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11.76% Mr. Hideaway

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

Ghosts, goblins, and warlocks didn’t frighten Josh because his family, known for their obscure connections with voodoo, herbalism, dark witchery, channeling spirts of the dead, and other challenging practices of the occult, didn’t faze him in the slightest. Frankly, adapting to a spirit’s companionship turned out sometimes to be easier than that of a living human. Hence why Josh had minimal friends and enjoyed his time alone.

* * * *

He unpacked in the upstairs bedroom that overlooked the lake. The view resembled a dreamy and enchanting pre-summertime postcard, and everything that comprised an unknown heaven. Blue-green waves licked the rocky shore, and a light wind fluffed the lake’s surrounding trees. He opened the two windows inside the bedroom and felt a luxurious breeze against his chin and cheeks.

Somewhere in the distance, a whippoorwill called out. It sounded as if the creature resided at Zeth Mandell’s house, a cozy, small, and neighboring A-frame that sat back from the lake, built by his own muscular arms and chest. Zeth just happened to be the only other resident on this side of the lake, a park ranger year-round, paid by the state to enforce and control the park’s security and to perform emergency services. Zeth patrolled the park to ensure a safe environment for the park’s visitors and detected and investigated any criminal activity, which rarely ever happened.

Now, looking out at the lake, Josh took in the quality scenery that didn’t at all look like the city and its busy sidewalks and skyscrapers. It was nice to leave behind the screenplay writers, line producers, casting directors, location scouts, directors, script supervisors, a cinematographer, and sound mixer. No longer did Josh have to think about the Chicago International Film Festival and Sundance. Nor was he concerned about the Academy Awards, Saturn Awards, and Screen Actors Guild Awards. Crazy had set in for Josh Hideaway, and he needed to mend his mind and life. It could take a week or through the summer. Fortunately, he was willing to take as long as he needed for repair, living off his savings account for the time being. Relax time had come in his life. Mending time. Sanity felt as if it were long overdue.

* * * *

Josh knew there were two park rangers that covered the eight and a half thousand acres of Penichowaba State Forest. Zeth operated in the northern area of the park, and his sidekick, Sandra McBain, an Irish bombshell, patrolled the southern area. The two rangers had a ranger booth near Hoppscott Road, which was somewhere in the middle of the two areas. The booth looked like a tiny barn, painted red with white trim. Inside its miniscule confines sat a desk, file cabinet, Mr. Coffee station, and a phone. Rarely were Zeth and Sandra seen together in the booth.

Little information about Zeth had been gathered in the last five years, since Josh visited his family’s cabin on a frequent basis. Josh knew that Zeth had just turned thirty-six, used to live in Idaho for a number of years as a park ranger, and resembled Andrew Lincoln from The Walking DeadHe had a head of thick black hair, dark eyes, and a thin build. Unmarried, schooled at Idaho State, and a vegetarian, Zeth came across as a nice guy with some intelligence. Any time Josh had bumped into the man, their conversations were always interesting. Topics shared included witchery, campground fires, and missing children, most of which were quite entertaining and honest.

* * * *

After unpacking, Josh decided to cut the yard. The thick grass had grown ankle-plus high and became a plush green that looked summer silk. A tiny shed sat approximately three hundred feet away from the cabin. Inside were tools for keeping the property shipshape: shovels, a pick, machete, chainsaw, five-gallon plastic tank of gasoline, two containers of 10W30 oil, lawn mower, and ceramic garden gnomes with cracked faces and missing limbs. The gnomes needed to be tossed in the garbage, a task that maybe Josh would get around to during the next month. Maybe not, though. As for the lawnmower, it was new, used just a few times last summer, and shiny red.

Josh checked the mower’s oil. Not fine. Almost empty. He added more. Then he filled the Lawn Boy with gasoline. Good to go now. Amen to that.

The day turned warm, and he removed his shirt, showing off a sturdy chest of blond hair that matched the curls on his head. He squinted his dazzling blue eyes, wishing he would have remembered his sunglasses in the cabin.

No, he couldn’t spend an hour on the grass without his shades. After bitching at himself, he made the walk to the cabin, fetched his men’s Polos from the kitchen counter, decided a bottle of water also went well with the sun, and snagged one from the refrigerator.


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