A retelling of the absolutely brilliant horror movie ‘Cabin in the Woods’ with an altogether different ending.
Chapter 2 of 3/4.
Notes: Soooo… hey! Bad news-good news-maybe bad news! Bad news is that I wrote way more than expected so chapter 2 is not the end of the story. The good news is that I’ve already got 9000 words done on chapter 3! I plan to release that chapter Sunday evening. The possible bad news is that I may have to break it into chapter 3 AND chapter 4. If I do that, the final chapter 4 will be out by Tuesday. I think I just need about 2000 more words to finish the whole thing up so I’m 100% sure on the timelines here. Sorry!
Back in the cabin, all five friends poured their own drinks from a keg while music played through a nearby docked iPhone.
“Okay, my turn!” Marty called out after taking a hit on his joint. “Dana! Truth or dare?”
“Oh god,” Dana said, blushing and shifting on the couch next to Jules. “Uhh. Dare.”
“Yes!” Marty said, raising his arms and standing. “I dare you to make out with that moose over there.”
“M-moose?” Dana asked, looking around. “Marty. Are you talking about that wolf’s head?”
Marty squinted at the mounted wolf’s head. “Well, whatever that glorious, mysterious beast is, then.”
“No, no way,” Dana said. “I’m changing to truth.”
Jules pushed at her friend. “Come onnnn, Dana, live a little. You always do this. Always wimping out at the last minute. Take a chance, girl.”
“I-” Dana paused. Jules was right. She was always taking the easy way out. The safest way. The young woman took a big pull from her beer. She was here to unwind and get away from who she was for a while. Screwing up her courage, she decided to just go for it. “Fuck it. Okay, then.”
Standing, Dana faced the mounted head and walked toward it.
“Do it all sexy-like!” Curt called out behind her.
Blushing, Dana stopped. She stared at the wolf’s head and then remembered the way Holden had looked shirtless. She was on her second large beer and the shame and anger of the professor’s email still hurt her. Again, she decided to just go with it. She glanced back at her friends, her eyes lingering on Holden for a moment. Turning, she slinked over to the mounted head. Her hips shook left and right and Curt whistled after her while Jules called out her own encouragement.
Stopping in front of the wolf’s head, she cradled it with her arms, cocking her head to the side and then leaned forward drunkenly. She expected it to smell or feel ratty to the touch but was pleasantly surprised to find it soft and without any scent at all. She planted her lips on the thing’s open mouth and kissed it awkwardly.
“No,” Marty said from behind. “I said make out with it!”
Blushing, trying to ignore the cat calls and random, overly-exaggerated scenarios behind her, Dana closed her eyes and opened her mouth. Her tongue worked around the wolf’s open mouth while her fingers clenched into its fur. She felt its large neck, kneading the thick, soft fur, surprised to find herself slightly aroused at the sensual touch of it. She licked its black lips, her tongue circling its mouth and along its teeth. She wrapped her lips around the thing’s tongue and moaned, lightly. For show. Of course. She focused on everything other than what she was doing. She pictured the professor but then quickly thought of Holden instead. She could see his face and his smile and-
“Ow!” Dana pulled back, touching her lip and tongue.
“Hey,” Holden said, standing up. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” Dana answered. “Yeah. Just cut myself on it. More drunk than I thought, I guess.”
“Well, shit,” Marty said. “I give an a+ for that wonderful scene!”
Dana swallowed, tasting the blood in her mouth before touching her tongue gingerly again. She sat back next to Jules and told the other girl she was fine when asked.
“Well, uhh, your turn, Dana,” Marty said, sitting back down.
“Oh, right,” Dana said, standing. “Jules, truth or-”
A loud bang sounded from the middle of the living room, startling everyone. A large trapdoor stood open in the room and everyone stared at it.
“What the hell is that?!” Jules asked.
“The- the cellar door,” Dana answered nervously.
Curt took the lead, walking over to it while everyone else watched. “Maybe the wind blew it open?”
