Cabin In The Woods

by Kristine Robinson

  Ed and I nodded. It made sense, what Monique was saying. There hadn't been any reports of looting, but that probably had to do with business owners owning firearms and posting up on top of their buildings. There wasn't any way to tell for sure because there had been so little reportage done one the disaster. If Monique said it wasn't safe, I believed her. Many of the residents of the small town had lost everything, and some of them would be desperate. I didn't want to end up on the wrong end of someone's hysterical robbery, and I could tell that Ed was relieved to have lodging figured out. I usually left that up to him, and this time it would have been especially difficult.

  “Well, I reckon we should head out,” Monique said. “We can't sit here burning sunlight if we're going to make it out to the forest and back before dark. How long will it take you to do what you do?”

  Monique nodded to Ed as she spoke. He didn't ask her how she knew he was the cameraman.

  “Not long,” Ed said. “Anywhere from ten minutes to a half an hour. Emily will need to be quick on her feet when I'm rolling, though, if we want it done that fast. There won't be any time to do a million takes. Not that that is usually a problem, but you know what I mean.”

  Monique nodded, glancing at me. She had piercing eyes and black hair. Her small, lithe frame still had curves. It made me think of my own body, how it was similar but also different. How my red, wavy hair was always in the way if I didn't wear it up, but Monique's jet black hair was straight, and only took a few pins to keep out of her eyes. She didn't look like she styled her hair at all, and there was something I found attractive about that. So many people who lived out here in the middle of nowhere talked about individuality, and things like being their own person, but then, when you really got to know them, they were no different from anyone else. But Monique, she seemed different from the get go.

  First of all, she was a female rancher who ranched without a male as a romantic partner. This set her apart from nearly all of the other female ranchers I'd met. The art on her walls were works of watercolor which depicted women being intimate. But the style in which they were done wasn't realistic, more of a surrealist work where the bodies had form but were pink and puffy-looking. In some of the works the figures were hard to make out at all, especially in the low lighting of the ranch house.

  As Ed stood and handed Monique his empty cup of coffee, I realized that we were leaving. I wasn't sure what to make of Monique being so willing to help us, and I wondered if she wanted anything in return. We couldn't promise her anything, not even her name in the credits, so I was glad that she didn't ask for anything of that nature. Ed ran to the news van to grab his go-bag as Monique and I got into the front seats of her truck.

  "Tomorrow we can go to the mayor's orchard, a little ways out of town, and watch his daughter be married," Monique said. "I know that might sound strange, but I think it would make for good television to watch a wedding with the twisted remains of a once great orchard in the background."

  “What kind of orchard?”I asked without thinking. “Maybe that's a stupid question.”

  “No, not at all,” Monique said. “It was an apple orchard, and now it's what remains. I thought it would be a good opportunity for you to make some contacts around these parts is all.”

  “And that's very thoughtful of you,” I said. “And helpful. We're lucky to have met you, Monique. I hope we aren't putting you out by asking for your help, or by accepting your help.”

  Monique smiled at me in a way that made my face burn. I didn't want to duck my head to hide how I was blushing, because that in and of itself would be an acknowledgment. So instead I tried to keep my best poker face on, but it didn't look like Monique was fooled. Before I could stammer out some sort of unasked-for explanation, Ed jumped into the back seat of the truck and slammed the door a little too hard.

  “Sorry about that,” Ed said. “It's a little slick out and it already has me frustrated. I'll pull it together though. We should get moving while the sun is still high in the sky. It'll make the shots that much more vivid!”

  Ed didn't seem to notice the tension in the van at all. That was something about Ed that I appreciated, the way that he was only there for the job, not for any kind of drama. Maybe he sensed it and just chose to play his cards close to his chest. That was the way Ed was about a lot of things, so I wasn't that surprised he was acting like nothing was off.

  As we drove to the forest, I kept trying to look at Monique out of the corner of my eye. When I'd finally built up enough courage to look directly at her she caught me. A little bit of electricity passed through the air between us.

  “Monique,” I said. “I heard that you study the weather yourself. I'm a meteorologist by trade, and I think it's great you've taken such an interest in something that's going to really impact your life. What can you tell me about the weather patterns in this area? Do you think you could predict where a tornado will touch down next?”

  Monique laughed. “There isn't any way to predict, really,” Monique said. “The most anyone can do is have a general idea if any given weather formation is going to produce a funnel cloud. You know that already, I'm sure. But I would say that I'm pretty good at predicting that. It's been awhile since I've been caught unawares out here. Although, I will say, the tornado that swept the town was one I didn't see coming.”

  The truck fell silent for a few moments.

  “Did the town rely on you for weather warnings sometimes? Because that would be a tough job,” Ed said. “And I feel for you if that was the case.”

  “I'm afraid to say that they did rely on me,” Monique said. “But I'm sure that won't be the case in the future. Nor should it have been the case in the past. I can't believe there wasn't a siren going.”

  “There was no siren? Usually there is some kind of local alert,” I said. “I can't imagine that people didn't see the storm coming. Or at least know about it. It was all over the news, after all.”

