Useless Reckoning

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. Martha gasped but didn’t hear herself. The instantaneous burst of adrenaline at the sight of the small flame had already quickened her pulse to a deafening drone. Fred glanced up from his crossword puzzle and he instinctively knew what her frozen, tense stance meant. Someone was there. Some poor unsuspecting soul had gone to the little cabin at the top of the hill. She hadn’t heard a car go by. When did they get there? Didn’t they see the posted warning signs? Martha shuddered as a sudden draft chilled her to her bones. Rising from his easy chair, Fred joined his wife at the window. Both remained silent as they gazed at the tiny flickering light. Finally, he squeezed Martha’s shoulders in resignation that both were powerless, and he returned to his chair. Afraid to look too long, Martha continued to the kitchen to put their dinner dishes in the sink. Uncharacteristically, she left the dishes unwashed and returned to her chair in the living room. Fred had returned to his crosswords, but his pencil lay on the TV tray and his weary stare seemed to gaze right through the paper. The sense of dread and sadness in the room was palpable. At first nobody believed anything was amiss. The terrible string of bizarre accidents was thought to be tragic coincidence. The first two deaths were a lovely couple on their honeymoon who drowned in the tiny pond at the back of the cabin. Then a small child fell into the fireplace. When the mother jumped to rescue the child, she hit her head on the mantle and sustained a fatal head injury. The father heard the commotion and ran into an unseen clothesline by the side of the cabin, lacerating his throat so severely he hemorrhaged to death in minutes. Then a young writer had come to the wilderness for inspiration. He was possibly going out to sit on the porch to enjoy the air when he tripped and pierced his right eye and brain with his pen. After the sixth death, Fred and Martha decided they must act. Because they were the only neighbors to the property, they felt responsible for the misfortune of those pitiful souls. Not daring to approach the cabin, they left the old fence and built a new electric fence, ten feet inside their property line. Because the road to the cabin ended just over the shared property line, Fred even illegally ran the fence right over the road. He didn’t want the fence to hurt anyone, just serve as a warning. They hung what seemed like a ridiculous amount of warning signs on the fence. Then everything fell silent. The distant screams of agony seemed but a nightmare. Fred’s brow furrowed deeply as he glanced up to the window. The fence across the road was electrified. How had someone gotten to the property? Even the local Sheriff knew what Fred had done and vowed to never return to the cabin and never talked about what he found. As far as they were concerned whatever evil remained there should be quarantined. It always started the same way. Someone looking forward to a getaway had arrived, overjoyed at the beauty of the surroundings. During daylight Fred and Martha had seen children playing, lovers embracing, families enjoying their reconnection with each other and nature. But at night…at night it always started with a passing glimpse of that damned candle. The cabin was old, really old. Nobody seemed to know when it was built there but there wasn’t an electric line feeding it and after dark inhabitants had to utilize fire for light. Fred had never been inside the cabin, so he didn’t know if it had oil lamps, but he knew that damned candle was always lit before the screams came and after they were silenced, the candle was extinguished. There was no doubt in their hearts that something there was evil. They had no idea what. A demon? An angry ghost? A curse from a witch? A burial ground? As far as Fred and Martha were concerned, the source of the evil didn’t matter. They didn’t care to even speculate because deep down they knew they were utterly powerless, and they knew the outcome would always be the same. Fred sat uneasily in his chair and anxiously listened. Martha couldn’t tolerate sitting and rose to pace the room.