“Uhh, how?” Marty asked. “We’re inside and there’s no wind.”
All five of them crowded around, staring at the old, plain steps that led down into darkness.
“What do you think is down there?” Holden asked.
“Why don’t we find out?” Jules said. “I still have my dare since I was going to pick that anyway. I’ll go down first.” Without waiting for anyone else, she stepped down into the cellar, her camera phone’s flash providing light.
The room was filled with oddities. In the narrow light she saw old photos, creepy masks, strange tools and more. She turned and her light shined on a portrait of a young girl, making her cry out in sudden fear.
“Jules!” Curt called, rushing down the stairs. “Are you alright?”
“I’m- I’m fine,” the young woman answered. “Just startled. Stupid painting. It’s nothing.”
Everyone else followed Curt down and they fanned out. Marty picked up an old oil lamp, lighting it with his lighter. Warm, mellow light filled the large room.
“Oh my god,” Dana said. “Look at all of this.”
“Hey,” Marty said slowly. “I, uhh, don’t mean to be a wuss but I’m not getting a good feeling down here, guys. This doesn’t feel right.”
Holden stood in front of an animatronic fortune telling machine. “Is this all your cousin’s stuff? Because, man, if so, he’s into some weird shit.”
“No,” Curt said, looking around. “I don’t think this is his. The mirror people maybe. Or someone before that.”
Dana touched a small dresser. “Some of this looks really old.”
“And beautiful,” Jules said wistfully, touching an old wedding dress.
Curt held a conch shell in his hands, blowing the dirt off of it. He slowly brought it to his lips.
“Maybe we should go back upstairs,” Marty said, touching Curt’s arm before he could blow into the shell. Curt shrugged his shoulders but put the shell down, suddenly fascinated by an ornate egg. “I, uhh, dare you all to go upstairs. Anyone?”
Still standing in front of the dresser, Dana lifted a little notebook from the top of it. She handled it carefully due to its old age and then opened it while everyone else explored. Jules lifted an old amulet from the wedding dress, slowly bringing it up to put around her neck. Curt held the egg, twisting and turning the shell of it, trying to unlock its secrets. Holden turned the handle to a music box while Marty looked at old film.
“Guys,” Dana said. “Listen to this. I found a diary, I think. ‘April fourth. Father was cross with me and said I lacked the true faith. I wish I could prove my devotion as Judah and Matthew proved on those travelers.'”
“Wait,” Jules said, putting the amulet back. “What is that?”
“‘Diary of Anna Patience Buckner, 1903’, it says,” Dana continued, picking a later entry. “‘Mama screamed most of the night. I prayed that she might find faith but she only stopped when Papa cut her belly and stuffed the coals in.'”
“Jesus Christ,” Holden said quietly.
“‘Judah told me in my dream’,” Dana read, again picking a different page. “‘That Matthew took him to the black room, so I know he is killed. I want to understand the glory of the pain like Matthew but cutting the flesh makes him have a… husband’s bulge and I do not get like that.'”
“What the fuck,” Marty exclaimed. “Can we not do this?”
“No,” Curt told her. “Go on. I want to know what happens.”
“‘I have found it. In the oldest books, the way of saving our family. My good arm is hacked up and et so I hope this will be readable. That a believer will come and speak this to our spirits. Then we will be restored and the great pain will return.’ And there’s something written in Latin.”
“Okay,” Marty said anxiously. “Okay. I’m drawing a fucking line here. Do not read the Latin. This never fucking ends well.”
“I- wait did you guys hear that?” Dana said, looking around anxiously. Her ears strained, twitching for what she swore was a voice.
“No,” Marty said. “No, I did not and I don’t want to know. Guys, can we-”
“Stop being a fucking baby, Marty,” Curt said.
“Curt!” Jules yelled.
“It’s a diary,” Curt said. “It doesn’t mean anything. Keep going, Dana.”
“What?” Dana said, looking around. Her left ear twitched slightly. “Oh. Oh, right. Uh. Dolor supervivo caro. Dolor sublimis caro. Dolor ignio annivos.”
