Lost in Isolation - Part 2
It shouldn't have been there
Start with Part 1 of this story if you haven’t read it yet.
When he woke up the following day, he tried to resist looking for the building again. But, eventually, he couldn’t help himself. He stood up from his desk and walked to the window with his favorite coffee mug in hand.
Damn it. It wasn’t his imagination. There it was again, but it seemed even closer now! How could that be possible?
“No. I’m not gonna do this again.” He sighed and returned to the desk to start writing again. But, even as his fingers flew across the keyboard, he already knew how he would spend his lunch break.
However, this time, he changed into more rugged clothing with a thicker jacket to protect him from the dense mass of sharp branches, twisted brambles, and thorny bushes. He also brought a stout walking stick and tucked a can of bear spray into his pocket. Feeling defenseless the day before had shaken his confidence. This time, he would be ready.
He slipped between the trees and made his way in the direction where he’d seen the building this morning. It should be even closer than he had thought. But as he moved deeper and deeper into the forest, he became more concerned. He couldn’t find it, and he was starting to feel lost.
So, he turned around to head back toward the cabin, promising himself this was the last time he would waste any more effort on this pointless quest. However, when he glanced back a final time, he caught a glimpse of white out of the corner of his eye.
He turned to move in that direction, but now he could no longer see where it was. What in the hell?
He looked away, and the white flash appeared again in the periphery of his vision. Twisting and turning, he couldn’t get a direct view of it. This was getting ridiculous. What an incredible waste of his time…
Firmly turning away, he moved back through the forest and returned to the cabin to get back to work.
He was so entranced with the flow of his story that the sudden ringing of his phone startled him. Reaching for it, he knocked over his coffee, spilling it across the desk and dripping over the edge onto the old oak floor below.
"Dammit!"
He mopped up the spill with one hand and tersely answered, "Yeah, what do you need?"
"Well, hello to you, too, Alan! That's a nice way to answer."
"Sorry. I knocked over my coffee and made a huge mess." He sighed. "Okay, let's try again. Hello! How are you, sweetheart?"
“I’m good. The kids are keeping me busy, but we all miss you. When are you coming home? Aren’t you tired of all that solitude up there yet?”
“Soon. I’m working on wrapping up this latest chapter. I’m ready to be home, too. This place is starting to make me feel weird.”
“Weird? What do you mean?”
He hesitated for a second before answering. “It’s just weird to be here all alone. It’s so secluded and deathly quiet. I’m starting to hear and see things.” He laughed and added, “Don’t worry. I’m not going crazy. I just need to get away from this creepy old forest and back home to you all.”
“I don’t see how you can stand being there all alone. I could never do that! Finish up and come home, okay? I love you.”
“I will. I will. See you soon. I’ll probably wrap up and drive home Friday. Love you, too!”
Turning back to his laptop, he felt a surge of excitement. Going home would feel good. Damn good. He’d had enough of this place. He never understood why his father had moved out here.
The rest of the day was very productive. He wrote more that afternoon than he'd been able to complete any previous day. This was good. He might actually complete the chapter on time!
As usual, eating dinner later was a lonely experience. He reheated some vegetable soup on the stove and sat at the small wooden table. Looking up, he saw his reflection in the dark window across the kitchen.
A sudden cold shudder quivered up and down his spine. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was out there in the darkness, looking into the warm cabin and watching him. The tiny lights on the deck didn't reach far enough to reveal much. Just a few inky shadows of tree trunks with branches clawing in random directions.
Shaking it off, he decided to go to bed instead of trying to cram in a few more pages. Might as well sleep and wake early to start writing again when things seemed to flow more easily. He slid under the thick comforter, his eyes grew heavy, and he drifted off.
Startling awake, he sat up in the darkness. What was it? What had awakened him? He strained his ears to listen, but his damn tinnitus made it hard to pick up quiet sounds—or trust what he heard. He knew the ever-present whistling wasn’t real, but he thought he’d picked up something else.
Nothing.
Just a few creaks and pops of the old wooden beams settling. He started to lie back down when he heard it again. A slow brushing sound against the outside wall underneath the bedroom window.
His stomach flip-flopped, and a cold sweat prickled his armpits, tickling and trickling down his sides. The sound stopped. He held his breath and waited. Again. There it was. Rubbing and pushing against the wood. It sounded large and heavy.
What in the hell would do that? What kind of animal would scrape its body against a cabin at night? It made no sense.
His heart pounded, and blood rushed into his ears—throbbing painfully. He waited and waited, but it seemed to have moved away. He was now regretting that he hadn't purchased a gun before driving up here. He'd talked himself out of it. It had seemed unnecessary, but now he wasn't so sure…
It took a long, long time, but the fatigue finally pulled him back into a troubled sleep full of twitching nightmares.
