Don’t Look

There wasn’t much at the end of his directions from a drunk bush pilot to confirm he was in the right place. A small cabin, a windmill, and a couple of outbuildings protecting the equipment necessary to sustain life all the way out here, all dangerously close to the bottom of a snow covered ridge. The wind was picking up, already starting to obscure the top of the ridge as snow began to fall. A snowmobile was parked near the front door. Good sign someone was home.

He knocked on the door and it swung open as his knuckles left the wood. She matched the picture and she didn’t. Somehow, she looked younger than the dust jacket photo from five years ago. He hadn’t expected her to look so…. normal. She was wearing a gray hoodie and jeans, he could be standing anywhere in the Midwest, instead of here at the end of civilization.

[story published in Teleport Magazine, read the rest here]