Chapter Two

Mark smiled at the nurse as he returned the file to her. It had been a very long day. Glancing at his watch as he turned away from the counter, he frowned, appalled at the amount of time that had passed. He revised his mental statement. It had been a very long day and a half. He should have left 4 hours prior. Steve had probably gotten to the cabin and settled in already.

Mark thought briefly of getting into his car and driving up to the cabin directly from the hospital. Steve had loaded Mark's packed things into the truck already, and all that was really left for him to do was to show up.

He glanced again at his watch, feeling fatigue creeping up on him. Maybe it would be better to get a fresh start in the morning. Steve would understand. Besides, that was what they had agreed to anyway before Steve had left.

Turning back toward the counter, he picked up the phone and punched in the number for an outside line. Then, quickly dialing Steve's cell, he unconsciously counted the number of rings. After the fifth one, the cellular services automated message kicked in. Cellular service was so patchy in the mountains. Maybe he'd just grab a cup of coffee and head up anyway. He started to dial again.

"Dr Sloan? You're still here?"

Mark turned from the phone mid dial. "Hi Del." He smiled at the red-haired resident who approached him. "I got a little tied up with a couple patients. My vacation got a bit delayed."

"Well, I'm glad you're still here. I'd really like your help on a case that just came in."

Mark resettled the phone absently back into its cradle as he turned to listen to the particulars of Del Franklin's case. It was definitely an interesting one. All thoughts of fatigue vanished as his curiosity was piqued. He walked with the young man toward the ER, thinking for a moment how nice it was that he had such an understanding son, before allowing his mind to become fully engaged in the new medical mystery before him.

*

Steve was drenched in a matter of seconds. The rain was falling hard, beating against the exposed skin at the back of neck and his hands. He rolled up the collar of his shirt, hoping to alleviate a little of the discomfort.

He had just rounded the corner of the cabin when he thought he caught a faint and familiar sound coming from inside. He stood still, straining to hear above the sounds of the storm. It was his phone! Having thought it was dead earlier, he'd left it on the table in the cabin.

Spurred to action, he turned back and headed for the front of the cabin, the light from the flash light bobbing ahead of him as he went. Despite the eerie light created by the storm, the inside of the cabin itself was pitch dark. In his haste to reach the phone before it stopped ringing, he didn't wait for his eyes to adjust to the lighting changes and charged into the cabin.

One minute he was rushing forward, following the beam of his flashlight. The next, his foot caught on a raised board and he found himself sprawled face down on the rug which covered a portion of the wooden floor. The flashlight had flown from his hands at some point during the impact, playing oddly against the inner walls of the cabin as it tumbled across the uneven floor before rolling beneath something and blinking out.

Darkness descended. Aside from the sounds of the storm and his soft swearing, all was quiet. Most notably there was no ringing cell phone. Had he imagined it in his hopes to hear from his dad? He lay there for several moments feeling ridiculous. At least there had been no one around to see him hit the floor.

Pushing himself partially upward, he felt a slight twinge in his right knee. Thinking back, he was sure it had hit the hard wooden foundation first when he'd so embarrassingly bit the dust. Correction, make that mud. The recently donned dry clothes were now soaked through; any dust that might have been available would surely have been turned into its messier cousin.

Just terrific, he thought as he pushed himself the rest of the way to his feet and limped a bit farther into the cabin, feeling around in the darkness for any piece of identifiable furniture that would help him to get his bearings. From there, hopefully he could find some matches, the spare flashlight, or worse case, crawl around on the floor until he found the one he'd lost. This trip was really not at all what he'd had in mind when he'd planned it.

The meager light coming in from the still open door was less than useful. So he closed his eyes and tried to get a mental picture of the cabin's layout. If he hadn't been so disappointed with its condition, he might not have remembered it so well. One positive thing in a baker's dozen of negatives.

Now, if he remembered correctly, the spare flashlight was packed with his dad's things. He'd placed them near the bed in the first bedroom, which was to the right of the door. He was, he figured, halfway there when a crashing sounded from among the trees outside. On the tail of the crashing, the scratching at the side of the cabin began again with a vengeance.