Cabin Fever

            by Adrian Roland-Holst

 

“Go! Go all the way! Touch doww…” He threw his controller in anger as his miniature animated Randy Moss was tackled from the side and squashed by a horde of large sweaty men.

It was a Sunday. Tom had spent his weekend, shooting terrorists, racing fast cars and making very tricky football plays. Piles of dirty plates and hard, stale pizza had accumulated in the dark, musty basement that had become his home.

Tom slowly emerged from the stairway, his bloodshot eyes intently focused on the freshly baked apple crisp simmering on the table. “Thomas, please bring up the dirty plates.” The faded note had been there for a week. He grabbed a spoon and dug into the crisp. It was pear. He dropped the spoon in the crisp and headed for the refrigerator. Hot Pockets and frozen vegetables. His arm drooped down and snatched a Hot Pocket.

Tom sat in the living room and nibbled on his lukewarm Hot Pocket.

“Wada you want?”

Calvin sniffed Tom’s knee and gave him a disapproving look.

“Mom already walked you; don’t gimme that.” Tom took another bite of his Hot Pocket and tossed it to Calvin. He didn’t touch it.

“What’s goin’ on out there?” Tom’s still bloodshot eyes stared dully out the living room window. Everything was silent. There was only one window in the living room, but it was big and on most days it would let in a lot of light. A cold haze had crept over the Bay Area signifying the beginning of winter.

Tom was lonely. He had been lonely ever since he left high school. His mother, an only parent of three boys, had no way to pay his tuition. Tom was hired by a small pastry shop a few blocks from his house. After a few short months he was fired and, deciding he was not ready to be independent, he left his small square apartment and moved back with his mom.

“Ey!” Tom pulled his leg back in surprise. Their other dog, Jasper, had snuck up and was now devouring the remainder of the Hot Pocket.

“At least someone likes it.” He snorted as he stroked the dogs head.

“Thomas!”

“What mom?”

“Can you help me with the groceries?”

“Yeah in a minute.”

Thomas lay back on the couch and ran his hands through his hair. He didn’t want to help with the groceries. He was twenty-two and his life was already over. His friends where off in college partying and he was... he was… doing nothing. He didn’t want to admit it, but it was the truth. He slumped into the kitchen.

“Oh!” His mother looked surprised to see him.

“What have you been up to?”

“Working.” Hopefully, this would please and silence his mother.

“Oh that’s great, honey.”

It might have been great if it were true. Either way, his mother didn’t know, and Tom didn’t care.

“Hey Thomas, I’m having some friends over a little later, now would you like to go to a movie or see some friends?”

“Yeah I’ll figure something out,” Tom sighed. He knew what was going on, it had happened every few months for the past year. His mother was lonely too. A group of strangers would come to his house every few months. It was a hippie thing supposedly. It made him sick.

“Yeah I’ll be gone. I may go and check up on the cabin.”

“That’s a great idea dear! I’ll make you some food for the trip.”

The car was packed quickly. The once silver Volvo Station wagon groaned as two dogs, some pies, a sleeping bag, and a fairly large glass bong where dumped into the back. The car dropped another few inches as Tom entered the driver’s seat and after a few minutes the car rumbled to life. An old scratched Bob Marley CD kept Tom content on the boring two hour drive. He made one stop, but the stale McDonalds French fries did not satisfy him so he tossed them back at the sleeping dogs.

Around and around the dusty gravel road he drove until finally he reached the old wooden cabin his father had built years before he was born. Jasper and Calvin leapt over Tom’s lap as he opened the car door, chasing each other frantically around the overgrown front yard.

Tom carried his belongings through the straw colored grass which now reached to his waist. The house looked nothing like what he remembered from his youth. Tom and his brothers would run from the wooden porch all the way down to the river. When he was younger, Robert, Tom’s older brother would hoist Tom onto his shoulders and run down the gravel path to the swimming hole. There was one large rock. The three boys would climb to the very top of the rock and then one by one dive into the clear, refreshing Yuba River. He was always the last to jump.

There was as sudden yelp as Jasper pounced and dragged Calvin down by his ear. “Hey! Cut that out you two.” Jasper took no heed of this but merely continued his attack.

After a few minutes Tom had managed to find the rusty old hideaway key and pushed his way through the doorway. The house smelled of soot and dead insects, both of which covered the floor. As he scanned the house, he noticed not only was it littered with dead bugs but small rodents had managed to find their way in as well. Other than that, the house was fairly intact, which was surprising considering he could barely remember his last visit to the cabin.

