Chapter 3
The sudden movement of the doorknob sent a jolt of pure adrenaline through the family. Sarah gasped, dropping her phone a second time as the screen shattered completely against the porch edge. Inside the house, the dragging sound stopped abruptly, replaced by the heavy, rhythmic thud of bare footsteps approaching the entryway. The wood of the door vibrated slightly, as if someone broad-shouldered and heavy was standing mere inches away on the other side, breathing in the shallow gap between the frame.
"Hello?" Leo called out, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped protectively in front of his mother and young Toby. "Who’s in there? This is private property. We have the rental agreement right here!"
The footsteps on the other side didn't answer. Instead, a gloved hand pressed hard against the small glass window set into the top of the wooden door. No face appeared behind the frosted pane—only the dark, heavily gloved silhouette of a palm flattened against the glass, leaving a faint, greasy smudge in the midday heat.
Grandma Helen gasped, pulling Toby behind her large wicker suitcase. "Arthur, get the children off this porch right now. Something is fundamentally wrong here."
"I'm not leaving our luggage and I'm certainly not running away from a locked door in broad daylight," Grandpa Arthur muttered, though his weathered face had paled significantly. He reached down and grabbed the heavy red-and-white cooler by its metal handle, using it as an improvised anchor. "Leo, help me get this screen door unlatched. If they want to play games, let's see how they like visitors through the side window."
"Dad, no, the notice said—" Sarah started, but her father ignored her, already jamming the edge of his car key into the flimsy latch of the outer screen door. With a sharp snap of rusted wire, the screen door swung wide open, banging loudly against the white cedar siding of the cabin.
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Leo hesitated for a fraction of a second, his hand hovering over the brass doorknob that had just spun on its own. He looked back at his mother, whose face was etched with a mixture of terror and desperate confusion. Taking a deep breath, Leo wrapped his palm around the handle, ignored the warning paper completely, and yanked it downward with all his might. To his utter shock, the door didn't just resist—it gave way with a smooth, silent slide, as if it had never been locked at all.
The heavy wooden door swung inward, revealing a pitch-black hallway that smelled intensely of burning cedar and iron. Stepping cautiously across the threshold, Leo peered into the gloom, only to freeze instantly as a familiar metallic object rolled slowly out of the darkness and stopped right against the toe of his sneaker. It was Sarah’s missing car key, dripping with fresh, dark water.
