Cabin in the Woods Ch. 01

A retelling of the absolutely brilliant horror movie ‘Cabin in the Woods’ with an altogether different ending.

Chapter 1 of 2.

Notes: Man. I do NOT like summarizing and mirroring existing works. This was an oddly painful experience to do. Still, I’ve had an idea about rewriting the movie to make it a bit more TF friendly sooooo…

Please note:  There is no sexiness in this chapter, sorry. It’s all build up and prep work for the second half which will have plenty of good stuff in it!

Dana danced around her room, grabbing books and clothes from various places.  The young woman worked quietly, bouncing around to the music, unconcerned at being semi-nude in front of her open windows.  She barely thought of anyone outside that might see her in her panties, assuming that the shirt was enough to hide her nudity.  Her thoughts were a million miles away, focused on the upcoming weekend in the cabin.

Tucking a thick strand of red hair behind her ear, she picked up her sketchbook, turning the pages slowly until she found a sketch of her professor.  Her fingers traced the sketch carefully, mindful of smudging the edges.

“Is that who I think it is,” a voice asked from behind her.  “Dana, seriously, you need to do something about that.  Him.  Whatever.”

“It’s not that simple,” Dana said with a sigh, closing the book and turning to her friend.  “Your hair!”

“Oh, you noticed,” Jules said nonchalantly.

“When?  When you’d color it?”

“Just this morning!  Do you like it?  It’s good, right?  Fabulous?”

“Has Curt seen it, yet?” Dana asked.

“He will-”

“He’ll flip out, Jules,” Dana said.

“Forget about Curt.  He’ll like it or else.  Just… just tell me it looks good, okay?  Yes?”

“It looks great, Jules.  It really fits you.”

“Good.  Now,” Jules said, reaching for the sketchbook.  “Gimme.  We’re going to burn the sketch.  It’ll be a cleansing.  For you.”

“No, no, no,” Dana said, pulling the sketchbook away from her friend.  “No, I’m not ready for that yet.”

“Dana.  Dana, seriously.  The whole situation is fucked up.”

“It’s not.  It’s fine.  It’s not-”

“He fucked you.  Or, well, you fucked him.  Both of you fucked.  And then he broke up with you over email!  Email, for god’s sake!”

“It’s fine,” Dana said, looking away.  “I knew what I was doing and it’s fine.  I’m just- I’m just not ready to talk about it.”

“That,” Jules said, digging through Dana’s closet.  “Is why we’re getting away this weekend!”  The young girl pulled out a dark red bikini, waving it around triumphantly.

“That is not going with us,” Dana said firmly, reaching for the bikini while Jules hid it behind her back.

“Holden will be there, Dana,” Jules said.  “Curt swears Holden’s cute and if my manly mountain man says a guy’s cute then he’s fucking adorable.  The bikini is going with you.  Maybe Holden will take it off of you.  With his teeth.”

“Ugh, Jules,” Dana sighed.  “I’m not ready for that, either.  I can’t even think about that right now.”

Ignoring the other girl, Jules pounced over to Dana’s bag.  “What in- Dana, no.  Bad girl.  Your accounting textbooks?”  She shoved the bikini deep into the bag while taking out the textbooks.

“Hey, leave those!”

“Why?  Give me one good reason I shouldn’t throw these out of the window.”

“Well, what if I get bored?  That and they cost over a hundred dollar each so please don’t trash them.”

“It’s a cabin on the lake, Dana!”  Jules said, raising her voice.  “There’s going to be alcohol and boys and and… textbooks?  No, absolutely not.”

“Dana, Jules,” a deep voice called from the doorway.  “Are you done packing yet?”

“No,” Dana said, staring as Jules put her textbooks back on the shelf.  “Almost, though.”

“Well,” Curt said, stepping into the room.  “Hurry it up.  And, in the meantime, look outside by the car.”

Dana leaned towards her window, staring down into the street.  A young man stood outside in a hoodie, leaning against the trunk of a brown car.  He looked around the neighborhood casually with his hands deep in his pockets.

“Is that Holden?” Dana asked.

“Yes it is,” Curt said, stepping over to Jules to give her a kiss.  “He just transferred.  Sweet guy and the best hands on the team.”

Jules glanced at her friend, a wicked smile forming on her lips.  “Good with his hands, huh?”

Dana rolled her eyes.  “Don’t try to force this.  I’m just going to get away for the weekend and unwind.  That’s it.  That’s all I’m doing.  Nothing else.”  Still, her mind wandered back to the man standing in the street with his buzz cut and strong jaw.

