Nell Vance sipped lukewarm coffee from a thermos, her eyes scanning the dark cabin's interior. She'd arrived three hours ago, after a long drive down the dirt road that had been impassable just weeks earlier. The spring thaw had been slower than usual this year, but now the water was rising fast – she'd seen it on her way in, lapping at the edge of the trees like a living thing. Her brother, Mike, had been kind to offer his cabin as a place for her to hole up while she covered nights at the hospital's radiology department. He'd promised good Wi-Fi and a comfortable bed – which was more than she could say for her own cramped apartment.
She walked over to the kitchen counter, where a notepad held down a clipboard with a filled-out form waiting for Mike's signature. The cabin's owner had left it on the counter for him to sign off on some maintenance work before winterizing the place. Nell had seen it yesterday when she'd arrived, but Mike was still out running errands in town. She glanced at her watch – 2:47 a.m. Just enough time to get a few things done before Mike got back.
The cabin's living room was a cozy space, with a large stone fireplace dominating one wall. Nell had built a small fire earlier, but the chill of the spring air still lingered, and she could see her breath in the dim light. She wrapped her sweater tighter around her shoulders as she made her way over to the coffee table, where a small notebook lay open with some scribbled notes.
As Nell approached the kitchen, she noticed something that caught her attention - a faint scratch on the inside of the locked back door. She frowned, trying to remember if Mike had mentioned anything about it earlier. But no, he hadn't. She must have missed seeing it in the dim light when she first arrived.
She turned the doorknob and opened the door, peering out into the darkness beyond. The cabin's porch creaked softly in the wind, but other than that, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Nell examined the scratch more closely - a small scuff on the hinge, nothing too deep or severe.
Maybe it was just a branch knocked loose in the storm yesterday, she thought. The trees around here can be pretty loose-limbed. She shook her head, chuckling wryly to herself. And Mike's probably been doing some yard work without me noticing.
Nell closed the door and continued on with her tasks, trying to push the notion out of her mind. It was just a scratch, after all - nothing to worry about. She made herself a cup of tea and sat down at the kitchen table to review the day's schedule, running through the list of patients in her head.
As she worked, Nell heard a faint creaking from outside - probably just the old cabin settling in the wind. She paid it no mind, focused on sorting through the stack of files in front of her.
The fire crackled softly in the living room, casting a warm glow over the kitchen. It was peaceful, the sound of her own breathing and the quiet hum of the refrigerator creating a soothing rhythm. Nell's gaze drifted to the window, where she noticed that outside, a thin layer of frost still clung to the grass.
And underneath it, something green.
Nell's eyes returned to the files on her desk as she made a note about the last patient of the day, Mr. Jenkins. As she finished up, she glanced at the clock and saw it was 2:55 a.m. She'd worked through her shift without incident, just like every other night.
The creaking outside had stopped, and the cabin was quiet once more. Nell began to tidy up, her movements efficient and automatic as she stacked files and put away supplies. The fire crackled on, casting shadows on the walls.
As she stepped out of the kitchen to head back to the living room, Nell noticed that the thermostat read 72 degrees – right where she'd set it. But something nagged at the back of her mind. She thought about checking the cameras outside, but they were just for security; it was probably nothing.
In the living room, Nell settled onto the couch with a book and a cup of lukewarm tea. As she read, her gaze drifted to the window again. The frost had retreated from most of the grass, but under the eaves, it still clung in a thin sheet. And underneath that, something green was growing – tendrils curling over the edge of the deck.
Nell's eyes lingered on the sight before she forced herself back to her book. She was getting tired; it was probably just a stray shoot from the garden outside. But as she turned a page, she noticed that the clock on the wall in the kitchen now read 3:01 a.m. She must have walked by it when she came in here.
The next time Nell checked her book, she saw that the page had been turned to a different chapter. She was certain she'd marked her place earlier. But when she looked again at the window, something new caught her attention – a small sprig of green poking out from under the threshold.
Nell set her book aside and walked towards the kitchen, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. She needed to call Jenkins, her supervisor, to confirm that she'd done everything right with the X-rays from Mike's scan earlier. The line was supposed to be open for emergencies like this, but when she picked up the receiver, all she got was a busy signal.
She tried again, but still nothing. Maybe it was just a bad connection. The phone lines around here could be sketchy at times, especially during storms. But the storm had passed hours ago, and besides, she needed to check those X-rays one more time before she left.
As she walked back into the living room, Nell's eyes landed on the clock on the wall again. 3:01 a.m. She was sure it had been 2:55 just a few minutes ago. Her heart started to pick up pace as she tried to recall if she'd changed anything else in the house since then.
She approached the front door, her hand reaching for the handle. But as she stepped closer, she noticed something that made her freeze. The green sprig of plant she'd seen earlier was now a small, fully grown shoot, its leaves curled up towards the light spilling from under the threshold. She must have been mistaken about it being new.
A chill ran down Nell's spine as she realized the implications. Something had been growing in that gap, something that shouldn't be there. And then there was the phone – still dead.
Nell's gaze drifted back to the phone on the wall, its cord dangling like a severed limb. Dead, she thought again, but this time it wasn't a question. The clock on the living room wall glowed 3:14 a.m., and Nell felt the weight of hours lost in a loop. She moved towards the kitchen, her feet heavy with fatigue, and slumped onto a stool beside the counter.
