Chapter 8: The Men Outside
The lodge lights went out.
Every bulb.
Every lamp.
Every screen.
Darkness swallowed the room.
Someone outside shouted.
Then came the sound of a door being kicked open.
I froze.
Margaret grabbed my wrist.
“Down.””
We dropped behind the table.
Richard stayed standing.
“Eleanor!””
“Get down!”” Margaret snapped.
Another crash echoed from the hallway.
A man shouted, “Find the woman!””
My blood ran cold.
The woman.
They weren't here for Julian.
They were here for me.
Margaret leaned toward my ear.
“There is a service tunnel beneath the kitchen.””
“How do you know?””
“I helped build this lodge.””
“You built it?””
“Your father funded it.””
Richard crouched beside us.
“We can't use the tunnel.””
Margaret looked at him.
“Why?””
“Because they'll know.””
“How?””
Richard hesitated.
I saw it immediately.
“You've been here before.””
He looked at me.
“Yes.””
“How many times?””
“Three.””
“Why?””
“Julian wanted to inspect the property.””
I stared at him.
“So this was planned long before the trip.””
Richard didn't answer.
The kitchen door exploded inward.
A flashlight beam swept across the room.
“Search everything!””
Margaret pointed toward the kitchen.
We moved.
I leaned heavily on the branch as we crossed the dark room.
My ankle screamed with every step.
Richard grabbed my arm.
“I'll help you.””
I pulled away.
“Don't.””
“Eleanor—”
“You've helped enough.””
We reached the kitchen.
Margaret moved a storage cabinet aside.
Behind it was a narrow metal door.
She inserted the brass key.
The lock clicked.
A staircase descended into darkness.
“Go,” she whispered.
I started down.
Margaret followed.
Richard came last.
The door closed above us.
For several seconds, we heard footsteps searching the kitchen.
Then silence.
The tunnel smelled of damp earth and rust.
I used my phone flashlight.
“Where does this lead?””
“Two miles from here.””
“To where?””
“An old airstrip.””
I stopped.
“There's an airstrip?””
“There used to be.””
Richard whispered, “It still works.””
I turned toward him.
“How do you know?””
He didn't answer.
Margaret did.
“Because Daniel used it.””
I looked at her.
“Daniel is here?””
“We don't know.””
“Then why are you acting like you do?””
She sighed.
“Because your father's death wasn't the only thing connected to that airstrip.””
We continued.
After several minutes, Margaret stopped.
She pointed to a metal box mounted inside the tunnel wall.
“Your father put that there.””
“What is it?””
“Emergency communications.””
She opened it.
Inside was an old satellite phone.
I stared at it.
“You said this was built for emergencies.””
“It was.””
“Then call someone.””
Margaret picked up the receiver.
Nothing.
“No signal.””
Richard looked at the ceiling.
“They must have jammed the area.””
“Who?””
He didn't answer.
A noise came from behind us.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Someone was in the tunnel.
Margaret killed the flashlight.
We pressed against the wall.
The footsteps came closer.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then a man's voice echoed through the darkness.
“Eleanor?””
I recognized it.
My blood turned to ice.
It was Julian.
Margaret grabbed my arm.
“That's impossible.””
The footsteps stopped.
Julian spoke again.
“Mom, I know you're down here.””
Richard whispered, “He escaped.””
Margaret shook her head.
“No.””
“What?””
“That isn't Julian.””
The voice came again.
“Eleanor, come out.””
I stared into the darkness.
The voice was perfect.
The accent.
The rhythm.
Even the slight hesitation before saying my name.
But something was wrong.
I had heard my son speak thousands of times.
This wasn't him.
I whispered, “Who are you?””
The man laughed.
Then he said something only one person in the world should have known.
“Your father called me the son he never had.””
Richard suddenly collapsed against the wall.
Margaret covered her mouth.
I stared into the darkness.
Then the man stepped into the faint glow of my phone.
He looked almost exactly like Julian.
Same height.
Same dark hair.
Same eyes.
But he was older.
Maybe fifteen years older.
He smiled at me.
“Hello, Eleanor.””
I couldn't speak.
Margaret whispered his name.
“Daniel.””
May you like
The man smiled.
“It's been a long time.””