He wandered into his room and dumped his things on the moth eaten bed that was once his. What once seemed to be his pillows had been turned into large abandoned mouse apartment blocks. The refrigerator gave off a horrid smell but was, of course, empty except for a few very old cans of refried beans.

The power was out and it was beginning to get dark. After a long and somewhat painful search Tom managed to salvage a pair of broken beeswax candles from underneath the couch.

Tom placed the candles by his bed and began to rummage through his things. He pulled out the long bong and one of the pies his mother had made him. He placed the bong between his legs and lit the small tightly packed bowl. As he slowly sucked in the thick white smoke Calvin wandered into the room and sat at his feet. As Calvin slowly turned his head to the side Tom was almost sure it was sadness he saw in the dog’s eyes, or was it pity? He placed the still smoking bong on the bedside table and began to unwrap the pie. He ripped off a hunk and slowly ate it in silence as he stared blankly out at the dark forest. A sudden bark broke the silence and made Tom jump and nearly knock over one of the precariously placed candles next to him. Calvin was now on all fours peering timidly through the doorway into the living room.

Nervous and unsure of what to do, Tom grabbed a nearby clothes hanger and crept slowly into the moonlit living room. Another bark and Tom almost screamed, dropping quickly to the floor. It had defiantly come from the old coat closet near the front entrance. Creeping up to the closet he saw that the front door had swung open. Slowly he inched open the closet door and suddenly out sprung Jasper, trailed by a bag full of dog kibbles. It seemed as if he had trapped himself in the closet after finding the stale, maggot infested dog food.

“You almost gave me a heart attack,” Tom said as Jasper continued to devour the kibble.

Morning came followed by a wave of thick mist which covered the valley for miles. Seeing no reason to stay around the house Tom threw on his shorts and a pair of tattered hiking boots.

Calvin and Jasper bounded through what were now woods while Tom followed behind trying to locate the path. Many years ago his father had plowed a path stretching through the forest down to the river, but that was now overgrown by thick Madrone and Oak. Leaves crunched loudly in the otherwise silent forest. The dogs were far ahead of him now and Tom was beginning to get the feeling he was lost.

Deeper and deeper he went and his pace quickened until he found himself running, calling the dogs names. Soon Tom was out of breath and was forced to sit down beneath a giant Oak tree. A few more feeble calls and the forest was silent again as Tom fell into a deep sleep. He lay in a state of unconsciousness which he had never experienced before. Blurred thoughts and dark images raced through his mind as he lay motionless in the damp moss. He wanted it to stop. Animals around him took no interest in Tom as he now writhed and twitched on the ground unable to wake from his horrible dream. And suddenly he was up. He rose quickly and noiselessly as if hit by a sudden realization and began to run swiftly through the dark trees. His mind was blank. His body had now taken control triggered by one single image. As he ran deeper into the pitch black woods he began to hear Calvin’s faint bark.

A sudden flash of matted fur and Tom was thrown to the ground. Confusion and fear brought him back to Earth and paralyzed him as he lay in the damp leaves. He tried to move his legs but they had locked along with the rest of his body. As Tom scanned to see the cause of his distress he noticed a small brown lump of fur not twenty feet from where he lay. An icy shiver ran down his spine as he looked closer to see that it was Jasper lying in what appeared to be a pool of blood. Looking down at his hands he realized they were also covered in thick crimson blood. He screamed but made no sound, he was beyond fear at this point he felt weightless and invisible. This could not be true. Dark figures darted around him blocking out the last specks of light until he was engulfed in darkness.

Tom blinked and slowly opened his eyes. It was still dark in his small square room except for the full moon which cast shadows in through the single window. A pair of fluorescent eyes met his as he turned towards the doorway. Calvin was sitting, motionless in the corner no longer barking but gazing fearfully into Tom’s eyes. They watched each other until Tom began to come to his senses. He tasted blood and spat violently on the ground beside his bed. He looked down to see his bong had shattered on the floor. Reaching down to grab a fragment of glass he noticed it was stained with blood. Opening his palms to the moonlight he noticed they too were covered in the same crimson blood. Looking from the blood to Calvin a sudden realization slapped Tom across the face and he shakily rose to his feet. Nervously Tom made his way to the door glancing back at Calvin as if to say goodbye. As he turned the handle the door suddenly burst open and the room was flooded with blinding light. Shielding his eyes, Tom slowly stepped forward and up the creaky wooden stairs. He turned back but Calvin was gone. As he reached the top of the stairs his nostrils were filled with the familiar sent of freshly baked pies.

“Tom honey, where have you been?”