Voracious - Alice Henderson [32]
Shortly afterward, as she sat alone with the two rangers again, a rap brought their attention back to the door. In a moment Steve was up and opening it. Noah stood there. She was so glad to see him she almost leapt up and hugged him.
“Noah!” she said, about to launch into the story about how they wouldn’t listen to her, how the creature had convinced them it hadn’t killed their friend.
“I found us a place to stay,” he said before she could get a word out.
She realized he was nervous and didn’t want to talk to the rangers.
“Thanks for your help,” he told the rangers.
“The ranger in question is fine … I radioed him myself,” Steve said to Noah.
“Yes,” Noah said quietly. “It’s just been a long couple of days, and my friend here was really spooked by the flash flood.”
Both rangers nodded, and after thanking them again, Noah led her out and shut the door behind them.
“They wouldn’t listen to me,” Madeline said when they stood alone on the porch.
“It’s just as well.”
“Just as well?” Madeline said incredulously.
He looked every bit as exhausted as she felt. But his bruises looked a little better. Not so dark.
“They would get killed if they went after him. You must see that by now.”
Madeline fell silent. At last she nodded. She looked at him intently. “And you won’t?”
Noah sighed and looked out into the night. “Not if I can help it,” he said softly, more, Madeline thought, to himself than to her.
The only available accommodation in the entire park had been one cabin at the Lake McDonald Alpine Chalets, just a few hundred yards from the Apgar ranger station.
A small cabin set back away from the lake’s edge, next to a burbling creek and surrounded by trees and a few other cabins, it stood right next to Apgar campground. It was a miracle they even got it: someone had canceled a reservation at the last minute. During the summer, accommodation in the park was booked solid. They stood in front of it in the dark, listening to the sounds of night around them: the rush of the creek, a warbling owl in the woods.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t get us each a cabin,” he told her, “but I’ll sleep on the couch.”
She nodded. “Thanks. But I already figured you for a gentleman.” Secretly she was grateful they only had one cabin available. She hadn’t relished the thought of sleeping alone in a strange place tonight.
They went inside. It was a small structure with only a main room and a tiny bedroom. In the center of the living room stood a little wooden lacquered table for eating or playing cards. A couple of folding wooden chairs stood on either side. In one corner of the room sulked an old stuffed chair and couch, upholstered in the ever-popular rough orange brown patterned material that almost came to rule the world in 1972.
They checked the closets and even under the bed at her request. The cabin was small and sparse, built in the ’30s, and the bedroom contained only a bed, desk, and a rickety chair. Bathrooms were in separate buildings, shared by all the guests of the cabins. Madeline had seen one of the structures on the way in, a large, lighted building that looked like it had flush toilets and even hot water. The thought of such luxuries after her ordeal almost made her giddy.
After Noah checked the cabin, she collapsed into a chair. In the soft glow of a table lamp, she could clearly see the concern on Noah’s face and something else: a profound tiredness. He looked over, caught her staring, and she glanced away toward the windows.
They didn’t look very secure. What if the creature came scrambling up the stairs, broke a glass pane in the door, reached in with furtive fingers—
“Will it … come? Here?” she asked at last. “Will it find me?”
“No.” Noah shook his head. “There’s no reason to think that. His attacks are random …” His voice trailed off, eyes fixing on the darkness beyond the windows.
Madeline had the