The Cabin in the Woods (9 page)

Jules flailed at the air as if trying to hold herself back to the dock, and she went in that way, arms and legs thrashing and mouth open to scream. She surfaced quickly, spluttering and turning so that she faced the dock.

“Oh!
Oh my god!
I’m gonna kill you!”

His expression not breaking for an instant, Curt pointed just between where Jules had landed and Dana was still treading water, trying not to laugh out loud at her splashing, angry friend.
She’ll never be angry at him for long,
Dana thought, and realized how these two suited each other so well.

“Look—there’s something
else
in the lake—” Curt said, launching himself straight at where he was pointing, and splashing Dana and Holden as he landed. He surfaced and raised his arms, treading water just with his strong legs. “It’s a gorgeous man!” he shouted, and at the far side of the lake a small flock of birds took flight from the trees.

“You are
so
dead!” Jules said, still gasping against
the cold. She swam to him with three powerful strokes and tried dunking him.

“Don’t kill the gorgeous man!” Curt cried. “They’re endangered!”

Dana laughed, and looked up at Marty standing alone on the end of the dock. He eyed them all warily, holding the towel splayed around his neck.

“Marty, get in here!” she said.

“Nah, man. I’m cool. Just seeing the sights.” He sat on the edge of the dock and dangled his feet, his bare toes just reaching the water. He leaned back with a joint smoking gently in the corner of his mouth, and Dana wondered how he managed to live on a permanent high. Some people chose that way, she guessed. But for her,
life
was a high.

Especially today

She glanced at Holden, caught his eye and smiled, turning in the water and swimming out for the lake’s center. And for a while before he followed she was all alone, and this beautiful place was her own.

FOUR

A
nd now, it was time for the betting to begin. Sitterson loved this part. The play had begun, and tens of thousands of man hours’ preparation had led to a single moment. Everything had gone smooth as clockwork up to now, and it looked as if they were going to pull through well.

There were some who had doubted his own seemingly lax approach to the job; they questioned his flippant manner, and the way he seemed to make light of the darkest things. But those doubters were here now with everyone else. Ready to bet. Gambling on souls. It was, as he and Hadley had discussed during many evenings over many beers, their own particular version of gallows humor.

Take this too seriously and you became withdrawn and traumatized, and that could only lead to mistakes.

Sitterson
never
made mistakes, and his naysayers had seen that soon enough. He might joke and bet,
laugh and use sarcasm or innuendo as a defense, but when it came to holding down his end of the project, there were none who could be trusted more. Hence his position in Control.

“Last chance to post!” he called, stepping up onto the console. All eyes were on him and the wads of cash he held, and this was about the only time he liked being the centre of so much attention. “C’mon people, dig deep. Betting windows are about to close!”

The control room was bustling. Truman had fussed to begin with, hassled at having so many people entering the room. But they’d all passed muster with his card reader, so there was really little he could say. He’d refused to place a bet, peering at Sitterson with veiled disgust and shock when he’d been asked. And now he stood and scanned the room with cold eyes.

Hadley remained in his wheeled chair, but there were several people clustered around him, as well, holding out betting slips and cash for him to pluck away and enter into his notebook.

“Who’s still out?” Hadley called to Sitterson. Sitterson looked at his clipboard.

“I got Engineering, I got R&D, I got Electrical—” “Ha!” Hadley called. “Did you see who they picked? They’re practically
giving
their money away.”

“Yeah, you’re one to talk, Aquaman.”

A guy from the Chem department handed his form to Sitterson. He wore a lab coat that was stained a rainbow of colors across the stomach and up the
sleeves, and Sitterson wondered what fumes the guy was leaving in his wake.

He looked at the form and frowned.

“I’m not even sure we
have
one of these.”

“Zoology swears we do,” the Chem guy said. Sitterson shrugged and took his money “Well, they’d know.” A few feet away he noticed a bit of a scene developing where a young man he didn’t recognize—a guy with ‘Ronald’ stitched onto the breast of his lab coat, though that made Sitterson none the wiser—was protesting loudly to Hadley

“No, no, I told you, they’ve already been picked,” Hadley said, slowly and patiently.

