Page 29

Rhue

A couple of hours pass in awkward silence.

I try to make conversation here and there, but I am constantly met with no more than a dry “hm” or absolutely nothing.

It only serves to make me feel more insecure.

That’s probably the point, anyway. Maximum discomfort.

It’s the mildest form of punishment Madison could inflict upon me, anyway.

I should be thankful that this is all I’m getting. I deserve much worse.

We’ve checked the cabin from top to bottom. It definitely hasn’t been lived in in forever, but there’s a surprising amount of viable food in the pantry, along with several six-packs of beer. I guess the seniors aren’t that fucked up, after all.

Two bags of cheese crackers lay open on the coffee table, now, and I’ve already had three beers.

It’s getting cold, and there isn’t enough alcohol in them to even get me buzzed.

There are also tuna, spam and bean cans we can dig into, plus some flower and yeast powder and about two bags of salt in the pantry.

I’m in no mood to knead dough but if push comes to shove I could whip out a bread if needed.

There’s wood in the tiny basement below, too.

That chamber is isolated and fitted with a ventilation hole, completely dry and clean, perfect for storing pretty much anything.

It isn’t heated, either, so if there are freezing temperatures out here in the winter, it’s a good place to keep fresh meat, too.

Fresh meat from a hunt. Oddly enough, I could see myself camping here for a week or two.

Just me and the wild woods, no other human in sight. Well, maybe one human.

“Not hungry?” I ask Madison, noticing how she stares at the crackers on the table, yet refuses to get away from the window.

“What part of ‘fuck you, Rhue’ didn’t transpire earlier?” she replies.

“I’m trying to bury the hatchet here.”

“Or you’re trying to trick me again. You know how it goes, though, right?

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice?

Nah, nah, nah. No, thank you. Stick to your corner there, I’ll stick to mine, and in––” She pauses to check the time on her phone.

“In about six hours, we’ll be out of here and victorious. ”

I won’t get through to her that easily. She’s too hurt to even consider trusting me.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin to offer a formal apology, Madison,” I say.

“I have hurt you on so many levels. I reckon there’s a penthouse waiting for me in hell.

But I am being genuine here. Guess you could say I’ve reached that epiphany point, and I have seen the errors of my ways. At least for tonight.”

She gives me a befuddled look, as if I’m some kind of lunatic. “You can’t be serious.”

“You made a point the other day when you mentioned my mother. I’ve been long overdue for some serious soul searching, and this is me trying to find my way back to…. atonement, I suppose. I don’t think you’re ready for me to ask for your forgiveness but consider this the first step.”

“I’m not sure forgiveness is something you’re ever going to get from me. It’s probably a double-edged sword, though. You say one thing now, probably because we’re locked in a cabin together and you’re past the point of exhaustion, but I know how you truly feel, Rhue.”

“You’re not wrong,” I say. “But we can call it a truce for the night, can’t we?”

She thinks about it for a while, then nods slowly. Her lips part as she’s about to say something, when a loud thud outside makes us both jump.

I reach Madison in the blink of an eye as we both look out the window and see Cameron and Lindsey panting and looking as though they’ve just run a marathon.

Sweat drips from their faces, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and irritation.

My guess is the Acolytes got one of them, at least, where it hurts.

“They need shelter,” Madison whispers.

I briefly glance down and thank the stars that she had the presence of mind to nail a piece of plywood over the corner where I broke the glass.

“Too bad for them, we got here first,” I remind her.

She sighs deeply. “I feel like such a dick, but yeah…”

“Hello? Anybody in there?!” Lindsey calls out while Cameron bangs on the door.

Instinctively, I catch Madison by the arm and pull her close, then clear my throat and fake a gruff voice.

“Get outta here! This cabin’s taken!” I shout.

They both still, while Madison gives me a confused glare.

“Who…who’s that?” Cameron asks, trying to see something through the window. Unfortunately for him, there are ancient lacy curtains pulled over each.

“Mike Brewster. You can stay on the porch if you want, but you’re not getting in,” I say. “They’ll know if you force your way through!”

Madison shrugs. “Yeah, good point. I mean, what stops them from breaking in,” she mutters.

“This ain’t exactly Fort Knox.” A minute goes by while Cameron and Lindsey whisper to one another.