Susan stood by the car door a moment and turned her face up to bask in the warmth. She drew a deep breath of the cool crisp air. She’d needed this getaway. Both Susan and her daughter Hanna needed the distraction of Hanna’s energetic group of friends who’d come for a sleepover. The girls piled out of the car and buzzed about the small clearing around the cabin. Susan instructed the girls to stay near the cabin, away from the pond in the back, and to come in before dark. The girls practiced cartwheels and handstands until the sky began to change its hue and a light fog began to chill the air. When Susan announced it was time to come in, the girls burst through the door like raging whitewater, splashing loudly into every corner of the large, one room cabin. Susan had been surprised to find not only did the cabin have only one large room of about 20 x 25 ft., but also that the only furniture was a roughhewn table surrounded by six chairs and a small bookcase under one of the two windows on which sat a large candle, a wooden bowl, a few old books with no titles on their spines, and a couple of handsewn dolls with buttons for eyes. Susan examined each item on the bookshelf as the girls buzzed about. She figured the bowl was a leftover dish from an era long gone. She certainly wasn’t interested in eating from it. She opened each of the three books on the shelf. Each were handwritten and in terrible condition. The first seemed to be a log or instruction booklet for identifying plants of the region. The second was a jumble of poems, the handwriting was practically illegible, but she made out a few lines about love found and lost and quickly closed the book. She rolled her eyes in contempt - after her painful divorce all she needed was a manual for the broken hearted. The third book contained home recipes. While also difficult to read, she was able to decipher ingredients that were possibly for a healing salve and a nettle tea. She didn’t touch the dolls. They appeared to be a couple, male and female, and there was a slit in the hand of the woman and button on the hand of the man. The notion that the creator had sewn them to be forcibly joined both amused and disturbed her. Although everything looked to be practically ancient, there wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere. After the girls had brought in their belongings, Emma, one of the ringleaders of the group, declared they should circle their sleeping bags to better see each other. The girls collectively chirped their agreement. During the last hour or so of dwindling daylight, Susan set about making a fire in the large stone fireplace while the girls unpacked the supplies for the evening’s meal and chatted happily about visiting the little pond at sunrise. By the time the last tinge of grey in the window had deepened to an impenetrable blackness, each girl had plopped down cross-legged to enjoy their peanut butter and jelly sandwich and chosen snack bag of chips. Emma excitedly stood up to declare her next idea.

“We should tell scary stories!”

Phoebe shot Hanna a doubtful side-eye but didn’t protest further.

“Who wants to go first?” Hanna offered diplomatically to the group, while still looking at Emma expectantly.

“Why are you looking at me?” Emma said exasperatedly.

“Because it was your idea! Go on Cryptkeeper!” LaTasha quipped from the other side of the circle.

“Well, I had one until you made me forget!” Emma protested as the group fell into fits of giggling.

Susan stood up, got a trash bag, and held it out for each girl to discard their paper plate “You’ll think of something spooky” she looked around pointedly “you should have plenty of inspiration”. She let out a small, unsettled laugh. It was growing increasingly dark inside and the light of the fire didn’t seem sufficient. She’d packed a little flashlight for each girl when she’d been informed the cabin didn’t have electricity or an inside bathroom. She’d never dreamed that it wouldn’t have any lamps or lanterns. She would be sure to bring that up to the Airbnb host and advise future occupants in her review. She lay out the little flashlights cautioning the girls they were to be used only when needed. Then in efforts to distract them while she got her bearings on the best course of action to ameliorate her own swelling panic at the pervasive eeriness of the darkness, she pulled out the large tin she’d been hiding. She’d baked chocolate chip cookies for the trip and hid them until the girls were done with their dinner. She sat the tin in the middle of the circle and let the vultures descend. As the girls happily munched away on their cookies, Susan remembered the candle by the window. She doubted its light would make any significant difference but impulsively decided it couldn't hurt to try and see what light it could afford. She took one of the long matches from the mantle, lit it by the fire in the fireplace and quickly lit the candle. It seemed a scream resounded simultaneously with the flame’s ignition. The room recoiled in disgust as Emma tossed her cookie to the floor and what seemed like an explosion of bugs erupted from it. The girls all shrieked and threw their cookies to the floor too. Susan ran over to Emma’s cookie and stared in shock.

“I just baked those this morning! That tin was sealed! Emma! Honey, are you ok? I’m so sorry…I don’t know what happened…”

Emma lurched forward, grabbing her stomach, retching violently. She seemed to be choking. Susan was quick to act, encircling the girl’s midriff and forcefully performing two Heimlich thrusts.