The green shoot on the threshold had confirmed it: something was inside. And now she noticed other things – small, but impossible to ignore. A faint scent wafted from the back room, like someone had mowed the lawn in the dead of winter. The smell clung to her clothes, making her wrinkle her nose.
Nell's eyes landed on a folded jacket hanging from the peg near the door. She pushed it aside, not thinking much about it, until she noticed the words "call Jenkins" scribbled inside the collar. That must have been months ago. But as she turned the jacket over in her hands, the pen marks seemed to have been made tonight.
The kitchen radio flickered back to life, its static a jarring counterpoint to the silence outside. News headlines scrolled across the screen, but Nell didn't register them. Her attention drifted to the small notebook on the counter, where she'd scribbled notes about the phone's dead battery and the strange growth on the doorframe. The handwriting looked normal at first glance, but as she read through her notes, she noticed a discrepancy in the clock times – 2:47 a.m., then 3:01 a.m., before jumping back to 2:55 again.
The radio crackled louder now, and Nell spun around, trying to locate the source. The voice on the radio mentioned news of flooding along the roads leading out of the valley. It would take weeks for help to arrive. Weeks.
Nell's breath caught as she spun back to face the notebook. The radio still crackled, but the voice was indistinct now, muffled by a sudden thud from above. She felt the cabin lurch, the floorboards creaking under her feet. Her skin prickled, the air thickening with an unfamiliar scent – damp earth and decay.
She turned to see the wall beside the doorframe had shifted, the paint blistered and cracked like worn leather. The growth on the doorframe seemed to have spread, tendrils curling around the wooden beam like grasping fingers. Nell's heart thudded in her chest as she took a step back, her eyes fixed on the door.
The air inside was heavy, weighing on her lungs. She felt suffocated by the stench, her head spinning. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry, her tongue thick. The radio had stopped crackling, replaced by an oppressive silence. Nell's own breathing sounded loud in her ears – ragged gasps that seemed to grow louder with each passing second.
She took another step back, her eyes darting between the door and the notebook on the counter. Her hand reached for it, fingers drumming against the page as she tried to make sense of the clock times. But something caught her attention, drawing her gaze back to the doorframe. The growth had changed – it was no longer just a few tendrils curling around the beam. It was a solid mass now, a tangled network of twisted wood and what looked like...
Nell's breath caught in her throat as she took another step back, her eyes fixed on the shape bulging from the doorframe. Her skin crawled with a creeping sense of dread as she realized – whatever it was – it had moved closer to the door.
The air seemed to thicken further, the stench making her stomach lurch. Nell's hand dropped to her side, her fingers curling into fists as she took another step back. She tried to call out, but her voice caught in her throat, trapped by the oppressive silence. The only sound was her own ragged breathing, and the creaking of the floorboards beneath her feet.
Nell's vision blurred, her eyes watering from the stench. She stumbled backward, her fists clenched as she tried to clear her head. The shape in the doorframe seemed to be watching her, its presence suffocating. She collided with something, her shoulder scraping against a wall. The pain brought her back, but only for a moment. Her gaze drifted past the shape, settling on the figure standing just inside the cabin.
Mike was smiling at her, his eyes crinkled at the corners. He looked... normal. Not like someone who'd been trapped in a nightmare for hours. Nell's mind reeled as she stumbled toward him, her legs wobbly beneath her. "M-Mike?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
He chuckled and held out his arms, but Nell hesitated. Something didn't feel right. Mike had always been the laid-back one in their group of friends, but there was an undercurrent to his smile now – a... patience. As if he'd been waiting for her. Waiting for her to wake up, perhaps.
She took another step back, her eyes scanning the cabin frantically. The shadows seemed to be shifting, as if they too were aware of Mike's presence. Nell's gaze landed on something else: the phone on the counter, its screen glowing softly with an incoming text. Mike had been trying to reach her since... 3:14 a.m., she remembered. When the power had flickered back on.
The phone seemed to be calling to her now, but Nell didn't dare answer it. She looked back at Mike, and that was when she saw it – the faint scratch on his left cheekbone, shaped like an anchor. A small, familiar mark that she knew all too well from... from her own childhood.
The sun had barely risen over the county when Jenkins stopped by the sheriff's office for his morning briefing. Nell was scheduled to work at 9 a.m., but she hadn't shown up yet. Jenkins made a note on her file and moved on to review the week's crime reports.
Mike's car was still parked outside the cabin, but he wasn't there either. Jenkins assumed they'd gone for a walk or something, given the decent weather. He marked down "no contact" under Nell's name and moved on to the next entry.
The weatherman reported a low of 32 degrees last night, with a high of 45 expected today. That was nothing out of the ordinary for late March. The river had crested earlier than usual, but the road was clear this morning. Jenkins made a note to have it inspected soon.
As he was leaving, he caught the scent of cut grass wafting from the park across town. It was an odd smell in winter, but the maintenance crew had apparently gotten an early start on their lawn care routine. Jenkins filed that away as a minor curiosity and got back in his truck to continue his rounds.
At 9:05 a.m., Nell still hadn't shown up for her shift. Jenkins made another note and moved on to review the week's X-ray results.