The Cabin

by Alice Ward

  Flipping on the TV for company, I cursed when all I got in return was another type of blizzard, the black and white kind that signaled the satellite was down. Not that I was surprised. A cow could piss in the road and the damn thing would fuck up on the best of days. This was most certainly not the best of days.

  I turned on the radio instead, frowning at the hiss and crackle of the static, but was still able to make out the DJ talking about the coming storm. With a breathless voice, he warned the listeners to stay put. No shit. He should have told people that a couple hours ago.

  Turning on the stove, I tossed several strips of bacon on a skillet and left it to do its thing while I took the few steps to joggle the mouse of my computer. All three forty-inch monitors lit up, and I tapped the security icon, toggling through the images on the screen.

  Snow.

  Snow.

  More snow.

  Even more snow.

  There. I got to the camera capturing the lower east side of my property, which also happened to include part of my neighbor’s cabin. I squinted at the screen. Good. The Jeep still wasn’t in the driveway. She’d left early, so she probably got down the mountain way before all this shit hit us.

  The goddess was gone.

  The sense of loneliness that thought evoked was something I didn’t like. I also didn’t like the idea that I’d miss her mere presence. I’d done enough missing in my life without adding a complete stranger to the list.

  Not that she was a stranger.

  Well, she officially was, but it didn’t feel that way to me.

  While I didn’t know her name, I knew her routine. I knew the kinds of clothes she wore and that she liked doing yoga on the back deck. She also tapped incessantly on a laptop there. When it got too cool, she’d wrap up in a blanket or sit just inside the large glass windows. Like me, it seemed she needed to see nature.

  Like me, she seemed content with her own company.

  Like me…

  No, she wasn’t like me at all.

  Unlike me, she smiled often, usually while her fingers flew over the keyboard of her laptop. She also smiled at the birds. The squirrels. Smiled when she took pictures of the always present wildlife. She smiled when she did her yoga or simply sat back and watched the trees.

  It wasn’t always like that.

  Back when I was first alerted to a stranger’s arrival a month and a half ago, she didn’t smile at all. That was what intrigued me the most about her. Why I continued to watch her. Even worry about her. I needed to know that she would be all right.

  I hadn’t meant for the camera I installed to capture my neighbor’s property, but two damn squirrels had used it as a jungle gym one day and cocked it to the side. The next day, the goddess arrived. She’d sit on the deck and cry, her thin shoulders shaking under the weight of her sorrow. Sometimes she’d scream. Not that I could hear her — the cameras didn’t pick up sound and our cabins were too far apart — but I could almost feel pain vibrate from her to me.

  I often wondered why. Had she lost someone she loved? Either through death or a break up? I’d decided it must have been death because no man in his right mind would let such an angelic creature go.

  Unbidden, I tapped the folder marked “Goddess.” I told myself a hundred times that I’d delete this folder, purge it from my system. But each time I dragged it to the trash icon, something held me back.

  With another click, my favorite image of her appeared.

  It was a simple black and white of the goddess standing by the rail of her deck. A mug of tea was in her hands, the steam curling up and around her face like mist. The wind had caught her hair, blowing the long strands behind her. Her eyes were closed as she lifted her face to the sun that dappled her with its rays through the branches above.

  She was dressed in her favorite sleeping attire, flowing cotton pants and a strappy tank top. Over it was a robe that had also caught the wind, fluttering behind her.

  I stared. Not at the beautiful body. Sure, she was even more perfect than any actress or model, but that wasn’t what drew me to this image.

  It was her smile.

  I’d screenshot the picture a couple weeks after her arrival, the first time I’d seen her look content. No, not just that. She actually looked happy. Radiant.

  I’d almost gone to her then.

  My shoes had been on my feet, keys in my hand, and Maggie had already hopped onto the passenger seat of my truck when I came to my senses. And I’d come to my senses with the knowledge that, for a variety of reasons, I needed to leave her alone. I needed to stop watching her. I needed to… what?

  Continue to mourn?

  Continue to be faithful to my wife’s memory?

  Our unborn child’s?

  How did a person move on after such a loss? How did you just turn your back on all the good memories and create a life with someone else?

  I didn’t know.

  I scoffed, running a hand down my thick beard. And what would I even say to her if I did knock on her door? Hi, I’ve been secretly watching you for a few weeks now and thought you might like to break some bread?

  That would earn me a slap on the face at the least, a kick to the balls at the worst.

  Besides, she would probably be gone soon, just like the others who had come and gone from the small cabin below me. Some stayed one week, or maybe two. None had stayed as long as the goddess, but I didn’t imagine her residency there was permanent.

  My email pinged the arrival of a new message, breaking the spell her photo had cast over me. Disgusted with myself, I clicked the picture closed, and went to my email, knowing it would only be from one of two people… my attorney or my accountant.

  It was the former, letting me know the UK government had signed the contract for Eagle-I, the security software I created a year ago. Six hundred million wasn’t a bad day’s work. Within five minutes, I’d approved the sale. Daniel would do the rest. He’d scramble and manage the software staff I contracted for installation and training. Nothing else was needed or expected from me, which was exactly the way I liked it.

