The Cabin in the Woods

And then Hadley said something which Sitterson had guessed anyway, and there was no longer cause for celebration.

“Which one?”

He turned to follow his friend’s gaze.

Suddenly he was rooting for the Virgin like never before.

•••

She jumped aside one more time as Matthew swung the broken bear trap. It was easy enough to dodge— however hard he swung it, she had at least a second to judge its passage and eventual impact point—but doing so was rapidly tiring her out. And each time she concentrated on the swinging trap, Matthew’s other hand lashed out and caught her across the shoulder, chest, cheek.

Several times now she’d almost backed up and jumped into the lake again, but she knew if she did that she’d die for sure. If she didn’t drown from exhaustion, Father Buckner would grab her and haul her down. He was still below the surface, she knew. Still down there somewhere, stalking the lake bottom, looking up, perhaps even seeing the blurry starlit struggle on the wooden dock. He was waiting.

She ducked to one side and felt the trap whoosh down past her ear. It snagged her jeans and tore them, scoring a cut on her ankle before embedding itself in the dock. She tried to jump sideways to avoid the zombie’s other hand, but it caught her across the nose this time, sending a flash of bloody hot pain through her head. Her vision swam, her whole face caught fire, and it was all she could do to retain her footing on the shattered, splintered dock.

Dana couldn’t run past him because he was too big. She couldn’t fight him because she had no weapons— besides, the crowbar through his face proved that fighting wasn’t even an issue. And there was nowhere else to go.

Fuck you fuck you fuck you, she thought, part of it directed at the zombie but most at the unseen puppeteers she was convinced were steering him. Whether or not they watched her now, she was determined not to give them the satisfaction.

Perhaps if she rushed him, striking at an angle, shoving him off balance and then tripping him into the lake… maybe then she could run and hide before he managed to crawl out. She spat blood, readied herself…

And then Matthew kicked out and struck her knee. She screamed and went down, spiking her hands and forearms on the splintered wood.

Crying, and hating herself for doing so, she tried to crawl, direction hardly a consideration anymore. Soon he’d swing the bear trap around and bring it down on her back, or her head, and then she’d die and join the others.

A board moved beneath her, one end shattered and sticking up from a strike from the bear trap. Maybe if she levered it up, bent it away from the nail still holding it down, stood and turned before his next strike, she could—

He brought his foot down on her arm, and she screamed. She twisted to look up and back at him, and he shifted all his weight onto that one leg. Desperate to scream again, even more desperate not to, she bit her lip until blood started to flow.

At least that’s a wound I made, she thought, and something about it gave her power.

“Fuck you,” she gritted.

He started swinging the chain around his head, picking up momentum for the final strike.

Ching… ching… ching…

I won’t look away, she thought. I won’t close my eyes, I won’t look away, the bastards won’t get that from me.

Matthew grasped the chain’s handle with both hands, let it swing behind his back, tensed, and brought it up and over his head.

This is it, Dana thought, and as she imagined kissing Holden, she smiled.

There was a loud clunk! and Matthew jerked to a standstill. He remained motionless for a moment, staring out over the lake in surprise, instead of down at Dana. And then he stumbled backward, off balance, and fell onto the dock.

Beyond where he lay, Dana saw Marty with his bong in his hands and Matthew’s chain wrapped around it. His clothes were torn and covered in blood, and he stood arched forward as if trying to escape a pain in his back. But his breath came thick and heavy, and she saw the hatred in his eyes.

“Marty!”

“Dana, get away!”

Between them, Matthew was already getting to his feet, and Dana could see Marty’s hesitation. He tugged at the chain but it was solid. And if he let go of the bong, it would return the weapon to Matthew.

But she wasn’t about to leave.

She pried up the broken plank, standing and levering it from the last nail. It sprung up with a jolt, she reversed it so that the unbroken end was away from her, then she held it back over her shoulder.

“Hey, stinking shithead fuck-face!” she called. Matthew turned slowly to face her. “Yeah, that’s right… I know your name.” She swung the board with all her might and smashed it into his face.

The zombie fell backward from the dock and splashed into the lake.

Dana staggered past where the thing had fallen and fell into Marty, welcoming his embrace and giving one back. They both groaned and hissed from their wounds, but the contact was essential right then, a sharing of warmth and hope that drove back some of the darkness. “Marty, I thought you were—”

“Not yet. Not quite.”

“Everyone else is…”

“Yeah.” He pulled back a little and there was little of the joker left. Dana felt her friend’s blood on her hands, from open wounds in his back.

From behind them came a splash as Matthew stood close to the edge of the lake and started striding toward them. He still dragged the chain behind him.

“You lost your bong,” Dana said ruefully.

“C’mon.” Marty grabbed her hand and they ran up the shore toward the cabin.

“Where are we going?” she gasped. She didn’t want to go back in there. That was the last place they needed to go, a warren of traps and locked doors, hidden basements and stuff meant for torture.

Anywhere but there.

But Marty didn’t reply, and when they were twenty yards from the cabin the door thudded open. For a brief, mad moment Dana thought, Jules! She’s survived too, or maybe Curt, up from the ravine and not burnt nearly as badly as—

But it was Mother Buckner who emerged onto the porch, her portly frame giving her gait a monstrous sway, and that terrible saw swinging by her side.

“This way!” Marty said, steering them around toward the rear of the building. They were still holding hands. Marty squeezed tight, and she thought perhaps he needed that contact to keep going, to help him fight the pain. Because now she’d seen the hideous puncture wounds on his back, and she wasn’t sure how he was moving at all.

•••

Marty steered them for the treeline. Passing between the first of the trees he felt resistance from Dana, and pulled harder. There was no way they could slow down or change direction. Time was of the essence. Out here was chaos, and danger, and a plan the scope and depth of which he could barely comprehend.

But there was one place they might yet survive. They had to make it to the hole into which Judah had dragged him earlier, or they’d be finished.

“Marty, wait!” Dana said, pulling back harder.

Behind them, he heard a terrible scraping sound as Mother Buckner rounded the corner of the cabin, saw dragging across the ground. It would still have wet flesh between its teeth.

“Dana, c’mon!”

Moments later they reached the hole, a dark wound in the land where Marty had been dragged and from which he had emerged again, rebirthed and enraged. It was darker than the shadows, foreboding, but he knew it