Chapter 3 – CAULDRON LAKE
Disclaimer:...i don't own any of Alan Wake?
After a quick scan of the directions I had received from Stucky's replacement, I worked out that our cabin - which the old-fashioned lettering of the note named as Bird Leg Cabin - was south across the Ford River, the waterway which cut the county in two. Having gleaned much knowledge from travel brochures before the trip, Alice identified the lake the strange woman in the diner had mentioned as Cauldron Lake, a caldera. Registering the blank look on my face, Alice explained that a caldera is formed when a volcano collapses into itself, forming a 'cauldron' or crater in its place, which in many cases – such as this one – fills with water and becomes a lake. To my relief, she added that the remnants of this particular volcano were long dormant. Following signs out of town, Alice left Bright Falls behind us for the time being as we crossed a long wrought-iron bridge over the river and headed south, following the road as it wound up into the mountains.
I took the time to drink in my surroundings. Heavily wooded hillsides hemmed us in on our left and right for much of the journey. Occasionally, they would fall away to show the mountains the state was famous for - stretching up towards the sky, the peaks of the tallest ones capped with snow. It was awe-inspiring, a far throw from the huge cities of the East Coast. With New York, Bright Falls and – hopefully – any chance of being recognised behind me for the time being, I fell back into my seat with my eyes closed, sighing.
"That diner was a real nuthouse," I told Alice in disbelief, making her laugh. I smiled.
"Can you believe this place?" Alice asked me. The hint of wonder in her voice made it clear that she was just as amazed by the scenery as I was.
"This would make a great setting for a book," she added.
My calm state of mind abruptly derailed itself.
"We're supposed to be on vacation, Alice," I snapped, opening my eyes and staring into the distance before turning to her. "I'll figure it out when we get back home, okay?" There was no mistaking the anger in my voice.
"Okay," Alice whispered, caught off-guard by my outburst. "We can talk about this later."
I didn't want to talk about it. I wanted to bury my head in the sand. In a valiant attempt to preserve normalcy, Alice turned on the radio. Tuning itself to the only station in range, the voice of Pat Maine soon emanated from the car's speakers. The DJ was obviously starting his night shift early on 'KBF-FM', but I wasn't listening. Once upon a time, I had been a successful writer, but that was a long time ago. I hadn't been able to write a word in two years - not since my last book. How was I to have known that killing off Alex Casey would kill off my career as well? Irony is a bitter pill, and hard to swallow.
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"And now the weather. It's going to be a clear night, so you folks from the big city might want to look up every once in a while, see those stars winking down at you. It gets pretty dark out here, but they'll light your way."
As Maine's weather report ended, smoothly transitioning into Roy Orbison singing about a candy-coloured clown they called The Sandman, Alice turned down a steep single track lane, barely noticeable save for the deep tyre tracks left by vehicles long before us and already in the process of being reclaimed by the earth. The mountains on either side receded and were temporarily lost in the darkness as trees clustered up on either side – a darkness assisted by the declining sun, slowly descending towards the western horizon. Just as I began to wonder whether or not the track would end, it levelled out, and up ahead I could see the end of this small stretch of woods. As we neared the end of the road I saw that the way out was barred by two old, simple swinging metal gates, tied together with a thick length of worn rope. Alice slowed the car to a stop in front of them, engine idling.
"Can you get those for me?" she asked.
"Sure," I answered gloomily. I was still angry at myself for having barked at Alice – again. Alice saw this and smiled at me, telling me that there were no hard feelings. I tried to smile back, but she only reminded me of how often I had behaved like that, taking my frustration at my writer's block out on her – a spiteful comment here, a putdown there. The person I had been – the same person still clinging onto me desperately for survival – sickened me.
Stepping out of the car onto the dried earth of the track, I closed the door behind me and moved around to the front of the car, where the gates met. Up ahead, the trees branched off at right angles, giving access to a clearing perched on the edge of a cliff, from what I could see. Further off, more mountains curved along what was presumably Cauldron Lake.