Curt kissed Jules again and ran his fingers through his girlfriend’s hair.  “Blonde looks good on you, babe.”

“You like it?” Jules asked excitedly, her cheeks turning red.

Dana watched the two with a pang of jealousy.  Growing up, her parents had filled her head with stories about young couples marrying out of high school and turning into jaded, angry people.  But, here, watching Jules and Curt together, she thought they were wrong.  The two had started dating in high school and were deeply, madly in love.  Aside from a few arguments, she’d never seen them fight.

“I love it.  Almost as much as I love you,” Curt replied, kissing her again.  “Now get your sweet ass downstairs and finish getting ready!”  The young woman grinned and spun away laughing, her flowery dress swirling with her movement.

“Nobody’s forcing you to do anything, Dana,” Curt said, glancing out of the window.  “Trust me.  I’m sorry how things went with the professor but this’ll be good for you.  Holden’s got a good head on his shoulders and he’s a friend.  Talk to him.  He knows more than how to catch a football.”

“Well, maybe,” Dana said slowly.

“Just,” Curt said, looking her in the eyes.  “Maybe put pants on first.”

“Oh!” Dana said, pulling her shirt down.  “Shit!  Get out! Out!”

—–

Curt and Holden shoved suitcases and bags into the small RV they were using for the weekend getaway.  Dana heard them laughing over something as she took her purse down from the hook by her front door.

“He is cute,” Jules said from Dana’s side.

“Come on,” Dana sighed as the two stepped outside.  “Let’s just drop it.”

“Alright, I’m just saying-  Wait.  Is that-”  An old station wagon slowly drove past, the interior nearly completely obscured by thick white smoke.  “Oh no.”

The car rolled to a stop, smoke billowing out of the crack in the driver’s side window. Jules followed Curt over to it while Dana and Holden stood next to each other, watching.

“Hey man, what the hell!” Curt called out.

A young man, holding a long metal bong, stepped out of the car, swaying gently before leaning back against the door.  Short and skinny with a thin beard, he glanced around at this friends.

“I have been driving around and around and around the block looking for you,” the young man said carefully.  “Everyone drives so weird around here.”

“Marty,” Jules said more calmly.  “Honey, you can’t drive like that.”

“Unless you want to end up in jail for the weekend, bro,” Curt added, his normally open, happy face stern.

Marty looked between Jules and Curt, squinting at both of them.  “The cops will never pull me over.  They fear me.  They see the smoke and they worry that I’ll come after them, working my ancient logic and reasoning on them.  A fierce dragon summoned from the pits of hell to consume them all.”

“What the hell is that thing, even?” Curt asked, pointing at the bong.  “We’re not bringing it.  No fucking way.”

“That,” Marty said, handing a large paper bag to Jules.  He reached into his car to pull a canvas bag before handing it to Curt.  Finally, he took the bong and collapsed it, holding it as if it were a coffee mug.  “Is a coffee mug.”

“Bullshit,” Curt laughed, following Marty and Jules back to his father’s Rambler.

“Dana!” Marty called out, stepping into the RV.  “You little minx, look at you!  Please tell me there’s some food on this thing.”

—–

The old Rambler bounced along the small, one lane road.  Occasionally, the dirt bike attached to the rack at the rear of the vehicle clattered against the bars holding it.  Curt cursed at his phone, shaking it as if the act would fix the loss of a GPS signal.  Jules patted his arm sympathetically.

“GPS systems,” Marty intoned, rolling a joint.  “Are the problem with society.  One of the problems.  We think it’s amazing and useful and we use it every day but, if you stare into the abyss, it stares back at you.”

“To be clear,” Jules asked from the passenger seat.  “The GPS is the abyss in this conversation?”

“Yes,” Marty said.  “One of the abysses.  Abysii?  It’s the grid, all of it.  Traffic cameras and GPS and cellphones and all of it.  We don’t live in a free world any more.  Everybody’s watching everybody else.  Everybody’s listening.  The person at the end of the call.  The government.  Other governments.  We’re blogging and recording and tweeting and liking everything and not leaving room for just being.  And all those nebulous forces are out there gobbling it all up greedily.”

“And so?” Jules prodded with a half-smile.  “Society’s crumbling, Marty?”

“No, no it is not,” Marty answered slowly.  “And that’s the problem.  We’re binding ourselves tighter and tighter and tighter with all of this technology.  Society needs to crumble.  To free us from all of this.”

