In the Hush of the Night

by Raymond Benson

  Annie laughed and stood.

  “With pleasure.”

  28

  Jason drove his silver 2012 Hyundai Elantra through the small town of Lakeway, Michigan, just as dusk was morphing into darkness. He had used the GPS to get that far, but now he had to go by Nat’s written directions and a crude map she had drawn of the Paley property that indicated the cabin in relation to the adjacent lake and the road leading to it. He was to take Highway 82 going east until he saw an old faded billboard that advertised a defunct gas station from the sixties. Six miles past that, there would be a turnoff to Garden Road to the left. That was the warning that he was getting close. Three miles beyond that and to the left, he would see a cattle guard at the head of an unmarked dirt road heading north into the forest. That was it.

  In the dark, it was more difficult to find than Jason had expected. After a while, perhaps ten miles past the billboard, he came to another north-south thoroughfare, so he figured he’d passed the turnoff. He cursed to himself, slowed down, and turned the car around in the middle of the two-lane road. There wasn’t much traffic at that time of the evening. He’d encountered perhaps only three vehicles, all going in the opposite direction.

  Man, this really is in the middle of nowhere …

  Heading back west, Jason managed to find the cattle guard and turned right onto a muddy, one-lane road. There must have been a recent rain. He wished now that he had brought his winter boots, heavy or not.

  The tall trees formed an eerie tunnel illuminated by the Elantra’s headlights. The forest was populated by jack pine, oak, soft maple, and paper birch trees that, during August, were fully leafed and dense. The concentration of trees was so thick that Jason imagined they surely formed a solid fortress around the Paley property, even in the winter when the leaves were gone. He was already beginning to get a sense of isolation, and he hadn’t yet driven a quarter mile into the woods.

  Jason didn’t know what he would do if a car came down the road toward him from the opposite direction. There was no room for two vehicles side by side. He figured there wasn’t enough traffic on the path to warrant such a worry. Still, it was creepy. Nat had said the road would twist and turn for a good five miles. He followed it slowly, praying that the car wouldn’t get stuck in the mud. That would be all he needed—and as soon as the thought occurred to him, sure enough, he hit a pothole in the road that was full of wet, tar-like sludge. The car stopped and the back wheels spun.

  “Damn it!” he yelled and hit the steering wheel with his fist. He stepped on the gas, but the tires continued to sound like buzz saws. After nearly a minute, he let up, fearing that he’d hurt the engine. “Now what …” he muttered. He sat there for a moment, contemplating the situation. How far had he gone on the road? Was the cabin close? He looked at his watch. A little after nine. “Aw, hell …”

  He turned off the car, grabbed his backpack, opened the door, and stepped out into about six inches of mud that covered his sneaker. “Oh, man! Yuck!” Nothing to do but get out and shut the door. Would it be hazardous to just leave the car in the road like that? Would anyone else be coming? There was no way another vehicle could get around it. He didn’t want to leave his blinkers on all night—would the battery be dead by morning? Would Trey be willing to come and help him move the car before they went to bed?

  It was a chance he’d have to take. Jason reached back in and turned on the hazard lights. The steady blinking cast strange, yellow-colored staccato illumination over the trees towering around him. He looked back at the rear tires and, of course, the driver’s side was a foot submerged in muck.

  He locked the car and dug into his backpack for the flashlight. Flicking it on, Jason realized he probably should have loaded it with new batteries. The beam was good enough for him to see where he was going, but it was dimmer than it could have been.

  He strode forward, slipping the pack on his back. Ironically, the mud leveled out ten feet ahead of the car and the road was solid again.

  The forest was eerily quiet. No insect sounds, no crickets, no cicadas. Jason thought that was odd. In Chicago the cicadas were out in full force, even in the city, and they made a terrible racket at night. Here, where trees took up 99 percent of the space around him, there was not a single bug-sawing to be heard. It was creepy.

  He began to wonder if he might run into a bear or a wolf or something else that might eat him alive. Now he wished he had one of Trey’s guns with him. He began to wonder if it had been an incredibly foolish notion for him to come uninvited.

