Chapter 14: Don't wander. Don't touch anything
The sun was beginning its slow descent, casting long, distorted shadows through the trees, when Nate finally slowed his relentless pace. They had been climbing for what felt like hours, weaving through a labyrinth of identical-looking hills and dense thickets of mountain laurel. Skylar was beyond exhausted, her body running on fumes, her mind numb to everything but the effort of placing one foot in front of the other.
She didn't even realize they had arrived until he stopped in front of a seemingly impenetrable wall of vegetation, a tangled mess of young saplings, thorny bushes, and thick curtains of ivy that crawled up a steep, rocky slope.
"We're here," he said, his voice low.
She blinked, looking around. There was nothing. Just more trees, more rocks, more leaves.
"From here," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument, "you follow my exact steps. Don't wander. Don't touch anything."
He then began a bizarre, methodical dance. He didn't clear a path; he performed a ritual. He would carefully push aside a specific branch, holding it for her to duck under, then let it swing back into place. He stepped only on certain, seemingly random patches of moss and exposed rock, avoiding the soft earth. To Skylar, it looked like he was walking through his own living room, avoiding furniture only he could see.
After about fifty feet of this, they stood before the leafy wall. Nate reached forward, and his arm disappeared into the foliage up to his shoulder. She heard a soft click, and then he pulled. A section of the wall, a cleverly constructed frame covered in living vines, swung inward without a sound.
"Enter. Quickly," he ordered.
She scurried inside, and he followed, pulling the hidden door shut behind them. The outside world vanished, replaced by a profound, startling silence.
They were in a small, enclosed entryway, carved right into the base of the cliff. A single, bare light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a weak, yellow glow.
"How do you have power?" Skylar gasped, her voice a whisper of disbelief.
Nate didn't answer. He had already unslung his M4, the sound of him chambering a round brutally loud in the quiet. His body was tense, his eyes narrowed. He moved past her, into the main cabin space, the rifle held ready.
The message was clear. She fell silent, her own hand instinctively going to the knife on her belt, her heart thumping. She watched him move with a predator's grace, clearing the space. He checked behind furniture, opened a closet door, peered into a small bathroom. He moved with the familiarity of someone who knew every inch of the place, every potential hiding spot.
Finally, after a full minute of tense silence, he relaxed. The rifle's barrel lowered, and he let out a long, slow breath. The immediate threat was gone.
He walked straight to a small, vintage-looking refrigerator and pulled it open. It was completely empty, clean, and smelled faintly of bleach. He began unloading the backpack, stacking the precious cans and dried goods inside with practiced efficiency. Then he walked around to the back of the fridge, and Skylar heard a soft thunk as he plugged it in. The light bulb above them flickered for a moment, dimming, then brightened back to its steady glow.
Only then did Skylar allow herself to truly look around. Her jaw went slack.
The cabin was… not a cabin. It was a single, large room, but it was packed. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered one entire wall, crammed with hundreds of books. A flat-screen television was mounted on another wall, dark and silent. Below it, on a shelf, sat a PlayStation 3 console, a layer of dust on its sleek black surface. Next to it were stacks of video game cases and what looked like boxes of Blu-ray DVDs, the piles nearly as tall as she was.
"Survivor my ass," she breathed, the words tumbling out in a mix of awe and accusation. "You've been living like a fucking prince in here!"
Nate, who was now strategically placing the sniper rifle on a high shelf and hiding the M4 behind a bookcase, didn't even look at her. "Not my fault people are stupid," he said, his voice flat. "We all lived in the same world. Don't blame me for your own mistakes."
He gestured towards a door. "There's running water in there. You can take a bath. The heater uses too much power, so it's cold. You can put your stuff in the closet over there." He pointed to an area beside the only bed, a simple double mattress on a plain frame.
"How do you still have power?" she asked again, the question burning in her mind. It was the single most impossible thing she had seen in six months.
He just looked at her. His face was an unreadable mask. He didn't say a word. He simply turned his back, finishing his task of securing the weapons in places he could easily reach but that were hidden from plain view.
"Just take a bath," he repeated, his tone shifting to one of serious warning. "Grab something to eat and some water. But don't touch anything else." His eyes swept over the books, the TV, the game console. "I need to secure the perimeter and check the traps."
Without another word, he turned and disappeared back through the hidden entrance, leaving her alone in the quiet, electrified, impossible cabin.