“Mom! Mom!” Hanna’s voice rang out above the other screams “Mom! She’s turning blue!”

“Oh God! Please! Please!” Susan prayed aloud as she gave more thrusts to the dying girl’s abdomen.

Finally, a large projectile shot from Emma’s mouth and much to the horror of everyone, it quickly scurried away. As Emma continued to loudly retch, the other girls screamed on about the enormous bug that had emerged from their friend. Within seconds the sounds of dry heaving morphed into horrific gurgling and splattering sounds as Emma began to vomit copious amounts of blood. Time stood still as what passed for a moment lasted a lifetime. Blood still dripping from the corners of her blue lips, Emma collapsed into a fetal position, her lifeless eyes accusingly staring at the others. By the window, the candle flickered but it wasn’t noticed in the ensuing chaos.

Susan screamed once and then froze in shock. Unprepared for the unthinkable her mind raced, futilely comprehending what had just transpired. The girls on the other hand couldn’t seem to be still. They all jumped up and ran about the room in abject terror. Bedlam erupted as everyone moved as if in slow motion. Susan’s breath caught in her chest as if it too was caught within the nightmare. She’d known Emma since she was a baby. It was like watching her own child die.

“We need to call the police.” Susan suddenly remembered her cellphone. She checked it and looked up in concern. No service. She shook her head.

“Anybody else’s phone?” She knew the answer in the pit of her stomach before she asked. One by one the girls checked their phone. No service.

“Ok. We need to get out of here. We’ll leave and call the police. Come on…”

“Mom! We can’t leave Emma!” Hanna sobbed, gesturing at her lifeless friend on the floor.

“Hanna, right now my priority is getting help and keeping the rest of you safe.”

Susan gave a flashlight to each of the remaining girls and turned on the flashlight that would have been Emma's. Determined to remain relatively calm for the sake of the girls, she placed her hand on the doorknob before turning back to the terrified group of adolescents. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too, but we’re going to get out of this.” She didn’t really know what to say and didn’t believe her hollow reassurance. She felt utterly doomed. Hopeless, like she was waiting for the guillotine to drop. She cautiously opened the door and padded carefully to the porch steps. She heard the door slam behind them followed by the haunting sound of metal scraping and the revolting crack of shattering bone. She turned to see Phoebe’s form twitching in the last throes of death, an axe still planted firmly in the top of her skull. Then she remembered seeing the axe mounted above the door. She knew it wasn’t an accident. Something was trying to kill them. Something was killing them. Something would kill them. Something would kill them all.

“Mom!” Hanna sobbed “Mom! I don’t want to die!”

Hanna gripped Susan’s arm so hard, Susan felt nails break the skin. LaTasha, Mia, and Charlie clung to Susan’s other side and to each other, whimpering softly. Susan wrapped her left arm around her daughter and her right arm reached around trying to comfort the other preteens in her care. They paused there at the top of the porch steps, each of them petrified to move, yet too terrified to stay.

What the hell was I thinking! Susan scolded herself. I’ve never even been camping! I should’ve known this was a horrible idea! Susan had perused Airbnb listings for months before deciding. She’d had a list on her desk at home. She’d narrowed it down to two listings, requested the time off from work, spoken with the parents of Hanna’s friends, but when she returned to her computer to book her chosen listing, the cabin was listed. She was certain it hadn’t been listed before. The listing was straight forward about the meagerness of amenities yet persuasive in emphasizing that the ruggedness of the site lent itself to a transformative, permanent bonding with nature, others, and oneself. She’d taken it as serendipitous. She now realized the listing was, in actuality, pervasively ominous. She’d just failed to see it. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been lured to their unavoidable doom. We can’t stay here. I’ve got to get us out of here!

She tried again in vain to be reassuring to the girls and herself, “Come on. We’re going to get out of this.” Susan’s mind reeled. This was hell, a nightmare. Damned sure not the weekend she planned, and she begged God for it to end.

