by Mac Flynn
Chapter 3
The state highway ended three hundred yards behind the general store, and my little car bumped onto a well-used gravel-and-dirt road. The green, open meadows slipped and morphed into a thick forest of tall, old pines and firs. The trees stood like tall soldiers protecting the secrets of the prickly brush and animals that made small trails through the undergrowth. They cast their shadows over the road and at times created a tunnel effect where all but the slimmest of sky lit up the road above me, but everywhere else was the thick, overreaching branches of the trees.
The road inclined and curved like a snake in front of me. There were no sudden drop-offs on either side, but there was the occasional gully created by a small culvert or natural spring with its ten-foot drop. Tall enough to ruin my day if I went over, but not likely to kill me. There was a little bit of washboard on the road and for most of the corners you couldn't see what was around the bend. I slowed my speed to a hare faster than a tortoise and kept the car to the extreme right side. Unfortunately, the road didn't widen with my efforts. Actually, it shrank to the width of a car and a half, or a large truck.
Doubly fortunately, I heard a large truck careen down the mountain just on the other side of the oncoming corner and there happened to be a driveway to my left. Judging by the crunch of its wheels it was big and I was small, and I'd end up looking like the bottom of a box of Captain Crunch cereal.
I stepped on the gas and crept into the driveway just as the truck bumped and ground past me. It was a large four-wheel drive truck with shiny red paint and a kid at the wheel barely able to shave, much less drive. He didn't look at me at all, but kept driving down the road and disappeared after a second.
I leaned on the wheel and set my head in my hand. My fingers trembled so bad they shook loose my brain. "Easy there, Chrissy. You're still alive," I murmured.
I straightened, took a deep breath, and slowly backed out. The road was clear and in a moment I was back on my way. I kept my eyes peeled for driveways and my ears for more maniacal neighbors out to give me a first and final greeting and farewell. Nothing happened, and my slow driving allowed me to see the houses of some of my neighbors.
Agnes hadn't kidded when she told me the houses took up a lot of the old hunting grounds. They were large, two-floor mansions with full basements and double-door garages. Lawns stretched out over wide, long decks that sometimes wrapped around the house, and sometimes were suspended ten feet above the ground. Pool water shimmered in the mid-afternoon sun and sprinklers watered the thick, luscious green lawns that would have put Martha Stewart to shame. Here and there were parked Ferrari's, side-by-sides, long, pointy speed boats, and even RVs. In the middle of the woods. Yeah, I know, I don't get it, either.
The farther upward I drove the fewer were the houses and driveways. Eventually the road flattened and turned a little muddy. The trees thinned and the area widened and straightened into a long corridor of natural grass and wildflowers. Potholes were now the norm and I dodged and bumped through them for another hundred yards on the straight road before I saw an old metal cattle gate, originally green but now brown from all the color rusted off. This was it. I'd reached my new home.
I parked the car a foot in front of the gate, got out and went over to the heavy lock on one side. With my trusty key the lock was vanquished and I opened the gate, or tried to. The gate swung out towards my car. I sighed, closed the gate, backed my car up, and tried it again. The gate swung out and my way was opened. I opted to lock the lock to the gate and leave the gate open. There wasn't another driveway within two miles and nobody knew I was there.
I walked back to my car and at the door I heard a snap. I froze and my eyes flitted about the area. Nothing came to sight, but plenty of images came to mind. Lots of possibilities of bears, cougars, and maybe even an escape circus lion. I listened for another terrifying crack of a branch, but there was nothing but the sound of-wait, there wasn't even the sound of birds chirping. The area was completely devoid of the beautiful songs of birds and the scampering of squirrels. It was almost as though the gate was a vortex into a lifeless patch of the world.
I had entered the Twilight Zone.
Then I remembered I was just plain old me in a plain old place, and plain old me needed to stop her stupid thoughts and get going before the sun set. There was about two hours left, give or take a tree or mountain top getting in the way of the last rays of light. I hopped into my car and bumped my way down the two ruts that made up the road. The trees crept closer again, and on either side of me was lush vegetation that grew from the marshy ground. Come spring mosquitoes were going to be a problem.
I drove fifty more yards and the road turned to the right. The way opened to a small, familiar meadow, and in front of me stood my own little, one-story cabin-house. The roughly-hewn clapboard siding was darkened with age, and the building had a single peaked roof made with metal sheeting. The foundation was made of cinder blocks, but there was new evidence of concrete to shore up the most cracked of the blocks. There was a small, covered porch with a railing that was reached from the front by five stairs. The front door was a sturdy piece of fir, and a pair of large, rectangular windows sat on either side of it and looked out on the road.
The road made a loop in front of the house and returned back the way it came. I parked the car and stepped out. It was much the same as I remembered, minus a few chips in the siding and the strained foundation. I glanced behind me at the spot opposite the cabin across the turnaround and saw Froggy Pond. It was a small pond three feet deep at its deepest and with a gurgling spring on its right bank that fed it year-around. On the left the gurgling spring left the pond and resumed its journey down the mountain. The constant flow meant the water was clean, and I looked forward to swimming in it.
I chill autumn wind swept past me and reminded me now wasn't the time for a bathing suit and tanning sun. There was also the eerie silence of the woods, and I hadn't seen any birds or tree-climbing rodents on my way down the driveway. I grabbed a box of food and hurried up to the cabin. The door was locked, but not for long. I swung open the portal and peeked inside. The front of the cabin-house was the living room on the left and the dining room and kitchen in front and on the right. There was also a large fireplace in the living room on the left wall, and a stone mantel over that. The far back of the house was closed off for the bedroom and bathroom. The floor was made of unfinished wood, the windows were single-pane, and one look at the ceiling told me there'd been some water damage in the near-past.
I noticed two switches beside me, touched my finger to one of them, and prayed. My finger flipped the switch and the dingy bulb on the porch lit up. Wrong switch. I tried the other and it flicked on the living room light. The decor of the house was second-hand furniture with early-pre-century hunting memorabilia on the wall. Bear and cougar heads glared back at me, and the deer looked frightened. I stuck my tongue at them, marched into the kitchen and plopped down the box. One down, a half dozen to go.