“This,” Jules said, smiling broadly now.  “This is why I asked you to come with us on the trip.  I’ve missed your rants, you crazy bastard.”

“They aren’t rants,” Marty said enigmatically, holding up a finished joint.  “They’re truths.”

—–

Hadley and Sitterson stood before an enormous vault door.  A scale beneath the concrete weighed them to make sure the cameras, seeing two individual people, read correctly.  Sitterson, a balding man in his early 50s, leaned forward to face a small plate in the wall.  Placing his hands on a separate plate, he gave his full name for the computer.  Deep within the door, metal rods shifted, pulling inward as the door swung open.

“Identification, please,” an armed security guard said from within.  The guard held a slung assault rifle, his finger on the trigger guard.  Both men presented their badges for the guard to scan.  “Thank you, sirs.”

“Not ‘sir’, uhhh-” Hadley said as they walked into the room.

“Truman, sir.”

“Not ‘sir’, Truman,” Hadley said, checking gauges and graphs on the nearby computer.  “This isn’t the military.  Just ‘Hadley’ is fine.”

“I prefer ‘honeysuckle’, personally,” Sitterson said from the corner of the room.  “Or ‘sugar tits’.  Either works for me and will put me right in the mood for-”

“You’re aware of what’s happening, Truman?” Hadley asked.  “Don’t let Sugar Tits get riled up or it’ll ruin my whole night.”

“Yes.  I’ve been prepped.”

“Simulations, I suppose?” Hadley asked, moving around the room.  “Not the same thing, Truman.  At all.”

“I know my duties, Mr. Hadley,” Truman replied.

On the large, center screen facing the control console, a pixelated live satellite image resolved and then zoomed in.  The process repeated until a small RV was shown following a marked road.  White triangles (designating assets in place) followed the RV, including two F-15s and a Boeing E-3 Sentry far above.

“Fantastic.  That’s all we ask.”

 —–

“I’m going to stop here,” Curt said, pulling into a dilapidated gas station.  “Last stop before the cabin and I’d rather top off.  Stretch your legs and all of that.”

“How long has this been here,” Marty asked as he stepped out of the RV.  “We make gasoline from old, dead dinosaurs but I think this was here before they were.  Maybe they milk dinosaurs for gas here.”

Holden stepped between the ancient gas pumps to peer through the clouded windows.  Two small dust devils swirled close to him, dancing together before breaking apart.  Seeing no-one, he stepped inside, carefully walking around shelves filled with old jars of pickled eggs and pickled pig’s feet.  Cans with peeling, faded labels were strewn about.  He stopped to touch some hanging pelts before turning back.

“Hey, Holden!” Curt said from outside.  “You seein’ anyone in there?”

“No,” Holden answered, stepping back outside.

“Can’t come in here,” and old voice said directly behind Holden.

“Jesus Christ!” Holden said, whirling with his hands up.  “Hey, look, man-”

“Sign says it’s closed so we’re closed,” the leathered old man said, following Holden outside.  His upper lip bulged, full of chew and his teeth were stained black and yellow from it.

“We were hoping to get some gas,” Curt said.  “If your pumps work.”

“And to get some directions,” Holden added.

“Tillerman Road,” Jules said, stepping over to Curt.  She hugged his side while eyeing the old man.  “Are we going the right way?”

The man’s eyes tightened but he blinked and walked over to the pumps, unlatching one.

“Yeah,” he said, spitting to the side.  “Continues up the hill there.  To the old Buckner place.”

“My cousin bought it,” Curt said, following the old man as he fueled their RV.  “The house over there.  Said you go through a tunnel and there’s a lake and everything up there.”

“Yup, that’d be it,” the old man nodded.  “Didn’t know it’d been sold again.  Seems like nobody wants to keep a hold on it.”

“Did you know the owners?” Jules asked.

“One a them,” he told her.  “Not the first.  Been here since the war and watched plenty of people come and go from that place.”

“World… War 2?” Jules asked nervously.

“You know damn well what war I’m talking about, girl.”

Marty stepped from the side of the RV.  “I’m guessing the other one.  The blue and gray.  Brother against brother.  North against-”

“You got a mouth on you, boy,” the old man said.  His face was hard and red and his fists were clenched at his sides.

“Only if I think someone needs it.  You were being rude to-”

“Hmph,” the old man spat, looking Jules up and down.  “To that whore?”

Curt’s jaw tightened.  “What the hell did you just say?”

