Serena
Harold’s cabin was smaller than I expected. Two floors, four windows, two up and down. A ramshackle porch ran around the front and, above the door, a pair of deer antlers hung lopsidedly.
Up close, you could see it was in poor repair.
One window was smashed, a tree branch poking through it.
The roof was full of holes, and creepers had started to claw their way inside.
It didn’t take long for nature to try to reclaim what people built.
Like it needed to remind us that our time here was only temporary.
‘Wow,’ Milo said. ‘What a crock of shit.’
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. But he was right. I don’t know what I had thought this place would look like, but this was just a crappy old hunter’s cabin.
‘So,’ Milo said, holding out an arm. ‘Shall we?’
I shrugged. ‘Well, we’ve come all this way.’
We climbed the rickety front steps and Milo pushed at the door. It swung open easily with a creaking sigh, like an exhalation of breath.
Inside, it smelt stale and a bit damp. We swung our flashlights around, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air and thick cobwebs draped from the beams. For some reason I had expected the lodge to be empty, scattered with the detritus of teens partying.
Broken bottles, stubs of joints. But to my surprise, it was furnished: a sagging sofa and leather armchair, a bookcase stuffed with books along one wall and a small round dining table with four chairs.
To our left was a kitchenette, two dishes still stacked on the drying rack by the sink.
‘O-kay,’ Milo said. ‘This is cool.’
Cool was one word. Creepy was another. It felt almost like the occupant might still be here, in the kitchen or upstairs sleeping.
‘Do you think this place is really empty?’
He turned to me. ‘Yeah, ’course. I guess no one ever bothered clearing it out. C’mon, let’s check out some more.’
We traipsed up the narrow staircase. Two bedrooms, beds neatly made, and a cramped bathroom, a little mildewed. No personal items except a Bible beside one bed.
We made our way back downstairs. After the initial surprise of the place being furnished, it felt a little underwhelming.
And there was something else, something scratching at my brain, a thought trying to get out.
I stared around. Something about the way the lodge was laid out, the decor. What was it?
‘So,’ Milo said. ‘We’re here. I guess we should do the traditional thing.’
‘Which is?’
His eyes danced. ‘Get drunk.’
‘Well—’ I reached into my backpack and brought out the two cans of beer. ‘I brought these.’
Milo regarded them dismissively. ‘I think we can do better than that.’
He reached into his own backpack and pulled out a bottle of vodka. I stared at it. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘My mom’s room.’
‘What?’
‘Oh, she thinks I don’t know she keeps a stash of booze hidden in her closet, but I know.’
‘Won’t she notice it’s gone?’
‘Maybe, but she can’t accuse me of stealing it without admitting she’s a secret lush, so—’ He shrugged and plonked himself down on the sofa in a cloud of dust. He unscrewed the bottle, took a swig and held it out.
‘Wait—’ I looked around. The room was dark and the flashlights were going to run out of juice. I could see half-melted candles in holders.
‘Did you bring a lighter?’
‘Nope.’
‘Okay, hang on.’ I walked over to the kitchen and pulled open some drawers. Bingo. Cooking matches. I took them back into the living room and carefully lit the candles. There were half a dozen, and they gave the room a warm, flickering glow.
‘Nice,’ Milo said.
I threw myself down next to him on the sofa and accepted the bottle.
I’d never drunk vodka before. Never drunk anything stronger than a stolen cup of punch at the Pumpkin Patch party.
I took a deep swig and almost choked. My throat was on fire.
I gagged, coughing and spluttering. Milo whacked me on the back.
‘Jeeesus!’ I eventually gasped.
He chuckled. ‘You might want to take it a little slower.’
‘You think.’
He took another swig himself, and it occurred to me that this was not the first time he’d drunk the spirit. I held out my hand for the bottle. He wasn’t going to show me up. I took a smaller swig, and the burn was more pleasant. I could feel a hazy glow start to envelop me.
I reclined next to Milo.
‘We should have brought a camera or something to prove we got here.’
‘Nah.’ He shook his head. ‘We can’t tell anyone.’
‘Why?’
‘Because then they might find it and ruin it.’ He pauses. ‘This should be our secret.’
He threw back more vodka and handed it to me.
‘Our secret place,’ I said, and giggled.
‘Why’s that funny?’
I didn’t really know. My body felt oddly heavy. I took another sip of vodka and handed it back to him.
‘We could come out here and hang out,’ Milo continued. ‘Away from our parents and the kids at school.’
That did sound good. But …
‘We wouldn’t get away with stealing a boat every week. I mean, it’s too risky.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right.’
‘But maybe once in a while.’
‘Yeah.’
We fell silent for a moment, handing the vodka back and forth. Then Milo said: ‘You ever think about what you’ll do when you get out of here?’
‘Go home. Sleep.’
‘No, I mean out of Serenity.’
‘Oh.’
I opened my mouth, closed it again. I had, of course. There was no way I wanted to stay in Serenity Falls, but I realized I had no real plans for ever leaving.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I mean, I’m not really good at anything. I don’t even know what I want to do with my life.’
