The Cabin in the Woods

Tim Lebbon The Cabin in the Woods

ONE

Never did understand the whole kid thing, Gary Sitterson thought. Mess your house up, drain your resources, and make you grow prematurely old.

He held his mug beneath the coffee dispenser, setting on “strong.” He’d have used “nuclear” strength if it existed; it was going to be a long day, and he was tired. Beside him Steve Hadley sighed, and Sitterson smiled to himself.

Besides, it’s obvious for all to see: women are mad.

It had been brought to his attention more than once that this attitude made his job far easier.

“It’s hormonal,” Hadley said, continuing the rant which, if anything, was more of an expression of bemusement. “I mean, I don’t usually fall back on, you know, ‘It’s women’s issues’…”

“But child-proofed how?” Sitterson asked. Hadley, married and still childless, had been bemoaning the fact that his wife was preparing their home for the arrival of a child not yet conceived, though one for which they had been practicing for some time. “Gates and stuff?” “No, no, dude,” Hadley said. Bemusement was turning rapidly into exasperation. “She bought gates, they’re stacked up in the hallway. She did the drawers! We’re not even sure this fertility thing is gonna work and she screwed all these little jobbies where you can’t open the drawers.”

“At all?” Sitterson asked, holding his coffee mug halfway to his mouth. What the fuck? There was mad, and there was plain crazy-batshit. He’d met Hadley’s wife briefly and, patently insane though she was, he’d not thought she was any higher on the scale than most women. But screwing all the kitchen drawers closed? What, to stop Hadley getting at the food so he’d go to bed and screw her instead?

“They open, like, an inch,” Hadley said, illustrating with thumb and forefinger and shaking his head. His own coffee cup had overflowed once already, but he pressed the serve button again. Dude was definitely somewhere else today; that wasn’t good. “Then you gotta dig your fingers in and fiddle with this plastic thing, a catch, lock, like a sorta…” He shook his head and grabbed his cup, spilling half of it. “It’s a nightmare!”

“Well, I guess sooner or later-”

“Later!” Hadley spat. He shoved past Sitterson and started pumping dollar coins into the vending machine. Chocolate bars and bags of chips tumbled, and Sitterson thought, He really can’t get into his kitchen cabinets.“What I mean is-”

“She did the upper cabinets as well, man! Kid won’t be able to reach those ’til he’s thirty! Assuming, you know: kid. Hell, she can’t even reach them-has to stand on a stool or call for me!” He looked into some depressing distance for a few seconds, then mused, “Wonder how the hell she got up there to drill.”

“She chosen the kid’s college yet?”

Hadley paused in tearing open a chip bag, staring at Sitterson as if, for a moment, he was going to rip open his own friend’s throat.

“This isn’t a fucking joke, Gary,” he said.

“I know,” Sitterson said, mock-stern. But he couldn’t keep a straight face, and as his lips twitched and his eyes started watering with restrained mirth, Hadley shoved the food into his pockets and hefted the bundle of files under one arm. Coffee cup gripped in the other hand-still spilling, though almost empty by now-he pushed past Sitterson and left the room.

Still laughing, trying to calm himself, Sitterson picked up the white cooler box at his feet and went after him.

“Hold up!” he called. Hadley had started along the plain concrete corridor, starkly painted white walls echoing his offended footsteps. “Hey, Steve.” Hadley paused and glanced back, a defeated smile softening his own features.

“Shithead,” he said.

“Yeah, I know.” Sitterson took a swig of coffee. “It’s a talisman. It’s an offering.” “Don’t even-!” He shook his head. “Man, you have women’s issues.”

“Please,” Sitterson said softly, feeling a little sad for his friend now. He knew how long Steve and his wife had been trying, and maybe he should try to empathize a little more. “You of all people-”

“Me of no people. It’s a jinx! Guarantees we won’t get pregnant, and it takes me twenty minutes to get a fucking beer.”

“Look out,” Sitterson whispered, spying movement along the corridor past Hadley. “Here comes trouble.” Trouble in this case was a tall, severe-looking woman in a white lab coat. Six feet tall even without the two-inch heels she wore, Wendy Lin was one of the few women ever to make Sitterson feel uncomfortable.

No wonder he’d always wanted to get into her panties.