After breakfast the next morning, he went outside and around the corner of the cabin. He looked all around the bedroom window and examined the faded wooden siding. Nothing. No sign of the nocturnal visitor’s touch.
He knelt and looked for tracks in the red dirt under the window. Again, nothing. Had he imagined it? Had it simply been a nightmare?
Living alone in this spooky old forest was making him jumpy. He was more than ready to get out of here.
Later that evening, he decided to stay up and read in bed since he couldn't sleep. He retrieved the old walking stick from its dark corner in the dusty garage and propped it against the wall beside his bed. It was a pitiful excuse for home defense, but it was all he had.
After about an hour, his head dipped and bobbled. Okay, maybe he could fall asleep now. His heavy eyes fluttered as he drifted into slumber.
However, a distant thumping sound snapped him back awake. Was that outside? He waited and listened for it again.
Thump!
Bump-thump.
No, that wasn't outside. It was coming from inside the cabin. Someone—or something—was inside and moving around.
Thud.
Great…
There was nothing like facing an intruder with a pitiful stick, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He briefly considered calling 911, but what if it was nothing? What if it was just an animal? The locals loved to make fun of the city people who moved to the forest and called the sheriff about terrifying encounters with raccoons or coyotes. The agent had mentioned that rats were a problem up here and grew larger than their city cousins.
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Fine. There was no way he could sleep without checking out the sound, whatever it was. He quietly slid out of bed and stepped gently onto the floor barefoot. Gripping the walking stick in one hand, he tip-toed to the bedroom door. The hinges squeaked as he pulled it open, and he mentally cursed the old cabin.
The thumping stopped. Unsure of where the noise had been coming from, he began exploring the cabin room by room. He'd watched enough horror movies to know better than to leave an unchecked room behind him.
He reached around the door frame into the bathroom, fumbling for the light switch. Flicking it on, he eased into the room and looked behind the door. Nothing.
He reached out with the stick to slide back the dark blue shower curtain. The rings caught and resisted, but it finally slid to one side to reveal an empty tub. The window above the shower was closed and locked.
As he turned back toward the hallway, he heard a gentle thump from farther away in the house.
One room remained: the spare bedroom he had never used. He moved quietly, one foot in front of the other, and drew near the closed door. He could have sworn he'd left that door open. Why would he have shut it?
His pulse quickened, and his throat tightened. An involuntary shudder danced across his skin as more adrenaline dumped into his amped-up nervous system. His hand slowly reached for the knob and gently turned it to the left. The door creaked open into the darkness beyond.
A foul stench puffed out of the room. What in the hell was in there? Sliding his fingers up the paneling, he found the switch and flipped it while thrusting the walking stick into a defensive block. His eyes frantically scanned the empty room, looking for whatever could have made that sound—or that smell.
Nothing.
Reaching for the closet door, he flung it open with his heart pounding and stick thrusting inside. He was so scared and wound up that he was becoming angry. He shouted, "Come out, damn you!"
The old winter coats, jackets, and sweaters in the closet swayed back and forth, but nothing emerged. He violently shoved the point of the stick into the clothing over and over again. Sweeping under them, he looked for feet.
Nothing.
Oh god, what if it was behind him, under the bed? He twisted and jumped to the side, half expecting clawing arms to be reaching for his feet. Whipping his head left and right to make sure nothing had snuck up on him, he cautiously bent down to peer under the bed.
There was something there. But it was something tiny and dark back in the corner.
Grabbing the nearest bedpost, he pulled the bed clear of the wall and exposed the corner to the light. He could see it more clearly now.
A rat.
A dead rat on its side with tiny, stiff legs stretched out. Judging by the intense smell that almost made him gag, it had been dead for a few days.
A wave of relief rushed over him, and the anxiety draining away left him feeling sick and shaky. A dead rat. Okay, no intruder. No monster.
He decided to clean up the carcass in the morning, so he turned off the light and closed the bedroom door behind him. As he walked away down the hallway, he suddenly stopped.
A dead animal couldn't have made that thumping sound. So, what had it been? And where did it go?
He double-checked the locks on the front door and returned to the small bedroom. Closing the door behind him, he jerked open the closet and looked inside. Nothing but the few shirts he'd brought for the stay. A quick check under the bed only revealed dust bunnies.
He pushed, grunted, and slid the heavy dresser to block the edge of the door. There. Nothing could get in now without a great deal of noisy effort, which would wake him up.
The cabin was quiet. He lay in bed for several minutes, listening and listening. There were no more sounds.
He tried to stay awake, but a wave of fatigue washed over him and pulled him into another night of fitful dreams.
➡️ Continue with the ending in Part3