The rope turned out to be fastened in a simple overhand knot. Undoing it, I pulled the rope out of the beams and held it in one hand while I pushed open the gates, one after the other. I left them resting against old wooden fences separating the clearing from the woods before stepping clear to let Alice through in the car. Moving the gates back into place and tying them together with the rope again, I headed over to where Alice had stopped the car as she killed the engine, cutting Roy off as he cried out that it only happened "IN DREAMS!" and got out. As I approached I heard Alice breathe in sharply at something. Hurrying over to see what was wrong, I saw that she was only taking in the view.
And what a view.
I joined Alice in moving forward to the old fence at the cliff edge, separating us from a drop almost straight down to more land and certain death below. Cauldron Lake stretched out below us, its gentle waters calm and almost unmoving. All around, the lake was ringed by countless huge mountains and hills, their visible slopes strewn with trees. Almost directly below us, little more than a few car lengths from the bottom of the hill, was a small, roughly triangular island, and on it Bird Leg Cabin. It was easy to see where the building got its name from – from above, the island on which it was built looked just like a bird's foot. The end nearest us was the back, and through the few trees spread out on the far side I could just make out little points of land that constituted the toes. The cabin itself, looking like it had been built sometime in the 70s, sat on the western side, on the island's natural incline, while the back and front of the 'bird's foot' sloped gently down towards the water. A thin wooden bridge, built just above water level, stretched between the bottom of the hill and the island itself. The entire ensemble – the tranquil lake, the mountains forming the closest thing to a natural wall around it, and the island itself – were achingly beautiful. And as an added bonus, I noticed with a smile that across the entire lake, there was not a single other person around. Peace at last.
Realising that I was being watched, I turned to find a smiling Alice watching me with satisfaction, and I realised that my mouth was ever so slightly hanging open. All thoughts of my behaviour in the journey to the lake were forgotten as we both laughed and headed back to the car. After Alice retrieved our tiny amount of supplies from the trunk, all shoved into a single red handheld bag, and locked the car behind us, we started off down a path across the clearing which zig-zagged down the cliff face to the bridge. The trees around Cauldron Lake looked to have different ideas about what season it was – while most of them still wore the healthy green of summer foliage, other were caught in the orange and yellow shades of mid-autumn, while still others stood bare and dead.
Eventually Alice and I wound our way down to the bottom of the hill. I had time to take in an old boarded-up well, the kind with no roof, sitting by the hill side – which disturbingly reminded me of the near-identical well from the The Ring – before turning to face the island. From here I could see a spindly old metal chimney snaking its way up the side of the cabin facing us. Two little round windows, almost like portholes, looked down on us from the second floor, one on each side of the chimney. A crude wooden archway stood over the beginning of the bridge, and a wooden board, fixed to the arch by chains, hung just below it to show the name of the island, hand-written in block capitals with white paint – DIVER'S ISLE. Considering the name of the cabin, I guessed that this was another local thing. Alice stood beside me, the bag held in front of her with both hands, looking dreamily at the island and the cabin.
"Wow," she said breathlessly. "It's gorgeous, Alan."
"It's something, all right," was all I could reply with. The look of the place struck even me. As we started across the bridge, I noticed a familiar expression on Alice's face – one of quiet worry.
"Don't worry, honey," I told her reassuringly. "I'll get you inside safe and sound before it gets dark. And I've got the flashlight," I added, tapping the bulge in my jacket pocket.
"I know," Alice told me. "I'm okay." She smiled at me, but I'd have had to be a fool not to notice how apprehensive she was regardless of what she said. Alice had nyctophobia – the fear of darkness. I wanted to make sure we were inside with the lights on before sunset.
As we set foot on Diver's Isle and headed up the gentle slope to the cabin, the path cut back from the undergrowth and marked with old rotting logs on either side, I saw that we weren't really alone – large black crows sat perched on the branches of some of the few trees nearby. I was never really a big fan of crows – their beady eyes, their expressionless faces, always seeming to watch your every move. To add to this strange sense of foreboding, these crows made no noise whatsoever, only sat watching us. So I breathed an internal sigh of relief when they quickly lifted off and flew away at our approach, still gravely silent save for the beating together of their wings.