  “I'm not sure what the deal is,” Monique said. “That's something you could ask the Mayor at the wedding tomorrow.”

  I nodded. In front of us, down the slope's gentle gradient, was a forest. The tornado had cut a line straight through it. We got out and Ed vacillated between running around frantically, and holding completely still to film. I didn't know what I would say when he counted down from five on one of his hands, but I rose to the occasion.

  "Hello Oklahoma City, Emily Plath here," I said. "And behind me is the national forest not far from the disaster we've been covering. What you see behind me I have not the words for, so I leave the images to speak for themselves. It goes to show how much more far-reaching a giant tornado's devastation can go."

  Ed waved his hand quickly for a moment, signaling technical interference with the recording, like a solar flare or something of that nature, and then quickly made the motion for her to keep going.

  “We'll keep you updated on what else we find,” I said. “Emily Plath, signing off.”

  Ed gave a thumbs up, then started to break down the tripod.

  “Good job,” Ed said. “We had a little interference, but that will just make it seem even cooler that we were live.”

  “We were live!? Thanks for the heads up,” I said. “Maybe next time clue me in?”

  "You did great," Ed said. "And if I would have told you, you would have gotten all nervous. But as it was, you didn't. And it looks great. Really, I mean that. The shots were great, and that live portion will be reworked into the shots for tonight at ten. This story is really turning out to be something."

  “All you need now is the human element,” Monique said. “And that will come tomorrow.”

  Ed and I looked at her. I arched an eyebrow. Monique put her hand on her hip and cocked her hip out, haughtily.

  “I also happen to study journalism,” Monique said. “If for no other reason than for times just like these. So, let's get a move on. If we don't hurry we won't make it back by nightfall.”

  We all hopped back in the truck and
Monique sped us home as if she really was afraid of the dark. I knew it wasn't the dark, but what was inside it. Sometimes it was hard for adults to tell other adults when there was danger, or when they should be afraid, so I was glad that Monique had been upfront about it.

  “Do you think we'll run into any trouble? I mean, if we do, I think we can handle ourselves,” Ed said. “I guess I'm just scared.”

  Ed laughed.

  “I guess I'm just a scared old man now,” Ed said. “Back in the day I wasn't scared of anything. But now, with more of my career behind me and retirement in front of me, I think of all the times I took things for granted. When I took my own life for granted. And I'm not trying to make those same mistakes again. At least I'm trying not to. And I'd also like to keep Emily from making those mistakes.”

  There was a second of silence in the truck.

  “And of course I'd like Monique to be safe as well,” Ed said. “But I'm not responsible for her, is all.”

  We all laughed at this. It was the way that Ed said it in his dry sense of humor deadpan voice. Monique looked at me and we both had a twinkle in our eye. With Ed so caught up in what might go bump in the night he seemed to be missing the growing tension between Monique and myself. I knew that when we got back there would be a fuss about where I would sleep—because Ed wasn't going to sleep in the bed with Monique, and there was only one couch. I knew that the fuss would be all smoke and mirrors on both of their parts. Ed wouldn't really think anything of it, and Monique would probably play it off as some kind of courtesy and insist on sleeping on the floor. I didn't know what I'd do.

  When we got back the light was just fading from the sky. The horizon was smeared red from the setting sun, the very top of which was all that was visible now. It made me think of all the blood we hadn't seen in the disaster area. The people had been lucky, it seemed. Even without a siren they'd all taken shelter. I checked my phone to see if there were any fatalities reported yet.

  “None reported missing or dead,” I said. “That's pretty amazing if you think about it. A tornado that size coming through and no one is hurt. My parents are from Iowa, and they used to tell me horror stories about how the sky would turn green, and how even with sirens and advanced notice, there was pretty much no way to adequately prepare.”

  While I spoke Monique and Ed set their gear down, and I quickly did likewise with a sheepish look on my face. Monique smiled and nodded to me to show she was listening. Ed didn't; he never did anything like that, but I knew he was as well.

  “Ed,” Monique said. “There is a small shed out back that is heated, and closer to the outhouse, which isn't heated, but is sturdy and insulated. If you sleep out there, and Emily sleeps on the couch, then it's an easy night and no one has to split beds!”

  “I wondered if the shed out back was for lodging,” Ed said. “You're really old school, Monique.”

  “My parents used to hire help,” Monique said. “That's why. If it had been my way, when this place was built it wouldn't have been until an actual architect drew up plans.”

  Ed bid us farewell and headed to the shack. When he opened the door a gust of ice-cold wind blasted past him. As the door slapped shut behind him, I shivered.

  “It's going to be a cold one,” Monique said. “Ed will have the best place to sleep, as my small house will block the wind for him, and the shed is smaller, so his body heat will have more of an impact.”

  “Is this place heated?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Monique said. “But, with the weather acting so crazy, I wouldn't be surprised at all if the temperature dropped tonight without giving any kind of warning. If it drops suddenly and far enough it could end up in single digits.”

  I'd never thought about that. I guess there was a difference between what one learned in the classroom and real life experience.

  Without speaking we both turned in for the night.