“What?” Ronald asked angrily. “Who took ’em?” “Maintenance.”

“Maintenance! They pick the same thing every year.” Hadley sighed theatrically and stood from his chair. “What do you want from me? If they were creative, they wouldn’t be in Maintenance. If you win, you’re gonna have to split it. You wanna switch?”

Ronald’s anger brewed, peaked, and then seemed to filter away as he looked past Hadley at the giant viewing screens and the blurred action they displayed. “Nah,” he said. “Leave it. I got a feeling on this one.” Hadley raised an eyebrow at Sitterson, who laughed in reply and jumped down from the console. With all of the bets placed, he wandered over to where Lin stood talking with the still-glowering soldier, Truman.

“Not betting?” she asked Truman just as Sitterson approached.
“Not for me, thanks.” It was obvious from his expression that he didn’t approve of the idea. Strangely enough, she seemed to disagree.

“Seems a little harsh, doesn’t it? It’s just people letting off steam.” She nodded at Sitterson, then past him at Hadley. “This job isn’t easy, however those clowns may behave.”

“You should listen to her,” Sitterson said grave-faced. “She is wise.”

“Does The Director... do they know about it downstairs?” Truman inquired.

Hadley joined them, expertly shuffling a wad of cash into a neat pile in his left hand while his right folded a slew of betting slips. “The Director isn’t concerned with stuff like this,” he said. “Long as everything goes smoothly
upstairs
and the kids do... what they’re told...” “But then it’s
fixed?”
he asked. “How can you take wagers on this when you control the outcome?”

Sitterson and Hadley both glanced back at the screens, their work, their responsibilities and charges. Sitterson didn’t feel an ounce of regret at taking bets on them, and he knew Hadley didn’t either. Lin might be cool and prim, but she’d been right—they were blowing off steam. And there were worse ways.

Up on the screens, the five kids were in the cabin’s living room now, having returned from the lake, showered, dried, and dressed again. The sound was muted for the moment, but there were still three people in the lower part of Control wearing headphones to monitor the conversation. They
always had to be ready for any sudden changes.

“It’s not like that
at all,”
Hadley said. “We just get ’em to the cellar, Truman. They take it from there.” “They have to make the choice of their own free will,” Sitterson added. “Otherwise, system doesn’t work. Like the Harbinger: creepy old fuck practically wears a sign saying ‘YOU WILL DIE.’ Why would we put him there? The system. They have to
choose
to ignore him. They have to
choose
what happens in the cellar. Yeah, we rig the game as much as we have to, but in the end, if they don’t transgress... ”

He shrugged.

Hadley was counting the money, but he finished Sitterson’s sentence as if this little speech was well rehearsed. And it was. They’d given it to new doubters at least three times before.

“...they can’t be punished. Last chance, Truman. Window’s closing.”

“I’m fine,” the soldier said, shaking his head. Hadley and Sitterson exchanged amused glances, then Hadley turned back to the people milling around Control.

“All right!” he yelled. “That’s it, gang. The board is
locked.”
He handed the cash to Sitterson, who combined it with his own wad, tied an elastic band around it, and slipped it into a drawer in his console. It felt like a good amount this time, and he was pleased. Not only did that raise the excitement, it also meant everyone would be on the ball, focusing on their jobs.
None of them could afford to have anything go wrong.

Sitterson looked at the screens again and shouted, “Let’s get this party started!”

•••

Music thumped. Curt worked the keg filling plastic cups for them all.

They’d lit the fire upon arrival, as well as some oil lamps, and the back boiler was already pumping out water hot enough to cook a cat. After running up from the lake, sun slowly setting behind them and goosebumps speckling their skin, they’d taken it in turns ducking into the shower for a warm-up before dressing again.

Curt and Jules had gone first, and that’s when the music had been turned on—Marty, Dana and Holden had only been able to listen for so long to their groans and the banging on the wall. It had been uncomfortable, but funny as well, and the three of them had shared a smile and a few choice comments.

Holden had sat beside Dana on the sofa, towels wrapped around them as they waited for the shower, and their bare legs had touched without any awkwardness. They hadn’t even kissed yet, and still they were beginning to feel like a couple.