"Are you sure you read the directions right?" Alice asked from beside me, making me jump. "It's nothing like the brochure – it said near the lake, not on it." Noticing the look of faux bemusement on my face, she quickly continued. "Don't get me wrong – this is so much better. It's wonderful! Our own private island."
Seeing Alice happy like this made me feel the same way. Memories of some of the best times we'd spent together came rushing up to the front of my mind, throwing away the bad ones. Reaching the top of the hill, I saw that this side of the cabin was partially ringed-off with low wooden fencing, which also dealt with the short drop-offs into the lake on both sides of the island's centre. BIRD'S LEG CABIN was written on a small sign, staked into the ground where the fence split to let us move on.
The porch was almost as wide as the house, extending out in front of us from the cabin and leaving only a narrow strip of land between itself and the eastern drop-off. Stacks of chopped logs sat against the wall at either end, partially covered by white tarpaulins. A rusting metal wind chime dangled opposite them. Aside from these, the porch had just what you'd expect to find – a couple of old carpets across the floor, a bench leaning on the wall by one of the wood stacks, some chairs leaning against the wooden railing running along the other side. Your usual stuff. The front door stood between the bench and the second wood stack.
"Here we go," I told Alice. "Let's take a look inside."
Taking the key from my pocket, I held the little round handle in my left hand and stuck the key into the lock – built into the handle – with my right. At first it wouldn't fully fit itself into the lock, but after a moment of wresting it back and forth I managed to get it in place and turned it, and heard the satisfying click as it unlocked. Slipping the key back into my pocket, I pushed the door open.
Save for the light easing in through a few windows, the interior was shrouded in darkness. Almost without thinking I dug a hand into my pocket and emerged with the flashlight Alice had given me earlier. Thumbing the switch, a steady beam of light materialised from the device – already proving its worth – and dispelled some of the darkness, casting its own faint circle on the floor, where more carpets covered much of the wooden flooring. Moving the flashlight this way and that, I looked around.
Nothing unusual leapt out at me. A few cabinets of varying sizes and shapes rested against the walls. A faded blue couch and an old grandfather clock sat further down the left wall, while the right was dominated by a large stone fireplace, complete with another stack of chopped logs beside it for feeding the flames. Alice promptly spoke up from behind me, and I swivelled to face her.
"It's dark in there!" she told me, the fear in her voice unmistakable. "We need lights. Can you figure out how to get the power on, honey?"
"Sure thing," I told her, quickly and calmly. I was eager to make sure Alice wouldn't have to suffer the fear her phobia caused her. "I'm on it."
Turning back, I moved further into the cabin, the light from my flashlight gently probing my surroundings. Just after the grandfather clock, the house turned to the left at a right angle, parallel to the island's edge. Through a glass-panelled door that lay ajar in front of me, I could see another porch outside, looking over the lake. As my beam of light swivelled to the right again, I caught site of something sitting on top of another cabinet, and moved to take a closer look. It was an old shoebox, worn and dusty. The space between the box and the wall was neatly lined with books, but the shoebox only held books written by a Thomas Zane. I had never heard of him before. I almost picked one up to leaf through a few pages – see if he was any good – before I remembered Alice waiting anxiously on the porch. I turned back to continue my search.
I poked my head out through the door onto the back porch. From what I could tell, it was built right on the cliff edge. A staircase on the right led down to a small pier, extending outwards then left into the water. I took a moment to admire the view – straight across the lake, in the west, the sun was slowly sinking behind a gap between two of the mountains, casting smooth golden light in the horizon and onto Cauldron Lake – before heading back inside. Leaving behind the noise of the lake's waters gently lapping against the shore, and the occasional caw of a crow somewhere far away, I suddenly noticed how deathly quiet it was indoors.
"Hello? Anyone here?"
