Chapter 17

The next landmark in the trail guide was supposed to be the hunter’s cabin. It was common for mountains to have one or two cabins shared by hunters who prefer something more than a tent. Finn had never gone far enough up Dorset Peak to see one, though.

The structure in front of them was not the quaint, cozy cabin he expected. Black, tar-papered and sinister looking, it rose out of the mountain like a thorn. Modern sashed windows jutted out of the dirty tarpaper like cataract-covered eyes, trying to see who might be thinking about trespassing.

Finn and Gabi froze. The building made Finn wonder what kind of hunting the occupants did.

“That place is freaky looking.” Gabi’s feet stayed rooted to the trail. The cabin lay a good thirty feet in front of them. “Do you think anyone is in it?”

She looked up at the roof and Finn followed her gaze. A narrow stovepipe chimney jutted out the top at an odd angle. There wasn’t any smoke drifting out the top.

“If they are they don’t have a fire on.”

She pursed her lips. “Let’s keep going. This place gives me the creeps. It looks like the home of a serial killer.”

“Come on, Gabi. This is taking much longer than we thought and we might be up here overnight. We don’t have the proper provisions. You said so yourself. There could be food or water in there.”

“Yeah, or victims hanging from the rafters! I’d rather take my chances. Please, let’s go.”

“You can stay out here if you like. I’ll only be a minute. I’ll go around the other side and see if there’s an open door.”

Without waiting for an answer, Finn slowly began to make his way closer to the cabin. He watched the windows but didn’t see any movement. As he got closer he realized that didn’t mean anything. The windows were so dirty he wouldn’t be able to see through one even if his nose was pressed against it.

He edged around the cabin to get a view of the only door. It was at an unnatural height and there were no stairs leading up to it. It would take a big step to get up there, and that wasn’t even the most unsettling thing about it.

Right over the bleak-looking mismatched door, nailed unceremoniously between the roof’s apex and the entryway, was a rotting animal skull. It still had some meat on it and flies were buzzing around it in a frenzy. Finn stopped in his tracks and tried to make out what that creature might have been. Its two hollowed-out eye cavities stared ahead in perpetual shock.

A hand grabbed Finn’s upper arm hard. He nearly swung a fist before realizing it was Gabi.

“Whoa! It’s just me—What the . . .” She had noticed it. Finn figured it was probably a fox skull, or maybe a deer, based on the size.

“That is disgusting!” Gabi said. “Let’s leave, please. There won’t be anything we want in here. This is the scariest place I’ve ever seen.”

Finn could not tear himself away. It was as if he’d been plucked from reality and placed in a dreamscape. As if he’d dreamed of this building before and now he was being given the opportunity to explore it in real-life detail. Only when he searched his memory for it, there was nothing there.

He moved closer to the makeshift door and did his best to listen. Sometimes when someone is being quiet so as not to be heard, you can hear their efforts.

Finn listened for small furtive movements. Nothing.

Still, he couldn’t just go barging in. He raised his hand and knocked hard on a small patch of smooth wood that didn’t have nails bent this way and that. A cluster of birds flew up from the nearby underbrush in alarm.

Gabi put her hands over her ears, as if muffling the sound of his knock would somehow make them safer. She glanced quickly to the left and right and then back at him.

Finn knocked harder this time and the door gave way. It wasn’t clear if he’d dislodged or if someone had unlatched it from inside.

Gabi stepped back. “I don’t like this.”

Finn peered inside, and it took a second for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Motes of dust cascaded down sunbeams filtering in through the filthy windows. Something small, maybe a mouse, scuttled across the room at the far corner. A rusty heating stove anchored the other end of that tilted metal chimney they’d seen from outside. Squatting in the middle of the room, a wooden sawhorse table filled the majority of the space. It was covered in the unmistakable stains of dried blood.

Finn reassured himself that this discovery was normal. It was, after all, a hunter’s cabin.

He took one step in and realized there was a platform over his head. A space that he couldn’t see into from the floor level.

“Hello? Is anyone here?” he called.

No one answered. Even the mouse had stopped moving.

Gabi had not followed him inside. She was outside the door. “Is there water?”

“Still looking. I don’t think anyone has been here recently. It’s hard to tell.”

He spotted a ladder that led to the platform. As he examined it, Gabi entered and followed his footsteps across the mismatched floorboards.

“I don’t think we’ll find a stocked fridge in here,” she said.

“There’s fresh footprints on the floor.” Finn gestured at the ladder. “But there’s a full layer of dust on the ladder rungs.”

“So whoever uses this place doesn’t sleep here. Good for them. I wouldn’t either. Let’s go.”

“In a minute.” Taking a deep breath, he tested the first rung of the ladder with his weight, then climbed up to the second.

The loft was empty. He let out his breath in relief. He assumed it was for sleeping, since no grown human being could stand up straight in that small a space. There were some old dingy blankets up there, a broken hurricane lamp—and a retro-looking red and white travel cooler. Could they be that lucky? He grabbed the handle and tilted it back, and inside he found three bottled waters. Unopened.

“Gabi! I found water!”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they’re warm. Beggars can’t be choosers right?” He tossed one to her. “Ration it, there’s only three.”

She took a gulp, capped the bottle, and put it in the front double pocket of her hoodie. “I don’t even care that it’s not cold.”

Finn began to descend from the loft. As he held onto the ladder he realized that it wasn’t dust on the rungs, but soot. Whoever used this cabin let their lamps and candles burn all night long. Finn couldn’t blame them. He wouldn’t be caught dead in this cabin after dark. A shiver shook him as he realized how creepy that saying was.

“Let’s hurry,” Gabi said. “I don’t want to run into whoever hung the fresh skull, okay?”

“Excellent point. Go be lookout.”

Gabi seemed all too happy to leave and disappeared out the front door by jumping down its large front step. From his vantage point it looked like she disappeared entirely.

Finn hopped off the ladder and walked around carefully, looking at the cobwebs and searching for any other signs that someone had been here. A small shelf over the stove held two blue speckled metal bowls that looked older than him by thirty years at least. A daddy long-legs was sprawled out on the wall above them. Next to that were the remnants of a dead plant in a dingy terracotta pot. All that was left of the plant were some leggy white roots that jutted out from the soil.

Gabi peered in from the front door, only her head and shoulders visible. “Hurry up!” she hissed.

Gabi opened the door wider, and as the sun swept across the floorboards Finn could see the varying footprints in the dust. Theirs were the freshest. The other set looked similar to theirs but without the ridges in the rubber sneaker soles. Those prints appeared normal in some areas, yet in others they looked elongated, as if the foot was being dragged. In the corner they disappeared altogether and reappeared a few feet away. Like stutter-steps. Like a Traveler’s.

Was the skull nailer someone from ISTA? Fear slinked up Finn’s spine at the thought of Doc and Aunt Billie being three steps ahead of him.

No, he was leaping to wild conclusions.

“Finn! Come on!”

He took one last look around. He woudn’t tell her about the strange footprints. There was no reason to scare her now.