Waiting Game

The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was citronelle and lemongrass scented. Maura wasn’t sure she knew what those words meant, but it had been the most expensive candle in the shop, and without a sense of smell, she tended to go off price tag. Besides, she knew that Emilia would recognize the packaging when she came in. She wanted Emilia to know that she had money now, and more than that, that she was willing to spend it on her.

Aside from the layers of dust, the cabin looked just as Maura remembered it. The two camp beds were still pushed together in the centre of the room, with upended wooden apple crates standing on either side as makeshift bedside tables. Tin cups were stacked neatly inside the open shelves, next to the plastic plates that she had picked up at Dollarstore. The door to the outhouse was even still covered with that hideous, ladybird printed cloth that Emilia had bought at a farmer’s market near Ferney, now green and curling at the edges. Maura considered replacing it with one of the silk sheets that she had bought for the bed, but she did not want Emilia to feel like she was judging her purchase. So instead, she decided to give it a good scrub with soap and hot water.

Maura fiddled with the stove, tugging at the rusty knobs until she saw the red light that indicated the gas was on, then set a pan full of water on the hob. She glanced at the clock; half an hour until Emilia was set to arrive. It wouldn’t be enough time to clean the whole place, but if she worked fast then at the very least Emilia would be able to tell that she had made an effort. So she while waited for the water to heat up, she set about cleaning the rest of the place, mopping the floors and laying the fresh sheets over the creaking bed springs.

Emilia had always teased her about her obsession with tidying up. On her very first day as a Ranger, when she had first been assigned this cabin, she had spent hours and hours scrubbing the place, even cleaning the dirt out from between the floorboards with a spare toothbrush. Emilia had sat back on the camp beds, watching her and eating an apple.

“They’re not going to give you extra points for a clean cabin. This isn’t Girl Scouts.” Maura had sat back on her heels and glowered.

“I know, but it’s not going to hurt either. Besides, I don’t want to give them one more reason to look down on me.”

“If they come and see you on your hands and knees like a housekeeper, I don’t think that’s going to help anything.” Maura had ignored her, in large part because she knew Emilia was right. But the cabin was the first home she had ever been given, and she was determined to take good care of it. After several days of hard work, even Emilia had admitted that it had made a difference. She came up behind Maura and slipped her arms around her.

“It’s lovely,” she whispered in her ears. “You’ve made it really homey.” Maura beamed, and flushed red. It wasn’t until afterwards that she regretted putting in all the work. Making it somewhere that felt like hers had made it all the worse when it was taken away.

___

Maura was wiping down the kitchen counters when she heard the first noise. It sounded like the snapping of branches -not the high-pitched sound of breaking twigs or leaves, but the deep, heavy crack of tree boughs breaking off. She froze. She had lived at the cabin for many years and had never heard a noise like that. She made her way over to the window and pulled back the curtain. Outside, the forest was pitch black and still. Maura was just about to close the curtain, when she noticed the two dark gleaming eyes. A figure crouched by a tree, at the edge of the forest. It wore a wide brimmed hat that didn’t quite cover its glittering pupils, and held a pistol clutched in its hand. The barrel was trained on the house. Maura froze. She tried to call out, but the sound got stuck in her throat. She tried again.

“Hey,” she shouted. “Who the fuck are you?” The figure’s whole body shook. It let out a low, piercing whistle, then turned and disappeared into the forest.

“Hey,” Maura shouted again. “Hey! Come back here.” But the figure was already gone.

Heart pounding, Maura let the curtain fall closed. She made her way over to the front door, shakily checking the locks. Then she sat back onto the floor and groped in her pocket for her phone. She imagined Emilia walking up the path to the cabin, earbuds in, not noticing as a shadowy man stepped out from behind a tree. She needed to warn Emilia, tell her not to come. But when she pulled out her phone, the screen was black. She mashed the power button desperately, but the screen stayed blank. Maura bit back the urge to scream. For a minute, she considered going out into the forest, trying to find Emilia before the man did. But the man knew where she was, knew where the front door was. For all she knew, he was out there waiting right now.

As if on queue, Maura heard the sound of branches breaking again. This time, it was closer. She slid herself along the floor until her back was against the kitchen counter. Then, she reached above her head, and pulled open the cutlery draw. She felt around until her fingers closed around the sharp blade of the paring knife. As she pulled it out and towards her, there came another snapping sound. Her fist clenched reflectively around the knife, and she felt a sharp stab of pain as the cold steel sliced into her palm. A thin line of blood dripped down from her hand onto the wooden floor. Maura stared at it forlornly. She had spent so much time trying to make it perfect. A third crack from outside startled Maura out of her thoughts. She pushed herself to her feet and pulled the curtain back.

The figure was standing closer, not ten feet from the cabin. Away from the gloom of the forest edge, she could see for certain that it was a man. He still held the pistol in one hand. In the other, was the axe. His skin was pale, and that he was smiling. His gums were wet and red. As Maura watched, he licked his lips, then let out the same low, long whistle.

