Closed for Business

The Cabin in the Woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was just bright enough to illuminate the four-paned glass, a decade of dust and filth sticking to the window. It was just bright enough to catch Mr. Canahan’s peripheral, walking his Bichon Frisé, returning from his nightly ritual of frequenting the gas station to buy booze. It was just bright enough to eventually prompt Mrs. Whipple to do something about it, and at 2:07am, flashing blue lights pulsed down the otherwise deserted street.

“PATROL, RESPOND TO 208 STEVENS, ALLEGED TRESPASSING AT PROPERTY.”

A slightly round man stepped out from the driver’s side and leaned partially across the roof, his right foot propped up on the Crown Vic’s side sill. The name MCALISTER was printed on the front of his button-down, his G22 securely holstered at his hip. A second man, thinner, younger, stepped from the passenger side, TREYOR, and angled his head to the side as he stood up to look at the candle. He then focused on the sign above the front door.

“Huh.”

The rounder man focused on his partner, “What is it?”

“What’s with the name?”

The lettering on the sign had seen better days, red faded script flanked on both sides by skinny pine trees. But the building had seen better days too. The Cabin, as it had been affectionately called by locals, was a two-story bar on the middle of Main st. With small darkened windows, the ground floor seemed, at least from outside, undisturbed. The second floor housed the owner’s office and was slanted on the left like a lean-to. It’s frame wrapped entirely in corrugated metal, the wooden front door was the only notable feature, highlighted by a small triangular canopy in case of rain. But it hadn’t rained in Bisbo since Tuesday.

The man chuckled. “I think the old owner wanted to give people the sense of relaxation.” He removed his foot from the patrol car and started to walk to the front door. He turned back to Treyor, who had returned to looking curiously at the candle.

“Hey.”

Treyor shook himself and looked at the man, “Yeah?”

“It’s probably just a kid playing a joke,” McAlister alleged, jerking his head to the window as he got a baton out from his belt. “They like to mess around here sometimes.”

Treyor fiddled with the baton at his hip, freeing it.

“Yeah. Just some kids.”

McAlister turned the door handle and they both entered the bar.

A cloud of dust swept up as the door swung on its hinges. McAlister had already freed his flashlight and was flicking it on. Treyor coughed. The beam from the light was strong enough to illuminate all the way to the far wall of the building. Treyor fumbled to get his flashlight loose, but one beam soon became two.

Treyor choked again on the dust lifting up to meet them, “Man, this place is a mess!”

“Quiet down.” McAlister hushed. “If anyone is still in here, I want to catch them this time.”

Officer Dan McAlister had been called to the Cabin before. Several times. There were always calls of trespassing at the property. Mostly kids like Joshua Reed, a seventeen year old punk who liked to try and break in and look for any alcohol that may have been left by accident. Dan had busted him at least twice. Recently, the calls had all been false alarms. No one had been able to get passed the locks.

It hit him as soon as he thought about it.

“Hold on.” Dan whispered. “Why wasn’t the door locked like all the other times?”

He hadn’t even considered it as he had approached the front. Just opened the door like he knew it would give way to them.

“What lock?” Treyor whispered behind him.

Treyor was new to patrol. A little too new for Dan’s liking. He had worked three years on the force. But it was all behind a desk and he didn’t seem to get the paces as easily as any of the other officers did. They had been partnered together for the past month.

“The one that’s supposed to be on the door.”

Dan started sweeping his light slowly over the whole room. The bar was immediately to the left, running the length of the wall. The old mirror finish to the backdrop still bounced a bit of light off. But the bar top and the shelves were all covered in undisturbed dust. Round tables, three chairs to a group, took over almost every inch of open floor to the right. And the usual darts and shuffle board were in the back. Dan was about to tell Treyor to circle slowly around when there was a small tinkling sound. Both froze with their lights pointing towards the sound. Dan moved silently but quickly towards the back, quite a feat for a man his size, his light trained on where he had heard the sound. When he rounded the bar, he saw an empty glass bottle sideways on the floor. He lightly tapped it with his foot and it gently rolled a bit before stopping.

“Probably an animal” He said under his breath. He turned to see Treyor making his way through the tables, carefully avoiding each chair as he wove. His light would bounce whenever his body changed directions. When he reached him, his eyes asking what he found, Dan absently moved his flashlight over the bottle, already moving to search the other side of the room. Treyor left the bottle on the ground as he followed, now curiously standing upright in the dust.

When they were on the other side of the room, both heard a creaking back towards the bar. It was enough for even Dan to ask, “Police, who’s there?”

There of course, hadn’t been an answer.

They heard the same noise as they were at the back by the shuffle table and dart board. A slight dragging, like wood on wood or tile.

“I think that chair moved,” Treyor was saying, his light aimed on a table to their ten o’clock. There was one that was slightly pushed back from the table. “Maybe the rumors about this place are true?”

Dan couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little. There had long been talk about the Cabin in the Woods being haunted. But Dan couldn’t really see why it would be. Nothing bad had happened while it was open: no deaths, injuries. There hadn’t even been a fight big enough for the cops to be called in the 8 years that the Cabin had operated. The owner, though he wasn’t in the bar business anymore, was still alive. And there was nothing particularly special about the ground it had been built on.

How the rumors had started, he would never know. Maybe that was the courtesy of the neighborhood punks too.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Treyor?”

A sudden banging made both men jump. Dan looked at Treyor and mouthed, “Back door.”

Treyor nodded, and swiftly moved towards the front of the building as Dan moved towards the back. If someone was trying to flee, Treyor would be able to head them off, while still being close enough if Dan needed something. Dan checked the door and motioned for Treyor to go ahead and head out the front to make a circle around the back. Treyor nodded again and left.

There was little that Dan was afraid of. Spiders, heights, the dark, none of these were enough to rattle him, even in the cruelest circumstances. But something about the Cabin was just a bit off putting with no lights. He wished that this call was bogus too, some idiot calling the station to get a mention in the police blotter. Man how he wanted this all to be a waste of time. But then something happened.

The smallest humming, a whisper almost, started to drift around Dan. It couldn’t be Treyor, and there was no way he thought it was a ghost, but it was something. Something melodic. A song. Music was playing from somewhere in the bar, and the tune seemed to lull Dan into a haze as he started to search for it. It didn’t take him long, there seemed to be only one place it could possibly be coming from.

The owner’s office was the only thing that occupied the second level of the cabin. The room was probably no bigger than a one car garage, and housed only a desk, a file cabinet, and a small safe to keep the bars profits when it was closed.

Treyor now found himself at the bottom of the stairs, looking up to a small crack of light peeking from the bottom of the door. He had searched outside, found nothing, and reentered the bar to find Dan gone. He was going to radio backup, he should have radioed, but there was music coming from somewhere and it was, so inviting. He had followed it to the base of the stairs. He had changed his baton for his pistol, not that he thought he would need it, the sweet tunes washing over him, and slowly climbed the steps. The fourth tread from the top creaked under his boot, and the music abruptly stopped.

It was like a spell had been broken and Treyor immediately went into high alert, pointing his pistol at the door. A shadow flickered across the base.

“Police!” Treyor yelled.

The door opened, light flooding the staircase, blinding him.

_________

Police blotters the next day describe patrol responding to a trespassing call at the Cabin in the Woods at 2:07am. On finding the bar still locked, patrol swept the outside of the building before returning to the office.