The Last Winter

Saturday: Who's There? (22)

Nelia
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"Did you hear that?" I whisper, going still.

Oriana looks at me, freezing in place. We both listen for a long moment, but I don't hear anything else.

"Probably just the wind," she murmurs.

"Yeah, I guess," I agree weakly.

But it wasn't. I know it wasn't. It had sounded like a scream.

I watch as Oriana examines the watch tower room that we're in. A desk lies up against the opposite wall from the latch in the floor. Dusty, thin pages litter the surface. A rusty locker sits next to it, and my sister hesitantly pulls the door open.

An old newspaper clipping is taped on the inside, the headline reading

MOUNTAIN HOTEL CATCHES FIRE, ARSONIST SUSPECTED AT MENTAL HOSPITAL

That would certainly explain what we had seen underneath the lodge--the rooms, the beds, the fact that it was a charred world, completely different than the rest of the house.

It used to be a hotel.

"Isn't the whole point of a watch tower is to prevent fires?" I ask, frowning.

"We'll, you can't prevent them if you see that it's already started."

I roll my eyes. "Well, whoever was on watch that day didn't do a very good job. The whole lodge burned down."

"Here's the radio," Oriana announces, blowing dust off of an antique-looking radio device on the desk.

She flips a couple switches, but nothing happens. It's dead.

I hear her curse under her breath.

My gut squeezes tight.

We came all this way...

Oriana shakes her head. "There's got to be an electrical box somewhere. Backup batteries. I don't know. Something."

I nod toward the door that leads to the watch tower's balcony. "Maybe there's one outside."

She nods numbly and proceeds to search the locker for something helpful.

I roll my eyes and jerk the door open. It whips out of my hands and bangs against the back wall. The merciless wind slaps me in the face, and I almost feel tears forming in my eyes.

Someone could die in weather like this.

I bite my bottom lip and charge outside. It's uncanny just how dark the mountain range looks up here. The trees are menacing. The wind is definitely stronger.

I hesitantly inch toward the balcony's rail, peering over the edge ever so slightly. It oversees a cliff down below, but I can't make anything out beyond that. A wide gaping pit of darkness swallows the world beyond the cliffside.

The motion-sensored light must have shut off. I wonder if Dallas is still down there somewhere. If he is, he must be sitting still like a statue.

Nah, he had to have climbed the ladder of the watch tower. He'll probably be up here soon.

I circle the balcony around to the other side of the tower, eying the exterior wall for anything useful. Then I find a metal box. Faded, rusty letters label it as EMERGENCY FLARE.

It pops open after a couple jerks. A slab of ice comes off with the door, and a pile of snow falls from the top. Inside is a small red gun. It almost looks like a toy, but I've watched enough TV to know a flare gun when I see one. I grab it, frozen to the touch. This might come in handy.