***
I stiffened in momentary panic, unsure of how much time had passed. Then I remembered the car, Brad, the cabin, and the muscles in my stomach unclenched. I massaged the kinks in my neck with one hand while wiping my eyes with the other.
"How long was I asleep?" I asked Brad.
"Only about thirty minutes. We're almost there."
Drake shifted in the back seat, and I sensed his consciousness waking. 'I missed you.'
"I'm right here."
'I know. I just miss touching you.'
Drake reached through the gap between the seats to take over rubbing my neck.
Brad pulled the car into the dirt driveway of a large log cabin that sat in a copse of trees.
My stiff muscles protested as I stretched. "Are you sure it's okay to show up without calling?"
"He can't be mad at surprise visitors when he refuses to keep a phone."
I couldn't wrap my mind around why a grown man, who'd spent half his life as a journalist and the other half teaching, would want to seclude himself from the world so thoroughly.
I looked around the property. Majestic pines soared to the sky, their brown needles littering the forest floor. The log cabin looked more spacious than I'd expected, with large windows on every wall. "This place does have indoor plumbing, right? Because I'm so not squatting outside."
Brad stopped the car and opened his door. "Yeah, it's got plumbing, and electricity. Just no phone. Don't worry. Let's go."
Drake somehow beat me to my own door and opened it before I could even touch the handle. He offered his hand, and I placed mine in it, relishing the warmth of the contact. The guys grabbed the bags, and we walked up a few wooden steps to the front door. The smell of pine assaulted me as we approached.
Brad knocked once, rang the doorbell and waited.
My throat dried up and my stomach danced with angry bees as I imagined this man's reaction to our ludicrous story. If he really didn't have a phone, maybe we could run before he called the cops. But if he didn't have a phone, would he have internet? We still needed to get that blog viral.
My cotton shirt clung to my body as sweat crawled down my back despite the cold. What if Professor Shaw wasn't even home? Then what would we do?
Before I could create an alternate plan, the door opened, revealing a fit man in his sixties with a full head of white hair gracing his head like a halo. His clear blue eyes widened in surprise, but not anger. I immediately slipped into his mind to monitor him, despite how shaky I felt.
'Good to see the boy. Looking a bit thin. Wonder what stories await from these three.... '
His thoughts were benign, nothing to panic about. Yet.
Brad and the professor hugged, then Brad turned to us. "Professor, these are my friends, Drake and Sam. We, um, need your help. Can we come in?"
The professor opened the door wide and stepped aside. "Of course."
We followed him into a spacious, entirely civilized living room with a deep, overstuffed couch, two armchairs, and a large coffee table that actually looked like an ottoman.
Professor Shaw followed my eyes. "That table belonged to someone famous once. Be damned if I can ever remember who. Paid enough for it, though!"
"You have a lovely home," I said.
"Thank you. Now why don't you and Drake go sit down and make yourselves comfortable. Brad and I will get some drinks and snacks." He looked to Brad. "Come along."
The guys dropped the luggage in the corner, and Drake and I sat on the couch while Brad and the professor disappeared into what was presumably the kitchen.
'Well?' Drake asked.
"Well, so far his thoughts are of normal things. He's happy to see Brad, loves him to death, actually, and he's curious about us. No red flags yet."
'Okay. Don't exhaust yourself though. You shouldn't read him until you have to.'
"I know. I'm fine."
'Right.'
Drake put his arm around me, and I sank into him, grateful for his strength.
Clanking noises came from the kitchen, then both men walked through the swinging door carrying trays with sandwiches, fruit, juice and water.
They set their trays on the famous ottoman, and Professor Shaw waved his hand over the food. "Please, help yourself."
I greedily loaded my plate with food, and poured a glass of water. I hadn't realized how hungry and thirsty I'd been.
Professor Shaw let us eat in silence, but once the last crumb had been licked off my lips, the questions began. "So tell me. What kind of trouble are you in and how can I help?"
I froze. We'd told Brad our story, but he'd grown up with Drake. He knew this stuff existed. And yeah, we were about to spill it all on Brad's blog, but I didn't have to sit face-to-face with doubters and haters.