I try my best to keep moving forward but once my wheels start spinning going up a steep incline I can feel the whole car sliding backward.
The brakes do nothing, and the car spins around facing the opposite way before sliding off the road into a shallow ditch.
I bang my face on the steering wheel, and after checking I’m not more seriously hurt, I really do start to cry.
It’s a hopeless set of tears because I know I’m well and truly stuck here unless I get out and start walking.
It’s pouring rain still and checking my phone I can see there’s no reception up here either.
Even if I wanted to call for help I can’t. The reception in town is fine as long as I’m within a half mile of the towers. Outside of that, it’s hit or miss.
Right now, it’s a big miss.
I reason with myself that I’m closer to the cabin than anywhere else. Probably a two-mile hike, maybe more.
I have a raincoat I keep in the car under the seat, and I also discover a flashlight and umbrella. Stuff I thought I’d never need but need now more than ever.
There’s an old pair of sneakers too, better than the slippers I have on. In moments I feel transformed, ready to take on the wilderness.
At least for a couple of miles.
I should make it in about an hour.
The rain’s freezing, and there’s an icy wind blowing straight down the hill right at me. I’ve put on some extra clothes underneath, but I’m only taking my phone and laptop in my waterproof backpack.
My plan is to wait out the storm, then come back down the hill or try for a signal at the top. So much for hiding out or disappearing for a few days.
My anger for my dad and even James is gone. Vanished.
I’m starting to feel more scared with every slippery step up the hillside, with the thunder and rain in the woods giving it a sinister atmosphere.
Nothing looks even vaguely familiar so far and I wonder if I took a wrong turn somewhere, not that I can do much about it now.
It’s been so long since we’ve come to the woods, our cabin that I’ve almost forgotten what it even looks like let alone how to get there.
Almost.
The flashes of lightning give me some guidance, lighting up the scenery until I spot a familiar set of stone steps that I know lead only to one place.
It’s a little relief, but there’s something else bugging me.
I feel eyes on me, and not the kind attached to a well-built six foot six hunk that smolder with passion.
Animal eyes from the surrounding woods.
I try to tell myself I’m being stupid, that it’s just my imagination but bears and wild cats do live in these woods and are spotted all the time by lumber workers in the area.
The rain thrashing against my umbrella which catches on low-hanging branches every second step makes it hard for me to hear properly, but when I hear a low growl quite close I know I’m not imagining it anymore.
Every instinct is telling me to run, even though everyone knows not to do that.
So I start to run, dropping my umbrella and feeling like a cartoon running in place as mud slips under me for a while until I get some traction.
The growl behind me gives way to a screeching sound, like a child in pain.
Cougars don’t roar, and I’ve heard tales of their cries, which turns my blood ice cold as I suddenly discover my newfound talent for running at high speed in the dark.
It doesn’t take long for my adrenalin to become a stitch and although my legs are burning, the screeches I hear that seem to be closing in and even right beside me as I run keep me going until I spot the cabin.
There’s a ton of overgrowth, but the porch is still there and with the aid of a flash of lightning I make out the faded red door.
I reach it just in time. Praying it opens, and it does, I turn to slam it in time to see the huge cat lurching towards the porch.
A huge shadow of a beast whose eyes glow and fangs shine in the flash of a distant lightning strike.
“Holy freaking shit!” I wheeze loudly, leaning against the door and fumbling for the bolt, which is rusted so much it won’t budge.
Using my little flashlight, I scan the dusty interior of the cabin for something to barricade the door with.
There’s an old dresser, which I heave across, hoping that’ll do it.
The rain seems heavier suddenly until I feel it’s coolness inside the cabin,
A quick sweep of the ceiling showing a huge hole where a heavy branch has fallen in, a hole about big enough for a large cat to squeeze through I’m guessing.