by Lukens, Mark
He climbed the steps up to the door and tried the door handle. Locked.
He turned and looked out at the field that stretched out from the back of the cabin. The field in the back of the cabin was at least three times the size of the field in the front. He was about to head back to the front of the cabin when he thought he caught some kind of movement out of the corner of his eye in the field. He looked back out at the field, at the line of trees just barely visible in the distance through the snowstorm.
Nothing there. No one moving. No animal moving.
Again, he was about to go back to the front of the cabin, but then he heard a clicking noise from the back door; the noise was audible even over the howling wind. He looked at the back door as it slowly creaked open.
“What the fuck?” Trevor whispered. He pulled out his Glock nine millimeter from the waistband of his pants and crept towards the back door. He walked up the steps and stood in the doorway and stared at the darkness inside the cabin. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but then he could see a hallway that led away from the doorway he stood in. He could make out closed doors along the hall, two on one side, and one on the other. The hallway at the other end opened up to what seemed like a living room, but the living room was too dark to make out much detail.
Trevor hesitated for another moment in the doorway, his gun gripped in one gloved hand. The wind of the storm howled behind him, some of the snow even drifted inside the doorway onto the wood-planked hallway floor.
“Hello?” Trevor called out.
No answer.
“Is someone here?” Trevor waited for another few seconds. No answer. No sounds of any kind coming from inside the cabin. “Our car is overheating. We need to use a phone.” Trevor took a step forward; the floorboards creaked under his weight. His eyes were beginning to adjust even more to the darkness now.
“Hello?” Trevor called out again as he took another few steps. He didn’t like this – something felt strange here, wrong. He was afraid some old man would be waiting in the darkness with a shotgun, praying for the day some punk would try and break into his cabin. But there was something else he was afraid of, something much worse, a deeper fear, like a fear from a long time ago when he was a child – the fear of a monster in the closet, a monster in the darkness, something unimaginable waiting for him.
Trevor took one more step forward and that’s when the back door slammed shut.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cole, Stella, David, and the others waited on the front porch as the snowstorm scattered snow across the floorboards of the porch.
Cole glanced at both ends of the front porch. What was taking Trevor so long?
Jose hugged his arms, shivering. “Maybe nobody’s here right now. Maybe this is like a summer cabin or something.”
Frank had his back to the cabin as he stood at the edge of the porch in front of the steps; he stared out at the vast field in front of them, the line of dark trees just barely visible through the swirling snow. Frank’s face was as hard as stone as he stared at the trees, he didn’t move a muscle; and finally he answered Jose. “Maybe.”
Needles stood by the railing of the front porch, almost leaning against it, like he didn’t want to be close to this cabin. He stared at the cabin with that same look of terror Cole had seen in his eyes when they were sitting inside Stella’s Suburban.
Frank’s eyes, like little black stones, noticed Needles. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
Needles shook his head in disbelief. “This can’t be right,” he muttered.
Frank was about to ask Needles what the hell he was talking about when the front door of the cabin flew open.
Both Frank and Cole drew their guns and aimed them at the front door, only a split second away from pulling the trigger.
Trevor stood in the doorway, a big smile on his face. “The place is empty.”
Cole lowered his gun and let out a breath. “That’s a good way of getting yourself shot, little brother,” he said.
Frank glared at everyone else. “Come on, let’s get inside.”
Jose walked up behind Stella and pushed her towards the door. “You heard the man, get inside.”
Stella whirled around on Jose. She stared at him with piercing blue eyes – she showed no fear of him. “I can walk by myself.”
Jose took a step back without even realizing it.
Stella turned to David and took one of his hands. “Come on, honey. Let’s get out of the cold.”
After they were all inside the cabin, Cole closed and locked the front door, then he twisted a deadbolt lock shut. He turned and looked around at the cabin, which was really one big room, a living room and a kitchen divided by a half wall and dining room table in between. The hallway led off from near the dining room table to the back door and bedrooms and a bathroom.
The décor was rustic, masculine; it didn’t seem to have a woman’s touch. A couch took up nearly one wall of the living room, a blanket thrown over the back of it. A recliner sat near the couch, closer to the hallway – the two pieces of furniture didn’t match. A large TV occupied the corner closer to one of the front windows; it was the only really modern-looking thing in the whole cabin. Between the TV and couch was the fireplace, cold and gray now, but charred marks suggested a recent fire. A stack of firewood sat on the large stone hearth, an ax leaned against the stone fireplace. Other fireplace tools dangled in a stand on the other side of the fireplace screen. Cole gazed up at the high, vaulted ceiling. He could hear the wind howling through the eaves outside.
Stella and David stood in the middle of the living room on a woven Native American rug that consisted of bright colors and strange designs. The snow dripped off from their shoes and dampened the middle of the rug.
Frank nodded at Stella and David. “Go sit on the couch for now.”
Stella and David did as they were told; they sat down on the couch right next to each other. David took one of Stella’s hands in both of his and they watched the men huddle together in the middle of the living room. Except Needles, he didn’t huddle; he stumbled over to the dining room table and plopped down in a chair like his legs had suddenly gone weak.