  Nothing jumped out of the woods to get him. He trudged onward, following the wet road around curves and in straight lines for nearly thirty minutes—and then he heard the heavy bass beat of rock music. The closer he got, the more definition the music had—the guitars, drums, and singing became clearer. Heavy metal, head-banging stuff. It wasn’t Jason’s cup of tea. He’d go crazy if he had to listen to that all weekend, but in light of abandoning his car and other possible misfortunes that might occur, he knew it was absurd of him to think that.

  Then—he arrived.

  The cabin stood in a clearing, set apart from the trees by approximately thirty yards all the way around. Lights in the windows were on. The music inside was blasted loud, but the cabin itself served as a bit of a muffler. Still—Jason was sure it was scaring away any wild animals that might be near.

  He recognized Trey’s red Ford pickup truck and Mack’s Nissan Altima parked in front. They were both caked with mud splashes on their sides.

  Steeling himself, Jason approached the door and knocked. Nothing happened, so he knocked again, louder. A few seconds later, the music volume went down and he heard footsteps clomping to the door on the other side. It opened.

  “What, did you forget your k—?”

  It was Makar Utkin. His eyes registered surprise.

  “Hey, Mack,” Jason said. “Hope it’s okay that I crash your party?”

  “What the fuck, Jason! What are you doing here?”

  He shrugged. “I wanted to join you guys for your Bacchanal. Is that okay? Where’s Trey?”

  “Man, you can’t be here!”

  “Uh, why not?”

  “You just can’t!”

  “Well, I am here. I drove all the way from Chicago.” He pointed back toward the road. “My car got stuck in the mud a couple of miles back. I need help getting it out. I’m sorry, man, I wanted to surprise you guys.”

  Makar continued to stare at the visitor, his mouth gaping.

  “Well, can I come in?”

  Makar stepped aside. Jason wiped his shoes on the mat in front of the door, but it didn’t do much good. “Aw, hell, I’ll just take ’em off.” He slipped off the shoes and left them outside. The cabin was warm and cozy, although it reeked of tobacco smoke. A stuffed black bear head was mounted above a fireplace, which was roaring with flames. The furniture was old, but in decent shape. It was rustic and homey, everything Jason had imagined a “cabin in the woods” to be.

  Makar appeared to be the only person there.

  “Where’s Trey?”

  “Uh, he’s … he’s outside.”

  “Outside? In the woods?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Isn’t it, like, dark?”

  “He’ll be back.”

  Jason thought that was odd. “Mind if I use your bathroom?” He didn’t know why he hadn’t just gone while he was walking along the road, out in nature and all.

  “I guess.”

  He dropped his backpack on the floor and looked around the room. Makar pointed to a door that was between what were obviously the entrances to the two bedrooms. Jason went in and did his business. When he emerged, Makar was standing in the same spot where he’d left him.

  “Look, if you guys don’t want me here, come back with me and help me get my car out of the mud, and I’ll leave.”

  “No, no … just wait until Trey comes back.” Makar finally moved toward the kitchen area. “You want a beer?”

  “Sure.�
�

  Makar opened the fridge—it was full of beer bottles. Jason wasn’t sure if there was anything else in there. Surely there was food tucked away somewhere. Makar tossed a bottle to Jason, who surprised himself by catching it without fumbling. “Thanks.” He attempted to twist off the cap, with no luck.

  Makar smiled and threw him a churchkey. “Try this.”

  This time, Jason missed it, and the thing flew across the room, landing on the floor. “Sorry,” he said. He picked it up, opened his beer, sat, and placed the churchkey on the wooden coffee table in front of a sofa. There were already over two dozen empty bottles on the table next to the ashtray.

  “Trey’s not going to like you being here,” Makar said, coming around and sitting on a chair next to the table. He picked up his own beer.

  “Why not? What’s his problem, Mack? Why doesn’t he like me? I’ve never done anything to him.”

  Makar just shrugged. No one spoke for a moment.