The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. Of course there was no-one here – from the look of it, if anyone had been here in the past few years, it had been to clear out the cobwebs. So why had I called out? Despite her trepidation, I saw Alice frown at me good-naturedly from outside. I smiled back at her, shrugging it off, and moved on.
The rest of the first floor was just as average as what I'd already seen. A large wooden dining table sat by a window looking out onto the back porch, giving anyone eating at it a perfect view of the lake, while a cooker and the various wall and floor cabinets of the kitchen rested against the back wall in a C shape. Despite a quick search though, I still couldn't find anything that looked like it might give Alice and I light.
Opposite the western wall, behind the dining table, a flight of stairs curved back on itself, giving access to the second floor. Taking in the well-maintained barometer hanging on the wall nearby, and after trying what looked like a cupboard door – locked – I headed upstairs. My heart jumped for a moment as the flashlight's beam brushed over something strange-looking on the wall of the landing, but I settled when I saw that it was only the large head of a deer, staring expressionlessly at the far wall from its wooden mount. Couldn't help feeling sorry for the deer, though. Two doors stood closed here, one on either side of the deer head, and I picked the right-hand one first.
This was obviously the main bedroom. A large wooden bed adorned with a grid-like red-white-brown patterning on the quilt stood against the far wall. An ugly lime green chair and matching ottoman sat nearby, while windows looked out over the eastern and western sides of the lake. From what I'd seen so far, the cabin looked like a time capsule from the sixties, or even earlier. No power source in here either though.
Crossing over into the other room, I was immediately struck by the sight of a huge stuffed Horned Owl, mid-cry, wings outstretched, perched on a tree branch fixed to the far wall, between the two porthole-like windows I had noticed from outside. For a moment the oppressive feel of the nightmare I had seen on the ferry returned. A sudden burst of pain in my temple made me double over, pressing my free hand to my head as vague, distorted images of the dream came flooding back to me.
Then as quickly as they had come, the pain and the memories had gone. As I straightened up, wondering what had just happened, I gave the room a quick scan as I had the others. A good-looking desk sat below the owl, complemented by a small balanced-arm lamp in the corner. Another grandfather clock stood nearby, on the left, and the room shared the same window layout as the bedroom. But still no sign of a power source! Turning to inspect the other wall revealed two large bookshelves, one on either side of the door. Thinking that they were both empty in the poor light, I was surprised to catch a glimpse of a framed picture standing on one of the shelves of the bookcase on my left. Moving closer and focusing the light on it, I saw that it held a black and white photo of someone about to dive into the lake from what looked to be the pier outside. The picture was obviously taken long ago – it was dull and grainy, and the person in it didn't wear modern diving clothes, but the old bronze diver's helmet, spherical and with four portholes – three around the face and a fourth above the head - as well as a bulky, bulbous metal suit, different from the plain rubber one most divers wore at the time. But this wasn't getting me any closer to finding out where the cabin got its power from. It wasn't in the cabin, that was for sure - there had to be a fuse box or generator somewhere on the island.
Leaving the intricacies of the cabin's history behind me for the time being, I headed back downstairs to tell Alice of the situation. Still shining strong, the sunlight permeating the first floor made me slow down for a second so that my eyes could readjust after the darkness of the floor above. Alice was looking down towards the far end of the island, but as I emerged back onto the porch, flicking the flashlight off as I did so, I caught sight of a thick black cable – undoubtedly the power cable – extending in the same direction from the porch roof. I turned to tell Alice of my discovery, but she beat me to it.
"The power cable goes to that shed over there," she told me, holding the bag in two hands again and gesturing down the island with her head. Slightly annoyed for having spent time carefully searching the cabin for something Alice had probably found in a couple of seconds, I looked for myself. The wire swung down to latch onto a telegraph pole, leaning at an angle amongst some more trees – these ones fully green – further down from the cabin, before descending into an old wooden shed, near the island's 'toes'.
