The Cabin in the Woods (7 page)

It wasn’t the most attractive building he’d ever seen, but it could easily be home.
For a couple of days, at least.
Single-story, with large eye-like windows on either side of the door. Several rickety steps led up to the wide decked porch area, where a small pile of firewood was stacked beneath the overhang to dry. Tall fir trees skirted the rear and both sides of the building, hiding it away from anywhere but where they were now parked.
Curt killed the engine and opened the door and, without speaking, they all climbed slowly from the Rambler.

Bird song, a gentle breeze through the trees, their crunching footsteps, something splashing out on the lake... there was no other noise. No traffic grumble or roaring of aircraft high in the sky.

Nothing.

It was, Marty thought then, idyllic.

“Oh my god, it’s beautiful!” Jules said, leaning into Curt and adding quieter, “One spider and I’m sleeping in the Rambler. I mean it.
Uno spider-o.”

“This house is talking a blue streak,” Marty whispered.

“So let’s set up camp,” Holden said. “And the most important feature: keg.” He clapped Marty on the shoulder and grinned, and Curt accompanied them back into the Rambler to get the beer. They maneuvered it from the confined space and manhandled it from the vehicle, and by the time they’d deposited it on the cabin’s porch, Dana already was there, turning the knob.

The door swung open with a deep, grinding creak.
You’re velcome to stay zer night,
Marty thought, but as the others followed her inside he held back, appreciating the sky above him and the sense of space he still felt all around. In there they’d be... confined. He didn’t shiver—not quite—but something felt askew. Had felt that way since meeting that weird old coot at the tumble-down gas stop, then coming up through the tunnel and winding track. Shit, maybe his batch of
weed was contaminated with something. He’d heard about it happening before.

Once inside and settled, maybe he’d think about switching stashes.

The main room beyond the front door was living room and kitchen combined, and Dana was walking around slowly, touching nothing, as the others entered. To the right was a dining table and chairs, and a kitchen counter featuring poorly crafted wall and floor cupboards with a retro-fitted sink, the single tap dripping steadily. At the end of the counter stood an antique wood-burning stove, probably built before Marty’s grandparents were even born. Its bulk and solidity seemed somehow out of place beside the rest of the kitchen, as if it was the only part that bled quality. “Oh, this is awesome!” Curt said.

“It is kinda cool,” Jules replied. “You gonna kill us a raccoon to eat?”

“I will use its skin to make a cap.”

To the left in the huge room was the living area, with mismatched sofas and chairs arranged around the large stone fireplace. It looked comfortable, but strangely unloved, as if it were a place used for necessity rather than desire. Hanging back in the doorway, Marty spotted a wolf’s head on the wall—courtesy of the old guy at the station, perhaps? It had been stuffed growling, and was just about one of the most vicious looking things he’d ever seen. That would get a shirt thrown over it before dusk, he was damn certain of that, by him if no one else. Its eyes seemed alive.
Directly opposite the front door a bare, wide hallway ran to the rear of the cabin, with two doorways leading off from either side. Between it and the kitchen there was a rectangle in the floor that appeared to be a way into the cellar. A few worn rugs littered the floor. The window at the hallway’s end was obscured by nets and dust, and whatever lay beyond was dark, as if the woods back there cut out all sunlight.

Dana paused before the stuffed wolf’s head, then moved on. Her footsteps were soft and gentle, hardly heard, and Marty wondered what lay beneath the timber-boarded floor.

Jules strode confidently along the hallway to check out the bedrooms. She grabbed a doorknob and twisted.

“Dibs on whichever room is—OW!” She jerked her hand back and stared at the bubble of blood welling on her fingertip.

I’m still not inside,
Marty thought.
The others are and they’re fine, they’re at ease with the place, but I’m still not...

“Curt, your cousin’s house attacked me,” Jules exclaimed with mock severity.

“I smell lawsuit,” Curt said.

“When was your last tetanus shot?” Holden chuckled, and Marty noticed how close Dana had drawn to him. Not quite touching.

“Thanks, that’s very comforting,” Jules responded.