  “The road sure was muddy. Did you have rain?”

  “Yeah.”

  More silence. Jason was beginning to feel uncomfortable. It really was a bad idea to come.

  Finally, Makar set his bottle down and stood. “I’ll be right back. Stay here. Don’t go anywhere.”

  “What, in the woods at night? You think I’m nuts?”

  Makar didn’t laugh. He opened the door and went out. The discomfort in the air was palpable.

  Jesus … ! What the hell is going on here?

  The music was starting to get on his nerves. Jason got up and went to the stereo system, which was on a shelf near the fireplace. It was an iPod with a tuner and speakers the size of carry-on suitcases. He turned the volume down to a near ambient level and returned to the sofa, chugging at his beer. A few more minutes went by. Jason pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, thinking he’d call Nat and tell her he’d arrived.

  No service.

  He tried dialing anyway, but there was no luck.

  At that moment, the door opened and Trey and Makar came in.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Trey growled.

  “Hey, Trey. Nice to see you, too.”

  He slammed the door shut. “I mean it, writer-boy, what are you doing here?”

  “Christ, Trey. I wanted to be, like, friendly, and come hang out with you. I’m sorry. Like I told Mack, if you help me get my car out of the mud, I’ll turn around and drive back tonight.”

  Trey stood there, his face turning all shades of red. Jason could practically see the wheels turning in his head.

  “No,” the guy finally said. “No, you can stay. Tonight. You might have to go back tomorrow, though. We’ll help you get your car out in the morning, okay?”

  “Sure, whatever. Sorry. I just thought …” Jason held out his hands and then let them drop. “I’m sorry.”

  Trey remained as still as a statue, except for his heavy breathing. Makar stood slightly behind him, his eyes darting back and forth between his friend and Jason, ready to follow Trey’s lead.

  After what seemed like an eternity of seconds, Trey’s shoulders relaxed. He removed two beers from the fridge, handed one to Makar, and scanned the kitchen counter for something.

  “Here’s the churchkey,” Jason said, holding it up.

  Trey nodded and strode toward the sitting area. He plopped down and opened his beer.

  Makar asked, “Uh, you have the, uh, keys?”

  Trey nodded. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a ring with several keys on it. He pitched them to Makar, who put them in a drawer in the kitchen. He then returned and sat in the other chair. Both of them lit cigarettes. Jason noted that the ash tray on the coffee table was overflowing with butts. Jason’s eyes went to Makar, who seemed as if he was a little afraid of Trey, too.

  Jason dared to speak first. “So … it’s just the two of you?”

  “Yeah,” Trey answered.

  “So, why can’t I join you? What’s the big deal?”

  “The Bacchanal is private,” Trey answered.

  “Oh.”

  “But … maybe you can stay.”

  Makar opened his mouth. “But, Trey, what about—?”

  “Shut up!” He glared at his friend and looked back at Jason. “This is my future brother-in-law. God knows why my sister loves him, but she does. I guess I better start being nicer to him, huh.”

  Jason didn’t say anything. He just fiddled with his useless phone.

  Drunkenly, Trey leaned forward. “Okay, listen. You can stay. But you have to follow the rules.”

  “Uh, what rules?”

  “Whatever I say. There are dos and don’ts. First of all, don’t go exploring on your own. It’s dangerous. And stay away from the shed.”

  “The shed?”

  Trey nodded. “In the morning, you’ll see a trail that goes through the trees behind the cabin. That’s off-limits, okay?”

  Jason swallowed. “Okay. Can I ask why?”

  Trey took a long swig of beer and let the question hang. Finally, he answered, “Actually, it’s full of hornets. There are hornets’ nests in there and we have to get them cleaned out. Big fucking hornets that’ll attack you if you even go near the place.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really! Stay away. If you get stung, we’re too far away from civilization to get you medical attention. I saw you playing with your phone. You notice we don’t have cell phone service here.”

  “What do you do in case of an emergency?”

  “We avoid emergencies!”

