Chapter 12 - The Box On The Table
The beam of Clara’s phone shook violently as she stared down at the small cardboard box resting on the dusty wooden table. The handwriting on the note matched the exact same blue ink from the card that had been sitting next to the chocolate birthday cake at the diner hours ago.
FOR MARK’S FAMILY. THE END IS NEAR.
“Mommy, what is that?” Lily whispered, clutching Clara’s waist and hiding her face in the folds of her white knitted sweater.
“Nothing, baby. Just stay behind me,” Clara said, her voice trembling as she reached out with a hesitant hand to lift the taped lid of the box.
Inside the box lay a heavy, old-fashioned rotary telephone that wasn't plugged into any wall jack, and a single cassette tape labeled with a single word: LISTEN.
Before Clara could touch the tape, the phone beside it suddenly began to ring with a loud, mechanical clatter that echoed sharply through the quiet cabin, making both of them jump in terror.
Clara stared at the ringing rotary phone in absolute disbelief. There were no telephone lines running into this abandoned hunting cabin. It was physically impossible for the phone to ring.
Outside, the heavy thud of boots slammed against the wooden porch of the cabin.
“Clara! I know you’re in there!” Victor’s cold, menacing voice echoed through the thin wooden walls. “You can’t hide from us out here in the woods. Open the door, or we burn this place down just like the boathouse!”
The rotary phone continued its relentless, piercing ring, demanding to be answered.
Clara backed away from the table, pulling Lily into the corner of the room behind a stack of rotting canvas hunting tarps. The ringing stopped as abruptly as it had started, leaving a suffocating silence in its wake, save for the crack of heavy boots kicking against the exterior cabin door.
The wooden frame splintered under the force of the kick. Another heavy blow cracked the door open a few inches, revealing the barrel of a gun poking through the gap.
Without thinking, Clara lunged forward across the room, grabbed the heavy rotary phone off the table, and lifted the receiver to her ear.
“Hello?” she whispered, her voice shaking violently.
A static-filled voice came through the earpiece, smooth and chillingly familiar. “You took too long to answer, Clara. And now, your husband is out of time.”
Before Clara could reply, the phone line went dead with a sharp click.
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At that exact moment, the cabin door was kicked wide open, and Victor stepped inside, pointing his weapon directly at Clara’s chest.
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