That was exactly what I wanted.

I turned off the main road onto a gravel path.

The SUV bounced over the deep ruts, the branches of the trees scraping the sides.

The sound was loud in the quiet morning.

Finally, the cabin appeared through the mist.

It was a small, dark structure made of rough-cut logs.

The porch was covered in dead pine needles.

It looked exactly as it had five years ago.

I parked the car close to the porch steps and shut off the engine.

The sudden silence was deafening.

Only the sound of the rain dripping from the roof broke the quiet.

I turned to Alexander.

His eyes were half-open, staring blankly at the glove compartment.

“We’re here,” I said.

I got out of the car, the cold northern air hitting my face.

I walked around to the passenger side and opened the door.

I helped him stand, his legs buckling slightly under his own weight.

We stumbled up the wooden steps together.

I reached under the loose floorboard near the door and found the rusted brass key.