by Mac Flynn
Chapter 2
I walked to the door and breathed a sigh of relief when the key worked. I stepped inside and surveyed the surroundings. There was real wood floors, stainless-steel appliances, and furniture that looked hand-crafted and more expensive than a New York City penthouse. The three bedrooms and two baths were in the rear behind a hallway wall, and to my right was the kitchen and dining room. To my left was the open living room with a large wraparound couch that flanked a wide flat screen TV.
However, there were a few signs that this was a cabin and not a luxury house. For one, a bunch of dead animals stared at me from the walls. They were stuffed heads from Mr. Trimble's many hunting trips around the area. I was greeted by the unblinking eyes of moose, deer, coyotes, and cougars. Contrary to the name of the lake, there was no wolf. Another sign of the wilderness was the large fireplace to my far left and the gun over the mantle. It was a single-barrel rifle, and judging by its polished, faded wood looked to be quite old but still serviceable.
I gingerly walked along the floors and looked through the bedrooms for the plainest one, or at least the one with the fewest priceless valuables to accidentally break. That turned out to be the one to the farthest right, and I unpacked my clothes into the seventeenth-century dresser drawers and lay my coat on the four-poster wood bed of the same era.
The sun was setting by the time I cooked some steak from the freezer and stepped out onto the rear part of the porch. It had a great view of the shimmering lake as the wind calmed. The surface was like a giant mirror that reflected the blue skies and white, fluffy clouds. The cabin had a long dock that stretched out twenty feet into the lake, and like the rest of the bank there was an inviting white sandy beach.
I walked down the stone path and stepped onto the dock. It was as sturdy as a bomb shelter and clacked beneath my shoes as I strode the fifteen yards to the end. I knelt down and leaned over the edge over the water and looked into the depths. The bottom was ten feet below me, but the water was so clean it looked like I could dive in and stand up. I brushed my fingers over the surface and was glad to feel the water wasn't too cold.
A noise caught my attention. I turned and watched a car drive along the road past my cabin. In the driver's seat was a suited gentleman of about forty with dark spectacles and pursed lips. Beside him I caught a glimpse of another man, but the shadows were too deep for me to ascertain his looks. They drove onward, but slowed and pulled into the driveway of the cabin beside mine. While the lawn around the neighboring cabin was green with grass, the building itself was rustic. Old logs made up the walls and a thick stone chimney rose up from the moss-covered roof. A small rear porch was the architectural highlight of the structure.
The men stepped out and I could hear them talk to one another, but couldn't make out the words. I noticed movement out of the corner of my eyes and turned to see Mrs. De Fray scurry out of her cabin beside mine. She hurried across what was, at least for the time being, my lawn and over to the neighboring cabin. The two men were still unpacking what appeared to be groceries when she jumped them. I still couldn't hear what they said, but the gentlemen smiled at her and her laugh echoed down to me.
Then De Fray hurried off and waved to me on the way by. I waved back and looked to the neighboring cabin, but the men had gone inside. Their lights were turned on, reminding me that if I didn't want to bump into a priceless antique I'd need to get my own lights clicked. I returned to the cabin, but was so tired I bagged the idea of the lights and went to bed.