  When I was done, I tossed the mouse aside, and went back to my bacon, flipping it to sizzle and pop. Grabbing a carton of eggs from the fridge, I cracked three open and whipped the hell out of the yolks before cutting up some spinach, mushrooms, tomatoes, and peppers.

  The goddess liked omelets too. She ate a much smaller version of the one I was currently making several days a week. God, I sounded like a creeper. When the storm was over, I’d go down the mountain and turn the camera until no part of my neighbor’s property was visible. Now that I knew she wasn’t going to hurt herself, I had no more reason to watch over her.

  Why did the thought make me incredibly sad?

  I shoved away the troubling thought as I removed the bacon and poured the eggs and vegetables into the pan, tossing a good-sized handful of shredded cheese on top, and waited for the magic moment to fold it.

  Jessica had taught me that. Taught me how to cook. How to love. As my wife, she taught me how to look forward, instead of backwards at my miserable childhood. How to find peace. Happiness. Genuine contentment.

  The cooking lessons had stuck after she was gone. The other lessons, not so much.

  Not when she wasn’t here to make the future seem worth living.

  Filling my plate, I took it and my mug of coffee to the sunroom, which was currently the blizzard room. It was the place I often sat if I wasn’t out on the deck.

  Maggie plopped down beside me, those brown eyes silently begging me for a bite. I knew I shouldn’t, but I tossed her a few morsels as I chowed down, eating not for pleasure but to simply get the chore over with.

  Five bites in, an alarm rang from inside. It was one of the security sensors I’d put in place shortly after I bought this side of the mountain. They’d gone in at the same time the cameras went up. Probably security overload, but I was a cautious kind of guy, and I knew from brutal experience that caution was wise. I didn’t give a shit
about my own safety. I just wanted to know what was coming. I never wanted to be taken by surprise again.

  There wasn’t a single person on this planet who gave a damn if I lived or died. My parents were long gone, and my in-laws hated my guts, blaming me for what happened to their daughter and granddaughter.

  They weren’t wrong.

  My attorney and accountant would miss me, some of the contract staff I employed. No, they’d miss the money they made from the software I coded when I felt like it. Miss the fees that made them very rich.

  The rest of the money just flowed into bank accounts and then was funneled to various charities. I didn’t need it. I had everything I needed right here. A solid place to spend my days and a good dog at my side.

  Everything else that could have made me happy was gone.

  I stabbed at the omelet. It wasn’t fair. I met Jessica back when I was still struggling to get by and had to scramble for money for Friday night taco runs. She didn’t care. She loved me for richer and poorer, and we’d made love endlessly in the tiny studio apartment that was our first home.

  When we could afford a tiny two-bedroom cottage, we thought we had hit it big. When the pink plus sign indicated that the second bedroom would need to be more than just for storage, we’d painted it with soft yellow and green stripes. As her belly grew bigger, I could finally afford to buy us an even bigger house in a better neighborhood. No, not just bigger and better. The best. I’d just sold a piece of software for a million dollars to the government and had two more divisions on the hook for ten times that. But Jessica didn’t want to leave our little home.

  “Maybe when I’m pregnant with our third,” she’d said, laughing softly on that fateful day nearly two years ago, her arms around me as I looked through the realty section of the paper, our daughter kicking my back as she pressed close.

  Jessica was so sure our little one would be a dancer. I insisted she would play soccer instead.

  But on that dark Halloween night, fate decided that I’d never get the chance to find out.

  The alarm sounded again, and I took another bite, forcing the past from my head. The sensor had probably just picked up a deer running for shelter. Surely no other living thing would be out in this. When it sounded a third time, Maggie whined, and I pushed myself to my feet.

  Back at my computer, I located the tripped sensor and pulled that camera up on the middle screen. Shit. I sat down and peered closer at the monitor, hoping beyond hope that what I could see through the blur of white wasn’t what I thought it was. Fuck. It was. Very slowly, the goddess’s Jeep was crawling up the mountain.

  Enlarging the image, it was confirmed. The goddess was at the wheel. I could barely see a dark outline through the snow and fog on her windshield, but I knew it was her. And I could almost feel how scared she was.

  Because I was scared too. For her.

  Long minutes passed as I watched her complete the slow ascent, my heart hammering as the tires slid left and right. On the summit, I switched cameras and watched the Jeep come to a complete stop.

  “Don’t do it,” I told her image and rose from the chair. “Stay right there. I’ll come get you.”

  But even as I said the words, the Jeep rolled forward, then began the steep descent.

  “No!”

  She didn’t listen. And as I watched her approach the first curve, I knew she was in trouble as the Jeep kept going straight. She over-braked, overcorrected, and lost control, the Jeep sliding off the side. Through the blur of the blizzard, I watched two wheels come up, and then she was gone.

  “No!”

  Fumbling with the controls, I searched for the camera I’d mounted on the other side of the road. Using the joystick, I turned the lens. Searching. Searching. Searching… there.

  Fuck.

  She was lodged against a tree, but it didn’t look big or strong enough to hold the Jeep’s weight. As I watched, heart a piston against my ribcage, the heavy vehicle slid a few inches before halting again.

