Chapter One

I was perched precariously on a step ladder outside the front door, with one crutch on the this-is-not-a-step step and the other extended over my head, knocking down the chain of wasp nests that had appeared in the shape of an omega above the store’s entrance. Wasp removal was one of the manifold responsibilities of the night shift manager. I couldn’t complain; it made the most sense to get them while they were sleeping. Plus, the day shift clerks returned the favor whenever we had a bat infestation.

This was a typical Friday night at the gas station—a fact that meant virtually nothing to me. I’d been working the same fixed schedule, from ten PM to ten AM, every single day since the latest grand reopening, and it looked like I’d continue to do so until the owners could find somebody else dumb enough to pick up night shifts (or until I was no longer able to perform the essential duties of my job, whichever came first).

I stopped checking the calendar a long time ago. Holding onto labels of time made about as much sense as naming napkins; they all get used up in the end anyway. The only reason I even knew it was Friday was because of that talkative group of teenagers from out of state.

There were six of them. They came crammed together inside a sixties-style hippie van with declarations on the back proudly proclaiming “hammock life,” “my other ride is a bike,” and other such carefree bumperstickerisms.

As the teens poured out of the vehicle, it was to the sound of hearty laughter that went on a hair too long to sound natural. Two of the guys high-fived one another completely unprompted. The driver, a well-built teen with broad shoulders and a letterman jacket, called out to the others, “Alright gang, time to stock up. This is the last stop before our cabin getaway!”

I was halfway through my task, trying to get the rest of the nests down before the sting-demons had a chance to awaken and launch a counterattack. I certainly didn’t mean to give the teenagers any heed, but they were being unnecessarily loud and communicative... almost like they wanted me to pay attention.

The girl with the blonde hair, pink crop top, and belly button piercing held an oversized cell phone into the air and announced in a valley-girl accent, “What the eff? My phone isn’t working. Is anyone else’s phone not working?”

The lankier of the two high-fivers pulled out a joint from behind his ear and carelessly lit it right as the driver started pumping gas. After a short toke, he wagged a finger at her and said, “Now Bethany, didn’t you know? We’re in God’s country now. That means no cell service, no Starbucks, not a single luxury. And most of all, no more tethers to the hivemind. Just us and nature for two whole days of R and R. Remember, if you hear any banjo music, it’s time to start running!”

He laughed obnoxiously while the other girl—an ethnically ambiguous brunette with thick glasses, a nose ring, and a turtleneck sweater—gave him a playful punch to the shoulder, saying, “Knock it off, Liam! That isn’t funny. This place is super creepy already.” As if to demonstrate her point, she stared out at the dark woods and shuddered.

“Relax, Mechelle!” said the remaining guy—an unconventionally handsome artistic type with long hair and a short goatee. “There’s nothing to be afraid of out here.”

“Well, Asher, it’s giving me the heebie jeebies,” Mechelle responded. “Let’s get inside while Landon pumps the gas.”

I let them pass me into the store before knocking the final nest free. As I carefully climbed down from my spot, a thought occurred to me. One minute ago, I didn’t even know these teenagers existed, yet now I knew five of their names. I couldn’t figure out why that irritated me so much.

I never quite understood teenagers, even back when I was one, and not much had changed in the few years since. I was, for all intents and purposes, a fully-formed adult, stuck at that annoying age that older folks considered “still a kid” and the government considered “totally draftable.” At least I could buy my own alcohol. But if I went too long without a haircut, I could pass for a latter-year teen, which might explain why Landon felt so comfortable striking up a conversation.

“I see you’re admiring the ride,” he said with a smile. He kept his eyes on me as he cradled the gas pump. I must have been staring off into space, something Landon probably misinterpreted as sociable interest. Before I had the chance to correct him, he was already standing next to me. I didn’t even see him walk over. It was like my mind dropped a few frames for efficiency’s sake.

“That’s an original Volkswagen T1 Samba,” he said, boldly assuming those words would mean anything to me. “Refurbished it myself over the summer. Pretty sexy, huh?” 

“Yeah,” I said, trying to remember how to do vehicular small talk. “It looks quite impressive. How much RAM does it get?”

He cocked his head. “How much what?”