Jose hugged his arms. “It’s cold in here, man.” He spotted a thermostat on the wall near the hallway and hurried over to it. He moved the dial and listened for a moment. He heard a slight click. He looked at the others, a big smile on his face as the heat kicked on. “We’ve got electricity here. We got heat.”
Cole looked at Trevor. “How’d you get inside?”
“It was weird. I tried the back door, and at first I thought it was locked. It seemed like it was locked. I was about to leave, but then the door opened.”
“What do you mean, it opened?” Cole asked.
Trevor shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess it must’ve been stuck or something.”
Cole didn’t say anything, but something about the back door being unlocked bothered him. The windows and the front door were locked, but the back door had been left unlocked?
And something else bothered Cole. He stared at the kitchen beyond the dining room table. A refrigerator and some counters took up one side of the kitchen. A sink, stove, and more counters on the other side. A large freezer sat on the floor at the far wall of the kitchen. There were two frying pans on the stove. A few unopened cans of food sat on the counter. A sink full of dishes. Cole nodded at the kitchen. “Look at the kitchen. Somebody was in here not too long ago.”
Frank glanced at Cole, then the kitchen, then back at Cole and Trevor. “You guys check this place out. Make sure no one’s hiding back there.”
Cole and Trevor hurried down the hall. As Trevor went to check out the second bedroom, Cole entered the small bathroom. He saw a tub with the shower curtain drawn shut, toilet, sink, mirror above the sink, small window on the far wall by the toilet, snow piled up on the window sill outside. There were a few small Western pictures hung up on the walls, a threadbare rug on the floor in front of the tub
.
Cole caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror: his chiseled face, his short hair which was spikey now from the melting snow glistening in it. But his eyes stopped him, his dark eyes that looked so tired. He just wanted this job to be over. And it would’ve been over by now if Needles hadn’t killed that old man in the bank.
Cole opened up the medicine cabinet. Normal stuff inside: cough medicine, shaving cream, cheap razors and cologne, a stick of deodorant. He reached inside and pulled out a prescription bottle of medicine, some kind of antibiotic. He shook the container, only a few pills rattled around inside. He read the name on the bottle – Tom Gordon.
He set the pills back inside and shut the mirrored door. Cole knew someone lived here, this wasn’t a seasonal cabin or a hunting lodge – this was someone’s home. And that someone had just been here not too long ago. But where was that someone now? Where was Tom Gordon?
Cole looked down at the sink. The faucet dripped water into the basin. He turned the water on for a second, and then turned it off. He turned the handle as hard as he could, but the water still dripped.
Cole left the bathroom and went to check out the other bedroom.
*
In the living room, Frank stared at Needles who still sat at the dining room table. Needles still had a frightened look in his eyes as he stared around at the cabin in disbelief. Frank pulled out a chair and sat down next to Needles, watching him the whole time. “You okay, Needles?”
Needles didn’t answer Frank.
Frank leaned towards Needles, speaking to him again, his voice sharper, louder. “Needles!”
Needles turned and stared at Frank for a long moment, his expression miserable, his eyes lost in some other world. “I didn’t mean to shoot that old man in the bank. I swear I didn’t. It was an accident. You know me, Frank.”
Frank nodded. “I know.”
Needles pulled out a crucifix on a chain from under his thermal shirt as he looked away from Frank. He rubbed the cross gently over and over again with his fingers – a nervous habit. “This place,” Needles said in a low voice. “I’ve seen it before.”
This caught Frank off guard. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Needles turned and faced Frank, his rheumy blue eyes boring into Frank’s coal-black eyes. “When that old man grabbed me in the bank, I saw things. Bad things. I saw this place.”
Frank inhaled a deep breath; he let it out slowly, trying to calm himself. This was the last thing he needed – Needles taking a nose dive off the edge of sanity. “Needles, just take it easy. I know you’re still upset about what happened.”
“Upset?!” Needles screamed at Frank. He jumped up from his chair and jabbed a finger at Frank. “You don’t understand what the fuck’s going on here!”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Cole entered Tom Gordon’s bedroom; he walked around the bed, which wasn’t made, and he scanned the room with his eyes. There were books and magazines stacked up against one wall. A pile of dirty clothes near a closet door, a flannel shirt and T-shirt draped over a chair. An old TV, one of those big heavy ones, sat in the corner on top of a scratched and scarred table.
Cole found the remote control to the TV on the night stand next to the bed; the remote was lying right beside a Louis L’Amour book: The Haunted Mesa, which was open and face down, a place being saved in the book. He pressed the power button on the remote and turned the TV on, but there was only static. He switched through channel after channel – only static. He shut the TV off and tried the telephone next to the bed; it was one of those older telephones that made an annoying ringing sound when someone called. There was no dial tone. He checked to make sure the phone line was plugged in. He jiggled the hang-up buttons – still no dial tone. He ripped the cord out of the wall, unhooked it from the phone and balled up the cord in his hands.
Phone lines must be down from the storm, he thought. Maybe the TV, too. But the electric was still on. The water was still on. Those were good things. Cole stood at the foot of the bed a moment longer, staring down at the messy bed. He bent down and looked underneath the bed. No Tom Gordon hiding there. No Tom Gordon in any of the closets.
