With Fronds Like These...

I was the first one out of the car when we got to the cabin.

The rest of the guys are here to back me up, basically. Typical frat shi- er, stuff. How a chick’s gotta put out if she’s gonna be in a relationship with me, and being tired or having to study is no excuse. Apparently getting her drunk so she could relax, then doing my thing while she was out cold, is unacceptable to her and her woke friends.

Well, so sorry, you don’t get to ghost me and move out behind my back and leave me to have nasty accusations hanging over my future. Screw that. I’m coming here to hash it out like reasonable adults.

I heard her girlfriends talking hush-hush about coming up here so she could rage it all out in safety. Screw that, I’m not some deformity that you can just cut out of your life. I have rights, you know? And I want to know what the hell I did was so bad that she just vanished from my life.

I wasn’t sure where the place was; she’d always been pretty canny about telling me the location. But one of the frat brothers is some IT genius, and I asked him to find a cabin in such-and-so place, and this is what he pulled up.

She’s right, it is distinctive. Ivy covered every wall. Only the windows and top of the chimney were completely clear, the door and stairs had trailing vines that could be pushed aside for access. There were hooks aside of the doors to collect the vines while you were using the door. Kinda cool, if you like plants. Which she does.

The place was locked.

She was supposed to be here already, with her hens.

One of the guys tried to break the lock, but it was too sturdy to bust. Same with the back door. The vines were swaying a bit longer than I expected, because I couldn’t feel a breeze, but what do I know?

Eventually one of the others muttered “screw it” and busted out one of the windows, and crawled inside. Within moments, we did too.

God, it was full of girl stuff.

Outfits draped over the chairs and sofa. Tubes and packs of makeup spread out over the sofa table. I think that’s a mani-pedi station? Hell, I don’t know. Snacks all over the tiny kitchen table. Fridge stocked with all kinds of good stuff.

Including a few bottles of champagne. I grabbed one, popped the cork, and started chugging.

That set off the others, and before you know it, their whole pile of snacks is gone, wrappers tossed on the floor. One of the guys passed some of our stash of beer through the broken window, and before you know it, one guy’s waxing the legs of another, while Skinny Rat is trying on outfits, trying to walk a straight line in high heels while the others laugh and throw Doritos at him.

I found a few pounds of fresh ground burger in the fridge, and made burgers. At least I got to eat one of them. They scarfed the rest.

I was so buzzed I didn’t realize when the party went outside, but the bonfire we made in the back yard was quite nice. Skinny Rat was still wrapped in one of my girlfriend’s shawls – one that she really liked, she said it was made of cashmere. Cash Smear, if you ask me. He fell asleep in a chair by the fire, with the end of the shawl thing in the fire. Burn, baby, burn.

I did get up to take a whiz at one point, and heard rustling in the ivy around the house. Lizards, I guess, the little anoles. I’d seen them around campus too. My girlfriend talked about them a lot. She’s big on biology and environmentalism. Ugh.

I couldn’t see much in the ember glow. Skinny Rat was gone, but the shawl was very close to the fire. I decided to shove it all in what was left of the coals, and crawl inside the cottage to sleep it off.

By morning, my face was being tickled. I slapped at it, thinking it was one of the guys messing with me, but it was more ivy.

I had a headache.

I was in my girlfriend’s room; I recognized the clothing. And the valise. She always carried Advil…

I took a few, then looked around the room.

Hunh. That’s a lot of ivy. Inside and out. That’s more than a bit weird.

I stumbled downstairs when I heard her laugh. Seems that the girls got back from wherever they went.

Hunh. No girls. I could’ve sworn…

No, just the guys, all snoring on the floor. Except Weasel, he’d gotten to the couch first.

I went to make coffee.

I grabbed the can off the counter, and I swear the fresh aroma make me wake up a little. While the pot brewed, I rummaged for eggs to make breakfast. There were even potatoes to make some hash browns. Funny, I know my girlfriend loathes that stuff.

The smell drew the rest into the kitchen, though this time I managed to smack hands away from my portion, which I took first. I can eat with one hand and flip hash and eggs with the other. Out of habit, I counted noses – and found one missing. “Hey, anyone seen Skinny Rat?”

Negative grunts.

I yelled out the window, pulling the ivy aside. “Hey, Skinny Rat! Where are you? Breakfast!” That always brings him running, no matter how drunk he is.

But no one answered, and no one came clattering down the stairs. Weird.

Weasel tried getting the front door open, but wasn’t having much success, so he and Habanero decided to schlep the rest of our stuff (more cases of beer) inside. They scooted out the window, and I followed.

Our tires were slashed.

Great. Just effing great.

Only one of us carries a knife…

I turned around, and back inside I went. Sure enough, there’s Trey, flipping that giant hunting knife of his. Hung over, feeling it, and he’s still fiddling with that thing like it’s his precious baby.

I decked him.

