After the Cabin by Amy Cross Page A

been left open to the internet, and the same goes for things like baby monitors, home surveillance systems, anything that's online at all can have this same weakness.”
    “Seriously?”
    “I've told my boss about the problem until I'm blue in the face,” he continues, “but he figures it'd cost money, so he doesn't do a damn thing about it. That camera on the walkway can be viewed easily online, so even though the footage is technically supposed to be secure, I figure the fact it's been publicly broadcasting this whole time...” He pauses as he slows the footage, searching for the right point. “Just don't tell anyone about this, okay? I could still maybe get in trouble.”
    “I'm looking for really early on Thursday,” I tell him. “About 12:45am, maybe a minute or two either side.”
    “Nearly there,” he mutters, slowing the footage even more and then letting it play from 12:43am. The image is grainy and bathed in green, and the camera is at the wrong end of the bridge to get a good shot of where I remember standing, but it's better than nothing.
    “Can you zoom in?” I ask.
    “Wouldn't help the resolution.”
    “And there are no other cameras in the area? Nothing closer?”
    “Sorry, I -”
    He stops as soon as we see a figure at the far end of the walkway. The image is so blocky, I can't even recognize myself, but a moment later the figure stops and looks over the edge of the railing, which is exactly what I remember doing.
    “Is that you?” Freddie asks.
    I nod, and a moment later another figure steps into view.
    “There was someone else up there with me,” I whisper, leaning closer to the monitor. I watch as the two figures seem to be talking, but the image is too badly pixelated for me to make much out. “Is there no way to get a closer look?” I ask.
    A moment later, the image zooms in, but this just results in the blocks getting bigger on the screen.
    “Sorry,” Freddie mutters. “Best I can do.”
    “I was definitely talking to someone,” I whisper. “Why would Matt lie when...”
    My voice trails off as I realize that there's one other explanation. Just before I thought I saw Matt, I hallucinated Jennifer, but there's no way she could possibly be in the image. She's been dead since that final night at the cabin. Either Matt is lying to me about what happened on the walkway, or somehow Jennifer appeared, or maybe it was someone else entirely.
    On the screen, the first figure turns and hurries down the steps. A moment later, the second figure follows.
    “Does that help?” Freddie asks.
    “Yes and no,” I reply, taking a step back as my mind races with the possibilities. “Can I a get a copy of that footage?”
    “Legally -”
    “But you said it was being broadcast on the internet.”
    “By mistake, yes, but...” He pauses for a moment, before sighing. “Do you happen to have one of those USB drives?”
    Handing him the drive from my bag, I watch as he starts copying the relevant section for me.
    “Do you believe in ghosts?” I ask, watching the screen as it plays through the encounter on the walkway again.
    “Come again?”
    I watch as the two figures stand talking on the screen. If only there was some way to enhance the image so I could see who I was talking to, I'd have a much better idea of what's really going on.
    “I see things,” Freddie says finally.
    I turn to him. “What kind of things?”
    “People who shouldn't be there,” he continues. “I usually do the night-shift, from nine until seven, and a lot of our cameras are in out-of-the-way parts of town. Abandoned buildings, shut-down factories, that sort of thing. We cover that old hospital on Fremont Street too, and a couple of disused schools.” He pauses again. “I'm supposed to send someone to check if I see anyone trespassing, but over the years I've learned that there's a certain type of person I see sometimes, who there's no point worrying about.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean a type of person