“Jules is pre-med,” Curt said sadly, stroking his girlfriend’s hair. “She knows there’s no coming back from this. I’ll miss you, baby. I’ll miss your shiny new hair.”
Dana glanced around then and looked at Marty, drawing him into their group again. He blinked, a little startled. He’d been off in his own world again.

“Marty? Are you planning on coming in?”

“Maybe,” he said. “Maybe.” But he waited until the four of them picked up their bags and headed down the hallway before he made his move.

Once across the threshold he sighed, looking around and listening to the others joking and chatting in their rooms.

He looked at the wolf and growled.

•••

Holden took the first room on the left, next to Dana’s. He was excited. It had been a weird journey up from the city, the lowest point being that ignorant fuck at the gas stop. But now that they were here he could feel them all relaxing, and it wouldn’t be long before they made this place their own.

Unpack, change, get the keg into the living room, sort out food for this evening, have a few more drinks... and maybe even one of Marty’s joints... and then the weekend would really begin.

And there was Dana. He could feel the charge between them growing, and now he was certain that she felt it too. She was as keen to be close to him as he was to her. It felt a little awkward in the company of the others—he’d invaded their group, after all, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that Curt had brought him
along as a potential fix-up. But he couldn’t deny the effect she was having over him.

He only hoped she’d brought a bikini.

He glanced at a picture on the wall—some old Victorian scene—then threw his bag on the bed and winced at how much it creaked. Sitting on the mattress and bouncing lightly up and down, he felt certain the resultant squeaking would attract bears from miles around. He hoped Curt’s and Jules’s bed wasn’t this bad, otherwise none of them would be getting any sleep. If what Curt claimed was true, they went at it like rabbits.

The room was an echo of the rest of the cabin— wooden walls, wooden furniture, with a few touches here and there to make it look more homey. There was a rug on the floor, one corner almost threadbare, and a woven cushion on the bed covers. He turned back the covers and shook them, pleased to see no moths exiting or spiders scuttling away. He ran his hand between the sheets and felt no dampness. At least
that
part of it seemed to be comfortable enough.

Looking around again, he found his attention grabbed once more by the picture hanging on the wide wall. He’d assumed it was an old horse-and-dog print, a country scene from a long time ago, maybe even imported from Britain. But looking closer, the detail started to stand out... and it was horrible.

It was a hunting party, and most of the members were shown dismounted, their faces flushed red with rage or freshly blooded, arms raised, hands bearing
curved machetes that reflected gray sunlight where they weren’t also darkened with blood. At their feet were several big, vicious-looking dogs, reminding him more of the wolf’s head in the living room than the family pets he was used to. And at the focus of their attention was a lamb. Scarlet clefts had been struck into its back and flanks, and one dog had its slavering jaws clamped about the poor animal’s throat.

It was only a picture, but Holden found it repulsive.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, taking the painting down. He bent and leaned it against the wall, picture now facing inward, and when he stood again Dana was staring at him through a hole in the wall.

He jumped, letting out a nervous laugh.

She stared.

“Wow,” he said meekly, “I’ve heard about the walls being thin, but—” And then he trailed off when Dana bared her teeth at him, leaning forward as if to take a bite from his face. Frozen by the strangeness of this more than afraid that she was going to bite him, he let his shoulders relax when he realized what was happening.

Dana was examining her teeth. She picked between the two front ones, turning slightly left and right to get the angle right to see toward the back of her mouth. Ran her tongue across her upper teeth, the lower. Stared again, at herself.

One-way mirror,
Holden thought, and there was a creepy delight in the discovery.

He watched as she ruffled up her hair a little, pouted, and then she seemed to become distracted,
staring beyond the mirror and through him as she dwelled on something for a long few seconds. A small smile tweaked her lips, then she shook herself from the reverie and returned to her bed.

She started unbuttoning her shirt.

“Oh shit, ah no, ahh... ” Holden said, torn between this golden opportunity and his common human decency. If he waited here and watched her strip, he could never tell anyone about the mirror. But if he made her aware, he might kick himself later.

Three buttons, four, that smooth plane of skin flowing from her neck down to her chest...

He had to make up his mind quickly, in the next couple of seconds, otherwise—

Five buttons, and the shirt fell open to reveal her tan bra, and if he waited another few seconds...

