The Cabin

Stamping the snow off my boots, the adrenaline in my blood stream kept me warm with my heavy jackets, four of us hunkered under the crude shelter, the snow swirling around us. Against all reason and logic the shelter stood, undetected for who knew how long; that's what we were here to determine.

Holmes motioned, and Jones pushed open the door with his gloved hand, into the maw of Hell. I'll never forget that moment as long as I live, the snow moaning like dead souls, wind buffeting against us as we drew inside the cabin, turned on our flashlights.