  Chapter 3

  I woke up later that night shivering. My teeth chattered like the wind-up kind kids sometimes get at the dentist as little toys. The weather had indeed changed drastically, and this time it was a degree change of what have had to have been at least thirty degrees. And from the feeling of the draft managing to slip through the ranch house timbers, the temperature outside wasn't going up anytime soon.

  “We're lucky it didn't get colder,” Monique said. “But I think this is it. It might drop a few more degrees, but it won't stay this way for long.”

  I had to wait a second for my shaking to subside.

  “I'm so cold,” I said. “Do you have a heater or anything?”

  "Just the old electric one," Monique said. "And it's going full power. That's the problem with how this place was built. There wasn't anyone who was like, 'Hey, how could we make this place more comfortable for the winter.' I guess it might be called climate change, but I feel like things here have just gotten crazy as far how cold it gets now during the fall and winter. This is Oklahoma. We should be warmer than this. But maybe way back in the day, before we started recording every single temperature, maybe back then it had been this cold before. But who can say? Maybe, on the other hand, this is as cold as it has ever been, ever."

  I got up and ran to join her in her bed without asking. Monique wrapped her arms around me and held me close, stroking my hair slowly. She didn't speak, but instead starting humming what sounded like an old country song. As she hummed and stroked my hair she ran her other hand up and down my flanks. It felt good to be touched by someone else, especially that the someone else was Monique, a strong and capable person. Her bust pressed against mine, and I buried my face in her shoulder. I loved how she smelled, how she felt. It was amazing that nearly this entire time I'd never thought to touch her, and now here we were, bodies entwined.

  I was having a hard time processing my feelings. It felt good to be against her, and the way she was touching me made me want to tell her to never stop. But at the same time I was scared. I'd never been with a woman before, and now I was taking the plunge. It wasn't that I didn't know what to do, although really, I didn't, it was more the thought that I might disappoint Monique somehow. I thought about voicing my thoughts to her, but then thought better of it. Sometimes it was better to not say anything and instead just enjoy what was happening. I really did feel like this was one of those times. If I said something dumb and messed it up I knew I would have real regret about it. It was funny to think that I was taking this tryst far more seriously than I would have with a man. It was as if it being a woman made it all the more special. Maybe it really did.

  Monique pulled my hair so my head tilted back, and clasped her lips onto mine, at first in a strong kiss, but then actually sucking my lower lip into her mouth to nibble on it lightly before releasing it. I couldn't help it but get so turned on by this, and started to whisper something to Monique, but then stopped myself. I wanted her to go further before I said anything. And that's exactly what she did.

  Without saying anything, Monique started to kiss her way from my mouth, to my chin, down to my sternum, then she ran her hands up my nightgown and kneaded my breasts. I felt a chill run down my spine, and then back up it. It couldn't get over how gentle she was being, but at the same time firm. When I looked into her eyes all I saw was longing and lust, a passion that burned brightly. I wondered if she saw the same thing when she looked at me. Most likely not, I imagined as she pulled my nightgown up and sucked on my nipples, then skillfully flicked them with her tongue. I arched my back and put my hand gently on the back of her head.

  Monique pulled her head away from my chest and smiled at me.

  “I hope this isn't too much,” Monique said. “I'm just trying to do what feels natural. I'm not trying to push you further than you want to go or anything.”

  I smiled back at her.

  “Don't worry about that,” I said. “I don't think there is anything you could do to me that I wouldn't want and like.”

  Monique went back to kissing me just below my navel. I squirmed in anticip
ation, biting my lower lip. The lower she went with her kisses the harder I bit my lip, until I gasped in a mixture of both pleasure and pain.

  When we were done I was the one who held Monique. It was my turn to play nurturer, and I did my best to rub her down lightly with a cool rag. Somehow we were both hot and panting, even with how cold it was inside of the ranch house. The temperature outside was cold, much colder than it should have been even in the dead of winter, which it wasn't. As I moved the cloth up and down Monique's glistening body, I wondered how much longer her way of life would even be viable out here. Soon enough the winters would be too harsh, and the summers too hot. But I realized, the more I stroked her, that no matter what Monique was going to make it. She was a survivor, and that's why she was out here. There wasn't ever going to be a force to drive her from this place because she was as much a part of it as the cacti that we saw sometimes against the horizon—no matter how many arms they missed, they were still standing.

  The desert had that effect people, from my experience. I had never met a person who lived out in the desert that couldn't take care of themselves. And even though the plains of Oklahoma weren't exactly the Mojave, that didn't mean that they weren't without tests, and the people who lived out here had to endure severe consequences whether they liked them or not. I didn't think it fair that something like global warming might be at play, mostly because that was something nearly completely out of reach of someone like Monique. She was far from a simple country bumpkin, but when it came to the larger picture in international politics, no one I knew was powerful enough to turn things around. The march of time, progress, and industry, were as such that there wasn't any pause given to the people who would lose their livelihoods, and maybe even their lives. Instead, it was just the crushing movement forward that people, for whatever reason, seemed much more comfortable with than a contemplation full of stillness.