A Groupon For A Four Night Stay

Martha walked through the snow with red cheeks devoid of feeling, a bruised nose, and a burning sensation deep within her toes. The wind was howling and blasting through the trees, finding its way through every layer of her clothing. Snow continued to fall and sparkle against the sun’s rays — tiny ice crystals layered upon each other, resurfacing every time a strong breeze came around.

Snowflakes landed on the tip of her nose and eyelids. Shallow, fast breaths escaped through her nostrils as her feet struggled to increase their walking pace through the snowy patches. Unsure of which direction to go next, she hoped to find the house or any house before the temperatures dropped further. She wondered if Catherine was doing okay.

The Groupon for a four-night stay at a lake house had arrived by email only two days prior. Offering accommodation for women only, Martha had been intrigued. The inclusion of hunting, firearms training, and self-defense classes, far away from city life, appealed to her. With the memory of the robbery still fresh in her mind, Martha hadn’t thought twice. She needed something that made her feel safe — an opportunity to make friends and bond with other women for a change. More importantly, it was a chance to find herself again. Being robbed had taken a part of her away. She desperately wanted it back.

Martha had packed some sweaters, her favorite pink fuzzy socks, hat, earmuffs, and scarf into a suitcase. Warmth was a top priority as snow was forecast that weekend. Her body had convulsed at the thought of the cold air and snow hitting her skin. Martha enjoyed the winters. But she did not enjoy being outside beyond a few minutes.

It’ll be fun, plus I will come back more experienced, she had decided. The navy-blue box on the top shelf of her closet caught her attention. She wondered whether she should take it with her. The final decision was no. The Groupon stated that all weapons would be provided.

With a large burgundy suitcase in the back seat of her RAV4, air at 60 degrees F, and her Pandora “road trip” music playlist on, Martha’s voice echoed around her van as she belted the lyrics to “Send me on my way” by Rusted Root. The sun was beaming, tricking anyone into believing that it was warmer than 19 degrees. The road was clear. Martha stared into the distance at the asphalt and oak trees that lined the main road for miles. An hour passed. Another three to go.

Finally, the GPS indicated that the lake house was just a mile away. Her hand tapped her thigh in unison to the beat, her toes curled up within her multiple layers of socks. She should have known better than to drink that large cup of coffee at the gas station a few miles back. She stepped on the gas and crossed her fingers, hoping that she’d be there soon.

There was no house on arrival but a small shed. Martha snuck between some trees to relieve herself. She hoped since she was 20 mins early that no one saw her.

Mr. and Mrs. Parker, who would be in charge of their stay at Crystal Lake House, came around the corner to introduce themselves once everyone had arrived. All the women were highly excited and parked their cars near the shed. Mr. Parker drove them to the lake house. It would be a journey of hour-and-a-half. It began on a very uneven patch of snow-covered gravel near a frozen lake that spanned miles. Now and then, an oak tree shaded the van. The trees were tall and seemed to be climbing towards the heavens.

Sherry was a mother of two with thick red curly hair, excited about finally having time for herself. Rhonda didn’t say much but spent most of the time on her phone. She was a petite blonde who wore her hair in a ponytail. Martha immediately connected with Catherine. They were similar in age and both keen for more experience in self-defense techniques. Martha believed they were also the only single ones, although she wasn’t too sure about Rhonda.

New friends or not, at least she’d have something interesting to talk about when it was all over. The thought reminded Martha of something. She took out her phone and tapped out a message to her best friend, Lucinda.

“Just started my journey to the lake house. They said that service might not exist up there. Talk to you in a few days. Love you.”

The sun was setting, making it difficult for them to see anything outside the further they went up the hill. Finally, Martha drifted to sleep, her body tired from the journey and the early morning rise. The sudden stop of the van as they pulled into the driveway woke her from her nap. It had begun to snow, but the fall was light.

"This place is in the middle of nowhere!” exclaimed Sherry, and they all agreed.

There was no paint on the house where the roof and wall met. The stain looked dull, but the roof appeared new. A small chimney and skylight stood out. The front of the house had several large windows. Martha turned around, taking in the view, and imagining seeing it all through those windows when sharing the experience with the other women.

