Secluded Cabin Sleeps Six(72)

“It doesn’t look like there’s anyone in there,” says Bruce, his voice deep. He glances behind him, but I’m sure he can’t see me as I’ve ducked into the trees.

“The power’s out.” You knock on the door, hard. “Liza! Liza! Are you in there? Tell me what’s going on.”

When you try the knob, you find the cabin open. As you both disappear inside, I head back to the main house. The sound of your wailing catches up to me as I run through the darkness; it’s animalistic and desperate. My nerve endings vibrate in response; I could almost feel bad.

If I could feel anything at all.

You have to incapacitate the women first. Because women are the fighters. They will go claw and teeth to protect their families.

Liza barely put up a fight. Next Cricket; then Hannah. Your little love slaves, the women who enable and hold you up, who come when you call, who help you cover up your crimes. Bruce should be easy enough to manage, a computer geek who has probably never even been in a fistfight.

And he’s got some secrets of his own.

And then it’s down to us.

Just you and me, little pig.

I’m the big bad wolf come to blow your house down.





30


Henry





2010


Did you even get out of bed today?

What do you care?

I care, loser. I still care.

The apartment was a wreck, had been since Piper left. He’d slowly let it devolve. He hadn’t done the dishes in a week; they piled up in the sink, emanating a slight odor of rot. There were takeout containers littering surfaces in the living room. And, no, he hadn’t gotten out of bed today. It was past noon, and he was still lying there in the darkened room, listening to the city rumble and boom, honk and shout outside. Which was fine, because it was Saturday. He did still manage to make it to his job. There were bills to pay. But mainly because he was able to lose himself there, disappear into the work.

His thumbs danced across the screen: Come home. Please.

Did he sound desperate? He didn’t care. He was desperate.

I can’t. I love you. But we can’t be together. Not like this.

It was the miscarriage that did them in. The heartbreak of it, the depression that followed. His was so total that he could not comfort her. She was far enough along that the whole thing had started to feel real. Like there was a real person coming, a life that their love had created.

And then there wasn’t.

That baby, it was their future, the thing that tied Henry to Piper, to the world, the little person that would make them a true family, linked by blood, by biology. He’d wanted that so badly; he hadn’t even realized how much until it had been wrested from him. To lose that felt like a punishment for a crime he hadn’t committed.

But that wasn’t the only thing that caused Piper to leave.

Another text when he didn’t answer: Anyway. I didn’t leave you. You left me.

That’s not true.

A truck rumbled over the big plate in the avenue outside their window, issuing a loud clang. He heard the neighbor’s dog yipping through the floorboards in response.

But it was true in a way. The moment his aunt had opened the portal into his past, he’d disappeared. Where he came from, a thing he’d tried not to dwell on for most of his life became his obsession.

What are you doing today?

He didn’t answer, just stared at the words on his screen.

As if I have to ask, she texted when he didn’t respond.



* * *



February had been Alice’s most hated month. He still thought of her that way even though his aunt Gemma always referred to her as Maggie. She hated the desolation of the second month of the year, cold and gray, the holidays a distant memory, spring just a dream. That’s why they were always heading south he guessed, to escape February. And this was exactly the kind of day she hated, a gray ceiling for a sky, the air bitterly cold.

He hustled up Avenue A with winter leaking into his cuffs and down the collar of his too-thin jacket, hunched his shoulders in against the stiff wind that blew desiccated leaves and paper garbage up the sidewalk past his feet.

Finally, he saw the sign for his destination up ahead: Ian’s Pub, an Alphabet City dive like so many others. He didn’t even have to go inside to know what he would see when he arrived. An old railroad flat, concrete floors, a bar running along one side, high tops or tattered couches up the other. Some buff, tattooed, and bearded guy slinging the drinks. Maybe a pool table toward the back.

He ducked inside and was surprised that it was much nicer than he expected with black-and-white tile floors, leather banquettes edging one side, a polished wood bar lining the other. There was a gleaming jukebox, Frank Sinatra crooning through Bluetooth speakers mounted in the corners of the ceiling. Fly me to the moon.

It was only three in the afternoon and the bar was empty except for the woman sitting all the way in the back, alone.

The warmth of the indoor air was a relief, but Henry was still shivering. It wasn’t the first such meeting he’d had. He had sworn to himself that if it was as soul crushing as the other two, it would be his last. Some people, he had determined, were just destined to be alone in this world. And it was very possible that he was one of them.

“Cat?” he said, approaching the table.