The Cabin in the Woods

some ways long before that. So while he checked readouts on his laptop and tweaked a few settings here and there, he also glanced frequently at the bank of monitors.

Just to… monitor.

The cute brunette—and damn, was she cute!— turned her back on the covered painting as she changed, which gave him a perfect view. Sweet, pert breasts, as yet defiant of gravity and not weighed down with the responsibility of childbirth. Strong limbs, long legs, a flat stomach rippled with the subtle evidence of running and other exercise. And she shaved. Most college kids her age did, he’d come to learn. That didn’t do it for Sitterson, but he knew that Hadley was a fan of baldies.

Glancing across, he grinned to see his companion’s gaze fixed on the screen.

“Cute,” he said.

“Yeah,” Hadley agreed, smiling softly. “But it doesn’t matter.”

Sitterson looked at the other screens that showed activity. The Fool was sitting on the end of his bed staring at the far wall, a joint hanging from the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t bothered changing, and most likely wouldn’t join his friends in the lake. Which was a shame, because it would necessitate a slight change from Story. But it was also allowed for.

The jock and his blonde girlfriend were fooling around naked, whipping at each other’s butts with twisted towels, wrestling, but Sitterson knew that she was teasing, putting everything on view but not making anything available. Not yet, at least. The jock didn’t seem aware of this, and when his interest started showing Sitterson turned away and checked some more readouts. Even though he had the audio turned most of the way down, he still heard the guy’s complaining voice, and the girl’s admonishment, full of control and manipulation.

Poor fuck. Didn’t he know they were all insane?

Rolling his chair back again, he checked out the other feeds: cabin, dock, lake, the RV, several views of the kitchen and dining area, four for the living room, basement, bathroom… it all seemed well, and when the kids started leaving their rooms he tracked their progress from screen to screen.

“All right,” Sitterson said, “places everyone. We are live.”

“Engineering,” Hadley said, voice calm and almost bored. “We’ve got a room change. Polk is now in two, McCrea’s in four. Story department—you copy? We’ll need a scenario adjustment… ”

Moments later a voice came over the control room’s PA.

“Have it back to you in fifteen… ”

“Oh, and the Fool’s not swimming.”

“Got that covered,” the same voice confirmed.

It’s all under control, Sitterson thought, and control was what pleased him. Outside this place he was a mess—his bachelor’s home, his history of relationships, his life—but he more than made up for it with his work. He was, Hadley had told him more than once, a pain-in-the-ass perfectionist. Who the fuck else would you want working here? That was his stock reply. And Hadley had never argued.

Footsteps sounded on the metal staircase and Sitterson glanced up.

“Ms. Lin!”

She carried a clipboard under her arm, as ever. An affectation, he knew, because everything she needed for the weekend’s activities was stored on the palm-top she carried in her lab coat pocket. He wasn’t sure whether the clipboard made her look more sexy or more terrifying, and the fact that he found both alluring sometimes unsettled him.

“We’ve got blood work back on Louden,” she said without any preamble. “Her levels are good, but we’re recommending a fifty milligram increase of Rohyptase to boost libido.”

“Sold,” Sitterson said. He always favored a bit of hot sex action before things kicked off. Another perk of the job.

“Do we pipe it in or do you wanna do it orally?” Lin asked.

Sitterson held in his laughter, closed his eyes and sighed. “Ask me that again, only slower.”

“You’re a pig,” she said. The tone of her voice didn’t change at all, and sometimes he seriously considered Hadley’s assertion that she was a robot. “Guess how we’re slowing down her cognition.”

Sitterson kept his eyes closed, knowing she’d tell him anyway.

“The hair dye.” And was that a slight smugness to her voice? He opened his eyes, impressed.

“The dumb blonde. That’s artistic.”

“Works into the blood through the scalp, very gradual.” She looked past him at Hadley, her eternal doubter. “The Chem department keeps their end up.” “I’ll see it when I believe it,” he drawled without looking away from his control board.

Sitterson started shrugging, but halfway through the PA sounded again.

“Control?”

“Go ahead,” Hadley said.

“I have the Harbinger on line two.”

Hadley looked across, but Sitterson held up his hands, shaking his head.

“Christ,” Hadley said. “Can you take a message?” “Uh… I don’t think so. He’s really pushy. And… to be honest, he’s kinda freaking me out.”

Hadley gave a defeated sigh.

“Yeaaaahh. Okay, put him through.” He hit a button on his panel and threw Sitterson one last, cutting glare: You owe me.

Sitterson finished his shrug and smiled.

“Mordecai!” Hadley said into his microphone, suddenly more upbeat and animated. “How’s the weather up top?”

“The lambs have passed through the gate,” a voice said, grizzled and grumbling—Sitterson always had been impressed by the guy’s performance. He was a true method actor—the bloodshot eye never needed encouraging, and he really was a smelly bastard. Where the hell the Story guys had found him, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know. “They are come to the killing floor,” Mordecai’s voice continued, echoing around the control room.

Hadley nodded, hand hovering above the disconnect button. But Sitterson had taken enough calls from Mordecai before to know that this was far from over.

“Yeah, you did great out there. By the numbers. Started us off right. We’ll talk to you later, oka—” “Their blind eyes see nothing of the horrors to come. Their ears are stopped; they are God’s fools.” “Well, that’s how it works.” Hadley hung his head. His voice sounded with defeat. Sitterson chuckled.

“Cleanse them. Cleanse the world of their ignorance and sin. Bathe them in the crimson of—” He paused, then asked, “Am I on speaker phone?”

“No, no of course not!”

“Yes I am,” Mordecai said. His voice raised, from subterranean grumble to eighteen-wheeler roar. “I can hear the echo. Take me off. Now.”

Sitterson started laughing, clamping his hands over his mouth to try and hold in the mirth. Beside him Lin, ever the ice queen, was maintaining her cool. Mostly. But even her features were warmed by the subtlest precursor of a smile.

“Okay,” Hadley said. “Sorry.”

“I’m not kidding,” Mordecai’s voice grated through the speakers. “It’s rude. I don’t know who’s in the room.” “Fine.” Hadley tapped the microphone. “There, you’re off speaker phone.” “Thank you.”

Sitterson was trying not to cry, but the more he held his laughter the greater the pressure built. Hysteria is a sign of the loss of control, Lin had told him once, and he’d roared with laughter as she’d left the control room. He hadn’t disagreed; he’d merely laughed. He wished he knew how she stayed so calm. Perhaps she took some of her own chemical creations, though such indulgence was strictly forbidden.

“Don’t take this lightly, boy,” Mordecai continued from the gas station. “It wasn’t all by your ‘numbers’; the Fool nearly derailed the invocation with his insolence. Your futures are murky; you’d do well to heed my—” He paused again, then his voice lightened to a whisper; gravel on concrete. “I’m still on speaker phone, aren’t I?”

That was it. Sitterson couldn’t hold it anymore, the laughter bursting from him in an explosive cough of air.