Martha and Catherine claimed the larger vacant room. As they began to unpack and settle in, Mrs. Parker prepared a delicious evening meal. After a warm shower, everyone crawled into bed, excited for day one of their expedition. Mr. Parker wanted everyone up by 5 am the following day.

After consuming a hearty breakfast, the women grabbed their gear and jumped into the van. They drove alongside the lake to an area where they would begin their target practice. It was about an hour’s ride. When they got out of the van, snow-covered slopes greeted them on either side. The lowland on which they stood stretched out for miles towards the horizon. Martha had had some gun experience. But she wasn’t too comfortable with guns. On the other hand, Rhonda seemed like an expert. Given her experience, the other women didn’t understand why she was there or why she was being so distant.

The target practice stations were ready for use. Mr. Parker demonstrated the operation of three different guns, the Sig Sauer P365, S&W shield EZ .380, and Glock 43. Martha owned a Springfield hellcat similar to the Sig P365. She looked forward to testing out the others. When she examined and held each weapon, they all felt comfortable and easy to use. Mr. Parker also mentioned how reliable they each were. Martha began to fumble with the bullets while loading the gun. She steadied her breath while her muscles tensed. Being here was good for her, she reminded herself. She turned around as laughter erupted behind her.

Sherry was swishing her blonde ponytail and playing the fool. Rhonda smirked in a way that might have been friendly.

“Let’s be partners,” said Catherine. “Sherry and Rhonda can be together.”

Mr. Parker’s demonstration concluded with a lesson on gun safety, and he handed each of them a map detailing the target areas.

Martha and Catherine walked to the farthest target, eager to begin shooting. They took turns at target practice at each of the different stations. The plan was to do this for a few hours and then head back to the house for lunch.

But then it began to snow. The fall grew heavier as time went by, and finally, Mr. Parker told everyone that it would be best to get back to the house as visibility was poor. Sherry, Catherine, and Martha agreed and began to pack up.

“It’s just snow,” said Rhonda. Her expression was tense. She looked almost outraged.

Mr. Parker shook his head.

“I’m not going back to the house just yet,” said Rhonda, raising her voice. “I paid my money, and I want my money’s worth.”

Martha raised an eyebrow at Catherine. Martha, assuming Mr. Parker would give in, grabbed Catherine by the elbow. “C’mon,” she said, and the two women set off together towards the farthest target. The last thing Martha heard Mr. Parker say was, “I understand that, ma’am. Trust me, I do. But it’s just not worth it. Not in this type of weather. We can work something out when we get to the house.”

Gunshots pinged the air. Rhonda, it seemed, had brought along a weapon. Martha turned back and saw Mr. Parker stumble with his hand over his bleeding chest. He seemed to be midway between standing and falling when another round hit him in the head. Blood sprayed forth at all angles like water from a faulty faucet as his body fell to the ground. The bag of bullets that he carried over his shoulder fell onto the snow.

Sherry’s mouth was wide open. She was screaming, it seemed, but Martha and Catherine could not make out any words. They both stood motionless in the snow, 400 yards away from the others. Within seconds, a spray of small pellets left Rhonda’s gun as she continued to fire, striking Sherry too. Martha and Catherine eventually dropped down to the snow, afraid of what Rhonda would do next. They lay there until they heard the engine of the van and lifted their heads to see it driving away. It all happened so quickly.

Sherry’s eyes were still open when Martha and Catherine reached her and the body of Mr. Parker. Up close, Martha saw how blood pooled into the snow around her from a gunshot wound between her eyes. There were two teardrops on her face.

“What the — ? What’s going on with Rhonda?” stammered Catherine.

Martha said nothing. Her gaze was steady, and she did not blink as she scanned the surrounding area before looking more closely at the ground where Mr. Parker’s and Sherry’s lifeless bodies lay.

The snowfall continued, and it was the pressure of snowflakes on her eyelids that finally forced Martha to blink. She was crying. Tears froze to her face and hung on like popsicles to her lower chin. She was pulling the straps tightly around the neck of her coat. Catherine said nothing but watched as Martha sauntered, slightly disoriented, to the body of Mr. Parker.

