Louis Hannibal Nez
The scream does not come again.
Marie and Joseph remain at the railing, still watching the cabin across the stream. The echo dwindles among the hills until it dies away altogether, and the silence it leaves is more unsettling than the scream.
“Did you hear that?” Marie asks.
Joseph does not answer at once. He keeps watching the distant building, but daylight is beginning to fade and its details are growing harder to distinguish.
“Yes.”
“It came from there.”
“It sounded like it.”
Marie waits for an explanation. Joseph, however, does not look away from the cabin.
“Perhaps someone’s staying there,” he says at last. “Maybe they didn’t tell us the other house was occupied too.”
“They told us this place was isolated.”
“Isolated doesn’t necessarily mean uninhabited.”
Marie looks back at the cabin. The deck is still there, motionless, identical to the one beneath their feet. There is no one in sight, no movement behind the windows.
“Do you think we should go and look?”
Joseph turns to her.
“It’s getting dark. If someone needs help, we’ll hear them again.”
His answer does not reassure Marie. For a few seconds she considers crossing the bridge, but the distance seems greater now than it did in daylight. Besides, the slope leading down to the stream is thick with vegetation.
“I’m going to see how Sunny is,” she says.
They go inside. Marie climbs the stairs and stops outside her daughter’s room. She knocks gently.
“Sunny.”
There is no answer.
“Can I come in?”
After a few seconds, the girl answers in a dull voice.
“Leave me alone.”
Marie rests a hand on the door.
“I just wanted to know if you’re all right.”
“I’m fine.”
The answer comes too quickly. Marie stays where she is, unsure whether to press her. Beyond the door she hears nothing but a slight movement of the bed.
“Come down whenever you like. We’re going to make some dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Marie closes her eyes for a moment. Then she takes her hand from the door and goes downstairs.
Joseph is waiting in the living room beside one of the windows.
“How is she?”
“She won’t come out.”
“Give her time.”
“That’s all you ever say.”
Joseph looks at her patiently, though worry has begun to settle on his face as well.
“We’ve only just arrived. You can’t expect her to change from one moment to the next.”
“I don’t expect her to change. I expect her to spend time with us.”
“She will.”
Marie says nothing. She looks outside. The opposite cabin is barely visible in the shadows. The stream reflects the last traces of light, and the bridge looks darker than the rocks and trees around it.
Sunny stays in her room throughout dinner. Joseph tries to play down the situation, talking about the trip, the promotion that has allowed him to pay for this vacation, and the things they might do during the week. Marie listens without enthusiasm.
Every so often, she looks back toward the windows.
Little by little, the other cabin vanishes into the dark.
Later, after Joseph checks that Sunny has gone to bed, he and Marie retire to the main bedroom. The night passes quietly. Now and then the wind buffets the wooden walls and makes the tree branches creak.
Marie sleeps deeply.
She wakes with a start.
She sits up in bed, one hand pressed to her chest. For a few seconds she stays motionless, trying to understand what has woken her. Joseph sleeps with his back to her, unaware of her alarm.
Marie turns toward the window.
A faint light flickers across the stream.
She gets up without switching on the lamp and walks to the door leading onto the deck. The night air is cold. As she steps outside, the wood creaks beneath her feet.
She approaches the railing.
The light is still there, burning in the opposite cabin. It is yellowish, weak and unsteady, as though a flame were struggling to stay alive behind glass.
Marie narrows her eyes.
Then she looks toward the bridge.
A woman stands at its center.
She wears a long white nightgown, just like the one Marie is wearing. The figure stands motionless, facing the cabin on the hill. Distance and darkness hide her features.
Marie holds her breath.
The woman seems to be looking toward her, but her face is lost in the darkness of the night.
An intense chill runs through Marie. She backs away slowly, keeping her eyes on the bridge. The figure does not move. Even the wind seems to leave her untouched.
Marie turns and goes inside.
Before climbing the stairs, she catches another glimmer through the front window. She approaches the glass and looks toward the opposite hill.
She cannot see the woman.
Only the light, still flickering in the dark.
Marie returns to the bedroom and lies down beside Joseph. She stays awake for a long time, her eyes open, her body rigid.
Outside, the light keeps burning.