I made my way down the grassy slope towards the shed. More trees stood guard along the island's western side, the sunlight slipping delicately between their branches. More crows flew away from where they perched as I passed them. Fortunately, the door to the shed was unlocked, and I moved inside. An old generator had been connected to the power cable, its hulking metal body taking up much of the shed – empty save for a few oil drums by my side. I stepped forward to inspect it.
A circular pressure gauge protruded from the generator, its spindly black needle resting at zero. Two lights, one red and one green, were fixed on beside it, the green one flashing periodically. Having never been much of a mechanic, I looked around for some way to start the machine and noticed a retracted jumper cord under the generator, its black plastic handle giving it away. Could it really be that simple? I decided to find out. Resting one hand on the generator body, I gave the cord a swift pull. Gears inside the machine made a loud grating noise, as if it was about to spring into life, and then subsided. I pulled again. This time, there was a much harsher grating noise, obviously not good. Wondering how to continue, I suddenly noticed a notched gear continuing to rotate inside the machine, and realised I had to pull the cord when the notch reached the top of the gear's cycle, in line with the others. Timing it carefully, I pulled the cord just as the notch reached the top. The first sound I had heard repeated itself, and within the generator more gears began to move, with this first one increasing in speed. Timing it again I pulled the cord as the notched gear was in place a third time, and the generator roared into life – the needle in the pressure gauge shot to the far end, all of the gears inside the machine began moving together, and fast, and the generator itself vibrated immensely. Feeling that same absurd pride I had felt when I'd retrieved the cabin key from the diner in town, I headed back outside to tell Alice of my success. Having heard the noise for herself, Alice was looking into the now-illuminated house excitedly, but saw me coming.
"The lights are on!" She called down to me, grinning. "Great work, honey! I'll freshen up a bit and start settling in!"
"Okay!" I called back to her. More time for me to admire the scenery, I thought. "I'll look around a bit!" I shouted after Alice, as she disappeared inside.
"Sure thing!" she called back, her voice fading as she moved deeper into the cabin. "Have fun!"
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I was outside for a good half an hour. While Alice showered in the cabin, I watched as the sun sank lower and lower over the horizon through the gap in the mountains to the west. While the sun disappeared, holding court on its own side of the lake, the colour drained just as quickly from Bright Falls County. Stars slowly began to appear above me as the sky grew steadily darker, until the sun disappeared altogether. But it left some of its light behind, its final rays giving the western waters of Cauldron Lake the same golden sheen I had noticed earlier and blasting out into the western sky, which was steadily changing from yellow to orange and finally relenting to the black of the night. Maybe because of this, the lake took on a decidedly black tone itself, until its colour could have fooled a passing tourist into thinking that they'd stumbled across the world's largest tar pit. To top off this eerie effect, a thin sheet of mist had risen over the lake's surface, given the entire scene a strange, otherworldly feel. But I wasn't complaining – it was a beautiful place. The entire setting of this idyllic and seemingly untouched getaway was unusual – and not in a bad way. I told myself I could rest here - sleep here – and forget about my work. So many horrible memories stood ready and waiting to jump out at me as well – so many sleepless nights, desperately trying to write something, anything, on the old typewriter I used; so many times when my relationship with Alice had suffered as a result. At some point I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and saw Alice watching me from a first floor window. She smiled and blew me a kiss, and I grinned back broadly before she moved away. I thought we could be happy here.
With the sunlight almost fully gone from the night sky, I decided it was time to head back inside, and took one last look at the large building, perched high up on the cliffs far off at the northern end of the lake, as I did so. The ranger's comment back in the diner had gone unnoticed by me at the time, but as I'd watched the sunset, I'd remembered that Alice had told me about Cauldron Lake Lodge. The old building used to be a hotel, but these days it was no longer open to the public. Even so, someone was there now – little pinpricks of artificial light shone through the building's little windows as well as its main one – a huge series of glass panels forming the back wall of what had presumably been the main lobby. Plus, Rusty had mentioned something about a Doctor Hartman working out of it...or something like that. It looked like Alice's information had been off.