Oh right. That’s not a car term. Try something else. “I said it looks impressive. What kind of torque do you pull with that thing?”

A flurry of shadows swept across the pavement. Landon jumped backwards, screaming, “What the hell?!” In an instant, a swarm of red-eyed beasts had overtaken the area by our feet, snatching up the fallen wasp nests, fighting over them and hissing loudly. When one of them took a bite at my left crutch, I screamed gibberish at the top of my lungs until the crowd had scattered back from whence it came. As quickly as the moment started, it was over. I didn’t even have to look to know that the raccoons had made off with the last of the wasp nests. I took a second and patted my pocket to make sure my wallet was still there, then nodded towards the entrance and said, “We’d best get indoors. The raccoons startle easily, but they’ll soon be back, and in greater numbers.”

He brushed past me, grabbed the door, and held it open. “After you, bro.”

Before I turned to go back inside, I accidentally noticed the lone girl waiting by herself inside the van with her eyes closed and a pair of headphones over her ears. She almost looked like she was sleeping, but the slight nod of her head told me she was just lost in a song.

 

***

 

With wasp duty out of the way, I took my regular spot behind the counter and grabbed the paperback novel about rock monsters I’d started reading earlier that night. Before I could find my dogear, Bethany yelled out to the room, “This weekend is going to be so lit!”

She was taking a selfie by the boiled peanuts. I sipped my cold coffee and thought to myself, what a strange thing to say.

Mechelle responded from the other side of the room, “I’m just glad we finally get a chance to relax. After what happened to Rory’s boyfriend, she really needs this.”

Okay, so Rory must be the one waiting in the van. Wait, why am I listening to them?

I turned my eyes back to the pages of my book and tried to find where I’d left off, but Liam’s stoner-bro voice broke my fragile concentration with a loud, “Aw yeah! We’re gonna relax alright! I got party favors to last the whole trip. No cops. No teachers. No phones. Just the six of us having the time of our lives!”

Well he’s probably going to be the first to die. I shook my head. Dammit, Jack! Stop eavesdropping. It’s rude!

I opened the drawer below the register as Bethany excitedly proclaimed, “I still can’t believe your grandfather had a spare cabin way out in the woods that nobody ever used, and now we get to borrow it for the whole weekend!”

Oh come on! Who even talks like that?

I found the box of earplugs, fished out two fresh ones, and stuffed them in deep. Now, it was just me and the book and my thoughts…

Should I say something?

The idea surprised me. No, of course not. Why would I say anything? I don’t get involved. I don’t stir the pot. Prime directive. Do not interfere. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen, and it’s certainly not going to be my fault. There are mechanisms in place to protect us from bad things. Smarter people than me built the system, and I’m not getting paid to take matters into my own hands.

Logic was on my side, but something else was at play. I took a breath and tried to wait it out, but that feeling was only getting stronger.

I really should say something.

I had been doing this long enough to see the pattern. I knew the deal. These six were on their way into the middle of a bad cliché, and the chance that there was nothing macabre nor murdery waiting for them at that cabin was practically nonexistent. In this instance, inaction was a conscious action. If I sat back, if I didn’t at least try and warn them, was I not complicit?

Conversely, they made it this far despite the obvious warning signs. What could I possibly do this late in the game? I could point to the missing persons posters on the board. I could describe the countless disappearances in this area over the last several years. I could insist and swear and beg, but there was no way in hell I’d convince them of what was in store. These six strangely attractive teenagers might hear my words, but they weren’t going to listen. I’d just come across as a raving lunatic. But then again, what do I care if I embarrass myself? They’ll all be dead soon anyway, right?

I suddenly noticed that the teens were standing together on the other side of my counter like they were waiting to have their photo taken. I had no idea how long they’d been there, watching me. A small hill of junk food and various other supplies were neatly piled up in front of me. How did I miss that?

I removed my earplugs, but the room remained silent.

“Sorry,” I said to no response. They were as motionless as statues, smiling, staring, like they were patiently biding their time, ready to speak but needing the right cue. 

I asked, “Did you find everything you were looking for?”

Mechelle opened her eyes wide and lowered her chin. “Is it true?”

