Page 35 of Monsters and Beauties

When I’d met him at the dock, he’d been wearing a scuffed up and dirty yellow rain jacket, black rubber boots, and, of course, that pipe that had smoke billowing out of it. He’d offered me a lifejacket, ordered me to put it on, and then did the same.

We’d been traveling for half an hour before he finally acknowledged my presence. He tipped his chin and grunted, the rain pelting his face.

“What?” I shouted to be heard over the engine of the boat.

Harmond grunted again and pointed behind me.

I looked over my shoulder and squinted through the gray surroundings to see the little cabin coming more into focus the closer we got. And when we were about ten feet from the dock… the fucking rain let up.

Of course, I silently said to the sky as he maneuvered the boat, tied it off on the wooden post of the dock, then climbed out.

I glanced at him, then at the island, which was still a far distance from where we docked.

The dock bobbed as he moved around on it, the width only about four feet as he started pulling my bags out.

I was a little confused why we weren’t going straight to the island when I spied a skiff off to the side.

“Can’t get closer,” he grumbled out, as if he heard my thoughts. “Boat will get stuck.”

I knew nothing about boats or sailing or any of that, but the skiff was half the size of the boat we were currently on, and I could see the rocky beach and how shallow the water was around the island.

Harmond said nothing as he took one of my bags and transferred it to the skiff. He gestured me forward, and I unsteadily climbed onto the dock.

The platform bobbed up and down with the current and I reached for the banister, feeling my thigh muscles tense as I tried to keep my balance.

He climbed into the second boat and I took a seat next to my bags and across from him. And then he rowed us to the shore.

I learned he was a man of very few words, but got his point across through his expressions and grunts.

Once we were on the shore, I got out and grabbed my bags. He was already throwing the bags to the dock before I even set them on the ground.

“Monday at eight in the morning,” he grumbled out, reminding me of when he’d pick me up to head back to Ketchikan.

“Okay. Thanks, Harmond.”

He was already rowing away before I finished saying his name, and I lifted my hand to wave goodbye despite his back was to me.

I stood there until I could no longer see him, when the fog seemed to roll across the ocean, and obscured anything farther than one hundred and twenty feet from the island.

Then I continued to stand there as I looked around. There was another smaller island right across from where I stood, and another skiff that was overturned and laying a few feet to my side.

Behind me was the cabin with a set of stairs that led up to the small deck.

I could make out a narrow wooden boardwalk that wrapped around the side of the cabin and disappeared around the back.

There hadn’t been many pictures online when I booked this place, and had basically just shown the exterior of the hunting cabin and surrounding wilderness around the property.

I lugged two bags up to the cabin and set them down so that I could punch in the code to the lock and open the door.

I stepped inside and immediately the scent of age, unused space, dust, and a hint of mold filled my nose. To my left was a tiny kitchenette and a wooden two-person table.

To my right was what I assumed was supposed to be the living room, with an out-of-date patchwork loveseat, and a small coffee table in front of that held a few magazines that looked like they had been printed twenty years prior.

And the one bedroom was in front of me.

The bathroom was outside. Meaning it was nothing but a literal outhouse.

Normally the no running water nor electricity might have deterred me, but I was in a place in my life right now where having nothing but a roof over my head and no one else around was the escape I needed.

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