Holden was sitting opposite her now, and his skin was still tingling from the contrast between the cold dip in the lake and the hot shower afterward. All of
them were showered and dressed. Marty sat beside him on the sofa with a beer between his knees and the ever-present joint pinched between slightly-yellowed fingers, unlit at present. As Dana leaned forward and picked up her cup, her still-wet hair fell forward to frame her face, and she smiled at Holden over its rim.

“Let’s get this party started!” Curt called, handing a beer to Jules. “Truth, dare, or lecture!” She danced across the room in time to the music that was pumping from the stereo.

“I’ve played truth or dare before,” Holden said, “I just don’t get the third part. What’s ‘lecture’?”

“Well, the lecture is our own addition,” Dana said. Her smile was softer than ever now, and he could tell that the beer was going to her head.

“It’s the X factor,” Marty said.

“It redefines the whole concept!” Jules said, still jigging.

“Come on,” Dana teased, leaning forward again and perhaps wishing that she and Holden were sitting together. But he was happy to forego proximity in exchange for eye contact. “You’re the newbie, so you ask first. We’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Okay, uh, Marty,” he said, still a little hesitant. “Truth or dare or lecture?”

Marty sighed, as if even that took too much effort. “I could go for a lecture about now.”

Holden smiled, but inside he sighed.

“Lecture. How’d I guess.” That was just the pressure he didn’t want from a room full of people he hardly
knew. Eyes were on him, though, and he maintained the smile as he thought about what he could possibly say.

“Wait, hang on,” Marty added. He sat up slowly, plucked a lighter from his shirt pocket and lit the joint, taking a massive hit. For a moment he held his breath and seemed to stare at nothing. Then he nodded, waved the joint at Holden, and nodded again as if to say,
All right, bring it on.

“You guys really know how to party,” Holden said, chuckling as the others all raised a beer cup in toast. “Okay. Marty. I don’t like to, you know,
lecture,
but we’ve been friends for so
many
minutes now that I feel I can be honest.” He pointed at Marty. “You are not Marty. You are ‘Pot Marty.’ You are living in a womb of reefer and missing out on the real joys of life. I’ll tell you, I’ve learned a lot out on the football field. I’ve learned about achievement, teamwork, homoerotic butt slapping and good clean fun. Curt here, he doesn’t smoke weed. Because he knows it doesn’t make you a winner, and because it interferes with his enormous daily dose of steroids.”

“I eat them like candy,” Curt confirmed seriously. “Maybe, Marty, you should take a hit from the
life
-bong, and don’t take your finger off the life-carb till the chamber’s filled up with...” He waved at the air, losing track, searching for something, anything to help him through. “...with... with
opportunity.
For the love of God let me be done.”

“Yes!” Dana squealed.

“Bravo!” Jules said, clapping where she stood and
spilling half of her beer. As the group’s applause continued, Holden let out a sigh of relief, smiling, and locking eyes with Dana yet again. They both looked away almost awkwardly, as if each glance was becoming more and more loaded.

That’s just the beer,
he thought.
And Marty’s pot fumes.
But he knew that wasn’t
all
it was. He wondered if she’d been thinking the same as him as they’d sat listening to Jules and Curt going at it in the shower.

Marty exhaled a huge cloud of smoke.

“Thank you for opening my eyes to whatever it was you just said,” he said earnestly. “Jules! Truth or dare or lecture?”

“Let’s go dare!” she said. She and Curt were leaning on the back of the sofa now, arms around each other’s waists, and Holden could almost see the glow of love between them. He took another long swig of beer.

“All right,” Marty nodded, looking around the large room, thinking. “I dare you to make out with...”

“Please say Dana,” Curt whispered,
“please
say Dana... ”

“. that moose over there!” Marty said, pointing at the stuffed, snarling wolf’s head they’d all noticed upon first arriving.

Er
, Holden thought, glancing from Marty to the stuffed head and back again.
Maybe I shouldn’t be the one to tell him
.

“Um, Marty,” Dana said, “have you
seen
a moose before?”