Mark Lukens: Ancient Enemy

“Stella.”

“Okay, Stella. Don’t worry about anything. Nothing’s going to happen as long as you stay cool. We just need to get to the state line, find another vehicle. Then you can have your truck back and be on your way.”

Stella nodded. But she didn’t believe a word Frank was saying. She turned back around without a word.

“Aw hell,” Cole said as he glanced down at the instrument panel.

Everyone in back leaned forward. “What is it?” Frank asked.

Cole shook his head in disbelief. “The engine’s overheating.”

CHAPTER SIX

Everyone in the truck leaned forward – except David, who still seemed to be in his own world.

Frank gripped the back of the driver’s seat as he leaned his head forward. “What the fuck are you talking about, Cole?”

“The engine’s overheating. She must’ve punctured the radiator when she ran this truck off the road.”

“Yeah, to avoid hitting you,” Stella muttered.

Cole ignored Stella’s comment as he glanced down at the temperature gauge; the needle was already climbing into the red. He glanced out the windshield and he could see steam drifting up from under the hood, blending in with the swirling snow. “We need to find somewhere to stop or this motor’s going to seize up.”

Trevor leaned forward even more and pointed at the windshield. “Look. I think I see a mailbox.”

Cole drove on for a few more seconds and he could see a mailbox on the side of the road materializing out of the snowstorm. He eased down on the brake pedal, slowing the large SUV down to make the turn. They turned at the mailbox onto a narrow drive that was cut through the dense trees. The truck bumped along the rutted trail as tree branches scraped along the windows and sides of the truck.

Everyone was tense and quiet as Cole navigated the twists and turns of the driveway that seemed to be going on forever through these trees.

“How long is this driveway?” Jose asked from the back.

“If this is even a driveway,” Trevor muttered.

Cole kept glancing down at the temperature gauge; it was in the red now. The steam poured out of the front of the truck like a ghostly mist rushing at the windshield. They weren’t going to make it much farther, Cole thought to himself, but he didn’t want to say the words aloud.

After one more bend in the drive, the trees gave way to a large open field, acres of cleared land in the middle of the never-ending forest. And only a few hundred yards away was a log cabin.

Cole smiled as he drove across the field of snow (which he hoped was still a driveway) to the front of the cabin, he turned the truck so that the headlights shined on the dark cabin thirty yards away, and then he shut the motor off. Everything was quiet now except for the howling wind of the storm. Steam drifted up in a cloud in front of the truck for a few seconds, obscuring their view of the cabin, but then the wind blew the steam away and they could see the cabin in the glow of the headlights.

The cabin was dark, no lights on inside, no smoke drifting up from the chimney. To the right of the cabin was a large, free-standing garage with a pickup truck parked in front of it. The pickup truck sat under a blanket of snow – it looked like the truck hadn’t moved in a while.

“I don’t believe this. It’s fucking freezing out here and the engine’s overheating,” Jose said, and again he poked his head in between Trevor and Needles.

“Ironic, isn’t it?” Trevor smiled at Jose.

“Whatever you say, man,”

Cole stared at the cabin in the glow of the headlights; he watched the curtains in the two windows underneath the roof of the front porch which ran the length of the front of the cabin, there was no movement of the curtains, no one peeking out from the dark rooms of the cabin. His eyes flicked to the door. It remained shut.

“Can this truck be fixed?” Frank asked Cole.

“Maybe. If we’re lucky it’s just a hole in one of the hoses.”

They sat in silence for another moment, all of them staring at the dark cabin.

“Maybe no one’s home,” Trevor finally said.

“Only one way to find out,” Frank said and opened his door into the howling wind. He got out and ran through the snowstorm to the front porch of the cabin. Jose and Trevor didn’t waste any time, they followed Frank out into the storm – Jose had to crawl over the backseat to get out.

David opened the door, ready to get out. Stella touched his arm gently. They locked eyes for a moment, but David turned away and got out of the truck. Stella grabbed her purse, she was about to follow David, but Cole grabbed her arm. She turned and stared at Cole.

“We’re going to knock on the door,” Cole told her. “Don’t try anything stupid. Okay?”

Stella just nodded, and then she ripped her arm out of Cole’s grasp; she got out of the truck and hurried after David.

Cole looked back at Needles who still waited in the backseat, staring at the cabin in horror.

“You coming?” Cole asked Needles.

Even though Needles seemed afraid of this place, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. “This place,” he whispered. “Something’s wrong here. Really, really wrong.”

“Needles!” Cole barked, and Needles finally tore his eyes away from the cabin and looked at him. “Needles, you better get your shit together. You hear me? You’re the reason we’re here in the middle of fucking nowhere instead of at the warehouse splitting the money up.”

“But Cole, you don’t understand – ”

“Just get it together.”

Cole got out of the truck without another word to Needles.

Cole and Needles met up with the others on the front porch. Frank stood in front of the solid wood front door, he had already slipped one of his gloves off, and he pounded on the door with his fist.

They waited. No answer at the door.

Trevor watched the window to the left of the door – no movement of the curtains inside, no lights turning on inside.

Frank pounded on the door again.

Trevor walked to the window and cupped his hands beside his face and peered in through the glass.

“See anything?” Cole asked.

“Naw,” Trevor answered. “Too dark.” Trevor tried to open the window, he lifted up, but it wouldn’t budge.

Frank tried the door handle. He jiggled it, but it was locked. He looked at Trevor. “Go around back and check it out.”

Trevor hurried across the front porch and hopped the railing with one quick movement; he landed down in the snow, turned the corner and disappeared around the side of the house.

Trevor hurried down the side of the house, his boots sinking into the snow that reached up to his knees in some places. He reached the corner of the cabin and peeked around to the back of the cabin. Nothing much back here: a small stack of firewood against the back wall of the cabin; a wheelbarrow overturned and buried under snow; a small wood building that looked like it housed a water pump or well. Trevor shielded his eyes as best he could from the stinging snow and walked towards the back door of the cabin set in the wall of logs.

He climbed the steps up to the door and tried the door handle. Locked.

He turned and looked out at the field that stretched out from the back of the cabin. The field in the back of the cabin was at least three times the size of the field in the front. He was about to head back to the front of the cabin when he thought he caught some kind of movement out of the corner of his eye in the field. He looked back out at the field, at the line of trees just barely visible in the distance through the snowstorm.

Nothing there. No one moving. No animal moving.

Again, he was about to go back to the front of the cabin, but then he heard a clicking noise from the back door; the noise was audible even over the howling wind. He looked at the back door as it slowly creaked open.