The Cabin by the Lake
#5 of The Getaway (Thriller)
The Cabin by the Lake
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Another installment into my little series here, tracking these two tigers on their struggle to survive...oh, dear...what will happen now? Please read on to find out! *smiles* and do leave me a comment if you dare!
Cheers!
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The first thing my light revealed inside the cabin was a pair of old, green rubber boots. I followed their legs up to a raincoat hanging off a hook, next to it, a discolored Rapala cap on the coat rack. My cone of light swung to the other side and illuminated a screen door that'd been removed from place and put against the wall for storage.
"Looks like he set the place up for winter already," I said. "I think he didn't come here anymore in the autumn."
"You think?" Ken asked.
"We can't know for sure, of course," I said. "But it seems he hasn't been here."
"So you think it's safe to go in?"
"I can't know for sure, I said so," I breathed, and it made mist that floated into the cabin before it disappeared. "We just have to be careful. Don't touch anything suspicious."
"Okay."
"Just follow me," I said, "I'll show the light."
"I wish I had a flashlight too..."
"It's the only powerful one we've got, the little one we have back at the house wouldn't' do much good here," I said, "Come on."
We crept into the cabin. It was two rooms, I discovered as soon as we entered, now. My light illuminated an old couch, a television, a sink and a stove, cabinets, shelves, a door into another room. The lack of a bed suggested that it was where anyone who lived here would sleep.
"Where do we start?" Ken asked.
"The kitchen," I said, "do you have the bags?"
"In my pockets," he said.
The floor creaked under the steps from our winter boots, leaving a trail of snow on the striped carpet. There was a little more light in this corner of the cabin, there was a window and it was not completely blocked by snow. The little streak of pale light cut the room in half. It helped getting the general idea of the room, at least, now that our eyes were getting used to the dark.
It soon became apparent that so-called old man Wilcox was a terrible cook. The shelf above the simple gas stove was almost empty, but for a few cans. Tomato soup. Mac and cheese. SPAM.
"Oh, thank goodness," I said.
"What?"
"He certainly isn't a gourmet chef," I replied. "Looks like everything is canned. That's good."
I opened one of the cabinets and found instant coffee, jam, and anchovies. The next cabinet only had a sparse selection of cutlery, cups and plates. Some of them showed signs of having been put there without being properly washed.
"Wow, there really is tons of stuff," Ken said.
"Not a great deal, but it's still something," I replied. "Get the bag ready."
Ken tugged off a glove, unzipped a pocket and then took out a rumpled plastic bag which he smoothened out carefully.
"Keep it open, I'll just put this stuff in."
It was oppressively quiet. My feet felt cold and wet with snow that'd melted from my body weight. My breathing had come down from the exertion of the walk, but my heart was still racing. I wasn't used to being outside the walls of the house. This place was scary to me, but I didn't dare to show anything to Ken. He didn't need to see that. It might make him break. Hell, I knew he was close.
I was close. I just wanted to get out of here and back to the house. Back to whatever safety it offered against this world gone crazy. I wanted to get everything sorted here quickly and get back. I couldn't explain it in any reason. The lakeside was deserted. There were no tracks. Not a sign of life other than us. Probably not within miles.
Dead countryside, and us. A ribbon of snow and cold to keep death away.
The cans and jars smacked into the bag and made it bulge.
"We'll eat this for weeks," I told Ken," little variety to the fish, eh? Mac and cheese!"
"I don't really like it," Ken said, "but I'll eat anything that doesn't have eyes and scales now."
The bag was filled from the little shelf above the gas stove and the cabinet next to it. It was not a great haul, but it was good. There was salt, for example, and we'd been running desperately low. Maybe even that fish Ken had started to dread would taste better once I could pinch a little salt onto it.
"The other room next," I said.
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Thank you for reading! I look forward to hearing your comments!