Madison removes herself from my hold and goes over to the coffee table, coming back with two beers and a clay bowl filled with cheese crackers.

“Might as well. We need to keep an eye on them, at least for now.”

“Good idea. I was getting peckish,” I say and grab a fistful of crackers along with the beer.

“They’ll give up, eventually. If they see Acolytes coming, they might get desperate, but they’ll be better off running.

If sunrise finds them out here and in one piece, they’ll have passed the hazing ritual. ”

It’s odd, but nice to see us talking like this. The animosity is dormant, somewhere in the backs of our heads.

I take a second to admire her profile. There’s only a smidge of moonlight coming through the once white curtain, but it’s enough to draw the shadows along her jaw and just under her lower lip.

There’s even a little twinkle in her blue eyes. It’s tiny, but oh, so pretty. Suddenly, I am reminded of why I fell for her so hard in the beginning.

It wasn’t just the beauty. Madison was designed by the gods to give any man blue balls, but it’s the way the design was fit with the smarts that truly makes the formula work.

She’s a genius, yet she likes to keep that to herself.

She’s sharp and bold, though she often comes across as shy.

She’s an introvert, but I see her putting so much work into fitting in here, among these people.

Ever a bundle of delightful contradictions.

We watch the two outside for a while but don’t say anything. There’s an ancient rattan sofa on the porch, covered in dried up weeds and dirt. It takes Cameron and Lindsey a while, but they manage to clean it up to a degree where they can actually sit on it.

Madison stirs and rushes into the pantry. She comes back out with a six-pack and a third bag of cheese crackers, nodding at the door.

“Open it for just one second,” she says.

I take a moment to register the demand, but I comply.

As soon as they hear the lock, both Cameron and Lindsey jump to their feet, stupidly hopeful. Following my lead, Madison makes herself sound infinitely more nasal as she tosses the beer and crackers through the crack in the door and onto the porch.

“Might as well make yourselves comfortable,” she screeches, making me stifle a laugh.

“Why are you faking your voice?” I whisper once the door is locked again.

She gives me a startled look. “Why the fuck were you faking yours earlier? I was just following your lead.”

“Well, I just didn’t want them knowing it’s us. They might try to tug at your heart strings or something, convince you to let them in,” I reply.

One peek through the window gives me Cameron and Lindsey back on the sofa, eating crackers and drinking beer.

They seem to be getting comfortable, even.

Lindsey says something that makes him laugh.

I don’t like him. He was too friendly with Madison.

I tried to scare him off, but that didn’t last long, either.

Then again, my recent methods have been absolutely terrible.

“If they think we’re other people, I know Lindsey definitely won’t insist.”

“Because I’m the only sucker with a heart soft enough to do her a favor and get myself screwed in the process? I don’t think so,” Madison shoots back. “The bitch stays out, whether she knows it’s me or not.”

“Then you were simply enjoying yourself while playing pretend, huh?” I chuckle.

She gives me a dry smirk. “Maybe. Pass me that beer.”

An hour later, we’re still by the window, hidden behind the curtain. I pull its edge back once in a while to look outside. There’s motion on the sofa but I’m not making out much. I can see the empty cans on the porch, though. They’ve gone through four beers already.

“What are they doing?” Madison asks, frowning as she checks her phone for the umpteenth time. The battery is low. Red low. “Dammit.”

“Checking the time every other minute will do that,” I tell her. “And it won’t make tonight go any faster, either.”

“You’re right. Hate to admit it, but you’re right,” she mumbles. “Maybe you’re right about other stuff too. We should give this truce a try. Hand me another beer, please.”

We’ve gone through twice as much as the frosted losers outside. I give Madison a can, then open one for myself.

We sip slowly, listening to the faint noises coming from outside. At first, it sounds like words. A muffled conversation happening beneath jackets and hoods and two blankets. Madison was kind enough to toss them a couple so they might cover themselves and not freeze out.

So far, there’s been no sign of the Acolytes, so Cameron and Lindsey have gotten relatively comfortable. Probably trying to get along and through the night, much like Madison and me.

“Do you regret coming out here?” Madison asks, eyeing me carefully.

I give her a shake of my head. “Nah. Beats other options, for sure. Cabin in the woods, fresh air, relatively cool beer and only partially stale cheese crackers. We’re good, believe me.”