“I said-” the old man started.

“I think,” Holden said, stepping between the two men.  “We got enough gas.”

“To get you there,” the old man said, eyes flicking to the bottom of the RV. A single drop of gasoline fell to the ground and another followed seconds after.  “After that…”

Curt’s eyes never left the old man’s face.  He dug into his pocket, pulled out a few dollars and dropped them to the ground.  Holden put the pump away while everyone piled back into the RV.

The old man grinned as the Rambler sped off.  The smile never touched his hard, cold eyes.

—–

The rest of the trip passed quietly with the group lost in thought.  The old man had been unsettling, putting a damper on everyone’s spirit as they made their way through the tunnel in the mountain.  Overhead lights flickered as they passed.  Midway through the tunnel, someone on the other side of the mountain (watching the RV’s progress via hidden cameras) flipped a switch and a low hum filled the dark corridor.

Nearly a mile from the tunnel, the vehicle turned a corner and the cabin came into view.  Surrounded by a thick forest with leaves everywhere, the small cabin seemed barely more than shack hidden away.

“Is- is that it?” Jules asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Curt said.  “Looked a little different in the pictures.”

“Oh.  Oh, no,” Jules said.  “It’s, uhh, beautiful.  I’m sure the spider horde is very happy with it.  I’ll be in the Rambler tonight.”

Curt parked the RV and looked over at his girlfriend.  “You’ll be fine, babe.  Come on, let’s get everything inside.”

“Do you think the spiders spared us a room or two?” Jules asked as they grabbed their bags.

Dana clutched her bag and approached the cabin carefully.  With daylight out, she expected more noise.  Birds singing and… something.  She had never been camping before.  Not in a tent or a cabin.  But, didn’t everyone say nature was loud?  The silence was nearly overbearing.  An absence of sound rather than simply animals being quiet for the evening.

Steps lead up to a large, covered porch.  Dana took the steps and reached carefully for the front door, feeling foolish for not just going in.  She pushed the door and it opened, revealing a quaint little living room.  Dropping her bag on the old couch, she explored a bit, walking into the kitchen.  It seemed bigger inside than out and not nearly as terrible as she feared.

Curt, Jules and Holden stepped inside after her.

“Amazing,” Curt said, turning around to look at the living room.  “I admit.  I was worried for a second there but this is awesome.”

They fanned out, looking for their rooms.

“Everyone get your suits!” Jules called as she pulled a suitcase down the hallway towards the bedrooms.  “After we’re all settled, we’re going out to the lake.  Sunlight’s burning!”

Holden followed slowly, picking the first room on the left.  He was as surprised as Curt was; from outside, the cabin seemed to be rotting away but, inside, it was rustic with plenty of room.  He dropped his duffle bag on the bed and looked around.

“Little House on the Prairie style, I-”  He stopped, looking at a painting hanging on the wall.  At first glance, it seemed to be a simple painting of some old settlers but, looking closer, the imagery was disturbing.  A large goat was being torn apart by a family and their dogs.  In the painting’s background a man stood watching silently.

“Nope, not if I want to sleep tonight,” Holden said, picking up the painting to turn it around.  He jumped as, instead of the wall, he saw Dana standing in her room.  She didn’t seem to see him and, instead, leaned forward into what Holden assumed was a two-way mirror.  He watched her for a moment as she checked her hair in the mirror.  “You’re an attractive young woman, D-”

The young man’s eyes widened as Dana began to unbutton her shirt.  He looked away briefly but turned back as she worked her fingers down the shirt, exposing her bra.  With only a moment’s indecision, he sighed and stepped out of the room.

“Dana!” He called out, knocking on the young woman’s door.  The door opened slightly and the young woman looked through the crack.  “That mirror isn’t a mirror.”

“What?”  Dana asked in confusion.

“The mirror.  It’s two-way.  I can see into your room.”

“H- hold on.”  The door closed.

“Hey, what’s up,” Curt said as he passed.

“There’s a two-way mirror in my bedroom,” Holden told him.

“No fucking way,” Curt said, dropping the bags he carried.  He made to step into into Holden’s room but Holden grabbed him.

“Just wait.  Dana’s getting dressed.”

“She’s what?”  Curt asked.  Comprehension dawned and he laughed, clapping Holden’s shoulder.  “You sly dog!”

“No, man!  I didn’t see-”

“You better not have,” Dana said as she opened her door.  All three gathered in Holden’s room to stare at the mirror.  Marty and Jules followed them, curious to see what was happening.

