The Cabin in the Woods

Hadley was counting the money, but he finished Sitterson’s sentence as if this little speech was well rehearsed. And it was. They’d given it to new doubters at least three times before.

“…they can’t be punished. Last chance, Truman. Window’s closing.”

“I’m fine,” the soldier said, shaking his head. Hadley and Sitterson exchanged amused glances, then Hadley turned back to the people milling around Control.

“All right!” he yelled. “That’s it, gang. The board is locked.” He handed the cash to Sitterson, who combined it with his own wad, tied an elastic band around it, and slipped it into a drawer in his console. It felt like a good amount this time, and he was pleased. Not only did that raise the excitement, it also meant everyone would be on the ball, focusing on their jobs. None of them could afford to have anything go wrong.

Sitterson looked at the screens again and shouted, “Let’s get this party started!”

Music thumped. Curt worked the keg filling plastic cups for them all.

They’d lit the fire upon arrival, as well as some oil lamps, and the back boiler was already pumping out water hot enough to cook a cat. After running up from the lake, sun slowly setting behind them and goosebumps speckling their skin, they’d taken it in turns ducking into the shower for a warm-up before dressing again.

Curt and Jules had gone first, and that’s when the music had been turned on-Marty, Dana and Holden had only been able to listen for so long to their groans and the banging on the wall. It had been uncomfortable, but funny as well, and the three of them had shared a smile and a few choice comments.

Holden had sat beside Dana on the sofa, towels wrapped around them as they waited for the shower, and their bare legs had touched without any awkwardness. They hadn’t even kissed yet, and still they were beginning to feel like a couple.

Holden was sitting opposite her now, and his skin was still tingling from the contrast between the cold dip in the lake and the hot shower afterward. All of them were showered and dressed. Marty sat beside him on the sofa with a beer between his knees and the ever-present joint pinched between slightly-yellowed fingers, unlit at present. As Dana leaned forward and picked up her cup, her still-wet hair fell forward to frame her face, and she smiled at Holden over its rim.

“Let’s get this party started!” Curt called, handing a beer to Jules. “Truth, dare, or lecture!” She danced across the room in time to the music that was pumping from the stereo.

“I’ve played truth or dare before,” Holden said, “I just don’t get the third part. What’s ‘lecture’?”

“Well, the lecture is our own addition,” Dana said. Her smile was softer than ever now, and he could tell that the beer was going to her head.

“It’s the X factor,” Marty said.

“It redefines the whole concept!” Jules said, still jigging.

“Come on,” Dana teased, leaning forward again and perhaps wishing that she and Holden were sitting together. But he was happy to forego proximity in exchange for eye contact. “You’re the newbie, so you ask first. We’ll show you how it’s done.”

“Okay, uh, Marty,” he said, still a little hesitant. “Truth or dare or lecture?”

Marty sighed, as if even that took too much effort. “I could go for a lecture about now.”

Holden smiled, but inside he sighed.

“Lecture. How’d I guess.” That was just the pressure he didn’t want from a room full of people he hardly knew. Eyes were on him, though, and he maintained the smile as he thought about what he could possibly say.

“Wait, hang on,” Marty added. He sat up slowly, plucked a lighter from his shirt pocket and lit the joint, taking a massive hit. For a moment he held his breath and seemed to stare at nothing. Then he nodded, waved the joint at Holden, and nodded again as if to say, All right, bring it on.

“You guys really know how to party,” Holden said, chuckling as the others all raised a beer cup in toast. “Okay. Marty. I don’t like to, you know, lecture, but we’ve been friends for so many minutes now that I feel I can be honest.” He pointed at Marty. “You are not Marty. You are ‘Pot Marty.’ You are living in a womb of reefer and missing out on the real joys of life. I’ll tell you, I’ve learned a lot out on the football field. I’ve learned about achievement, teamwork, homoerotic butt slapping and good clean fun. Curt here, he doesn’t smoke weed. Because he knows it doesn’t make you a winner, and because it interferes with his enormous daily dose of steroids.”

“I eat them like candy,” Curt confirmed seriously. “Maybe, Marty, you should take a hit from the life-bong, and don’t take your finger off the life-carb till the chamber’s filled up with…” He waved at the air, losing track, searching for something, anything to help him through. “…with… with opportunity. For the love of God let me be done.”

“Yes!” Dana squealed.