Page 73 of Death Valley

Get a grip,Wells, I tell myself and then follow the cleared path behind the cabin toward the outhouse. The breeze has blown back some of the snow, showing only frozen ground and I nearly slip a few times as I make my way there.

The outhouse has a nice view, at least I think it would in the day when it’s not all a black void, facing the back of the cabin and the valley below, though it leaves it exposed to wind from the east, which now comes in and rattles the stand of trees behind it.

I cautiously open the door, warily shining my flashlight, afraid of both the smell and seeing something gross. I’ve always treated outhouses and porta potties like the boogie man—if you don’t acknowledge it, it can’t hurt you.

But it’s surprisingly clean, just a few old pine needles on the floor and snow built up in the corners, a couple of rolls of toilet paper stacked on the spacious wooden bench. And yes, a hand sanitizer dispenser nailed to the wall.

Only problem is that there are a few gaps in the sides of the structure where the boards have shrunk. Thankfully the wind isn’t blowing in that way.

I leave the flashlight standing straight up beside me and sit down. I’m about done when suddenly I hear the scrape of something on the roof of the outhouse.

I freeze, quickly pulling up my pants, holding my breath.

Obviously just a branch scraping the roof.

Obviously.

Still, I quietly reach for the pistol with one hand, getting a good grip. I’m about to grab the flashlight when the scraping sound comes from my right side.

A long, deep scouring, like claws running down the side of the building.

Oh fuck no.

My breath hitches in my throat as I stare at the gaps in the wood planks, waiting.

A cold blue eye appears, staring right at me.

I scream.

Without thinking, I aim and shoot, the blast deafening in the small space, the wood splintering as the bullet hits, the force nearly knocking me backwards, not used to this kind of gun.

Then I burst through the door and run out, the pistol raised again, ready to shoot.

But there’s nothing there.

I run to the side and only see wood fragments in the snow.

No blood.

No tracks.

Nothing at all.

Holy fuck, am I losing my mind?

“Aubrey!” Jensen’s voice rings out and a second later he appears on the other side of the cabin. He spots me and runs. “What happened?”

“I thought I saw something,” I tell him. “But there was nothing there.”

He looks at the gun and then at the damage to the outhouse and I can see the wheels turning, like I mishandled the pistol and it went off accidentally.

“I’m telling you,” I go on, firmer now. “I saw an eye looking through the side of the outhouse. So I shot.”

“An eye? Jesus, Aubrey that could have been anyone. You could have killed someone.”

“None of us have pale blue eyes! I knew what I was doing.”

He runs his hand over his jaw, staring at the damage. “We should get you inside.” He holds out his hand. “I’ll be taking back my gun now.”

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