CHAPTER 14
HOLLY
This road is creepy, lit only by my headlights, crowded on all sides by thick swaths of trees. At one point, I slow down to five below the speed limit because this place is just begging for a deer to jump out in front of the bumper. Then, I’d swerve into a tree, destroying the car, and the ax murder who had trained his pet deer to crash cars would have no trouble picking Ben and me off as we stood, stranded, on the side of this forgotten road.
I don’t get out of the city much.
My overactive imagination goes to town on my nerves, and I need Ben to wake up to distract me. He lasted about thirty minutes into the drive before his head lolled to the side, his steady, slow breathing signaling he was asleep. I don’t begrudge him his nap. Marcus gets tired easily, too. That’s what happens when your organs don’t function properly. It’s like your body is constantly trying to reboot itself.
But nap time is over. The GPS claims we’ll arrive in about twenty-five minutes, and I need reassurance there’s actually a destination at the end of this winding road.
“Ben,” I speak softly, hoping to draw him out of sleep gradually. “Ben?”
No dice. His face is still pressed up against the edge of the car door with his mouth parted. The pose is adorable. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to wake him up.
“Benny, time to get up!” Now, I’ve transitioned into singsong.
He shifts a bit, and I think I’m successful. Then, he starts snoring.
Oh, heck no.
“Ben! The cops are on our tail!” My shout fills the car.
He shoots up, bleary, wild eyes searching for sirens or flashing lights. My chuckle brings his gaze to me.
“Glad you could join me, sleeping beauty. How was your nap?”
He grimaces at me, and I’m tickled to see him dragging his forearm over his mouth, wiping away a drop of drool that leaked out. Next, he massages his neck, discomfort clear on his face.
“Think I slept weird.”
“You should have reclined the seat, cotton brains.”
“Cotton brains?”
“Yep. Brains made of cotton. Now, take a look around and assure me that the GPS hasn’t taken us the wrong way. Like to a haunted mansion or something.”
Ben stares out the window, searching the dark forest. I’m not sure why I think he’ll be able to recognize the uninhabited stretch of road, but I can hope. Glancing at the GPS, he manipulates the screen to read the upcoming directions.
“Yep,” he says, sitting back in his chair. “We’re right where we need to be.”
I nod and then make sure I have my full attention on the road, still on the lookout for suicidal woodland creatures.
“Can I ask you a question?”
Even though I want to examine Ben’s face after he throws out this query, I keep my eyes ahead.
“Sure. Doesn’t mean I’ll answer it.”
Ben nods. “Fair enough.” He clears his throat before going on, “Why do you need to drive the car?”
I figured this would come up at some point. Surprised he waited so long actually. I don’t talk about this part of my life much, but with Ben, the words come easily.
“When I got my license, I honestly wasn’t that interested in driving. I didn’t have my own car, and I had the bus system pretty much memorized. Then, there was this one night, just a few weeks after I could legally drive by myself, when my mom picked me up from a friend’s house. Problem was, she’d had a few drinks.” And I’m almost certain something other than just alcohol was floating around in her system. “I asked her if I should drive, but she swore she was fine, and I let her convince me. It’s just … she wasn’t around much. So, when she was around, I wanted to keep her happy. I didn’t put up much of a fight.”
I risk a quick glance at Ben, and he’s watching me. No expression on his face.
“We were on the road for maybe ten minutes when she ran a red light. My side of the car got hit. Luckily, they weren’t going too fast, but my door still got smashed in. I had a mild concussion, broken wrist, and a lot of cuts from the glass.”
“That sucks. I’m sorry you went through that,” Ben speaks softly.
“Yeah, so it was shocking. Scared the daylights out of me. Then, the next time I sat in the passenger seat, even though Marcus was driving, the minute he started the car, I began having a panic attack. And that’s been the case ever since. I’ve tried a few more times with different people and different cars, but it’s always the same thing. If I’m not driving, then I’m panicking.”
“Make a right turn in one mile,” says the GPS.
“Well, you can drive my car anytime you want. I don’t mind.” The easy smile in Ben’s voice takes away my self-consciousness.
There’s a slight pressure behind my eyes, and I think, if I wasn’t driving, I would hug him. Or kiss him.
The road we turn onto is paved, barely, and the trees crowd in closer.
“You realize how creepy this whole situation is, right? There are dozens of horror movies that start in this exact same way.”
1. The Last House on the Left
2. Cabin Fever
3. The Evil Dead
4. Friday the 13th
5. I Spit on Your Grave
“Wow. You a fan of the genre?”
Until he stops me, I don’t realize I’ve been rattling off my list out loud.
“Terra is. I don’t know why I keep letting her talk me into watching them.”
“Well, you forgot the most obvious one: The Cabin in the Woods.”
“Oh, yeah! That one’s funny at least. But you’re just proving my point.”
“It’s only scary because it’s nighttime. Believe me, tomorrow, you’ll think this is all gorgeous.”
“If I live that long.”
Ben laughs and chooses halfway through to morph it into a creepy, evil cackle. My only recourse is to punch him hard in the leg.
