For a while now, without cell service, your phone has been repeating the same few songs. You drive on, down slushy roads that wind through low hills. Your headlights sweep over identical groves of trees on and on. You pass through a small, shuttered-up village, devoid of people.
As dusk ends, you finally see the rustic sign for the state park office and turn down the access road. In the empty parking lot, you get out of the car and stretch. The air is cold and damp, smells fresh, and carries smoke. You head for the park office, a low stone building with several smaller outbuildings like a bathroom and emergency phone.
The park office closed about 40 minutes ago. A sign on the door directs you to a drop box, where you find an envelope with your cabin number on it. It has some information pamphlets, a park map and the cabin key. You get back in the car and follow the highlighted route on the map to your cabin.