Holden cursed silently and banged on the wall. Dana froze, head cocked to one side, and Holden took that second to just look at her before calling through the wall, “Hold up!”

“What? Holden?”

“Dana... I just saw... come into my room. Bring the others.”

Dana closed her shirt and redid a couple of buttons, frowning as she left her room. Holden heard her calling their friends, and he backed away from the wall and turned to the door, preparing to greet them and feeling more ashamed than he should have. He’d told her, hadn’t he? Some guys would have watched all the way, jerked off and re-hung the picture, keeping the whole
thing their dirty little secret. And some guys would have done that, then gone across the hallway to tell Marty.

He wasn’t some guys.

But I waited a few seconds longer than I had to...

Dana stuck her head around his door and smiled uncertainly. She entered, and Holden pointed at the window into her room just as Jules came in, Curt and Marty following her.

“Tan bra,” he said softly.

Jules got it first. She coughed surprised laughter and said, “You have got to be kidding me!”

“That’s just creepy,” Dana said as she caught on.

“It was pioneer days,” Marty said. “People had to make their
own
interrogation rooms. Out of cornmeal.”

Holden shrugged and ran his hands around the rough one-way mirror frame. “This is from the... seventies, judging by the weathering. Who did your cousin buy this place from, Curt?”

“We should check the rest of the rooms,” Curt said, ignoring the question. “Make sure this is the only one. You
know
Marty wants to watch me and Jules pounding away.”

“I didn’t even like
hearing
that,” Marty said, wincing as he turned and left the room.

“Beer,” Curt said, eyebrows rising, false realization dawning on his face. “Beer! Beer is the only answer!” He turned and dashed from the room, Jules rolling her eyes and following him.

“Don’t be an ape, Curt.”

The brief silence after the others left was a little
awkward, and it needed more than a smile to break it.

“How about we switch?” Holden asked Dana. “Not that I’d... I mean I’ll put the picture back but you might feel better if we switched rooms.”

“I really would,” Dana said, leaving his room.

Holden cursed silently as he grabbed his bag, following her out into the hallway.

“Thanks for... being decent,” she said over her shoulder.

“Least I could do, since Curt and Jules have sold you to me for marriage.” Holden cringed a little;
said too much?
Dana cringed, too, but then her soft laughter made it all right.

“They’re not subtle,” she agreed ruefully.

“I’m just here to relax. And so can you.”

“Yeah, I’m not looking for... But I’m still grateful that you’re not a creep.”

“Hey, let’s not jump to any conclusions there,” Holden said.

“Tan bra?” Dana said softly, and though he couldn’t see her face he knew that she was smiling.

Don’t want to play this
too
cool,
he thought, and on the back of that,
So
am
I a creep after all?

“I had kind of an internal debate about showing you the mirror,” he said. “Shouting on both sides, blood was spilled... ”

They entered Dana’s room—his room now—and he dumped his stuff on the bed.

“So you’re bleeding internally,” she asked, mock-serious.
“Pretty bad.”

“Well, Jules is the doctor-in-training. You should probably talk to her.”

“Yeah.” He smiled, Dana grabbed her bag, and as she turned and left he saw an expression on her face that he thought was similar to his own.
Cursing herself,
he thought.
She wishes this chat had gone one step further
.

Smiling as the door swung shut behind her, Holden thought that he and Dana would get on very well indeed.

•••

Shit shit shit that was lame
, Dana thought. But she couldn’t help smiling. Even with a closed door between them, she could sense Holden behind her. Unsubtle though Jules and Curt had been about her and Holden, it seemed as if they might yet finish this weekend pleased with their powers of matchmaking.

In her new room she closed the door and dropped her bag onto the bed, wincing at the creaking of springs.
Hope Curt’s and Jules’s bed isn’t that bad,
she thought. Then she picked up the picture Holden had removed from the wall, turned it around... and it was unbelievably gross. She had no idea why someone would want that hanging above them in bed. Maybe there was more to it. The artist might have been a local celebrity, or something. But though she looked closely for a signature she could find none, and it had the sort of paint-by-numbers feel of a mass-produced image.
It was spooky, but she had to re-hang it.