The Cabin - Part 2

All characters are consenting adults (18+) 

The store was unlike any store Mike had ever seen before. In fact, he wasn’t even sure it was a store at all. The cabin was so hidden that he wondered if it was even supposed to be found, but Ollie barged straight inside, and a small bell above the door indicated their arrival.

“What do you need?” The young man asked, as Mike trudged in behind him. Mike eyeballed him for a moment.

“I’ll tell you what I don’t need” he said, looking around at the dozen or so items that sat on tables around the small, dusty room. “You interfering”.

“If it wasn’t for me you’d still be out there hunting for your lunch” the lad replied sharply.

“If it wasn’t for you, I’d already have my lunch” he reminded him, and Ollie looked down at his feet just as an elderly man hobbled out from another room, guided by a walking stick.

“Jerome? Is that you, Jerome?” He croaked.

“Jerome left ten years ago, Hank” Ollie said, helping the man by the arm and walking him around the small, makeshift counter. “That’s Mike. He just moved in”.

Mike took a deep breath and hauled up a few things that he could eat later on. It wasn’t much, and it certainly wasn’t what he wanted, but he’d make do until he could get rid of the boy and get back into the forest.

“Much do I owe you?” He asked, and watched as the old man shakily pulled out an even older calculator and began to tot up the numbers. “Can I get a bag?” He asked, after handing over the cash, but Hank was already walking back inside. “Hey, I need a bag” he called, but it fell on deaf ears.

“Ain’t no bags here” Ollie grinned, as though he was enjoying the fact that Mike would now have to carry his goods back in his arms.

“So what the fuck am I supposed to do with all of this?” He growled.

“I’ll help”.

Much against Mike’s will, Ollie picked up the bread, milk and cheese and was already out the door before Mike could stop him. The man scratched his stubbled face and sighed. He’d come out here to get away from people, and already that plan was beginning to falter.

“We’re not friends” he said, as they strolled back through the forest. “I know that might sound cruel, but I’m not here to make friends”.

“I know” Ollie replied, without looking back, and just as Mike made to continue, he stopped.

“What do you mean you know?” He asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I know you’re not here to make friends” the lad shrugged.

“How do you know?”

“I can tell”.

“How can you tell?” Mike pressed, unsure whether to be offended or not.

Ollie turned around and watched as Mike struggled up the incline. “Most of the people who move out here from the city are running away from something”.

“I’m not running away from anything” Mike said sharply.

“Okay”.

“Okay?”

“Yeah, okay”.

Ollie continued walking, but Mike wasn’t finished with him. What did the little shit mean by ‘I know’?

“You didn’t answer my question” he said.

“You’re… I don’t know” Ollie replied, “cold, or something”.

“I’m not cold”.

Ollie scoffed and Mike felt himself become increasingly irritated.

“You ruined my lunch. I’m not cold, I’m pissed off”.

“I already told you, you can’t–”

“Hunt here, yeah, I get it” he spat, and they continued to walk in silence until Mike noticed a path veering off to the left.

“I can get you a bag” Ollie said, taking the path.

“I don’t need a bag. I need you to walk your little ass that way, so I can get home”.

Despite his demand, Ollie ignored him completely and continued up the wrong path with Mike’s stuff still in his arms.

“Are you deaf?” The man snapped, but again, the lad ignored him and Mike was left with no choice but to grit his teeth and follow after him.

Much like the rest of the forest, there was something enchantingly eerie about the place. The trees grew higher here, and denser, too, and by the time they reached another, much more run down cabin, it almost felt like evening.

“Stay here” Ollie said, stopping a few steps away from the battered front door, and leaving Mike alone as he disappeared inside. Mike sighed and looked around at the endless woodland before something smashed behind him.

“And stay out you little bastard!” A harsh, gravelly cackle howled, and he spun around to see Ollie hurrying back toward him with a plastic bag in hand.

“Here you go” he said, seemingly oblivious to the voice that continued to screech from inside the cabin.

“Is… Is that your house?” Mike asked, holding the bag open as Ollie filled it.

“Huh? Oh, yeah” he nodded, “yeah, that’s just my mom, don’t mind her”.

“Just like your rotten fucking father!” She bellowed, and something else smashed a few seconds later.

“Is she talking to you?” Mike pressed, squinting at the almost derelict building.