Trey went flying one way, the knife went flying the other. I grabbed the knife and flung it out the window.

Trey picked his ass and jaw off the floor. “What the hell, dude?”

“So, explain to me why you took out the tires on my SUV? Our only way off this mountain?”

“What? Dude, I was at the fire, I came inside to sleep! I wasn’t that drunk!”

“Then who else? No one else is here! No one else has a knife!”

“Dude, I swear, I didn’t!”

“Well, someone effing call for a repair guy. Or a tow. Maybe we can get someone up here.”

Cell phones were pulled out, and Trey twitched a little. As soon as I turned around, he mutters “Gotta get Louisa back,” and he’s out the window. Dude actually named his knife, like a girlfriend?

Well, he’s doing better with his, than I am with mine.

And I’m getting more pissed. The chores I’m doing, those are hers to do. Guys shouldn’t get stuck doing dishes, and cooking.

I threw down the washrag and went outside looking for Trey.

No sign of him, of course.

I go for more beer, and pass it through the window. The guys are wandering around, dowsing for signal. Nothing. Weasel is trying to plug in his phone, and it seems every outlet is dead.

Yeah, I’m done for a while. I crack a beer, and flop down at the fire for a good long drink.

Hammer come out later, looking sheepish. “Dude, we’ve all tried. The calls aren’t getting through. We might have to walk down to get reception, or at least flag down some help where the road goes by.”

“Shaisa. Well, not today. I need this headache to go away, and that will take time. I have to drink slowly today.” I killed my bottle, and regretfully didn’t reach for another. Maybe just some water. Later.

Hammer glanced around. “Did Skinny Rat show up?”

“What, he’s missing too?”

“What do you mean, ‘too?’”

“Trey’s vanished. So is his knife.”

So we get up, start hollering into the woods.

Nothing.

Fine, whatever. I hope they know I’m not making a second breakfast for them!

I need another beer.

I was well on my way to murdering another six pack when Hammer, Weasel, and Habanero joined me. They were whining about being hungry. I waved them towards the kitchen. “Food’s in there, I’ve done my share. It’s your turn to make something.”

Habanero looked at me. “With what? Fridge is bare. Where’d you get the food from this morning?”

“Stop messing with me, jerkweed. Fridge is full, use something.”

“Dude, it’s empty. Check it yourself.”

I snarled and got up, wobbled to the window. This crap was getting old real fast. They followed.

The place was clean.

Not just the fridge, it looked like it was sanitized. The wrappers were gone, but there was no trash in the trash can. All the makeup was gone, and the clothing. There wasn’t even the little table and chair were the mani-pedi station used to be.

I was impressed. “Great job cleaning up, guys, but where’d you stash everything? And I’m not eating any food that you’ve kept out of the fridge for too long.”

“Dude. We didn’t do this. And we don’t know how you got the stove or coffee maker to work, since the place doesn’t have electricity.”

“It has outlets! I made two meals! Fine, go upstairs and look for some, this is effing ridiculous!”

They kind of stopped. Looked at me. “What upstairs?”

I turned to the wall.

No stairs.

They had been there earlier…

There was no ivy on the walls down here, so the lack of outlets was easy to notice. No lights, or built-in light switches either.

“No bathroom inside,” Weasel whimpered, and scrambled outside to whiz against – something. I wasn’t going to ask.

I turned in a slow circle. “What the hell is going on here? There’s no one here but us, and we were too drunk to pull this crap off. Unless Trey and Skinny Rat are messing with us?”

“Dude. You know Skinny Rat shows for food. No exceptions. If he’s not here whining with the rest of us, he’s gone. Or trapped. Or kidnapped. Or eaten up. Or dying out there, and we should rescue him. Or being chased even further-”

I couldn’t help it, I shook him. “Weasel, come on! What’s wrong with you? There’s no blood! You know Skinny Rat screams like a little girl, and sure we were sleeping, but not that hard! No drag marks! Trey just went outside for his knife, he didn’t yell or anything, and he’s got a knife! Seriously, get your effing act together!”

Hammer was hanging on my arm. “Dude! Get your own act together! You’re shaking him like a rag doll!”

Weasel was whimpering, and I dropped him. Pathetic.

Habanero is usually quiet, but he was curled up on the couch, which seemed rather solid. “I wish the whispers would stop,” he whispered.

“What whispers?”

He jerked his thumb towards the window, where the ivy was scraping over the windows in the breeze. Scree, screee….

“Seriously? That’s just the ivy. It’s swaying in the breeze. It makes noises on the window. What the hell?”

Habanero’s head shot up. “Dude. What breeze? There’s been no wind since we got here. None.”

What?

I went to the window, shoved the vines to the side. Haven’t I been shoving these same effing vines aside the whole day? Why are they getting off the hook?

I stuck my body half outside. Waved my arms around.

No breeze.

But I could still see the vines moving.

Suddenly I was yanked back inside, and all three were white as ghosts.

