A new movie about to come into theaters, Knock at the Cabin, brought this incident back from the past.
Our camp (I never called it a cabin) perched above a remote lake in Western Maine - in the middle of a vast wilderness containing very few folks. My wife and two young kids were asleep inside during one of those nights where there was absolutely no natural light - no moon, no stars. Only blackness.
The sudden knock on the door had no warning that there were any other humans other than a family down the lake in the area. In our 30-plus years on the lake, the knock was the first-and-last we ever heard.
My daughter, Lisa, was probably the most-alarmed due to her habit of reading some of the most-gruesome horror books while at the camp. You know the kind - stories of innocent girls being pulled outside of their cabin through a window by cannabalistic monsters. That kind of stuff.
Well, the guys at the door weren't cannibals. They were wilderness tour guides leading a group of young people on a canoe trip. One of their youngsters took ill, and they needed someone with a vehicle to drive them to a hospital
Our neighbor up the lake, a Reverend, alias Man of God, had (non) graciously declined their request for help and sent the troop to us. Accompanied by my son, Marc, were drove to a cove - retrieved the ill young man - and drove him and the group leader two hours to a hospital.
It ended well with no illness being diagnosed by the doctor - a free breakfast at the restaurant - and no cannibals in sight upon our return to the camp. I believe my daughter, Lisa's, book choice of the week prior to the disturbing knock on the door was Wrong Turn. I can't remember if she ever assked for her bed to be moved away from the rear-facing window.
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