The Cabin in the Woods

“Hey,” Dana said. Hey? Hey? Couldn’t she think of anything…? But they locked eyes then, and Holden dropped his bag and walked past Curt to where Dana stood, making a point of closing the distance between them. Nevertheless, his three steps seemed to go on forever.

He shook her hand, his grip strong but gentle.

“I’m Holden,” he said. “Really nice to meet you.” He held her hand for just a little too long, then grinned and looked around at the others. “And thank you guys for letting me crash your weekend. I’ll just put a disclaimer up front: you don’t have to explain any of your in-jokes. I’ll probably be drunk and think they’re funny anyway.” A soft frown. “Should I have left out the part about being drunk?”

“With hindsight, yeah,” Curt quipped.

“Damn.” Holden looked past Dana at her bedroom door. “Can I help anybody carry anything?”

“Thanks, but I’d better finish packing first,” Dana said. She turned smartly and entered her bedroom again, looking at the open suitcase and the books spilled onto her bed, and the red wine-colored bikini Jules had insisted that she take. Her sketch pad still lay open on the bed beside the books, and her ex-lover’s eyes stared at her, rendered with Dana’s expert hand while they had still been together. Back then, she’d drawn him with love in his eyes. After what he’d done to her, even though she could not deny the feelings she still had for him, she didn’t think she could ever draw him again. Not that she would ever want to.

She dropped the bikini into the case. Maybe there would be some swimming in the lake this weekend, after all.

Jules had many fond memories of Curt’s family Rambler. The recreational vehicle slept six at a push, but the three times she and Curt had used it, it had just been the two of them. And they’d made full use of all the space inside. One time, when they’d been parked up in the mountains, sun setting behind the peaks and bleeding orange down the mountainside, she’d sat on his lap in the driver’s seat. Then, in neutral, he’d revved the engine. Damn, those vibrations. They’d used half a tank of fuel that night without going anywhere.

Now here it was, about to take them away again, and she was certain the memories she’d bring back from this weekend would be of somewhere else entirely.

Jules was glad to see the quiet, tentative communication going on between Holden and Dana. That scumbag lecturer had done a real job on her friend, and she hated it when Dana said, I’m not ready to let it go yet. It wasn’t that she was weak or feeble, it was just that… well, maybe Dana thought about things too much. And with what he’d done, it didn’t even need thinking about. He was a shithead, and she was better off without him.

You need someone to romance you, take your mind off him, she’d said, and Dana had replied, No, not that.

Well then, maybe you need a good screw, she’d said, and Dana had denied she needed that, either.

Maybe Holden’s the one to give her whatever the hell it is she needs, she thought.

Dana was inside the Rambler storing their stuff, and Jules watched as Holden passed up her own suitcase, then the polite smile that passed between them. Was that a brief touch of hands on the suitcase handle? She couldn’t tell from where she stood on the sidewalk, but-

Stop it! she scolded herself. It was up to the two of them now. She and Curt had done their bit. It was time for nature could take its course. “That pretty much it?” Holden asked, turning around and looking at her. He had a film of sweat on his forehead. Well, maybe three suitcases was a little excessive for just one weekend.

“Fuckin’ better be!” Curt said. “Jules, it’s a weekend, not an evacuation.”

Jules took a step closer to her boyfriend and prodded him in the chest.

“Trust me when I say there is nothing in those cases you won’t be glad I brought.”

“I’m shuttin’ right up,” Curt said. He raised one eyebrow, but Jules just smiled enigmatically and turned away. He loved it when she dressed up, and she wasn’t about to reveal any of the surprises she had in store.

“Oh my God!” Dana said. She was standing in the Rambler’s doorway looking along the street, and when Jules followed her gaze it took a moment for it to register.

Martin Mikalski. Marty.

He’d been part of their close circle for a couple of years, and to outsiders it might have looked like a strange combination. But whereas Curt was the wildman jock, Dana the sweet young thing with a fiery centre, and Jules the opinionated blonde type-today, literally, Marty was the most unaffected of them all.