“Ow! Okay! I’ll stop!” He’s back to normal laughing, which has me smiling reluctantly. “We should have one more turn, and then we’ll be there. And I promise there are lights we can turn on to scare away all the monsters and murderers.”
Five minutes later, the GPS proves Ben right by telling me to make a left onto a gravel road. In fact, it’s not a road at all, but instead, it is a long driveway ending outside a cabin.
“Welcome to my hideaway.”
Four months. That’s how long it’s been since I last drove up to this place. I’ve come here a lot over the years, each time planning an extended stay. Invariably, I barely make it through one night before escaping back to the city. Whenever I pull up to the place, a strange cauldron of emotions boils in my gut, threatening to burn me. There are the old remnants of familiarity, excitement, comfort, but then there’s also the new spectrum of despair and loneliness.
Holly shuts off the engine but leaves on the headlights. I don’t know why I decided bringing her here would somehow make everything easier. But I’m willing to try.
“Are you renting, or is this your place?”
“It’s my place. My grandpa left it to me when he passed away.”
I’ve never thought passed away is an accurate way to describe how Grandpa Ben died, but Holly doesn’t need to hear the harsh truth. At least, not at the beginning of what I hope will be a fun, relaxing weekend.
“Were you close?”
“Yeah. He lived here, and I’d stay with him for a few weeks during the summer and visit throughout the year.” I know she’s ready to ask more, and normally, I love her inquisitive nature, but if I’m going to talk about my grandfather, it’s not going to be in a cold car after a long drive. “Come on. Don’t want to be caught outside when the zombies start coming out of the woods.”
“That’s not funny,” she grumbles the words but turns off the headlights and exits the car.
The distinct click of the trunk’s latch sounds loud in this quiet space. Before I can grab her bag, Holly has the strap slung over her shoulder.
“You can’t unlock the door if your hands are full. Now, please tell me this place has heat.”
The moon is almost full, and in its dim glow, I watch her do a little dance to keep warm as her breath puffs out like fog. If we were a couple, I’d pull her into my arms, using my body heat to warm her, and probably take too much pleasure in having her soft curves pressed against me. Instead, I choose a more friendly arm-around-the-shoulders approach and enjoy the feel of her leaning into me as we walk up the stone path to the front steps.
“There are radiators in each room. We’ll have to turn them on though. Sorry, but, to start off with, it’s only going to be warm enough to keep the pipes from freezing. I have a local guy swing by every couple of weeks to check on the place. I asked him to bring by a few loads of wood.” We’re on the front porch, and I let go of Holly to pull back a tarp, revealing a generous stack of seasoned firewood.
“Oh, awesome!” Finally, she gives me that gorgeous grin. “I’ve never made a fire before! Can we make one tonight? Please?”
“You’ve never had a fire before?”
She shakes her head. “No. None of the houses I’ve lived in ever had a fireplace.” Holly does a little happy jig that gets me chuckling.
“What a city girl.”
She sticks her tongue out at me as I tsk in mock disappointment.
After unlocking the front door, I navigate with muscle memory alone until I find the first lamp. When I click it on, the interior of the cabin alights in a faint glow. White sheets cover all the pieces of furniture, giving the space a ghostly, abandoned feel.
That’s not going to help Holly’s horror-movie image.
I set down my bag before moving to the couch. As I grab one side, Holly joins me on the other, and together, we uncover the couch, a lounge chair, coffee table, a tiny, round kitchen table along with its two battered chairs, and the bookshelf. There’s an old TV with only a VHS player hooked up to it. The narrow linen closet I store the sheets in is also where I take out multiple quilts.
When I glance back over at Holly, I notice her rubbing her arms despite her bulky sweater.
“Come on. I’ll show you where the heaters are, and we can get them going.”
The one in the main room is already on, so I crank it up. We go to the bathroom next, which is just an add-on to the building with basic white tiles, a stall shower, and a blue toilet and sink.
Grandpa Ben thought it was so funny that the department store sold colorful toilets. Before I started visiting, he didn’t have a bathroom attached to the cabin, settling for an outhouse and washing off in the kitchen sink or a nearby river if it was warm enough. My parents demanded the addition before I could stay the night.
The small radiator gives a cough and shudder before sputtering to life.
“I think I’ll wait for it to heat up before pulling my pants down in there. Sitting on that toilet would be like sticking my butt in the freezer.” Holly shakes her head, an expression of horror on her face.
I snort. “Well, we wouldn’t want to hurt your precious butt, now would we?”
“Definitely not. It is one of my most valuable assets.” She wags her eyebrows at me while emphasizing that last word.
“Holly Foster!” I give a mock gasp. “Did I just hear you curse?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” With an innocent smile, she wanders to the other side of the room. Two closed doors sit almost side by side on the far wall. “Is this where we’re sleeping?”
My body goes through a weird adrenaline and lust spike mixed with excitement and disbelief at her words. I rein it all in as best I can. Just because I want her lying in bed next to me doesn’t mean that’s why I brought her here. And Holly didn’t mean sleeping together. She obviously jumped to the logical conclusion that both doors lead to bedrooms.