Martha tapped and shook him a few times. Then, after a few tries, she turned around and collapsed. Catherine ran to her, rolled her over and began hitting her several times across the face with a swift tapping movement.

Martha opened her eyes, her gaze darting across Catherine’s face.

“Are you okay?” asked Catherine.

“I can’t believe she killed them,” Martha responded.

“I… I know, hun.” Catherine choked on her words. “The snow is getting heavy. We have to get out of here to find help. We won’t survive out here like this.”

Catherine helped Martha up and they began their journey through the snow. Most of their belongings were either at the house or in the van.

“Do you know where we’re going?” asked Catherine.

“No, I don’t. But hopefully, this way leads us somewhere before nightfall.”

Martha turned around and looked back on the area where they’d left the bodies of Mr. Parker and Sherry. They had each had a family — someone who was expecting them to return. She wanted to say something to Catherine, but the words stuck in the back of her throat. They didn’t deserve to die or have their bodies laid out like slaughtered animals. They were human beings! Who knew if Rhonda would come after them. Martha shook her head forcefully to stop that thought. Not in this weather, surely.

She watched as snow-covered their footprints, burying the last bits of their presence through this land — leaving no trace of where they had walked. She still had no idea which way to go. It was chilly as the wind blew. It felt icy against her face.

They tried to cheer themselves by talking about their favorite moments in the sun and the times they enjoyed the beach. It was an attempt to help their thoughts escape the present and fill their minds with images of warmth and happiness instead.

In the near distance, the path ahead filled up with snow. There were fewer trees here. Less shelter.

Catherine stopped suddenly and sat on a bed of snow. “I don’t think I can make it much further. I feel drained.”

Martha looked away and then down at her hands. She could see where Mr. Parker’s blood had stained her gloves. “Okay,” she said, at last. “We’ll take a break.”

“I’m sorry,” said Catherine, staring at her friend.

“Why?”

“I hit you too hard, I think.”

Martha raised a hand to her face where a bruise was forming across the bridge of her nose. “No, I face-planted, remember? I did that to myself.”

The sun was setting. As the last rays of light disappeared behind a hill, darkness edged across the landscape. It seemed to surround them.

“Hey, I think we should start walking again,” said Martha, and Catherine agreed.

But then, in the darkness, no doubt still feeling the effects of shock, Catherine had slipped, fallen into a depression in the snow where a rock and the rough bole of a tree lay hidden and broke her ankle. The pain, she later told Martha who rushed forward to help her, was shooting up her leg. Catherine squealed as Martha pulled her up and onto to firmer ground.

Even in the dusky light, Martha could tell by the look on Catherine’s face that she was in agony. It was worse than a sprain. The ankle was broken. It wouldn’t work. When Catherine attempted to stand a second time, she wobbled on one leg, trying to balance herself, before slipping back into the snow once more.

“I won’t be able to walk, Martha.”

“Okay, I can help you. You lean on me,” Martha insisted.

They managed in this way for maybe fifty yards.

“No,” said Catherine. “It’s no good. I’m only slowing you down. One of us needs to make it out here to get help. You need to tell them what Rhonda did.”

They moved towards a lonely pine, and there Catherine fell into the snow. She settled her back against the tree, smiled and, with tears in her eyes, said, “Go, I’ll be here waiting. I promise you I won’t be going anywhere — not with this ankle.”

Martha didn’t want to leave her, but she knew it made sense. Catherine was right. They would make little distance together. “I’ll be back to get you soon, okay?” she said.

Catherine nodded, and Martha leaned down to hug her. She left her with her scarf, as it was thicker, and a pair of gloves before setting off on her solo journey.

Snow flurries wafted before her. Martha hoped that her tracks would remain to retrace her steps. Catherine must not die alone in the cold. She stopped, turned, and waved once more to her friend before going on.

Finding help was the only thing on her mind. Her legs were weak, and her heart was racing, but there was no time to stop. No time to admit she was tired. Catherine depended on her. She had to keep walking.

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Thank you for reading. This piece was originally published here.