  She didn’t have much time.

  Within minutes, I was bundled up, the GPS tracker in my pocket. I tossed extra blankets and a few tools into a bag and ran out the door after forcing Maggie to stay.

  Jumping from the porch, I was alarmed to see that the snow was already ten inches deep. I pulled the goggles over my face to protect my vision as I ran to the garage.

  Tossing two long coils of rope onto the back of the four-wheeler, I also grabbed my rappelling equipment. Under these conditions, I wasn’t sure what I would need, so I grabbed everything I could reasonably hold.

  The snowflakes were like bullets as I raced down my gravel driveway, praying the entire way that I wasn’t too late.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Zoe

  I woke gradually but didn’t open my eyes, fearing the light on the other side of my eyelids would make my excruciating headache worse. The pain was terrible, like a jackhammer digging around inside my skull. Very slowly, I lifted my hands to my face, hoping that by shading my eyes, I could open them.

  Just as I felt something wet on my fingertips, I noticed a metallic smell mingling with the hot scent of gas and rubber. I was hot, but at the same time very very cold. I was also having trouble breathing. Whatever was happening to me wasn’t good.

  Forcing my eyes to open, my vision was blurred and spotty, but I was able to see a thick tree limb pinned against my chest. Smaller branches poked into my face, neck, and arm. Fighting against the pain, I lifted a hand and pushed the branches away, snapping the smallest ones so that I could very slowly turn my head.

  The Jeep was pinned against a tree whose sturdy limb had burst through the vehicle, going into the passenger window, across the cab, and through the driver’s side glass. How had this happened? My pounding head made it difficult to think. Then I remembered. The scary climb up the mountain. Stopping before heading down the other side. The curve. The slide. Dropping over the edge. Glass shattering. A brutal stop. Then nothing. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been passed out, but from the amount of snow now inside the Jeep, it had been several minutes at least.

  The vehicle’s engine had died, and the only sound was the eerie creak of metal and my heavy breathing. As I listened, the howl of the storm could be heard above the roar of the blood in my ears.

  Very slowly, I took inventory of my situation. I didn’t think anything was broken. My fingers and toes could move at least. My head seemed to be my biggest problem, and I was able to get my left arm up and over the limb so that I could probe a wet gash in my hairline. I didn’t remember hitting my head, but from the pounding radiating across my skull and the blood flowing down my face, I’d done a pretty good job of it.

  The vehicle creaked and then suddenly slid a few inches. The scream of metal piercing the air mingled with my own. I braced for impact, but no impact came as the Jeep resettled onto the tree that had saved me from plummeting to the bottom.

  For how long?

  I had no way of knowing if the tree would hold me, but I knew that my chances were better out of the Jeep. I’d always heard that you should never leave your vehicle in bad situations, but as the Jeep slid another couple inches, I recognized that staying was the worst of my limited options.

  “Help.”

  The cry was useless, even more so because it was barely a whisper, and I realized that was because I was finding it hard to breathe. Looking down, I found the reason for my continued distress. When the vehicle shifted, the branch that had busted through the window moved and was now pinning me even harder to my seat.

  The Jeep had lodged against the tree at an angle, so I wasn’t completely on my side, but the driver’s door was above me. Snow and ice fell through the broken glass, covering me with its icy cold. Using all my strength, I tried to push the door open, but the weight and gravity were too much, especially since I was pinned the way I was.

  It was a good thing and a bad thing, I realized.

  The thick branch was keeping me from falling, but it was also kee
ping me from climbing out. I didn’t know what to do, and the pounding in my head didn’t help me think, so I just sat there for a moment, my chattering teeth making everything worse.

  “Pull it together, Z.”

  Taking breaths as deep as I could, I swiped away the blood, blinking hard until my vision cleared a bit. The hat. With the very tips of my fingers, I could reach the wool cap. I was also able to reach a t-shirt I’d tossed inside a couple weeks ago.

  I wiped the blood from my eyes so I could see better, then folded the shirt and wrapped it around my head, tucking the ends before securing the makeshift bandage with the hat. There, I’d solved one problem. Now, I just needed to solve the next.

  As I continued to force myself to remain calm, thinking became a little easier and I remembered the lever at the side of the seat. Reaching down, I pulled it up and eased the seat backwards into a reclining position.

  That was better. The pressure from the tree branch was off my lungs and getting air in and out was considerably easier. Looking around, I wished the Jeep was a ragtop. If it was, I could have maybe clawed my way out. Since it wasn’t, I needed to find a way to heave the door open. I looked right, and froze. From my position, I had a view out the passenger window, and what I could see brought a new wave of fear.

  Nothing.

  Even through the blur of the blizzard, I could see that nothing besides this tree and a number of smaller ones was stopping me from plunging hundreds of feet to the bottom. The very knowledge stopped me cold.

  I was going to die here. I’d either freeze to death or fall.

  No.

  I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I wanted to know how my story ended. Not just the novel I was writing, but my story. Zoe Elaine Meadows. I’d fought through the embarrassment of my childhood and was on the cusp of enjoying life for the first time. I wasn’t ready for it to end. Not like this.