  Trey sat back in the chair and took a long drink. “If you play by the rules, we’ll have a good time. There’s a TV, we do have a satellite dish. We have a bunch of DVDs—mostly porn. Maybe we’ll go hunting tomorrow. There’s a bear den not far from here. A mama bear and cubs that are about six or seven months old. She’ll fiercely protect them, so you don’t want to go running into her. Papa bear?—who knows where he is. He’s an intelligent male, he leaves the mother and her babies and goes searching for other females to mate with.” He laughed. “That’s the way it should be, right?”

  Makar laughed with him, but Jason didn’t.

  The rest of the night had been nothing but a beer-and-cigarettes fest. Trey and Makar smoked a lot, consumed several bottles, and became drunk and boisterous, but Jason took it easy. He didn’t smoke, but he pretended to be a party participant as far as the beer was concerned. He had the sinking feeling that perhaps he really would go back to Chicago the next day after they got his car out of the mud. No question about it. At least he had tried.

  Sometime after midnight, Trey and Makar retired to their rooms. Jason was relegated to the sofa. The fireplace had died out, but embers illuminated the living room in that night-light glow that was actually comforting. But Jason couldn’t fall asleep. He could hear both of them snoring loudly through the doors of their bedrooms. Jason tossed and turned, replaying in his head some of the outrageous things Trey and Makar had said during their revelry. Distasteful jokes, complaining about this or that, but especially saying terrible sexist and racist things about women and minorities. Jason felt as if he was in the lion’s den. If he’d had more gumption, he’d have argued with them. He knew, though, that it would only get his ass kicked. Plus, he was alone with them in a cabin in the woods.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Jason awoke to a noise. Someone was coming out of the bedroom. It was Trey. The former soldier went into the bathroom and threw up. After a while, the toilet flushed and he emerged. He stood there in the dark for a while. Jason felt Trey watching, so he feigned sleep. Finally, Trey moved quietly across the room to the kitchen and opened a drawer, where he retrieved the key ring Jason had seen earlier. Trey crept over to the door of the cabin, slipped on shoes, and went outside.

  What the hell? Where is he going?

  It certainly wouldn’t be for a smoke; Trey had no qualms about puffing his stinky cigarettes inside the cabin.

  Jason sat up and listened. All was quiet. He got up and w
ent to one of the windows and looked out.

  Nothing there.

  It was perplexing.

  He went back to the sofa and waited. Fifteen minutes went by, and Trey didn’t return. Very strange.

  Wait … what was that?

  Jason heard it in the distance. A sound in the night.

  Was that a woman screaming?

  No, it couldn’t be.

  It was the wind. An animal howling in the night.

  Jason cocked his head to listen.

  Nothing.

  He got up and went to the door. Quietly and carefully opening it, he stuck his head outside. The air was cold and damp.

  There were no sounds except the breeze and the rustling of leaves in the trees.

  Chalking the scream up to his imagination, he closed the door and went back to the sofa. Jason lay down, turned over, and closed his eyes. It wasn’t long before he really did fall asleep, and he never heard Trey return.

  29

  It always seemed to occur in the hush of the night.

  When the darkness was silent and still everywhere else, when other people were complacently sleeping in the comfort of their own beds, Yana was subjected to unimaginable horror.

  Now the skylight above her bed revealed a starry, black sky. On some nights the moon passed over the small window. She loved that moon. Its brightness provided her with a focus, an energy that she needed to get through the pain. She hoped she would see it again; for the past couple of nights there had been no moon. The sky had been cloudy and dark, even during the day. It had rained a lot, but it was clear now.

  It was pathetic how she measured time by the weather.

  The horrible American had just been in to “visit” her again. Why was he so intentionally cruel? If he had to take what he wanted, why couldn’t he just do it? There wasn’t much she could do to resist. Did he have to hurt her?

  She knew it gave him some kind of sick pleasure.

  He was a monster.

  She thought her spirit was completely broken, never to be repaired. She wanted to die. Every day, under that skylight, Yana actually prayed for God to kill her. It never happened. She lived another day … and another …