“That’s done it, we have a winner!” Sitterson called out. “It’s the Buckners, ladies and gentlemen! All right, that means… looks like congratulations go to Maintenance! Control, release the family!”
“Wait, wait!” a voice called out. “Wait a minute!”
Sitterson looked around, frowning. “We’re on a tight schedule here. What’s the problem?”
An older woman, graying hair held in a bun, stepped through the crowd. “No, Finance won. We won this one. Final-fucking-ly.”
“Clarice,” Sitterson said gently, glancing at the large red digital clock over the various monitors. “Look, they read the diary. She spoke the words. Latin! Nobody fucks with Latin but she read the words. It’s done. It’s the Buckners. Control!”
“No,” Clarice said firmly. “Roll back five minutes on the monitor. Come on, Sitterson, don’t be a prick. Just do it.”
The older man frowned at the woman but then threw his hands up. “Fine! I know you’d bitch and bitch about this if we didn’t. Fine. Control, go back five minutes on the feed. Let’s see- Oh.”
“Yes,” Clarice said primly.
“Oh. I forgot all about that damn thing. Since it wasn’t in the cellar anymore I’d completely forgotten about it. Okay, Finance for the big ‘W’, then. Open their pens. Let ’em out, Control. Let’s see if Chem did their jobs right this year.”
Jules stood in front of the fireplace. The heat from it warmed her but, it was more than that. Ever since she’d arrived at the cabin, she’d felt… not off. Not that. Different. She couldn’t – there was a word for it but she couldn’t think of it. Distracted? Maybe that? And hot. Not because of the fireplace. Not because of that. But, because she just was. She was always mostly humble about it but sometimes….
The young woman dragged a fingertip down her lips, along her throat and into her open shirt, feeling the swell of her breast. She felt so good. Free. Free-er. She wondered if that was a word but, just briefly. A small, simple laugh escaped her curved lips. Maybe she should seduce her profess… pro… her teacher. With all his big words and talk about medicine. She shook her blonde hair, unaware of the chemicals she’d absorbed from the special coloring. Unaware of what it’d slowly been doing to her. Freeing her mind.
Gyrating, rotating her hips, spreading her long, slim legs, Jules danced. Rocking and working her body, turning to face her friends and smiling because she knew they wanted her. They knew how pretty she was. She knew it.
“Fuck yeah, baby!” Curt said, tipping back yet another glass of beer. He’d lost count of how many he’d had. “Fuck yeah.”
Jules made her way over to Holden, giving him a small, private little dance before bouncing away, back to the fireplace.
“Classy,” Marty mumbled in a daze.
“Too fucking right it is,” Curt yelled, finishing his drink. “Come on, man, you know you’d take a piece of that ass.”
“Pieces,” Marty said. “Fucking pieces. Can we not talk about people in pieces any more tonight? Was nobody else freaked out about that fucking diary?”
“I was,” Holden said, glancing at Jules. Every so often she would move just enough to show off the bottom of an ass cheek. It was hard to resist looking.
“Yeah, I kind of was, too,” Dana said. The young woman tilted her head, eyes far away as she seemed to stare into the distance. A bead of sweat rolled down her cheek. “I think the fireplace is too hot.”
“Mmm,” Jules moaned lightly, making her way over to Marty. “Speaking of too hot… Is someone feeling left out? Remember when we were freshmen? We were sweethearts.”
“We only ever made out once and that was before Curt moved into town. I never bought that ring I said I’d give you and you never had eyes for anyone else ever since he showed up anyway.” Jules swiveled, shaking her slim ass in front of Marty’s face, back and forth while he talked. “I was thinking…”
“Oh, no,” Curt said. “No fucking way. I’m not drunk enough to listen to theories from Junior Tommy Chong. Let’s go, baby. We’ll leave Holden to his job and Marty can explain his nerdy bullshit whatever to both of them.”
