moved toward the door, but Addy caught his sleeve. “You can’t just—”

He met her eyes, and she saw it again: that strange calm he wore like armor. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “Lock it behind me. Don’t open up to anyone but me, do you understand?”

She wanted to argue, to make him stay inside, but the steadiness in his voice rooted her in place. Slowly, she nodded.

He slipped out the door, closing it without a sound.

Addy threw the bolt home and pressed her ear against the wood. Her heart pounded in her throat as she strained to listen.

Outside, the forest swallowed him whole.

The seconds dragged. Then, crunch. The faint, deliberate sound of boots on frozen earth. A low voice she couldn’t make out. Another clang.

Then silence.

Addy’s breath caught. She gripped the handgun Sawyer had left on the table, her palms slick with sweat despite the cold. The cabin felt smaller by the second; the walls too thin to keep anything out.

Minutes passed, or hours; she wasn’t sure. And then, suddenly, three sharp knocks hit the door.

“Addy,” Sawyer’s voice called softly. “It’s me.”

She hesitated just long enough for fear to flicker through her chest before unlocking the door. Sawyer stepped inside, rifle still raised, his eyes scanning every corner before he finally exhaled.

“What was it?” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Don’t know. Whatever tripped the line was gone by the time I got there. But it wasn’t an animal.”

Her throat tightened. “You saw someone?”

He nodded once. “Maybe. A shadow moved between the trees. Too far to follow without giving myself away.”

Addy swallowed hard. “You think it was the same man as before?”

Sawyer didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the door, his jaw working. “I think,” he said slowly, “someone wants to figure out how safe we really are.”

He turned, checking the window again before meeting her eyes. “And we just told them we’re still here.”

* * *