As I headed back up the path towards the cabin, I saw something carved into the side of a tree stump midway between the shed and the porch. Bending down for a closer look, I saw that TZ + BJ had been scratched into the wood inside a love-heart shape. I thought of Alice and myself – how we met, our marriage, how she had stuck by me through the best and the worst, and my hopes that this vacation could mend the damage I'd caused. Obviously, the island had once been the site for a love story. Maybe it would be that again.
I crossed the porch, now lit by a bulbous wall-mounted light by the door, and moved inside. Wall-mounted lamps lit the interior of the cabin now – but there was no sign of Alice.
"Alice?" I called out. "Honey?"
"Alan! I'm upstairs," came the reply from – you guessed it – upstairs, sounding muffled as it travelled through the house. "I have a surprise for you!"
I raised my eyebrows, and found myself smiling again. This was something I'd have to get used to. I made my way upstairs, the way lit by more wall lamps, thoughts rushing through my mind as to what Alice had in store for me. Seeing that the bedroom door lay open, I moved into the doorway – and stopped.
Alice sat on the side of the bed, reading a newspaper that lay on the quilt. Her hair was tied back. She must've just got out of the shower – all she had on was a white tank top and black panties.
"Well!" I said, unable to stop myself from grinning again. "Hello there!" Alice looked up and smiled back at me, clearly aware of what I was thinking.
"I'm not the surprise," she told me. "It's in the study. Go take a look!"
"Okay..." I told her, wondering what else she could have done and lamenting that my surprise wasn't her. With one last long look at my wife, I turned and headed across the hall to the study, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
I stopped dead.
My blood froze in my veins. My body suddenly felt chilled to the bone. A typewriter – the very same typewriter on which I had written so many bestsellers - sat on the desk in front of me, a stack of blank paper beside it, ready for use. I hadn't seen the machine since my last attempt to write anything had ended in miserable failure, and I'd vowed not to use it again for a long, long time.
This wasn't that time.
"Surprise!" Alice said from behind me, having moved from the bedroom silently as I stood rooted in front of the source of all my frustrations of the past two years. Suddenly the cold I felt was replaced by anger – a white hot rage burning deep within the recesses of my mind. Just like old times.
"Alice," I said calmly, struggling to keep my voice steady as I bent over the desk, hands pressed against its edges. "What is this?"
"I guess I have a small confession to make," Alice said from behind me , moving towards me. Somehow I could hear the smile in her voice. A smile? How could she not understand what was happening, what she'd done?!
"I thought maybe you could write here!" Alice continued, blissfully unaware of the grave mistake she'd made. "That a change of scenery would get you past-"
I exploded. "Dammit, Alice!" I yelled, turning on her as her eyes widened in shock. "You – everyone keeps-"
"Hey, hey, hey!" Alice shouted back. "Just hear me out. There's a local doctor, Dr. Hartman, I've read a book of his. He has a private clinic here. He specializes in helping artists. Maybe-"
"So now you want to get me committed?" I cried, cutting her off again. At the mention of Hartman, I'd remembered all of what the ranger from the diner had said – how the Anderson Brothers, two senile old men, had been in the care of this Hartman guy as well. That he helped artists sounded like an outright lie.
"No! It's not like that. It's not-"
For the third time, Alice was cut off again as the lights in the cabin abruptly went out, the only small light available suddenly that of the moon. Instantly she traded an expression of shock for one of growing terror and looked about desperately for me. This was one of the results of her phobia: without me maintaining contact or making my location known to her, regardless of whether or not I was right in front of her when the lights went out, the fear suffocated much of her capability for rational thought, and she was left helpless until I came to her rescue. Right now, I couldn't give a shit.
"Alan?" She cried, her voice trembling. "Alan?" Just as my headache had ended almost as suddenly as it had begun earlier, the lights suddenly flashed back on. But I was beyond caring now.
"Don't!" I shouted at her, "Just don't, okay?" I don't wanna hear it! God DAMN it, Alice!" With that, I pushed by her, storming down the stairs and out of the front door, slamming it shut behind me. I knew she wouldn't follow me in the dark. I needed some time alone to think things through.
