The Cabin in the Woods

Even Lin was smiling, and from down the curved staircase Sitterson heard Truman, the stiff soldier, coughing as he tried to contain his own hilarity.

“No,” Hadley said, “you’re not. I promise.”

“Yes I am! Who is that? Who’s laughing?”

Sitterson felt tears running down his cheeks and he leaned forward in his chair, pounding his head on his console. Hysteria is the sign of the loss of control. As he glanced up at one monitor and saw two of the kids soundlessly running along the wooden dock toward the lake, he wondered how mirthful each tear really was.

•••

Holden was racing her. It was simple fun, but for Dana, there was still that competitive edge that was a hangover from all the athletics she did in her early teens. So she ran hard, feeling the boards flexing and creaking beneath her feet, and sensing Holden’s shadow just behind to her left.

“No way you win,” he gasped, and she cried out in delight as she put on a final burst of speed, launching herself from the end of the dock and feeling one of those moments of unadulterated, ecstatic glee that comes only rarely, and never for long. She pinwheeled her arms and legs, trying to crawl further through the air before the calm waters of the lake drew her down.

She tried to take a deep breath before she entered the water, but she was laughing too much. Beside her she sensed Holden flying with her, and then the water closed completely around her. And it was colder than she had ever felt before.

Surfacing, gasping, spitting water from her mouth, it took her several seconds to find her breath.

“OH! Cold! That’s what cold feels like—”

“Fight through the pain,” Holden gasped, treading water beside her. “It’s worth it. I’m nearly convinced it’s worth it.”

Dana found her breath at last, the cold quickly numbing her senses. She turned in the water and looked back toward the cabin, where the others were approaching at a more leisurely pace along the dock. Curt and Jules were wearing their bathing suits, while Marty was still in his tee-shirt and shorts. He had a towel slung casually around his neck, but he seemed to have no intention of joining them.

Right then, she could hardly blame him.

“Does it seem fresh?” Jules asked, voice etched with concern. “Lotta funky diseases sitting in stagnant lake water.”

“What?” Dana asked, “this water?” And to emphasize her point she took a deep gulp of it, swilling it around her mouth before spitting it out in an arc. Cool and fresh, it was tinted with a tang of something wonderful. “This water’s delicious.”

“Oh my god, she’s right!” Holden gasped. He took a mouthful too, spitting it in an arc toward Dana. She flinched back and it splashed her shoulder. “It tastes like… vitamins. And hope.”

“C’mon Jules,” Dana called. “Life is risk!”

“Yeah, I might just risk lying out in the sun for a while.” She paused a few steps back from the edge, uncertain.

Curt stepped to the edge of the dock, face falling as he looked down.

“What is that?” he asked, almost to himself.

Dana, treading water, edged back from the dock and further into the lake. She could sense the depth increasing beneath her as she moved, and it was thrilling.

“What?” she asked, a hint of concern tickling the back of her neck.

“In the lake,” Curt said. “I swear to god I…” “Yeah, right,” Dana said, not willing to admit that he had her spooked. He looked so damn serious, and— But then she glanced sidelong at Holden, saw his smile, and knew that it was a game.

“No, seriously!” Curt said dramatically. Jules edged forward and stood beside him, looking nervously down at the rippling surface. “Right there. Don’t you see it? There. It looks just like—” He put his hands firmly on Jules’s back, and as he pushed and she squealed in terror, he said, “My girlfriend!”

Jules flailed at the air as if trying to hold herself back to the dock, and she went in that way, arms and legs thrashing and mouth open to scream. She surfaced quickly, spluttering and turning so that she faced the dock.

“Oh! Oh my god! I’m gonna kill you!”

His expression not breaking for an instant, Curt pointed just between where Jules had landed and Dana was still treading water, trying not to laugh out loud at her splashing, angry friend. She’ll never be angry at him for long, Dana thought, and realized how these two suited each other so well.

“Look—there’s something else in the lake—” Curt said, launching himself straight at where he was pointing, and splashing Dana and Holden as he landed. He surfaced and raised his arms, treading water just with his strong legs. “It’s a gorgeous man!” he shouted, and at the far side of the lake a small flock of birds took flight from the trees.

“You are so dead!” Jules said, still gasping against the cold. She swam to him with three powerful strokes and tried dunking him.

“Don’t kill the gorgeous man!” Curt cried. “They’re endangered!”

Dana laughed, and looked up at Marty standing alone on the end of the dock. He eyed them all warily, holding the towel splayed around his neck.

“Marty, get in here!” she said.

“Nah, man. I’m cool. Just seeing the sights.” He sat on the edge of the dock and dangled his feet, his bare toes just reaching the water. He leaned back with a joint smoking gently in the corner of his mouth, and Dana wondered how he managed to live on a permanent high. Some people chose that way, she guessed. But for her, life was a high.

Especially today

She glanced at Holden, caught his eye and smiled, turning in the water and swimming out for the lake’s center. And for a while before he followed she was all alone, and this beautiful place was her own.

FOUR

And now, it was time for the betting to begin. Sitterson loved this part. The play had begun, and tens of thousands of man hours’ preparation had led to a single moment. Everything had gone smooth as clockwork up to now, and it looked as if they were going to pull through well.

There were some who had doubted his own seemingly lax approach to the job; they questioned his flippant manner, and the way he seemed to make light of the darkest things. But those doubters were here now with everyone else. Ready to bet. Gambling on souls. It was, as he and Hadley had discussed during many evenings over many beers, their own particular version of gallows humor.

Take this too seriously and you became withdrawn and traumatized, and that could only lead to mistakes.

Sitterson never made mistakes, and his naysayers had seen that soon enough. He might joke and bet, laugh and use sarcasm or innuendo as a defense, but when it came to holding down his end of the project, there were none who could be trusted more. Hence his position in Control.

“Last chance to post!” he called, stepping up onto the console. All eyes were on him and the wads of cash he held, and this was about the only time he liked being the centre of so much attention. “C’mon people, dig deep. Betting windows are about to close!”

The control room was bustling. Truman had fussed to begin with, hassled at having so many people entering the room. But they’d all passed muster with his card reader, so there was really little he could say. He’d refused to place a bet, peering at Sitterson with veiled disgust and shock when he’d been asked. And now he stood and scanned the room with cold eyes.

Hadley remained in his wheeled chair, but there were several people clustered around him, as well, holding out betting slips and cash for him to pluck away and enter into his notebook.