Milo glanced over. ‘You could do anything.’
‘Yeah, right!’
‘No, seriously.’ His voice had started to slur. I guess mine had too. ‘I mean, you’re clever, funny, beautiful.’
I pointed at him. ‘Now you’re making fun of me.’
‘No, really. I’m not.’ He turned towards me. ‘You have no idea about yourself. You’re amazing.’
Heat soaked my cheeks. ‘Now you’re being weird.’
‘Isn’t that why you like me?’
I stared at him. I mean, I always thought it was, but now, in the candlelight, a quarter of a bottle of vodka inside me, Milo didn’t look weird. He looked kind of … hot.
Before I knew what I was doing I leaned forward and pressed my lips against his.
I felt a momentary hesitation, and then he leaned in.
Suddenly we were kissing properly. Tongues and everything.
But it felt good and, more than that, it felt natural.
Like this was something we were supposed to have been doing all along.
‘Wait,’ Milo said.
‘What?’
He held up the vodka. ‘I need to put this down.’
He put the bottle to one side, and I guess we were really drunk because his hands were under my clothes, and I was sliding his T-shirt off, and it felt like a dream, like I was standing outside my body watching us: the sweaty glow of our skin in the candles, mine suntanned, Milo milky white.
A weird sort of naked dance, a mirage, an illusion.
The taste of sweat and vodka, hair brushing hair, skin pressing against skin, Milo vaguely whispering, ‘I don’t have anything. ’
‘S’okay.’
‘I’ll pull out.’
No precautions. Stupid. I knew that later.
Just a sharp pain and then a strange sensation, both discomfort and pleasure.
I mean, I’m probably making it all sound more romantic than it was.
It was probably just clumsy, skinny teenagers groping and slobbering over each other, too drunk to really know what they were doing.
But it didn’t feel like that. It felt special and right.
And then it was over, and we lay there for a while, the glow of the alcohol still insulating us from embarrassment or guilt.
‘Are you okay?’ Milo whispered.
‘Yeah.’
‘That was …’
‘Weird?’
‘Yeah. But good weird.’
‘Have you ever?’
‘Nope.’
‘Me neither.’
He reached for the vodka, took a swig and held it out to me. I shook my head. We fell silent. A coolness was spreading over my body. A clarity. I didn’t feel ashamed, exactly, but a low-level uneasiness was stirring in my stomach. The time, I thought. I checked my watch: 9.56 p.m. Shit.
I reached for my clothes, trying to find my panties. ‘We should go.’
‘What?’
‘It’s almost ten. We’re not going to make it back in time.’
‘Fuck.’
He started pulling on his underwear and jeans. I yanked on my bra. And that’s when I heard it. A thud from somewhere inside the lodge.
We both paused. ‘What was that?’ I whispered.
He looked around. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Is there someone else here?’
‘No, we looked everywhere.’
The noise came again. Milo stood, listening. Another thud. He walked over to the bookcase. ‘Sounded like it came from over here.’
‘Maybe it’s an animal or a rat in the walls.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Forget it. We should go.’
But Milo remained hovering by the bookcase. He ran his hands over the books. I could tell, just from his stance, that he was frowning. He turned. ‘None of these are real.’
‘What?’
‘The books. They’re just spines, stuck in. It’s fake.’
I rose and walked over, running my hand over the books. He was right. They were just dressing.
‘But why?’
I looked back at the room, and I realized something else.
There was no fireplace. Outside, there was a chimney, but there was no fireplace in here.
That’s when it came to me. The thing that had been scratching at my brain.
When I was small, I remembered going to Winsom Wonderland.
What kid didn’t? One of the attractions was a walk-through wooded area with a creepy ‘Witch’s Cottage’.
The cottage was ramshackle, crawling with ivy and creepers, camouflaged among the trees.
Tiles were missing from the roof; a window was broken.
Inside was a dusty, cobwebby living area. Just like this.
‘It’s all fake,’ I muttered.
‘What?’
‘This room, this cabin. It’s all fake. Like a set.’
Milo looked back at the bookcase. ‘In which case, all good fake bookcases should have a hidden room behind.’
He started to pull at the book spines. I was about to tell him to leave it when one moved. He pulled harder. The book slid out, there was a low, grinding sound, and a section of the bookcase slid open.
‘Shit,’ I whispered.
Milo grinned, like he’d known it was there all along. ‘Abracadabra.’
And then we both jumped as something black and white scuttled across the floor and out through the broken window. I managed to hold back a shriek. Just a ’coon.
Milo laughed nervously. ‘Guess we know who was making the noise. Must have got trapped.’
A pause. We looked at each other.
‘So,’ he said. ‘Want to see what else is inside?’
Before I could reply, he ducked through the secret door into the darkened room beyond.
‘We need the flashlights—’ I called after him … and then I heard a click and the room flooded with light. Electricity. This place had electricity. After all these years.
‘Are you coming?’ Milo called.
I stood outside the door, feeling that this was a bad idea, a very bad idea … and then, of course, I followed him.