Chapter Thirty
Luke
The cabin is an absolute shithole, and with the snow suffocating us in every direction, it’s our only form of shelter in sight. I park the SUV behind the broken-down wooden structure, out of the line of sight of anyone approaching. Once me and Ana have pulled on our coats and covered up with our hoods, I say, “Let’s do this, baby.”
We exit into the cold, snowy, early evening, not much sunlight left to pierce the clouds and allow us any opportunity to search. The temps are chilly but not freezing, however with the snow coming down this hard, it’s going to build up. It’s already building up. Thank fuck my inner survivalist urged me to buy supplies and we’re prepared for this, but I’ll come back for it all after I know what’s inside. For now, I grab a lantern, and leave the rest. Hurrying toward the cabin, we climb the surprisingly solid steps, and find a lock on the door with a key code.
“Let’s hope it’s the same as it used to be,” Ana says, punching in a code, and bingo, we’re in, with the bonus of expecting no one else to be waiting inside, but I never assume anything when it comes to Ana’s safety.
I motion for her to hang back, crank up the lantern, and open the door, the scent of dust tormenting my nostrils, but it’s far better than the stench of death we might have found. I’m prepared for anything with the shit we have going on. For now, I’m greeted by nothing but a worn-out ancient brown couch, a couple of equally worn chairs, and a stack of firewood. Darius made this place his own all right. It’s not that cold out, forties maybe, twenties later tonight up this high. In this environment without a fire, we’d be chilly as fuck.
“I’m going to grab the other lantern,” Ana calls out as I make my way to bathroom and what I assume to be a bedroom.
I wonder whose land we’re on, and kick myself for not checking that before we came up here. What drew Darius to this location? What was the case? Who was it connected to and why? All questions to ask Ana and find out.
I check the one back bedroom, and then call out to Ana. “All clear.”
She doesn’t answer.
“Ana?!”
When she doesn’t answer this time, it’s a gut punch, and I’m moving forward, setting the lamp on a wooden table and rushing toward the door. I step onto the porch and Ana is nowhere to be found. I fight the urge to call out to her again, drawing my weapon, with the fear, that I was wrong. We are not up here alone.
I’m moving toward the truck, scanning the area as I do, my gaze cutting through the snow, with no movement to be found. Damn it to hell, the cool, calm soldier that I am is not cool and calm right now. I round the cabin and bring the truck into view, finding my way to the passenger side where Ana’s bag is sitting on the ground. Footsteps are scattered about the snow, leading toward the woods directly behind me and I swear a part of me dies right here and now at the idea of her being dead. Gone. Lost forever. Why the fuck did I take my eyes off of her?
Already, I’m racing toward the woods directly behind me, promising myself I will get her back. Telling myself she has skills, more than most anyone I’ve ever known. She will survive. She is going to be okay. I run left and right and all around, following random footprints, that all look like Ana’s. None of them are larger. This realization comforts me but why would she come out here.
I walk the area fast and thoroughly and find nothing. Holy fuck, I cannot lose Ana. I snag my phone, check for service and come up with no bars. I can’t call her. I start running back toward the SUV, praying Ana will be there, reaching for the moment I clear the trees again. My relief at bringing the vehicle into view is momentary when she is not there, obviously, my hopes were hung on the false hope that she’d be there looking for me.
I round the front of the truck and find footprints leading to another area of the woods, toward the front of the cabin. I run that direction and bypass the woods. Once I’m at the front door of the cabin again, I step inside. “Ana?!”
There is no reply.
Ana is not here.