All of them couldn’t descend the stairs together, they were simply too narrow. They all hesitated, each one being afraid to make the first move. Finally, LaTasha stepped forward “I’m going home!” She bravely stepped off the porch. Encouraged that she hadn’t met some terrible fate, she descended to the second step down. Finally feeling true hope for survival, she stepped to the last and final step. An intense, burning, wrenching pain seized her right ankle as it gave way beneath her and she pitched forward, falling off to the right of the step. She rolled in agony, trying to cradle the painful appendage. Then she and her horrified audience atop the porch heard it, the faintest of rattles. It sounded like hundreds of bowls full of marbles being shaken. LaTasha’s eyes widened in panic, and she locked eyes with Susan who frantically shook her head and gestured for the girl to be still and silent. LaTasha tried to be still. She held her breath as long as she could. Her tears felt scalding hot as they streamed down her face. The rattling grew louder. Her adrenaline burned in her veins, and she readied herself to get up and make a run for it, but it was too late. Even in the cold night air, the rattlesnakes were quickly upon her. She received what felt like thousands of strikes. One fang even pierced her eye as she lay in shock, helplessly thrashing about in a seizure. Susan wasn’t sure if the shock or the ensuing seizure killed the child. All she could do was pull the other children back on the porch and watch in sadness as another died a horrible death. She watched until LaTasha’s shallow gasps slowed to a stop.

The survivors huddled on the porch, acutely aware of the direness of their situation. Each silent, thoughts racing, desperately trying to formulate a viable escape plan from an inescapable situation.

Mia was the first to break the silence “Can we still make it to the car?” Her trembling voice broke with emotion.

“I don’t know” Susan didn’t see any reason to sugar coat anything anymore. She would fight to the death to keep her daughter and the girls safe, if only she knew what she was fighting.

They all peered cautiously over the porch where LaTasha’s lifeless body lay in a death gaze towards the heavens. None of the throngs of angry reptiles were in sight. It was like they appeared from nowhere.

“I can make it.” Charlie bravely declared. She was a cheerleader and the most athletic of them all. She knew she could jump off the porch, far enough away from the snakes to make it to the car. “I can make it to the car and pull it to the porch where y’all can climb on top.

Susan adamantly protested, “Absolutely not!”

“I know I can make it! I never jump less than twelve feet in track, I can make it! Anything’s better than staying here.” Charlie clenched her jaw defiantly at their unknown enemy.

Susan would never willingly put a child at risk and her instincts were shouting that staying held the greatest risk of all. Wracked with guilt, Susan finally nodded her resolution. She gathered Charlie in for a hug and tearfully whispered in the young woman's ear “I believe in you. We’re right here. You can do this!”

Susan pulled her keys from her pocket and placed them in Charlie’s hand. Charlie swiped at the tears and pocketed the keys, nodding ferociously as if to mentally gear up for the task at hand. Determination set on her face; Charlie moved as far back from her jump off point as possible. She turned and gave one last reassuring nod that said “I got this” to her friends and accelerated forward at the maximum velocity the small porch afforded. One powerful kick-off from the ledge and she flew out at least ten feet before landing. Her landing was akin to a triumphant gymnast, and she turned with an elated grin.