If this Tom Gordon wasn’t here in the cabin somewhere, then he’d left in a hurry just before they got here. But what would make someone leave so suddenly in the middle of a snowstorm?
A small dark spot on the carpet near the foot of the bed caught Cole’s attention. He bent down and touched the spot on the carpet – sticky, a little wet. He brought his finger up to his face to inspect the red liquid on his finger tip. Blood? It sure looked like it.
Trevor entered the bedroom and Cole quickly wiped the blood from his finger. “All clear in the other room,” Trevor said. “How about this room?”
“No one here,” Cole said.
The yelling from out in the living room caught their attention; Frank and Needles were screaming at each other out there. They hurried back out to the living room. “Everything okay out here?” Cole asked.
Frank glared at Cole and Trevor, and then he looked at Needles. “Sit the fuck down, Needles.”
Needles remained standing at the dining room table, his finger still pointed at Frank, his hand trembling. For a moment Frank thought Needles was going to yell again, start babbling again, but Needles sat back down without another word, he looked down at the table as he rubbed the crucifix around his neck with his fingers.
Frank’s eyes darted over to Stella and David who sat on the couch, David still held Stella’s hand and he stared at Frank with his large dark eyes. Frank looked away from David, to Needles. He had to get Needles back in line, get this whole thing under control. “That’s right, Needles,” Frank said. “Just calm down. We all need to stay calm.”
Needles looked at Frank, a bead of sweat trickled down the side of Needles’ forehead despite the chilly air. His face twisted into a tortured mask and he seemed to be on the verge of tears. “You don’t understand, Frank. We can’t stay here. We’re all going to die. I’ve already seen it.”
Frank pointed his finger at Needles and glared at him with murderous eyes. “Not another fucking word – you hear me, Needles?”
Frank walked away – he needed to get away from Needles for a moment.
Cole glanced at Needles who went back to rubbing the crucifix around his neck, whispering something to himself, a prayer perhaps, and then Cole followed Frank into the kitchen. Cole set the balled-up telephone cord on the kitchen counter as Frank opened the refrigerator, checking the food supply.
“Nobody in the back rooms, but someone definitely lives here. Someone named Tom Gordon. I think he lives here alone.”
Frank looked up from the refrigerator, their eyes locking for a moment.
“I found a prescription pill bottle with his name on it.” Cole looked over at the stove, at the two frying pans on the burners, at the couple of cans of food waiting to be opened. “It’s like this guy was just here. Like he was just about to make some lunch, then he suddenly left.”
Frank closed the refrigerator door. “You should’ve been a fucking detective. Maybe this guy forgot something. Went to the store.”
“This guy’s kitchen is stocked for the winter. And why would he leave when a blizzard is moving in?”
“Maybe he saw us pull up and he took off out the back door.”
Cole nodded. “But there would’ve been footprints in the snow; the storm wouldn’t have covered them up that quickly. And leaving on foot? I don’t think this guy would’ve panicked just because someone pulled up in his front yard.”
Frank glanced at the freezer against the wall as Cole continued. “And this house was cold when we got here. No lights on. No heat on.”
“You said you thought this guy just left,” Frank said.
“It seemed like he left suddenly, but it must’ve been a little while since he was here.”
Frank shook his head, like this was beginning to give him a headache.
“I think we should move that lady�
��s truck around to the back of the cabin in case this guy comes back,” Cole said. “Get it out of sight.”
Frank thought this over for a moment, and then nodded. “Yeah. You and Trevor move the truck around back. And bring those cases inside.”
Cole hurried over to Trevor. “Come on, let’s go.”
Cole unlocked the deadbolt, and then opened the door up to the howling snowstorm. Cole stepped out onto the porch. Trevor was about to follow him, but Jose called out to him. “Bundle up, sweetie.”
Trevor flipped Jose a middle finger. “Fuck you,” he muttered and rushed out onto the porch and slammed the door shut.
Frank watched the door for a moment, and then he looked at Stella and David. Frank walked over to Jose. He leaned in close to Jose as he spoke in a low voice. “Go out there and watch those two. If they try and run, kill them.”
*
Cole and Trevor got inside Stella’s Suburban. Cole started the truck and the temperature gauge climbed immediately into the red. He shifted into drive and gunned the gas. He needed to get this truck behind the cabin before the motor seized up halfway there.
As Cole drove, Trevor lit a cigarette with his Zippo lighter. The cabin was just a dark blur to their right – that’s how much the blizzard had intensified.
Once the truck was safely out of view from the driveway, Cole put the truck in park and shut the engine and headlights off. He sat there for a moment as Trevor inhaled on his cigarette and blew out smoke. Cole stared at his little brother.
Trevor looked at Cole. “I know what you’re going to say, Cole. I’m sorry. I didn’t know all of this was going to happen.”
Cole sighed as Trevor took another drag off his cigarette. “It was supposed to be a simple job,” Trevor continued. “But that fucking trigger-happy Needles fucked everything up.”