“Welcome back honey,” he said. “Didn’t think I’d see you round these parts again.” Maura felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

“Bill?” she whispered.

___

Bill and Maura had never gotten along, not from the very first day of Ranger training. He was an old farm hand, the type that would chew tobacco in class and made a point of waiting till he was right next to Maura to burp. She had known right away that he wasn’t happy with the idea of a female Ranger. He had spent the first week of training staring at her from across the room. Then, on the second Monday, as they were learning about the flora native to northern California, he had interrupted the instructor.

“There’s something not right about this one,” he had declared, gesturing towards Maura. Maura felt herself flush. She waited for one of her classmates to say something, but aside from a snigger or two they stayed silent.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked eventually. Bill spat his mouthful of tobacco onto the forest floor.

“There’s something not right about you,” he repeated. “No self-respecting lady would be wanting to be out here alone in these woods when she could be in a nice house with a nice man. What you trying to hide?”

“I could ask you the same question, Bill,” Maura replied, trying and failing to keep her tone light. “I think there’s something funny about all of us wanting to spend all our time out here.” Bill smirked and shook his head.

“Naw,” he responded. “It’s natural for me and the boys here to want our space. But there’s something unnatural about you. I don’t like it one bit.”

___

Now, Bill stood in front of her, staring at her from underneath the brim of what she now realized was his Ranger’s hat. As she watched, he lifted the head of the axe to his mouth and ran his tongue along the blade. His mouth looked like an open wound.

“Bill,” Maura repeated. Her fear had given way to white hot anger in the pit of her belly. “Bill. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you need to get out of here now, or I’m going to call the cops.” Bill smirked.

“With what service? You been away too long.” Maura said nothing.

“Naw,” Bill continued. “Tonight, it’s just you and me. We’re going to have some fun.” He raised the pistol and pointed it straight at the window. Maura threw herself to the ground. She flung her hands over her head and waited for the sound of gunfire and breaking glass. But it didn’t come. She listened for the snapping, any kind of indication that he was getting closer. Again, all she heard was silence. Slowly, Maura staggered to her feet. Wiping her still-bleeding hand on the edge of the stove, she crept towards the window. She took a deep breath and pulled back the fabric. Bill was standing with his face pressed up against the glass. His black eyes gleamed, and he grinned at her manically.

Maura screamed. She staggered backwards, dropping the knife and knocking the pan of water off the hob as she did so. The icy cold water soaked through her clothes, but she barely felt it.

“Get away,” she screamed. “Get the fuck away.” Bill laughed.

“You sound just like last time,” he said.

Bile rose in Maura’s mouth. She could still see it; a few weeks after her first Ranger posting, she and Emilia had been curled up under the duvet during a thunderstorm. Emilia was kissing her face, her mouth, and her forehead, and Maura was giggling into the kisses as the rough linen sheets scratched at her back. Maura had heard tapping on the walls of the cabin, but ignored them, assuming that it was the patter of rain or tree branches against the side of the house. But suddenly, she saw Emilia’s eyes go wide, and felt her girlfriend push her back. She swiveled round, and saw Bill’s face pressed to the window, features distorted by a mawkish, triumphant grin. She had screamed at him to get away, to leave, and he had. But he had seen enough -enough to report to the Rangers that she was violating their policies on homosexuality. Enough to have her fired and turfed out of the little cabin that she had spent so long turning into a home. Enough to break her and Emilia up, as the shame and blame for the loss of Maura’s dream job became too much to bear. And enough that many years later, when Maura saw that same little cabin appear on a local property listing website, on sale in a desperate bid to raise a little bit of extra cash, she had told the Rangers that she would pay double, on the condition that Bill was fired immediately.

Now, Bill stood at the window again, gently tapping the blade against the glass.

“Come on then, beautiful,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Open the door. Would be a shame to have to smash the windows.”

Maura looked around desperately for the knife. When she looked up at the window again, Bill was gone. Suddenly, she heard a creaking from behind her. She froze. It was coming from the outhouse door. She had forgotten to lock it. Maura lunged for the cutlery drawer, searching desperately for another knife. She grabbed a meat cleaver as she heard the hinges creak and watched the sheet ripple backwards. As a figure formed under the cloth, she threw the meat cleaver, as hard as she could. It buried itself in the person's midsection. Maura laughed triumphantly. She strode forward, and ripped the curtain aside.

Emilia lay on the floor, holding her stomach. She looked up at Maura, a look of confusion and horror on her face. Blood pooled around her.

"Maura?" she whispered. Maura stared back, uncomprehendingly. Her vision is blurring.

"Maura," Emilia repeated. "There's gas. This whole place is full of gas." Maura turned back to the stove. The red light still glowed, but there was no fire on the burner. She turned desperately back to Emilia.

"But Bill was here. I saw him." Emilia was shaking her head weakly.

"There's no Bill. There's gas. You're not thinking straight." Maura felt a sick horror fill her stomach.

"There's a candle," she whispered. This time, both her and Emilia turned back towards the stove. They watched as the flame grew bigger and bigger. For a moment, Maura felt a strange, burning heat. Then nothing at all