Dana wrinkled her nose, sniffing after Jules as she passed. She thought she smelled something as the other woman passed. Something off. Not natural. Her lip curled and she tipped her head, sniffing again.
“Hey, Jules,” Dana said. “You sure you feeling okay? Maybe you should lie down.”
“Ah, that’s exactly what we’re gonna do,” Curt said. Jules giggled as her boyfriend led her away and through the front door. “Both of us. Vigo… vig… roughly.”
Dana followed after them, watching them go, happy to be away from the roaring fireplace. The heat from it was too much and yet, standing by the open front door, she didn’t feel any cooler. She closed the door slowly as the young couple made their way into the woods. The cold night air brought the scent of the lake, rotting leaves and something familiar. Newly familiar. However that was possible. Something exciting and raw and fresh that made her teeth grind and-
“Hey, so,” Marty said, interrupting her thoughts. “Nobody else really thinks anything weird is going on? Nobody thinks people are acting a little off?”
“No,” Dana said, too quickly. “I don’t think anything is wrong.”
“Jules is acting like a… a… hussy,” Marty continued. “And Curt – Curt is pulling some alpha male bullshit.”
“He’s just drunk,” Dana said carefully.
“No,” Marty said. “No. I’ve seen him drunk. And, and he’s a sociology major on a full academic scholarship and now he’s trying to whore his girlfriend out and he’s calling his friend a nerd? And-”
“And?” Dana asked nervously, clenching her fist. She could feel her nails digging into her palms.
“And,” Marty continued. “I’m… I’m hungry. Do we have any food? Chips or something?”
Dana let out a long breath. “You’re high, Marty. I love you but you’re so fucking high right now.”
“I’m,” Marty said, squinting at her briefly. “Okay. Yeah. But. The point stands. We’re all wrong. Something’s wrong. And nobody else is noticing it or saying anything about it. So. So, yeah. I’m. Going to go look at picture books.”
Dana found herself breathing easier once Marty left to his room. The stench of him and his joints threatened to make her vomit. She didn’t even know how she could smell anything beyond that as the smell of him seemed to permeate the entire cabin. Not as strong as that smell, though. Whatever it was. Moving. Shifting. In the distance but coming closer. Ever closer. Making her blood pound.
“Hey,” Holden said. Dana snapped around to look at the man, the small hairs along her arms standing at end. She’d somehow forgotten about him. He was standing by the keg. “Do you want another drink?”
“Y- yeah,” she told him. “Yeah, sure.”
Holden filled Dana’s mug near to the top and brought it to her. She sat at her end of the couch while he sat opposite side. Mug in hand, he picked up the diary Dana had read downstairs.
“‘The pain outlives the flesh’,” Holden read. “‘The flesh returns’ or maybe ‘has a meeting place’?”
“Is that somewhere in the diary,” Dana asked.
“No,” Holden replied. “Well, I guess, yes. It’s the Latin you read in the basement.”
“You speak Latin?” Dana’s ears perked forward, quivering slightly. He smelled good. Clean. Soapy, almost. She could taste him on her tongue. His skin. Staring at his neck, she could picture herself nipping at him. Licking him. Kissing his neck. And she knew exactly how he’d taste. She stopped herself when she realized she was leaning forward slightly. Towards his neck.
“Yes but, not well. Not since high school. I remember bits and pieces, though. Weird how it comes back.”
“Well,” Dana said, clearing her throat with a low rumble. Soapy and fresh. Another drop of sweat coursed down along her neck, sliding between her breasts. “It’s a weird night. For everyone.”
“Then I apologize,” Holden told her. “Because I’m actually having a pretty good time.”
Dana looked up at Holden, lips peeling back briefly from teeth sharper than they should be. The man’s arm was on the back of the couch, near to touching her. “You- you shouldn’t apologize. I am, too.”
With a giggle, Jules found herself leading her boyfriend. Her thoughts tumbled uselessly in her head. Something would come up and she’d try to grab at it, only to find it was mist and, instead, she’d giggle and think about the heat in her little itty bitty tummy. The heat that made her feel so good and dirty and flirty and hot.
