Grant and I left Sara in the van and went inside. I saw a duffle bag and a backpack sitting in front of a futon. On the futon were three long guns and several boxes of ammunition.
“Julio?” Grant said walking through the small house. I stayed in the front room. When he returned, he shrugged. “They must be down by the lake.”
“Is this normal?” I said, pointing to the guns and bags.
“Normal?”
“Do you always keep this stuff in here?” I said in an impatient tone.
“No,” he said with a puzzled look on his face. “Maybe they were getting ready to leave.”
“Yeah,” I said, “Is there any reason why they would go down to the lake? Did you have a boat down there?”
“We’ve seen boats tied up to docks, but not close by.”
“Maybe they walked down the road to another cabin. Where’s the closest one?”
“That way,” he said, pointing. “But why would they do that?”
“They would need a vehicle.”
“Oh,” he said. He thought for a moment, then added, “There aren’t any cars at that house. “
I sighed, “Help me out here, man. Where would they go for a vehicle?”
“There’s a bait shop about two miles farther. There was a truck there.”
“Let’s grab this stuff, and we’ll go find them.”
“Shouldn’t we go check the lake first?”
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll load this stuff.”
“You’re going to leave me. Aren’t you, bro?”
“I’m not an asshole,” I said. “Go have a look. I’ll wait for you.”
I carried out the backpack and one of the guns–a 12 gauge shotgun–to the back of the van. When I opened the back, Sara looked back at me.
“How are you feeling?” I said.
“Not great, but I’ll live. Where are the others?”
“Grant has gone down by the lake to look for them, but I’m guessing they walked to the bait shop. They had stuff packed and ready to leave. They were probably coming back for it.”
“We could just wait for them,” she said.
“It’s quicker this way. I’m going back in for the rest of the stuff.”
“Do you need help?”
“I need you to rest.”
There were three more guns on the futon; all three were hunting rifles. I carried them out then went back in for the duffle bag. I did a quick look in the kitchen for any supplies, but there were none. When I got the bag out to the van, I opened it, hoping to find some water. There were some clothes, granola bars, a first aid kit and a couple of books. The backpack had two small bottles of a generic red sports drink. I twisted the top on one and had a drink. It was warm and too sweet, but I was thirsty. I shut the back of the van and took the rest of the bottle up to Sara.
“Here,” I said. “I couldn’t find any water.”
“There’s a rain barrel around the back of the cabin,” she said. “There should be a jug of bleach sitting next to it.”
“Is there anything to put the water in?” I said. “I didn’t see anything in the house.”
She nodded as she took a drink. She swallowed and said, “We keep empty containers with it.”
I walked around to the rear of the cabin. There was a blue barrel next to the house under the downspout. It was full from the previous night’s storm. A white gallon jug with a blue lid sat on the ground next to it. There was no label, but I recognized it to be a bleach container. I opened it and sniffed it to make sure.
There was pile of empty plastic bottles and jugs on the ground there too. Most of them had originally been juice bottles. I grabbed one and dunked it down into the barrel and held it there until the bubbles stopped. I filled another the same way then poured a little out of each to make room for the bleach. I put a small amount into each bottle, screwed on the lids, and shook them up. Then I held one up to the sunlight. It wasn’t exactly pure. The rain had washed a lot of dirt out of the air and off the roof.
I heard footsteps and looked into the woods. Grant was coming up the trail from the lake. He saw
“Julio?” Grant said walking through the small house. I stayed in the front room. When he returned, he shrugged. “They must be down by the lake.”
“Is this normal?” I said, pointing to the guns and bags.
“Normal?”
“Do you always keep this stuff in here?” I said in an impatient tone.
“No,” he said with a puzzled look on his face. “Maybe they were getting ready to leave.”
“Yeah,” I said, “Is there any reason why they would go down to the lake? Did you have a boat down there?”
“We’ve seen boats tied up to docks, but not close by.”
“Maybe they walked down the road to another cabin. Where’s the closest one?”
“That way,” he said, pointing. “But why would they do that?”
“They would need a vehicle.”
“Oh,” he said. He thought for a moment, then added, “There aren’t any cars at that house. “
I sighed, “Help me out here, man. Where would they go for a vehicle?”
“There’s a bait shop about two miles farther. There was a truck there.”
“Let’s grab this stuff, and we’ll go find them.”
“Shouldn’t we go check the lake first?”
“Go ahead,” I said. “I’ll load this stuff.”
“You’re going to leave me. Aren’t you, bro?”
“I’m not an asshole,” I said. “Go have a look. I’ll wait for you.”
I carried out the backpack and one of the guns–a 12 gauge shotgun–to the back of the van. When I opened the back, Sara looked back at me.
“How are you feeling?” I said.
“Not great, but I’ll live. Where are the others?”
“Grant has gone down by the lake to look for them, but I’m guessing they walked to the bait shop. They had stuff packed and ready to leave. They were probably coming back for it.”
“We could just wait for them,” she said.
“It’s quicker this way. I’m going back in for the rest of the stuff.”
“Do you need help?”
“I need you to rest.”
There were three more guns on the futon; all three were hunting rifles. I carried them out then went back in for the duffle bag. I did a quick look in the kitchen for any supplies, but there were none. When I got the bag out to the van, I opened it, hoping to find some water. There were some clothes, granola bars, a first aid kit and a couple of books. The backpack had two small bottles of a generic red sports drink. I twisted the top on one and had a drink. It was warm and too sweet, but I was thirsty. I shut the back of the van and took the rest of the bottle up to Sara.
“Here,” I said. “I couldn’t find any water.”
“There’s a rain barrel around the back of the cabin,” she said. “There should be a jug of bleach sitting next to it.”
“Is there anything to put the water in?” I said. “I didn’t see anything in the house.”
She nodded as she took a drink. She swallowed and said, “We keep empty containers with it.”
I walked around to the rear of the cabin. There was a blue barrel next to the house under the downspout. It was full from the previous night’s storm. A white gallon jug with a blue lid sat on the ground next to it. There was no label, but I recognized it to be a bleach container. I opened it and sniffed it to make sure.
There was pile of empty plastic bottles and jugs on the ground there too. Most of them had originally been juice bottles. I grabbed one and dunked it down into the barrel and held it there until the bubbles stopped. I filled another the same way then poured a little out of each to make room for the bleach. I put a small amount into each bottle, screwed on the lids, and shook them up. Then I held one up to the sunlight. It wasn’t exactly pure. The rain had washed a lot of dirt out of the air and off the roof.
I heard footsteps and looked into the woods. Grant was coming up the trail from the lake. He saw
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