Chapter 1
A murder of crows rose up in the air and flew right at us. They circled above our heads, almost grazing our hair. We felt shocked and vulnerable in the middle of the lake. Crows cawed so loudly.
We swam ashore and dashed out of the water, looking for sticks and stones to throw at them. Suddenly, as swiftly as they came, they flew away over the pine forest, as if someone had called them.
“What the heck was that?” I asked and looked at my friends. Emi trembled. She had flown here straight from L.A.
“I thought you said it would be a safe getaway,” she said.
Desperately, I glanced at the guys. A.J. stood with a stick in his hands.
“You three would not survive a day in Jamaica’s wilderness. Those were crows, not crocodiles,” he said.
“That’s why we came here, remember?” Emi scoffed. “To Lithuania, apparently the safest country in Eastern Europe, where there are no crocodiles.”
I looked down, feeling guilty. I brought my friends here to this lonely wooden cabin near the lake in the woods for a no-wifi internet detox.
“Come on,” Tim said. “Stop whining.” He stood with a phone in his hand, still recording.
A.J. looked at his phone with contempt on his face. “Dude, did surfing every day in New Zealand totally wash your brains? That’s how you face danger, with a phone?”
“Yeah,” Tim said and shoved the phone in A.J.’s face. “I want to go viral filming my grumpy friends.”
“Come on, guys, let’s go to the cabin. Who’s hungry?” I asked, trying to sound as cheerful as I could.
“Lead the way, Lady B, it’s your country,” said Emi. That’s what they called me. Don’t ask why.
We started walking, and suddenly we heard steps. A lot of them, as if a dozen people were walking along with us. We stopped and looked around.
“Did you hear that?” asked A.J., his voice tense. He was much braver against the visible dangers.
Fear was etched on my friends’ faces. Steps still echoed around us even though we were standing still.
“Hello?” called Tim. The steps stopped.
We looked around. No one. Only sunlight danced on the lake like Christmas lights.
“It’s getting really creepy, you know,” Emi said.
“Maybe… we just imagined it?” I said, feeling stupid for saying that. My friends flew here from all around the world, and I was determined to make this getaway work. Maybe it was the wind or something…
“Or something,” replied Emi.
“Come on, guys,” Tim said, launching himself forward. “A bit of creepy makes a good memory.”
We didn’t hear footsteps anymore, so we went to the cabin.
A.J., our chef, and Tim started preparing for the barbecue.
My bestie Emi and I were up for the photo session. Emi was an influencer. She put on a skimpy gown and asked me to take cute pics of her in the flowery meadow.
“Hey, I want to take a photo with a kimono over there,” Emi pointed to the tall birch tree. “Grandma will be happy.” She was of Japanese descent.
Emi playfully ran to the car, where she had a bag with her clothes, and clicked the car keys, but the doors wouldn’t unlock. She tried again. Nothing.
“Guys, I cannot open the door! Is it the right car key?” she called.
It was. We all came to help.
We tried to open the car again and again. Nothing. I felt despair. This car was rented. We wanted a good big jeep, and now we couldn’t open it.
“Do we have a phone to call the rent company?” asked A.J.
I nodded and reached for my phone. Suddenly, I felt that unsettling sensation that someone was looking at me. I was so not up for another creepy encounter. Slowly, I turned around and saw a fox. She was so close I could see her deep, serious eyes, as if she wanted to tell me something.
“Do you see that?” I asked. “Do you see the fox?” I pointed to the bush close to our car where she was standing.
My friends looked and shook their heads. I started feeling really sorry for renting this cabin. Suddenly, the car clicked, and the doors flung open — all of them. I looked at the fox; I swear I could see her smile, then she bolted back to the forest.
My friends stood there with their mouths open. “It’s getting really insane, you know,” Emi said and reached for her kimono.
To be continued ...
