I start walking through the house. The floorboards barely squeak under my weight. Whoever built this place knew what they were doing.

The kitchen has no fridge. No power here, maybe. There’s canned food in the pantry, but not so much that the owner might be expecting the end of the world. A well-stocked liquor cabinet, with several varieties of whisky and rum.

I was wrong about the three bedrooms. Just two, and only one of them has a bed in it—a queen-size, neatly made. That room has some clothes in the closet, men’s and women’s. The men’s clothes are long of leg and broad of shoulder. A good fit for my imagined hunter. The closet of the other bedroom is empty.

Two bathrooms. One has a single toothbrush and some make-up. The other is bare. Both bathrooms smell bad. Presumably something to do with the plumbing. I don’t know how a toilet that isn’t connected to the grid even works.

I walk back into the main living area, hoping the books on the shelves will give me some clues about the people who live here. But as I’m crossing the deerskin rug, I feel a little bounce in the floorboards.

I lift the rug.

A trapdoor. Padlocked shut. The padlock was hidden under the deer’s head.

I knock on the wood, trying to get a sense of the space below. A cavern, or a cupboard?

I can’t tell. I suddenly wonder what I’ll do if someone knocks back.

No one does.

The poker in the fireplace would make a good lever; I could break the padlock off the trapdoor. But that’s something I can’t fix. When the owner comes home, he or she may decide to report the break-in. That would draw police attention to the woods in which I recently took a bite out of a dead body.

But it’s worth the risk. I put the flashlight down and grab the poker. I try to wedge the tip under the padlock, but it’s hard to see in the dark.

Then the room lights up as car headlights sweep across the windows. Someone’s here.

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 15

What breaks but never falls?

What falls but never breaks?

Time seems to slow to a crawl, the space between the moments expanding like dark energy stretching the universe. I scan the room, noting all the signs of my intrusion. Then, as the headlights go dead, I quickly pocket my phone so no one sees the flashlight through the windows.

I roll the rug back over the trapdoor. The poker is my only weapon, but it’s also the thing most likely to give me away. I prop it back up in the fireplace, and immediately feel defenceless.