“I told you!” She yelled with hopeful giddiness just before the ground beneath her feet crumpled. She had time to scream a disgruntled “NO!” before falling just out of site. The earth then collapsed over her. Susan, Hanna, and Mia ran to the edge of the porch to see snakes waiting beneath them. They ran to the steps to find snakes there too. The snakes seemed to mock them for daring to think they could help Charlie. They were still trapped. In the distance they could hear Charlie’s muffled screams. She sounded crazed with fear. It was heart-breaking. Charlie had managed to tuck her chin the moment the earth gave way beneath her and just as the walls collapsed, she’d pulled her t-shirt over her nose and mouth. She couldn’t see anything as the grit pressed mercilessly against her eyes. At first, she was so panicked she felt she screamed without ceasing, without breathing. It was like she was being punished for having hope. But the more she pleaded for her life, the more her muffled sounds seemed to dissipate at her lips, so she tried to conserve her air. Each precious breath felt more strained, she felt like her ribs would crack at the effort to expand. It seemed like she’d been trapped for days, her voice now mere whimpers, her breathing now shallow pants punctuated by reflexive intermittent gasps. Under the earth, Charlie fought. She scratched and clawed at the dirt, frenzied with her fear of dying and desire to draw a full breath. She fought so valiantly. Just before the lack of oxygen caused her loss of consciousness, her index finger broke through. But it was too late and as the darkness of her mind closed about her, she realized she was lost. On the porch Susan and Charlie’s friends could only listen at the final silence of fatality. Charlie too, was lost.

Susan, Hanna, and Mia felt a new depth of hopelessness. It was evident that whatever was killing them, wasn’t going to let them leave. Susan didn’t know if she should keep the girls on the porch or go back inside. Does it matter? We’re just going to die anyway. Just when she thought death couldn’t be more horrible, something had to prove there were infinite horrors that awaited. Susan didn’t feel like the adult, she felt like a frightened child.

Finally, she decided they should collectively decide their fate “It’s obvious we’re not going to get to the car, at least not tonight. Do you want to stay on the porch or go back inside? “

Hanna, so like her mother said, “Does it matter?”

“No. I suppose not.” Susan didn’t know what else to say. She realized how weary she felt. Weary of fear, of shock, of sadness, of waiting for her own demise.

“I left my phone inside. I wanna see pictures of my mom and dad…of my sister…of my dog…would that be, OK?” Mia asked sadly.

Susan nodded, again not knowing what to say. “Stay close though, OK?” she gestured for each girl to draw near and spread her arms like a mother hen sheltering her chicks beneath her wings. They moved as a cohesive unit and reverently traversed around Phoebe’s body. Once inside, Susan unzipped two sleeping bags and covered Emma's corpse. Mia retrieved her phone where it lay on her sleeping bag then joined Susan and Hanna on Susan’s sleeping bag. Mia had just unlocked her phone and opened her photos when a soft buzzing whizzed by Susan’s ear and a small insect lit on Mia’s exposed arm. Hanna slapped at the bug just as Mia cried out “ouch! It bit me!”

“It’s just a bug, there are lots of bugs out in the country…” Susan tried to sound nonchalant, but she knew this was no ordinary bug.

As with every occurrence in that wretched place, horror was fulminant and fatality agonizing. It seemed the bite immediately began to welt. “Oh my God! It itches! It itches so bad!” Mia scratched hysterically at her skin. Susan was disturbed by the speed of the swelling. Mia ran to her backpack and retrieved a sharpened pencil. What started as gingerly scratching at her arm quickly became carving strips of flesh off. Horrified, Susan and Hanna tried to restrain her, but she slapped them away and much to their surprise, evaded their every move. She cried out in anguish yet seemed helpless in stopping. Finally, she prodded so hard the pencil broke. Still clawing at the bloody gore that was once her arm, a faint pop sounded and what seemed like tens of thousands of bugs poured out of hole. Susan and Hanna recoiled in fear, afraid the same fate befall them. The bugs continued to bite and tear at the poor girl’s flesh. Insects swarmed and chocked the final words from her as she begged Susan and Hanna to end her misery. It was Susan that heeded the call. She ran to pull the axe from Phoebe’s skull, returned to bloodied swarm, and with one swift blow split Mia’s skull, ensuring the girl no longer suffered. Her corpse landed on the floor with a thud and the giant swarm of insects dissipated through the cracks in the floor, leaving the mangled gore.

Susan ran to her where her daughter cowered and gathered Hanna to hold her. Hanna was gripped in mania, begging the universe to spare her. Susan wondered if the nightmare would retreat with the darkness. She glanced across the room to where Mia’s phone still glowed. She patted Hanna reassuringly “let me get the phone”.

