Friday, July 14, 2017

Free Serial Read - The Cabin Part Seven

 
Three men pushed into the cabin. No time to think or react, just a blur of orange jumpsuits, strong arms, and tattoos. The man in the middle was the first to speak, his voice thick and gruff. “Handle her.” The man to his left, red haired with a sculpted goatee gripped her arm and hauled her down the hallway to the bedroom. Shoving her inside, she tripped falling against the bed.  Chele attempted to protest in her recovery but heard the door shut and lock. Officially handled.

It had been almost an hour, Chele tried the windows, looking for an escape, but found ancient rusted latches and sealed wood.  Effective for insulation not great for an escape. She searched for anything to use as a weapon and found an old set of golf clubs in the closet. Activity on the other side of the door remained quiet and her visitors, thankfully, didn't seem interested or threatened by her presence.
Chewing on her nail Chele debated her options, wondering about options. At this point, she needed to wait for the situation out and hope for the best. 
The door opens inward, so she pushed the dresser in front of the door, hoping to block any access. Grabbing the largest golf club, she took a seat at the foot of the bed and waited. 

Hearing a thud and then a scream, Chele jerked awake realizing she had dozed off. Scurrying to her feet and moving to the door she lifted the golf club over her shoulder ready to swing. Questioning what woke her, she listened closer, waiting for some indication of what was happening. Did she hear a scream? Were they turning on each other?
She heard another thud and then footsteps. The door handle moved, and then she heard the clicking of the lock. Unconsciously holding her breath, Chele jumped back, gripping the club a little tighter.  The door pushed against the dresser and she gasped.
“Let me in, please,” the voice said, deep and rasped.
“No, stay away! What is going on out there?”
“Please, you’re in danger, you have to let me in,” he said, pushing harder against the door, expanding the opening. Chele swung the club at the door, hitting it hard.  “Stop, you don’t understand!”
“No, you don’t understand! There’s no way I’m letting you in this room so just go away!” Chele demanded, aiming the club at the face peering through the opening in the doorway.
“It’s not what you think.”
“You don’t know what I think!”
“I’m so sorry,” Chele’s stomach knotted. The door opening expanded, the dresser scooting like a rug. Chele scurried away in shock, backing herself into the corner.  The man pushed himself into the room. She expected him to lunge straight for her, but instead, he shoved the dresser back in front of the door. He turned, glancing at her but focusing on the bed.
“What are you doing?” Chele asked, her mouth dry. The man immediately grabbed beneath the bed tugging it against the dresser.  Chele then saw long, deep scratches on his arms and back.  “What happened?” Chele asked, lowering her guard.
“I don’t know,” he grumbled, continuing to scan the room, for what she didn’t know.  She took him in. He was on the right when the trio first invaded the cabin. He stood about 6’3, thick dark hair, close cut beard, broad shoulders, a tattoo of thorns on his neck and another on his upper arm.
Something banged heavily against the door, causing them both to jump. Chele wasn’t sure if it was instinct or conscious, but the tattooed prisoner’s arm raised, and his body moved defensively in front of her.
“What is going on?” Chele asked, another bang resounding through the room.  Her companion turned grasping her by the arms. “What are you doing?”
“Listen to me. I need you to trust me,” her new companion said, breathless.
“I would—“
“Look into my eyes,” he said lowering his gaze to level with hers, loosening his grip on her arms. “Look at me. I’m not going to hurt you, and I need you to trust me.” Chele gazed into his deep brown eyes, chocolate and warm. Warmth in her stomach pooled, and she immediately felt herself wanting to lean into him.  “Okay?”
She nodded, and he relaxed.
“We need to get out of here,” he said in distraction while looking around the room. There was another loud bang on the door.
“How?”
“Stand behind me,” he ordered, and she did. He faced the window and picked up the chair behind the desk. Raising the chair back, he hurled it toward the window with no effect. He repeated the effort several more times before finally giving up. He discarded the now broken chair and searched the room again. Another bang shook the room, and the furniture moved. Chele picked up a large silver candle stick from the dresser and thrust it at the window. To her surprise, the window shattered.  Her companion turned in shock, and at the same moment, the air in the room ignited into what felt like heated flames. Picked up off her feet and thrown like ragdolls an airplane losing cabin pressure mid-flight toward the open window. Her prison companion went first swinging himself out, Chele struggled to remain in control her hands instinctively grabbing at the frame before allowing her body to swoop out into the darkness.


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