“Jesus,” Dana said, staring into her room through the mirror.

“That’s… that’s just creepy,” Jules added.  “Why would this even be here?”

“We should check the other rooms,” Curt said, kissing his girlfriend on the temple.  “To make sure that’s the only one.  If it is, we can switch with them so Marty can watch us pounding away, Jules.”

“Hey,” Marty complained, following Curt and Jules out of the room.  “That’s- man, I don’t even want to think about that.”

“I think we should switch rooms,” Holden told Dana.  “I mean, I wouldn’t try to look in if we didn’t but maybe for your own peace of mind, it’d be better.  But it’s cool if you-”

“Just, stop,” Dana said.  “It’s fine.  I’ll take your room.  I trust you but I’m weirded out but that whole thing.  I don’t think I could sleep right even if I wanted to.  And, uhh, thanks.  For not being a creep about it, you know?”

“Yeah,” Holden said.  “Yeah, of course.  I mean, Jules promised me your hand in marriage and I think it’s a good idea if we wait until then.  All proper like.”

“Ah,” Dana said nervously.  “Ha, haah.  Yeah.  They’re, uhh, not subtle at all about that.  I’m, I’m sorry, I’m really not looking-”

“Hey, I know,” Holden interrupted.  “I’m just joking.  I mean, no, they actually did tell me I should try to-”

“I really don’t want to know,” Dana said.  “But, really, I mean it, thank you for telling me.  About the mirror.  You’re a decent guy.”

“Well,” Holden said, pausing.  “I had a debate.  About telling you.  For a moment.  So maybe not completely one hundred percent decent.  Left angel, right demon.  Fierce battle.  Lots of bloodshed.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, tore me right up,” Holden told her, clutching his stomach.

“You.  You should probably talk to Jules about that.  Since she’s pre-med,” Dana answered, immediately regretting the words.

“Ah,” Holden said, blinking quickly.  “Ah.  Okay, then.”  Without another word, the young man grabbed his bag and walked out.

“Ah, Dana,” the young woman whispered to herself.  “Real smooth.”

Dana placed her bag on the bed where Holden’s bag had been.  Still shaking her head, she saw movement out of the corner of her eyes and looked up in time to watch Holden take his shirt off.

“Oh,” Dana said, staring.  He was lean and strong and either didn’t care that she watched or assumed she wouldn’t.  Either way, Dana found herself staring at him until he began unbuttoning his pants.

With a hard blush, the woman grabbed the painting on the ground to hang it back up.  Only then did she truly look at it.  She frowned, staring at the goat in the picturing, focusing on the way it looked like it was being murdered rather than simply butchered for meat.

“Uhh, no,” she said to herself, pulling a blanket from the nearby couch to cover the painting.  “Not if I want to sleep tonight.”

—–

“Betting is closed!” Hadley called out.  He held a stack of slips in his hand, each with a phrase or word written on them.  “Betting is now closed.  If you haven’t placed your bets now, you lost your chance.  All betting is now closed.”

The control room was full of people milling about, talking in small groups based on their departments.  Some mingled in between groups, socializing and drinking.  On the monitors, Curt, Dana, Jules and Holden splashed and swam in the clear lake near the cabin.  Marty sat on the dock, fully clothed and smoking a joint.  A group of technicians monitored all of the kids’ vital signs on separate monitors.

Sitterson wandered over to Truman.  “You’re new here this year.  You want in on this?  I’ll still take your bet.”

“No,” Truman said, visibly disturbed.  “No, I don’t think so.  It’s… wrong.  The betting is wrong.”

“It’s relaxing,” Sitterson explained.  “The night is bad enough that we need a way to make it easier.  This is one of those ways.”

“You’re betting on their lives.”

“No,” Sitterson said.  “No, they’re already dead.  We’re just following the rules.”

“So why bet, then?”  Truman asked.  “If you’re following the rules, you know what happens so what’s the point?”

“But we don’t know what’s going to happen.  We follow the rules because that’s how it works but they’re have a choice.  The old man at the gas pump.  They could’ve turned around then but they chose to stay.  In a little bit, we’ll open the cellar and they’ll make a choice there, too.  We don’t know what they’ll choose because we don’t control that.  We can’t control that or it’d break the rules and none of this would work.  It’s a system.  Designed to keep us all alive.  We just guide them a little.”

“It’s macabre,” Truman told him.

“Maybe,” Sitterson answered.  “But that’s how it has to be.”