Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 103918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
My question was met with stark silence. Even the woods around me were quiet and I wondered if that was a bad sign. Jesus, what if the guy had up and died on me? I shouldn't have been bothered by that since I didn't know the guy from Adam, but I found myself pounding heavily on the door, rattling it in its frame. "Sir, please open the door or I'll need to let myself in!" I shouted.
Still no answer. I jammed my hand into my pocket and frantically searched for the keys. I told myself my fingers were shaking as I put the key in the door because I was worried about dealing with an investigation by the cops, as well as having to explain to Parnell how his new tenant had ended up biting the dust within less than twenty-four hours of moving into the cabin. But when I threw open the door, neither of those things were on my mind. My eyes immediately went to the table as if expecting to find the man still sitting there. The table was empty, but the kitchen looked anything but untouched. The countertops were a mess. They weren’t covered in food or dishes, but most of the appliances and knickknacks that were on the counters were askew. Not knocked over, just pushed around. Like someone had been trying to look for something behind or beneath them.
I stepped into the cabin and cursed out loud when the biting cold hit me. It had to be in the mid-forties at best. Which meant the cabin had probably lost power within hours of me leaving. I still didn't think it possible that the man could've died from exposure, but I was definitely more nervous now than I'd been when I'd arrived. "Sir?" I called as I left the kitchen and made my way to the living room. Brewer suddenly darted past me. The guy hadn't seemed overly fond of dogs the day before, but that fact seemed irrelevant at the moment. When Brewer suddenly began barking and whining a few seconds later, I quickened my pace.
I found the man on the couch in the living room. Without Brewer standing over him and letting out his distinctive call of distress, I probably wouldn't have even noticed him at first because he was buried beneath several blankets, to the point that I could only see the top of his head. There was a suitcase sitting open near the couch along with a small black cosmetics-style bag. I saw a bottle of water along with an empty bottle of scotch on the coffee table and there appeared to be a couple of food wrappers lying on the floor. A quick glance at the fireplace showed it wasn't going. There was no ash beneath the grate and the logs I’d brought in the day before were sitting untouched in the fireplace.
Why hadn't the idiot started a fire? He clearly hadn't been able to get the generator going, but it didn't take a rocket scientist to set some logs sitting in a fireplace ablaze. Even if he’d been drinking—which, from the empty liquor bottle, it looked like he had been—he still should have managed to light a fire.
It was a question that would have to wait. I hurried to the couch and sat down on the coffee table. A sick feeling landed in my belly as the man didn't move despite Brewer's continued whining. Even when the dog pressed what I knew to be his cold nose against the man's temple, he didn't react. Had the guy drunk himself to death?
I felt like I was going to puke as I reached out a hand to test his skin. There had been one time when a tenant had died in his sleep in one of the cabins, so it wouldn't be my first experience with a dead body. But that didn't make it any less creepy or disturbing.
"Sir," I said softly just before my fingers pressed against the skin of what little of his forehead was exposed.
Warmth.
Warmth met my finger. I dropped my head and sucked in a deep breath. I shouldn't have been so relieved to know he was still among the living. I didn't let myself have too much time to dwell on any of it. Instead, I carefully peeled back the layers of blankets that were covering him.
"Sir," I repeated. "It's me, Gideon," I said before realizing he'd never even given me a chance to tell him my name the day before. "The caretaker."
He didn't respond other than to let out a little grunt.
"Sir, are you all right? Was there a problem with the generator?"
Instead of answering me, the guy swatted his hand at me, though the move was so weak he didn't actually make any kind of physical connection with me.