What a stupidly vague question. Did she think this conversation wasn’t interesting enough without some kind of dramatic amuse-bouche? Was she trying to pad the run time? I almost didn’t answer her at all out of spite, but I needed them to like me (or at least, not hate me) if I was going to convince them that they were in imminent danger. 

“Is what true?” I asked begrudgingly.

“Is it true that there used to be a murder cult in these woods?”

Liam jumped in before I could answer, “I heard they all died out here, but the bodies were never found.” Bethany gasped. Liam smiled mischievously and continued, “They say that sometimes, on full moon nights, you can still see what’s left of the cult roaming around the forest.”

Bethany put her hand against her cheek and shouted, “No way!”

“Relax, Bethany,” said Asher. “He’s just trying to scare you. There’s no such thing as cultists!”

“Well,” Mechelle started, leaning ever closer to me, “You look like a local.” (I’m sure she didn’t intend that as an insult, but ouch.)

“So?”

“So, is it true?”

What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to tell them what really happened to the Mathmetists? That they all but one died, came back as zombies, then died again? Was I supposed to lie? Would it matter if I tried to scare them into abandoning their weekend trip? Or would that mean that I was accepting my role in this ridiculous plot? How could I complain about the rules of the game while also agreeing to play? 

An idea struck me: I could call the sheriff’s department. 

Well, maybe not the department itself. Technically speaking, I was forbidden from phoning them directly ever since the snowmen army incident, when they accused me of wasting their time over a “bogus emergency” (if they had only gotten here a little sooner, they would have found all the evidence they needed instead of a parking lot covered in puddles and Jerry with a Super Soaker full of gasoline). These days, if I wanted help from the proper authorities, I had to call the deputy—the one assigned to gas station duty—for assistance. But that was a nonstarter.

His name was Love. I never got his first name, but he instructed me to call him “Love” (no thank you) or “Deputy,” or if I was feeling especially formal: “Deputy Love.” I avoided referring to him at all whenever possible, and he seemed quite content with that. He took gas station duty in stride, but he was vocal about the fact that this was not the job he signed up for, and I would be unwise to expect any sort of above or beyond from him. If I needed a ride somewhere, I had to give at least an hour’s notice. If there was an emergency during his off-hours, it would just have to wait. If he were on a lunch break and I was being murdered in front of him, then that would fall under the broad category of “Too bad, so sad” (his exact words). I had to admit, in another life, Deputy Love would have made a perfect gas station employee.

Still, even if the sheriff’s department wasn’t willing to step in, I couldn’t just abdicate my own moral responsibility to—

“Hey bro,” said Landon. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry?”

“I’m only asking because we asked you a question, and you’ve been sitting there, staring at the counter for the last two minutes.”

“You guys know you’re in the middle of a bad story, don’t you?”

“Whoa, dude,” said Liam. “Are you being, like, meta right now?”

“I’m just saying you don’t seem adequately prepared for the woods. Have any of you ever actually been to this town before? Weird things happen here. It might be more dangerous than you’re anticipating.”

Landon spoke for the group. “Don’t worry, bro. Nothing bad is gonna happen to us. As long as we don’t stop for any more hitchhikers, we should get where we’re going well before that crazy storm rolls in. You see, we’re staying in my grandfather’s old cabin. He built it himself, along with his friend, a man we used to call Uncle Icky. He talked about that cabin a lot shortly before passing away a few years ago, leaving me a cryptic note in his diary. Back when I was a young child, Uncle Icky—”

“STOP DOING EXPOSITION!” I shouted.

“‘Crazy storm’?” asked Mechelle. “But I wanted to go hiking! What are we supposed to do if it rains the whole weekend?”

Liam proudly declared, “I brought a Ouija board!”

“Why?!” I demanded. “Why would you bring a Ouija board to a cabin in the middle of nowhere? Why do you even own a Ouija board?”

Bethany giggled and whispered to Mechelle, “Hey, he’s kinda cute. Maybe we should invite him to come with us.” (Except it wasn’t a whisper because everyone could hear her.)

This wasn’t working. I needed a different approach. “What I’m trying to say is that there are bears. Okay?”

Bethany gasped and covered her mouth. “Bears?! What kind of bears?”

“Relax, Bethany,” said Asher. “He’s just trying to scare us. There’s no such thing as bears!”