“She gets like that sometimes” he said, with not an ounce of worry in his voice. “Anyway, here’s your stuff”.

Mike hesitantly nodded as Ollie turned on his heel and walked back toward the battered porch.

“She sounds pretty pissed” the man said, and watched as the lad turned back and shrugged. “Are you sure you’ll be alright?”

Ollie flashed his teeth and grinned from ear to ear. “What does it matter to you?” He asked, “you’re not here to make friends, remember?”

Mike held his gaze for a moment before nodding stiffly. “Right” he said.

“See you around, Mike”.

“Yeah. See you around, Ollie”.

The sun set earlier here than it did back in the city. By the time Mike reached his cabin, the sky had turned a dark, inky blue, and drops of rain began to splatter on the trees around him. He made it inside just as the weather worsened, and dropped the bag on the table before blowing warm air into his cold fists.

“Fuck” he shivered, pulling his jacket tighter around his beefy frame. It took him a few minutes to get the fire started, and a few minutes more to feel the warmth of it, but eventually, the soft crackle filled the room, and he sat back on the old sofa and stared into the orange glow.

Was this what he wanted? Everything seemed like a struggle there. Showering, eating, going to the store. It felt like the everyday things that he’d become so used to, were all chores. Yet, there was something remarkably freeing about it, too.

There were no noisy neighbours. No need to lock the car or keep the windows closed. No loud sirens or traffic. Everything was utterly peaceful, in a strange sort of way, and when Mike had spent enough time with his thoughts, he leaned over and picked up the one thing that he was glad to have from the city.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey and felt the warmth of it as it spilled into his stomach. He’d like to say he wasn’t much of a drinker, but he’d be lying. Perhaps it was the stress of his life before. Maybe now, out here in the wilderness, he would have less need for it, but in that moment, as thunder rolled in the distance, and a flash of lightning lit up the wooden cabin, Mike swallowed a mouthful and smiled to himself, until something caught his eye through the window.

There were very few things that frightened Mike. He’d learned long ago that monsters rarely existed in the form of shadowy figures, but he watched with narrowed eyes through the darkness, as something stumbled and tripped along the edge of the forest line.

His heart beat a little faster as he set down his glass and slowly moved across the room. His hunting rifle was still by the door, so quietly, he reached for it and placed his hand around the door handle.

Aside from a few rabbits when he was a kid, Mike had never actually shot anything, but he squeezed the trigger as he gently opened the door, and scanned the area through the heavy rain. It took him a moment, but eventually he found what he was looking for, and took aim.

“Hey, motherfucker!” He roared, and the figure stopped dead. “Let me see those hands before I blow a hole through your head”.

Nothing happened for a moment, but Mike certainly wished it did. He didn’t want to shoot anybody, but he was hundreds of miles from civilization, and something told him that cops would be no use out here.

“Stay right there” he said, pulling on his boots with one hand, “I’m warning you, if you move a fucking muscle I’ll shoot”.

Reluctantly, Mike stepped out into the storm and wiped the heavy rain from his eyes as his boots squelched through the mud. He kept the rifle pinned on the trespasser, and walked closer and closer until he was just a few feet away.

“Turn your ass around!” He demanded, rifle shaking slightly. “Come on, motherfucker, I’m not fuckin’ around!”

He watched as the person slowly shuffled around, and his eyes widened in shock.

“Ollie?” He gasped, lowering the gun as the young man sniffled back at him. “Ollie, what the fuck are you doing out here in this? Are you fucking insane?!”

The lad wiped his face with the sleeve of his tattered shirt and shrugged his slender shoulders. “I always walk this way” he said, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

“You always– There’s a fucking hurricane going on!”.

Despite the fact that Ollie was quite literally drowning in the rain, he smiled at the man who couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.

“It’s just a bit of rain” he said, and that’s when Mike noticed the teenager’s bare feet.

“You’re not wearing shoes” he said.

“Yeah”.

“Why are you not wearing shoes?”

“Forget em’” Ollie shrugged.

“You forgot your shoes?”

“Uh huh”.

Mike took a deep breath and rubbed his face before shaking his head. “Come on” he said, turning back toward his cabin.

“What?”

“Come on!” He growled, and trudged back through the mud as Ollie sheepishly followed after him. “Get those wet clothes off” he said, dropping the rifle and unbuttoning his soaking shirt.

This wasn’t what he had signed up for.