“No! Don’t leave me!”

“I’m right here.”

“Don’t leave me! Every time we move, someone dies!”

Susan hadn’t thought of that before. Hanna was right, each time they’ve moved, someone had died. Maybe if they remained still and didn’t try to flee, they could survive the night. “OK” Susan nodded and held her daughter tighter. She caressed her hair like she did when she was a baby. They remained like that for what seemed to be an hour maybe more. Susan looked to the window, it seemed like the absolute darkness was beginning to somewhat lift. Maybe they had a chance after all. Feeling her legs go to sleep and her tailbone ache, she shifted her weight slightly, not daring to move beyond that. Another twenty or thirty minutes passed, and Susan was sure it was beginning to lighten outside. It seemed there may be hope after all.

The fire in the fireplace had burned down over night and now only red-hot coals and the remnants of a large log remained. Suddenly the coals gave way, causing the large log to roll from the fireplace and on to the edge of the sleeping bag. It ignited like it had been soaked in gasoline. Hanna was closest to the flames. As both tried to scramble away from the inferno, Hanna’s shoe became tangled in the burning fabric. It seemed to twirl around her leg as she fell and defy gravity as it engulfed her and combusted, consuming her. Hanna shrieked, frantic from the pain. She could only cry “Mom!” before the flames sucked the oxygen from her lungs, rendering her helpless to voice the excruciating pain which seemed to suspend her in the eternal hell of suffering. Susan tried in vain to extinguish the flames. While Hanna's death was swift, Susan knew the profundity of suffering her only child experienced in those minutes, she heard it. She felt the agony in her soul.

Her heart completely shattered, Susan sat beside her daughter’s smoldering body and looked down at her empty, blistered, and charred arms. Those arms that would never again hold her gorgeous, sweet, loving daughter. Susan didn’t scream. She didn’t cry. She didn’t see any point in it. She didn’t even speculate what fate this evil had in store for her. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Her universe was her precious Hanna and without her, she was nothing, there was nothing. Susan quietly stood up and pulled the pieces of the broken pencil from Mia’s body. She returned to Hanna’s body and peeled the remains of the half melted, smoldering cloth from Hanna’s face. She didn’t flinch when the Hanna’s flesh tore away with the cloth, and she didn’t react to finding her daughter’s beautiful blue eyes had ruptured and were oozing tarry masses. She bent and placed her lips to burn on her daughter’s forehead. A tear fell from each of her eyes and sizzled upon the face of her baby. She drew one deep breath and plunged the pencil fragments deep into each carotid artery before yanking it out quickly to ensure her lifeforce flowed. She laid down to cradle her beloved daughter. As Susan’s last breath left her body, a breeze flowed through the open door, snuffing out the candle and the sun crested the horizon. The long night was over.

Down at the bottom of the hill the sunrise found the sleepless elderly couple still tearfully pacing, helpless to do anything but listen. They’d called Sheriff Stevens. He never came. He stopped trying to come during the night. Stevens was a quick study. He knew a tree would be down or a rockslide would be blocking the road or the bridge outside of town would be out if he tried to come at night. He’d make it out in the morning and along with the coroner, they’d clean up the mess. In the morning light, Fred went out to the road to meet the Sheriff, surprised to find the electric fence still up and functioning.

“Sheriff, how do you supposed they got up there?”

“I don’t know Fred, go turn the fence off and when the coroner gets here, we’ll go see what the damage is. Dadgum it. How long has it been? I’d hoped that it was all over.”

“Been about six years I reckon.”

“Yeah, I reckon so.”

“What’d you think made it start up again?’

“I don’t know Fred. Some folks are just unlucky. Seems like bad luck gets hungry after a while and needs to feed on the unfortunate.”

“Who do you think they were?”

“Someone who’s fortunate their misery’s over. From what I seen, they’re lucky not to have survived that place.”

“I reckon so.”