I closed and rubbed my achy eyes. Oh my god. It’s like they can’t wait to die.

“Look, buddy, we really don’t want any trouble.” I reopened my eyes to see Landon extending a thick wad of cash in my direction. “Here, take this. It should be enough to cover everything. You can keep the change, and we’ll be on our way.”

“Alright,” I surrendered. “I guess I have no other choice. You all want to go out into the woods and get murdered to death, fine! I’m not going to stop you. But if any of you survive and come waltzing back in here in a couple of days begging to use the store phone, bring some change. It’s twenty-five cents a minute, pay in advance, no exceptions. Consider yourselves warned.”

“Come on,” said Bethany. “Let’s get out of this dump. That guy is a freakin’ weirdo.”

Landon dropped the money onto the counter. He and the others laughed as they carried away their supplies. But before they could reach the exit, their merriment came to an abrupt end. I noticed the young woman with headphones around her neck at the same time they did.

Mechelle took her turn to talk. “What are you doing, Rory?! I thought you were waiting in the van!”

Rory responded, “I needed to use the bathroom.”

“Don’t take too long,” Bethany warned, throwing a sideways glance in my direction. “This place is creepy A.F.”

As Rory walked past me, I reached under the counter to see if I still had that gun O’Brien left with me a few weeks earlier. Sure enough, it was right where I’d hidden it—in the drawer with the cleaning supplies (the one place I was confident Jerry wouldn’t find it by accident). As I held the weapon in my hand, I briefly entertained the thought of just how much trouble I’d get into if O’Brien knew what I was about to do, but then I pushed that thought out of my head and checked to make sure it was still loaded. (It was.)

A few minutes later, Rory walked up to the counter with a confused expression on her face. “I know this is going to sound really weird,” she said, staring back at the hallway. “But I think there might be a guy dressed up as a cowboy hanging out in your bathroom.”

“That does sound really weird,” I responded, trying to work up the nerve to do what I was about to do.

“Even weirder, I didn’t actually see him. And he didn’t say anything. But I could feel his presence. It felt warm and comforting and… cowboyish.” She looked at me for the first time and asked, “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“I highly doubt it.”

She leaned against the counter and dropped her head. “Sorry. These last few days have been long and strange. I haven’t been sleeping right.”

“I get it. The mind really starts playing tricks on you after a while, doesn’t it?”

“It does! I’ve tried everything from meditation to medication. Nothing works.”

I smiled to myself. “Don’t even get me started on medication. I’m on so many different drugs ever since they lopped off my leg. I’m pretty sure half of these pills aren’t supposed to mix. I never know how much of my crazy is a symptom or a side effect.”

“Well, have you tried not being crazy?”

We shared a brief moment of laughter until the sound of a van horn cut us off prematurely. Landon was waving from the driver’s seat, gesturing for her to hurry it up. I was running out of time.

“Listen, Rory, as long as we’re in the mood to say weird things to complete strangers, I think you should know something: Your cabin getaway is probably going to end with everyone getting murdered.”

“That makes a lot of sense,” she said with a nod.

“Here, I think you should take this with you.”

I held out the brown paper bag. She took it from me, opened it wide enough to see the loaded pistol inside, then closed it back up and whispered, “I’m not really a gun girl.”

“I know. Me neither. But something tells me you’re going to need it more than I will. I haven’t seen my stalker in over a month, and if he feels like coming back for another round, I doubt a handgun would do much to stop him anyway. But you… you might have a fighting chance. Watch your back. When people start dying, cut your losses and get out of there.”

She stood up straight. “Thanks, Jack, that’s pretty cool of you, and even if none of this is real, even if all of this is just happening inside your own head, I want you to know that this was a very kind thing for you to do.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Landon leaned onto the van’s horn, signaling the end of our conversation. Rory left with a sad smile. I felt a fleeting sense of familiarity. She and I were kindred spirits, off to face our respective destinies with the knowledge that nothing we said or did mattered. We couldn’t control the story any more than we could control the weather or the tides. We were both at its mercy, and after this moment, neither of us would ever see the other again.

Or maybe I was high on painkillers, reading way too far into a fugitive conversation, and giving away a loaded handgun to a complete stranger.