I take a deep breath to settle myself while doing my best not to imagine sliding under the covers with Holly, holding her flush against me, and making out until we’re so hot that we don’t need to worry about radiators.
Two doors. Maybe one is an office or something. Sure, it makes sense that they’d both be bedrooms, but can’t I hold out a slight hope that there’s only one bed, and we need to share it?
Obviously, my hopes need a stern talking-to. I’m not supposed to be lusting after Ben. I’m his friend, and I’m his organ donor.
And I’m in a secluded cabin with him that is practically begging me to snuggle up to him for warmth.
“Yeah, your room is on the left.”
Balloon of inappropriate expectations popped.
The doorknob is cold as I grab it and turn, and the room behind it is just as chilly. Doesn’t really inspire me to want to go to bed. Not helping matters, the full-size mattress in the middle of the room is completely bare.
“Here. I brought sheets. And the radiator is on the far wall.” Ben gently moves me out of his way by placing his hands on my hips and directing me to the side. He flips the switch of a lamp on the bedside table and crouches down behind the bed.
I try not to watch the way his shirt stretches over his broad shoulders as he fiddles with something out of sight.
The now-familiar rattle and cough of a radiator sounds again, and I pray that means this room will be nice and toasty come bedtime. Just as we moved in sync when uncovering the furniture, Ben and I silently work together to make up my bed.
In the soft yellow light, I take in my temporary quarters. Simple furnishings, just like the main room, with a bed, side table with a lamp, and a heavy wooden dresser. The piece that stands out is an easel sitting next to the window.
“Was this your grandfather’s room?”
He gives me a silent nod while tucking in a corner of the fitted sheet.
“Was he an artist, too?”
Ben glances up, surprise clear in his eyes. Then, he turns, following my indicating nod to the easel.
With his back to me, I have no idea what he’s thinking or feeling, only that he’s been quiet and still for a stretch. I’m about to try taking my question back when Ben clears his throat and meets my eyes.
“Yeah, he was. Taught me everything I know.”
There’s pain on his face, although I can tell he’s attempting to hide it. Ben tosses me my side of the top sheet, which we arrange in silence and then finish by spreading a thick quilt over top.
When we’re done with the bed, he doesn’t immediately leave. Instead, he slides open the shuttered closet doors. The top shelf holds a couple of pillows, which he hands to me.
I’ve started putting on the pillowcases when he speaks again, “This is some of his work.”
Sitting on the floor of the closet is a stack of canvases. Ben removes one, stares at it for a moment, and then turns to show me. The image is of a mother deer and her fawn. The young animal grazes while the elder stands tall, on the lookout for danger. The detail is amazing.
I step closer, lean in, and notice the texture of the paint. I’m tempted to run my fingers over the subtle ridges, but I don’t want to be disrespectful. “It’s gorgeous. At least, that’s my inexperienced opinion.”
Ben nods. “All of his work is. He painted what he saw. Living out here.” He settles the painting back in the closet and shuts the door.
For some reason, my heart aches. It seems wrong, almost criminal, to put that piece in the dark, like a forgotten item unworthy of the daylight. Maybe, if this trip goes well and Ben and I become closer friends, I could possibly ask to take the painting with me. I’d love to hang it right above the couch in our apartment. That way, I’d have a piece of this wild land with me back in the city.
My thoughts are interrupted by my stomach, which decides to make it known that I haven’t eaten since the granola bar and yogurt I had for lunch about six hours ago.
Ben grins at me, having clearly heard my body’s demands. “You hungry?”
“How did you guess?”
He chuckles. “I have a cooler in the car with food for the weekend. I’ll go grab it.”
I follow him out to the main room, and when he steps out the front door, I pick up the other stack of sheets. No reason for me to stand around, doing nothing, when there’s another bed needing to be made.
The second bedroom is smaller, and there’s only a twin bed. I feel bad that, even though I’m almost a foot shorter than Ben, he’s giving me the larger bed. Maybe, before the night is done, I can convince him to trade with me.
Unlike the bare walls in the larger room, this one has paintings draped all over the place. Even my novice eye can tell these pictures aren’t at the same level of the piece hidden in the closet. They’re still very nice, but the detail doesn’t seem to be as sharp, and the perspective in a few is a bit awkward. I imagine a younger Ben sitting in front of these canvases, working to match the advanced techniques of his grandfather. If the paintings in Ben’s childhood bedroom are his, then he’s clearly continued improving.
The car’s trunk slams shut outside. I put aside my thoughts, hurrying to the bed. The sooner the chores are done, the sooner I can eat.
The twin bed is pushed up against the back corner, so after I tuck the fitted sheet’s first three corners in, I have to crawl on the mattress to reach the final one. It’s hard to lift up the mattress and settle the sheet in place while I’m kneeling on it, so I’m still struggling when the front door creaks back open.
I’ve almost got it right when Ben’s voice snaps behind me, “What are you doing?”