Still powered by anger, I sped off down the hill of Diver's Isle and across the bridge, walking as fast as I could. My only aim was to put as much space between myself and Alice as possible. But it wasn't to be.
Still consumed with rage at what Alice had done, I wasn't paying attention to where I stepped as the toe of my left shoe caught on the bridge's wooden boards as I lifted my foot. I crashed to the ground, just managing to put out my hands in time to stop myself from falling flat on my face. Thoughts of anger evaporated from my mind as I lifted myself back up, one hand on the railing for support. I saw for the first time that it was now well and truly night – there was no sign of the sun, and the mist and darkness had precedence. Registering this, I pulled my flashlight back out of my pocket and flicked it on, its beam adding to the slight artificial light reaching me from the windows of the study. Somehow, I chuckled as I realised the comedy of the whole situation – furiously storming off and not even managing to cross the bridge. I moved to rest against the railing, hands outstretched, looking out over the eastern part of the lake towards the sheer cliffs of the mountain in the same direction. The smile struggled to stay on my face. Great start, Alan, I thought – not even fully unpacked and already you're screaming at your wife for trying to help you. Good job. How could I be doing this again? After everything I'd said to myself about making a fresh start here. I was an idiot for thinking that I could just change when I wanted to, that arriving in Bright Falls would somehow cure me, make me a better person. Still, what was Alice thinking, pulling my old typewriter out of the blue and arranging for me to get 'treated' by some two-bit care home owner? It didn't matter – she was obviously doing what she thought was best. There was no justification for turning on her in the way that I had, after all we'd been through together. How could I have been so stupid? One thing was for sure – I was going to march back into that cabin and make it right.
But it wasn't time for that, either.
All the lights in the cabin went out again.
As the lights on my left disappeared, I thought I heard a muffled cry from the house – "Alan!"
"Alice?" I said to no-one in particular, frowning. As I turned to the cabin, another cry came from it.
"Alan? No! NOOOO!"
This last was a blood-curdling scream – definitely from Alice. Instantly I was terrified – what the hell was happening?
"Alice!" I yelled back at the cabin. Before I could think I was sprinting back towards the cabin, my flashlight's beam swinging madly across Diver's Isle.
"Alan! Where are you?" Came the cries from the cabin.
"Alice! It's allright, I'm coming!" I yelled back. A rustling of wings caught my attention, and I looked up.
Grouped together like swallows, a huge group of crows shot down out of the sky towards me, finally cawing like crazy, their voices combining to form a collective grating roar. Bewildered and horrified, I dived to the ground, landing hard, and threw my arms around my head. The crows gave off another collective cry, this time in pain, as if the light from my flashlight had somehow hurt them. The birds shot by me, barely missing me – I could feel the gust of wind as they swooped through the air above me – and climbed back into the sky. Desperate to escape another pass, I quickly picked myself up and rushed onwards towards the cabin.
"Alan! No! HELP ME!" Alice screamed again from within, and my heart beat with dread to think what was happening to her. Bounding up the steps onto the porch and reaching the front door, the skies filled with the sound of a thousand crows cawing madly, I threw it open. As I did so, Alice let out another scream, somewhere nearby. But worse still, this one faded away almost instantly – as if she'd fallen.
"Alice? Alice?" I cried, my voice on the edge of uncontrolled panic as I made my way further into the living room, casting the flashlight back and forth in the darkness. Then I froze.
Outside, through the open door to the back porch, the railing was broken.
My heart in my mouth, shaking ever so slightly, I hurried outside. The sound of the crows had been replaced by a deafening silence. Dreading what was to come with all my being, I moved over to the broken railing and cast the light of the flashlight downwards, into the water.
Through the swirling darkness, I could just make out Alice, motionless, sinking into the deep.
"Oh no!" I whispered, voice cracked, body fully shaking in horror.
Without a second thought, I took a deep breath and dived in after her.