my thoughts to myself.
“If he needs help, he knows how to reach me,” I said to the empty bathroom with a derisive laugh.
All of a sudden, the water pressure dwindled to a trickle and then completely died.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” One droplet hung from the end of the showerhead, mocking me. I dried my hands, then went outside to check the tank.
The rusty behemoth was tucked up close to the cabin, surrounded by leggy weeds and spider webs. I grabbed a stick off the forest floor and waved it at the tank like a sword, hacking and chopping until I’d cleared a path. The pressure gauge on the tank showed that we were, in fact, completely out of water, which meant the pump downhill by the lake must have shut off. The piercing twang of metal covered the sounds of my curses as I smacked the tank in frustration. A squirrel burst out of the underbrush behind me and raced to the upper branch of a tree, chittering its own oaths at my back.
After unearthing an empty bucket from inside the cabin, I tromped down the hill toward the lake. The early morning mist had begun to dissipate as the sun spread its fingers over the water. Aiden and Dad must have made it past the bend towards the fishing hole since I couldn’t see them anywhere. The lake was deserted now, but in another couple hours, it would be teeming with sailboats, jet skis and kids on inner tubes. And I’d still be home alone, trying to figure out how to keep from going insane.
After trudging through the sandy beach, I filled my bucket with water, then climbed back to the pump pit, which was nothing more than a concrete box sunk into the ground. Grunting, I wrestled the heavy wooden lid out of the way and bent forward to peer inside. With only a trickle of sunshine filtering through the trees, the interior looked like a pulsing, breathing mass of daddy longlegs. I sat back on my heels, fighting the heebie jeebies that wriggled up my spine at the sight of the spiders, and looked around for another stick I could use as a weapon.
I spied a thin branch covered in moss and crawled the few feet over to it. An eerie sensation tickled the back of my neck, like someone was watching me. My hair formed a curtain over my eyes as I twisted around, trying to see who it was. Sitting up, I brushed the curls away from my face and scanned the woods. Nothing seemed out of place: a sparrow flitted from one tree to the next above my head, the lake lapped at the shore with a slap-swoosh sound, and a light breeze rustled the pine needles on the ground.
Shaking my head to dispel the creepy feeling, I turned back to the pit and brandished my wooden sword, clearing a path to the primer plug. Bracing myself with one hand, I leaned into the concrete box, twisted off the cap, and dribbled water from my bucket into the intake valve.
While I waited for the pump to fill, that uncanny awareness crept across my skin again. It was probably just the suffocating confines of the pit getting to me, but I felt as if someone were breathing down my neck. Maybe Ranger Jim was playing a practical joke or a camper had gotten lost on the path and was afraid to just approach me.
Either way, it was beginning to creep me out.
Dropping the bucket, I whipped around to confront whoever it was. A car alarm sounded somewhere in the distance and I turned toward the persistent honking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bushes at the water’s edge rustle as if someone—or something—was moving through them.
“Hey!” I jumped to my feet and raced down to the beach. Skidding to a stop in the sand, I looked up and down the adjacent path, but it was empty. I stomped back up the hill, grabbed the bucket and replaced the cover on the pit. A daddy longlegs spider fell from my hair onto my cheek and I shrieked, doing the international freak out dance and spewing every cuss word I could think of and a few more I made up just for good measure.
It was going to be a long freaking day.
Chapter 8
By
“If he needs help, he knows how to reach me,” I said to the empty bathroom with a derisive laugh.
All of a sudden, the water pressure dwindled to a trickle and then completely died.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” One droplet hung from the end of the showerhead, mocking me. I dried my hands, then went outside to check the tank.
The rusty behemoth was tucked up close to the cabin, surrounded by leggy weeds and spider webs. I grabbed a stick off the forest floor and waved it at the tank like a sword, hacking and chopping until I’d cleared a path. The pressure gauge on the tank showed that we were, in fact, completely out of water, which meant the pump downhill by the lake must have shut off. The piercing twang of metal covered the sounds of my curses as I smacked the tank in frustration. A squirrel burst out of the underbrush behind me and raced to the upper branch of a tree, chittering its own oaths at my back.
After unearthing an empty bucket from inside the cabin, I tromped down the hill toward the lake. The early morning mist had begun to dissipate as the sun spread its fingers over the water. Aiden and Dad must have made it past the bend towards the fishing hole since I couldn’t see them anywhere. The lake was deserted now, but in another couple hours, it would be teeming with sailboats, jet skis and kids on inner tubes. And I’d still be home alone, trying to figure out how to keep from going insane.
After trudging through the sandy beach, I filled my bucket with water, then climbed back to the pump pit, which was nothing more than a concrete box sunk into the ground. Grunting, I wrestled the heavy wooden lid out of the way and bent forward to peer inside. With only a trickle of sunshine filtering through the trees, the interior looked like a pulsing, breathing mass of daddy longlegs. I sat back on my heels, fighting the heebie jeebies that wriggled up my spine at the sight of the spiders, and looked around for another stick I could use as a weapon.
I spied a thin branch covered in moss and crawled the few feet over to it. An eerie sensation tickled the back of my neck, like someone was watching me. My hair formed a curtain over my eyes as I twisted around, trying to see who it was. Sitting up, I brushed the curls away from my face and scanned the woods. Nothing seemed out of place: a sparrow flitted from one tree to the next above my head, the lake lapped at the shore with a slap-swoosh sound, and a light breeze rustled the pine needles on the ground.
Shaking my head to dispel the creepy feeling, I turned back to the pit and brandished my wooden sword, clearing a path to the primer plug. Bracing myself with one hand, I leaned into the concrete box, twisted off the cap, and dribbled water from my bucket into the intake valve.
While I waited for the pump to fill, that uncanny awareness crept across my skin again. It was probably just the suffocating confines of the pit getting to me, but I felt as if someone were breathing down my neck. Maybe Ranger Jim was playing a practical joke or a camper had gotten lost on the path and was afraid to just approach me.
Either way, it was beginning to creep me out.
Dropping the bucket, I whipped around to confront whoever it was. A car alarm sounded somewhere in the distance and I turned toward the persistent honking. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the bushes at the water’s edge rustle as if someone—or something—was moving through them.
“Hey!” I jumped to my feet and raced down to the beach. Skidding to a stop in the sand, I looked up and down the adjacent path, but it was empty. I stomped back up the hill, grabbed the bucket and replaced the cover on the pit. A daddy longlegs spider fell from my hair onto my cheek and I shrieked, doing the international freak out dance and spewing every cuss word I could think of and a few more I made up just for good measure.
It was going to be a long freaking day.
Chapter 8
By
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