Curt followed, laughing drunkenly, his mind in a stupor far beyond what the alcohol should do. His cock throbbed painfully in his pants and his veins bulged in his neck and arms. His muscles felt hot and tense and he just wanted to fight and fuck and break shit.
“Are you running away from me,” he called to Jules. Half joking but, half serious, too. Angry that she was not just bending over for him right then and there but fighting it, still. He shouldn’t be angry at her. That was stupid. She was his girl. HIS girl. All his. Little slut.
“Just a little bit further, somewhere soft,” she told him, dancing away from his hand. Laughing.
Laughing at me?! He thought. Grabbing her arm, he pulled, roughly and she giggled, falling to the soft ground.
“Oh, oh yes,” she gasped. The moonlight and stars and trees flickered in her eyes. She tried to focus on them but they slipped from her just like her thoughts. She was sooo warm and hot. For Curt. For, well, anybody, really. Wanting to be filled. Needing to be filled. And touched. And kissed. And more.
Curt tugged at the girl’s shirt. She pulled away, as if to resist and he held her tight, clumsy, aggressive fingers pulling at her buttons until he simply pulled at her shirt and the buttons popped free, exposing her taut body and firm breasts beneath her bra. Jules gasped and squirmed. She heard something but it mixed with all the other sensations trying to cram through the chemically limited pipe in her head. Did she say something about it? Maybe she said something. She couldn’t really remember. All she knew was the way Curt’s fingers felt on her skin. His nails in her side, his tongue in her mouth.
“Wait,” she mumbled, eyes heavy with lust. “I- heard. Hear that?”
Curt grunted, looking up. He had thought he heard something.
A chorus of ‘awww’s filled the Control room.
“All right, all right,” Hadley called out. “Everyone out! We’ve got a job to do here and we can’t do it with all the geeky virginal bloodlust in the room. Everyone out!”
The crowd dispersed slowly. When the last person left, Hadley pulled a lever slowly upwards.
“Engaging pheromone mists,” he said. “How’s our girl looking inside? Yeah, I think I’ll give them a light dose as well.”
A soft, white mist hissed through the forest floor, curling around Curt and Jules. Curt grunted again, the thought of sounds and anything other than fucking his girlfriend simply vanished from his mind. His cock felt like it was going to burst in his pants and he swore he already came but was still rock hard. He tugged at her bra, frustrated that it was stronger than he was and, instead, pulled at her pants when she lifted her hips encouragingly. Their faces flushed red from the effects of the mist.
Her bottom exposed, Curt pulled Jules’ bra down, exposing her small breasts. The woman’s nipples were as hard as his cock and he eagerly took one in his mouth as Jules’ raked her fingers through his hair. His tongue circled her nipple while he fumbled with his jeans with one hand until his cock was free. It lay against her mound, angry and swollen, pre-cum leaking from the tip onto the girl’s body. She eagerly lifted herself, trying to get him inside of her, forgetting in her haze that she still wore her panties.
Neither noticed the dead branch breaking nearby. Neither heard it in their gasping, groaning, moaning need.
With a roar, the huge figure threw itself at Curt, claws slicing through flesh and body like paper. The man tried to scream but, instead, gurgled. He looked up at the stars, unaware of how he got where he was. He remembered Jules beneath him and then, suddenly, here he was. Curt touched his neck and looked at his hand. There were only three fingers on his hand and two stumps spurting blood. The hand itself was a mangled, red mess.
“Whhhhh- whhhhhhh,” he tried to say, the sounds hissing through the large gash in his throat. Pain bloomed in his stomach. He beat at it, kicking his legs. Trying to move. A loud, shrill scream filled the air but all he knew was pain. Curt tried to grip his stomach but felt something else instead. Something warm and… soft? A single star seemed to grow brighter and brighter as the pain flared and then, he heard a loud crack and he felt nothing at all and the white star burned away the rest of his sight.