The Edge of the World

Chapter Seven

Tatum woke late in the morning to an empty cabin, finding no sign of Ian anywhere. She tried to maintain her calm. Ian was a grown man who could do as he wished without her permission. So, keeping that in mind, she spent the day exploring the cabin, seeking answers to those who might live in that strange place. What sort of person, or persons, would long to reside on such a dreary island?

Oh, she found answers, but they raised more questions, and she wasn't certain she was ready to share her findings with Ian. He was high strung enough and adding more mystery to an already freaky situation might send him into a panic.

Sighing, she stashed the discoveries beneath her bed, and dug through the cabinets of the kitchenette. She found a ton of canned and pickled goods, along with a covered glass jug of oats, which made her grin. Hot oatmeal on a cold day? Nah. Nothing beats it.

The hungry part of her brain encouraged her to dig in, while the sane part demanded she hold up and think about it. The cans had faded labels, so their age was undeterminable, which might mean poisoning was in her immediate future.

She studied a can, which appeared to be chicken noodle soup, and right then her stomach growled, giving her the sign that she needed.

"Fuck it all, girl, and live dangerously."

After locating an old, rusted crank can-opener in one of the kitchen drawers, she poured the contents into a pot she found then glared at the cold cast iron wood stove. Besides the pit in the front yard, the stove was the only other source of heat in that place, so, in frustration, she slammed the pot down on the countertop and stormed outside in search of wood.

Preferably dry wood and with the fog covering everything she wasn't certain she'd find such a marvel. She gasped as the chilly air seeped through her sweater, frosting her flesh, and focused her attention on the dark skies above. It was getting colder and judging by the heaviness of the clouds, a winter storm was brewing.

A winter storm in the South Pacific during the month of July, no doubt.

Christ.

Wrapping her arms around middle, she walked from the cabin, scoping out which direction to take, for everything appeared menacing, all shadowy fog in every direction. Only the small circumference of the fenced yard remained visible, but where there was clarity, there lacked wood. She had no choice but to head for the trees, which was an uncomfortable option. It was only when she slipped through the threshold of sanctity into the pooling mist beyond the courtyard did she understand she'd forgotten her weapon. Tatum turned with a gasp, all of her focus resting on retrieving the gun, but she was stunned to find the cabin was gone! She stood mystified and alone on top of a hill, relocated as if by magic.

The dark blue, wintery world was encased in fog, and yet at the base of the hill she saw serpents writhing over one another, their red eyes shining through the wisps of vaper, watching her, daring her to come closer as they hissed their dark welcome.

Behind her, somewhere in the billowing darkness, echoed a soft laugh, mocking in its tone, and frightening in its pitch, like that of a witch in a Grimm's Fairytale.

She frantically gazed around in search of refuge from the frightening domain she found herself within, and only the trees to her left seemed familiar. A broken oak split down the center as if kissed by lightning at some point drew her attention, for there had been one similar near the cabin, and she rushed towards it, hoping this would lead her home.

But it didn't! It only took her deeper into the thicket, trapping her in the prison of gnarled and broken boughs.

"Ian!"

Her scream shattered the silence, splitting it like the oak she passed. Tatum waited, focusing on the stillness for his return call, which never came. She tried again, storming her way through the vegetation, as she sought a path out of the woods. But Ian never called to her, and she became entangled in a wall of thorny branches rather than finding her escape.