Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Excitement shoots through me.
Atlas strolls closer to the side of the road, sweeping his flashlight along the tree line. I notice the partially obscured driveway the same moment he does. It looks like it hasn't been used in a while but it's definitely there.
We head toward it at the same time. He keeps his flashlight trained on the woods, scanning for a glimpse of whatever he saw. The light hits nothing but trees until we're right up on the driveway, and then the dark outline of view. It's set back from the roadway, tucked neatly between two massive oak trees.
There are no lights on or other signs of life. But it's the first sign of civilization I've seen in over two hours. That has to be a good thing…right?
"It doesn't look like anyone lives here."
"They don't," he says. "I'm guessing we're somewhere in the Sam Houston National Forest. A cabin out this far is either a rental cabin or a ranger cabin. Either way, it's good news for us."
"How is an empty cabin good news for us?"
"If it's a ranger cabin, they'll have a way to call out. If it's one of their rentals, it's a place to hunker down," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd really like to get the fuck out of the woods for a while."
"Me too."
"Then let's go check it out."
I hesitate for a moment, eyeing the cabin. It looks like a murder cabin to me. But unless the ghost of Satan haunts the place, I think I'd rather take my chances inside. At least there aren't chupacabras inside.
I slowly climb the overgrown driveway, praying nothing jumps out of the woods at us. Thankfully, the closer we get, the less murdery the cabin looks. It's old, but it's not falling apart. There are even blinds over the windows. That has to be a good sign, right?
Murderers probably don't use miniblinds. At least not way out here.
"I'll go check it out. You wait on the porch," Atlas says.
"No way." Call me crazy, but getting dragged out into the woods and axe murdered while he's inside does not sound like a good time to me. That's how murder-in-the-woods movies always start. More or less. "I'm going in with you."
"It's safer out here."
"Oh, really? Because I've seen a lot of horror movies, and the person who stays behind is always the first to die. I'm trying to be Final Girl material here, Big Guy. I'm not getting eaten by a chupacabra while you're inside."
His lips twitch. "A chupacabra?"
"Feels like chupacabra woods to me," I mumble, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. It's already getting chilly out. Much longer, and it'll be downright frigid.
"How is it possible that you get us lost in the woods and you're still the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen?"
"Technically, your car got us lost in the woods. I tried to tell you it was on some BS, but you trusted the car. You convinced me to trust the car." I shoot him a look that silently judges him. "It's your fault, really."
"Get inside before we give your chupacabra a show, Temptation."
I reluctantly scurry toward the cabin as every living animal in the woods glares at me. At least, that's what it feels like. I think he feels the same thing because he wastes no time getting us to the front door. The porch is soft beneath our feet and wobbles dangerously, but we silently agree to risk it anyway.
I think my hockey hunk may be just a little bit afraid of nature.
Something howls in the distance, and I quickly decide that makes two of us.
Chapter Nine
Atlas
"I'm sorry I got us lost in the woods. And then got us stuck in a crater. And then got us more lost in the woods," Gabbi says, wringing her hands as she paces around the cabin. It doesn't take long for her to make a pass from one side to the other. The place isn't that big.
The cabin is a solitary room consisting of a bed with an old iron frame and headboard, a table and a single wooden chair, and a plaque on the wall declaring the place a historic landmark. There is no electricity. The only source of heat is the fireplace across from the bed. It's the only source of light, too.
Surprisingly, there is water in the closet-sized bathroom…which consists entirely of an old sink and a toilet. It's rustic as hell, but it's infinitely better than the car. It's infinitely safer too. We're not stuck in a pothole in the middle of the road with a limited supply of gas in here.
I'm less concerned with being stranded, and more concerned with Gabbi. She's anxious and antsy, unable to sit still. She keeps apologizing for getting us stranded as if it's her fault GPS decided to reroute us. The best I can figure, it's trying to take us from Highway 69 to 258 and chose to route through the national park to do it.