“What??”

“You didn’t see the bear?”

“There wasn’t any bear! Are you all effing losing your minds??”

“Dude, he was charging right at you!”

“Uh hunh. How the hell could you see a bear, when I was blocking up the window with me? And why isn’t this bear trying to squeeze in after me? It’s not like there’s a window in between the inside and outside.”

“That’s it, I’m done.” Hammer walked over to the window, looked out. No bear in sight. Just like I said. “No chick is worth this kind of screwed-up mental crap. There’s plenty of light. Dude, I don’t give a rat’s ass about your slashed tires. Either you drive us out at first light tomorrow, or we’re walking out. Maybe the police can come back and help look for Trey and Skinny Rat once we tell them, but I’m done. Done!” And the others agreed.

“Fine, cowards. Get some beddy bye, we’ll leave tomorrow.” So much for your pledge brothers having your back. Bunch of pathetic weenies.

I still wouldn’t put it past Trey to do this, and draw them into the joke.

It was a beautiful day. No bears. And at least one sixpack at my seat at the former bonfire, lying there unmolested. Screw it. Screw them.

Out I went.

The more I drank, the more it didn’t make sense. Unless we were all tripping back at the frat house, and this was all a bad hallucination? I’d never been a part of a group hallucination before, and this one seemed to be taking a long time.

The ivy was waving again.

There was no breeze. The trees were still.

I got up, checked my tires. Yep, still slashed. But, come to think of it, not punctured. I’d seen “Louisa” in action enough times to know the holes it made, and this wasn’t close. More like giant claw marks…

On impulse, I tried the key in the ignition. Nothing.

Uh oh.

I opened the hood. Everything was in place.

I checked my phone. No bars. At all.

Shaisa.

There was still a lot of beer. But no food.

I made a decision.

I dragged the rest of the liquid courage over to the window. Weasel was awake, and helped me get it all inside. Hammer was lying on the couch, but got up to help. There was no sign of Habanero.

I told them the bad news. “Look, we’ve gotta hoof it outta here. Drink up, and let’s see if we can stumble ourselves down this crappy mountain.”

“At this time of day? You are nuts, to think we can get anywhere before night falls.”

“First light, then. This is all we’ve got for food.”

Weasel opened a bottle, clinked it with ours. “Nice knowing you, too bad it turned out this way.” He chugged it, then curled up to sleep.

Hammer stared at him worriedly. “He’s not gonna wake up, is he?”

“I don’t know anymore, man. I just… I don’t know.”

We could hear the rustling of the vines. I hadn’t seen any anoles, and was beginning to doubt they ever existed.

“Did you actually sleep upstairs last night? We couldn’t find you, but then there you were, making breakfast. This place is a trap, man.”

I cracked another. “I was in my girlfriend’s room, upstairs. The walls were covered with ivy, and her stuff was in the room. Her traveling case, the Advil I took for my headache. Just like there was food in the fridge. I don’t understand.”

“Habanero said he heard whispers.”

“I thought I heard my girlfriend giggle, that’s what brought me downstairs. But there’s no sign they were ever here. Even the makeup’s gone, the snack wrappers, the can of coffee…”

“We’re screwed, Dude. Really screwed.”

“Probably. Drink up. At least it seems like it didn’t hurt.”

Silence while we drank. I had more thoughts.

“Well, we’ll try to get out. I really don’t want to die up here. Promising career and all that, you know? I just wanted my girlfriend to behave like a proper girlfriend, know her place.”

The rustling had returned.

“You know we came along to… do things? We had plans, you know? Stuff we would do… to them? When we found them?”

“Yeah. So? If it taught them all their place, what of it?”

The rustling got even louder, and Hammer noticed. He was shaking. “Even Weasel… He’s got some twisted ideas in there, just saying. I just… I like ramming it home, but some girls say they don’t like it that way, so I kinda avoid them. I wasn’t thinking. I don’t think we should have come.”

I was hearing whispers. I was hearing giggling. I could hear food cooking, smell a waft of hamburger on the nonexistent breeze. I finished my beer, and opened another. So did Hammer, and we clinked bottles.

“I don’t want to die.”

“There are worse things, I think. Do you know, there’s a plant down in South America? They call it the Sheep Eating Plant. For years, my girlfriend said, everyone thought it was a myth. And then, they found some. It has hooks, and they get caught in the sheep’s wool, like velcro. The more the sheep struggles, the more it’s caught, and it starves. But the plant uses all those nutrients like the richest fertilizer, makes its own mulch. I hope it’s not slow like that, because that would be an awful way to go.”

“I wonder if we’ll even be missed.”

“I don’t know, man, I don’t know.”

We drank, and we waited. It got darker and darker as the sun went down, even with the ivy covering everything. I heard Weasel whimper in his sleep, then nothing.

Later, I heard Hammer gasp, then nothing.

The rustling, and the whispers, and the giggles, got louder...