Page 37 of Tiger's Trek
The group was quiet for a long moment, each man looking at his peers, wondering who was going to take the deal along with the winnings. Whoever did would risk the danger of being robbed on his way home.
“Sorry, kid. No room at my place,” one man said.
Another added, “My wife and kids are sick. Wouldn’t want to spread it.”
While another said, “Got no work for ya right now. All my crops are in.”
Finally, the ruddy-cheeked man spoke up. “Here now. I got an idea. There’s a place my family owns, just on the edge of town. It’s a bit run-down. No one goes up there anymore. It’s dusty and drafty. Likely full of mice. Probably find the kids have been using it for a playhouse.” He laughed. “In fact, you might hear voices come midnight or such. You know how hard it is to keep those as wants to escape under control.”
He glanced at his friends, who all shifted tensely but wouldn’t make eye contact. “That right, Andrey?” he asked, elbowing his buddy.
“Uh, yeah. That’s right,” the man said, nodding furiously.
One by one, the other men quietly took their leave, slipping out the door and disappearing into the cold night.
“Anyhow,” the man went on, “that money will sure come in handy to help us fix up that old place. Especially if you can keep an eye on it for us. Make sure it’s secure and tight.”
Nik rubbed the back of his neck. “Right. Yes. I can do that for you. Just tell me where to find it, and I’ll stay there this week.”
The man clapped his friend on the back. “We’ll take you there ourselves, lad. Get you all set up. Sound good?”
* * *
An hour later, Nik stood in front of a dilapidated cottage tucked away at the edge of town. It looked to him like half the place had burned in a fire. Blackened boards and sooty windows marked one part of the building, while the other half looked like it was ready to fall over with wood rot and decay.
Grimacing, Nik said, “Are you sure you want to save it?”
“She was a beauty once,” the man said proudly. “Owned by my own praded. He was the first town leader, Yuri Mer Minkin.”
“I see. Well, we wouldn’t want to tear it down then, would we?”
The man leaned down, putting his nose almost against Nik’s. “No. We wouldn’t.” He took the lantern from his friend Andrey and handed it to Nik, along with a sack of food. “There’s an old well behind the house with a bucket on the ground. You’ll have to reattach it to the rope before dropping it down, else you won’t get it back. The well’s very deep.”
“Verydeep,” Andrey echoed.
“The outhouse is out there as well. Careful of the door. It sticks. You’ll find any tool you need in the shed. There’s plenty of wood scraps out there for you to plug up the holes and to use as firewood. You might find some birds or other animals nesting in the chimney. Just poke at ’em with a stick, and they’ll move along right quick enough.”
“Right. Well, thanks, boys. I appreciate you giving me some work and a place to stay. Here’s your money.” He held out a bag to the ruddy-faced man, but he pushed the bag back toward Nik. “Why don’t you hold on to it this week. At the end of the week, assuming everything goes well, you can pay me then. Like I said, if you fix up the place for me a bit, clean up the, er, undesirables.” He turned to his friend and laughed hard. When the two of them were finished, he continued, “Then maybe I’ll be so impressed with your work I’ll be adding to your pot. What do you say?”
He held out his thick hand, and even though Nik knew there was a catch and the two of them weren’t telling him everything, he slapped his hand into the bigger man’s and shook it heartily, attempting to smile as if he were happy instead of trying to swallow a lump the size of his fearfully beating heart.
Every instinct he had told him something was very wrong as he watched the two men disappear, their little lantern growing smaller and smaller in the darkness until it vanished altogether. The house behind him felt like an evil presence watching him. As he pushed open the door and stepped inside, the wood creaked, groaning as if he were trying to pry open the top of an old coffin to expose the corpse inside.
Cobwebs and rats’ nests filled every available corner of the front parlor, and the room was so dim, even with the light of his lantern, that he couldn’t even make out what the furniture used to be, let alone if it was even still usable. Wandering through the front room, he entered what he thought might be a kitchen and found a sink and a potbelly stove. The wind whistled through the cracks and holes in the house, rattling the windows, causing the house to moan as if it were in pain.
After examining the other rooms, a small dining room, a library or sitting room, a nursery, and two other bedrooms, Nik decided that the cleanest and warmest of all the rooms was probably the nursery, as it was centrally located in the home. It was also the emptiest. The only pieces of furniture inside were an old rocking chair and what looked like the remains of a bassinet that was so covered in spiderwebs he wouldn’t be at all surprised to find a nest of hoary spiders tucked beneath their silken blanket.
Shoving both to a far corner, he used his boot to swipe away the dust as best he could and dragged an old rug across the worn wooden floorboards to use as his mattress. He was so exhausted from his trek through woods and running from monsters that he figured he could probably sleep through pretty much anything. After turning on his side and nestling his head in the crook of his elbow, he closed his eyes and was out before he even remembered to douse the lantern.
* * *
It was the hoot of an owl that woke him, or so he thought at first. Nik was so deeply tired that he had no idea where he was at all. The lantern had almost died, and the sight of it helped him remember. He cursed himself for a fool. Nik needed that lantern and the little bit of oil until he could search out some more in the shed.
He was about to let his tired eyes shut once again, when he realized it wasn’t an owl that woke him at all but the sound of a baby’s cry. He sat up immediately, his eyes searching the pitch-black shadows. The nearby bassinet shifted, creaking—squeak, squeak—as it rocked. When it suddenly stopped, so did the baby’s cry. Then the rocking chair moved, and he heard the hum of a mother hushing her baby and singing softly.
There was a bang as a door slammed in the other room, and the rocking chair froze in place. Slowly, Nik lifted the lantern and peered at the chair. It was empty. Ice crept through his veins, seizing his movement and making the fine hairs on the back of his neck and his arms stand on end. He heard breathing and footsteps as the floorboards creaked.
Someone, or something, was walking into the room behind him.
