Page 14 of Guarded By the Lumberjack
Soft white light replaces the eerie glow, revealing a surprisingly cozy space considering it's completely sealed off from the outside world above.
I can't hear anything from outside and after exploring what little there is to see, there's not much left to do but find a book on the shelf and settle into the only chair in the room to pretend to read.
A clock hangs on one wall, ticking far more steadily than my heartbeat.
I look at the door that trapped me away from Calvin and whatever made him send me in here, wondering if I can even get out if I need to.
A phone rings somewhere in the room with me.
The harsh jangle of an old fashioned land line like my grandparents used to have when I was little. It sounds muffled, but insistent, and definitely inside this room with me.
It doesn't take much effort to find the thing hidden behind a panel in the wall.
"Hello?"
"Is Murdock with you?"
A man's voice crackles over what I assume is a landline.
I don't recognize the voice and given how fast everything has gone from zero to a million today; I don't know what I should tell him.
"Ma'am?"
"Who is this?"
"I'm Air-- Is this Penny? Penelope Cook?"
Of course, I nod like an idiot. Then remember he can't hear that and manage to add a squeak of affirmation.
"Penny, this is Harlan Frost. Is Calvin with you?"
Of course, I don't know him, but Harlan's name is a familiar one and it's all it takes to turn me into a blubbering mess.
"Helo, ten! Find lenmmpph...."
The man on the other end of the line shouts away from the receiver. I catch only a couple of words that don't make sense to me before he must muffle the transmitter, then there's a few more sounds before he comes back on the line.
"Penny. Don't move. If Cal comes back, tell him to wait on us."
The line goes dead and I'm left alone with my thoughts again.
Calvin
The cabin isn't exactly high tech, but it's got its touches. The panic room is just a buried shipping container, but the doors are state of the art. The exterior walls are thick and lined with bullet proofing, and the siding is treated with a flame retardant-- which is why it was easy enough to douse the kerosene that been splashed on the porch before the flames were able to get a good bite on the structure itself.
Other than that, the place was just built like a damn fortress.
Which tells me Frost is into higher stakes cases than I'd thought-- with a much better budget than he had the last time I heard about it.
Studying the burn marks on the side of the cabin, it doesn't look like our guy was actually trying to burn the place down. Maybe he hoped to smoke us out but if that was the case, I'd have expected him to jump me as soon as I stepped outside.
The forest is a dark and still as forests get.
I step away from the cabin and peer into the woods around us, letting my eyes fully adjust to the night's moonless dark.
We're far on the other side of the Weeping Wilderness now; that stretch of dense woods with all the crazy folklore distracting people from the possibility that it could be providing cover for real criminal activity.
The bike was a good choice for getting us through, narrow and nimble enough to make it over what's left of the old road.
