The Cabin Is Always Hungry

Arc 2 | Finders Keepers (7)

FINDERS KEEPERS

Part 7

Scottie crouched just off the trail, surveying the boathouse ahead. He didn’t dare make a move.

I allowed the fog to thicken near the docks, and Scottie could barely make out the boathouse’s frame from where he hid. He visibly shivered after he scanned his environment. I could tell he doubted following “Eddie” down the trail. What if it’s a trap?

He’s not wrong. The Goliath was already waiting inside.

All Scottie had to do was take the bait. Heck, he already took the last one. Why not more?

It’s hard to see out here in the dark; all he had was the flash on his phone. Fortunately, flashlights on a phone weren’t too bright in the fog compared to the battery-powered ones, so hopefully, “Eddie” did not notice him. He’s probably inside with another canoe. While John and the others were scrambling in the cabin looking for him, Eddie would slip away and back at the summer camp, ready to flag any oncoming car from the main road.

I reckoned that’s what Scottie must be thinking.

Plus, he’s all by himself, which is not a good thing for a delver to do. John and the others were thirteen hundred feet away up the trail (a six-minute leisurely walk) and on a cliff, basically three or four chambers away in a typical dungeon. If I looked at it from a standard dungeon perspective, I imagined the boathouse as just another chamber. My limited knowledge of Dungeons & Dragons and the movies helped paint the picture.

He had two choices: Go back to the trail or enter the boathouse.

He glanced over the trail again before slinking to the cliff’s wall, hugging it forward until he reached the next bush.

“Hm. Maybe you need a little bit of encouragement,” I said.

I triggered [Strange Noises] inside the boathouse, sounding like someone was dragging a canoe across the wooden floor. There was a U-shaped dock inside the building, and I added an extra detail of something heavy hitting the water just to fuck with him.

The Goliath shifted, aware of my interruptions.

“Let’s see what he does with that,” I said. So far, Scottie didn’t make a move. From above, John, Leo, and Art just entered the cabin, giving it a second look. So far, they had not found Eddie yet.

I took a quick peek in the cellar where Eddie was screaming through the tape, eyes locked at the ceiling and trying to get the three men’s attention.

The Goliath merely grunted. He gave a slight shrug and gestured out the window. He could see Scottie’s shadowy figure hiding behind the bush from where he stood. He’s not very sneaky.

I frowned. “Um, I really need to give you the Speech trait the next time I level up.” If I leveled up, whenever that was. “Because this charades thing is getting ridiculous.”

The Goliath sighed and raised the axe slightly higher, pantomiming hacking someone to death.

“Oh. You mean kill?”

The Goliath nodded.

“Ehh….maybe?”

The Goliath’s shoulders slumped, and they made a slight nod. He patted his belly, then pointed at me.

“Hungry?”

The Goliath nodded again.

I groaned. “All the time, bud.”

He motioned with his hands that I shouldn’t worry and that he’ll feed me soon.

What a lovely guy. Compared to the demon, the Goliath was a pleasant company.This chapter is updat𝓮d by nov(e)(l)biin.com

Scottie darted out of the bushes and inched closer to the boathouse. He finally reached the dock’s landing, and his flashlight trembled in his hand, casting flickering shadows on the aged planks beneath his feet.

He sneaked toward the boathouse’s sliding door. Scottie took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay beyond.

“Heads up. Showtime.” I warned the Goliath, but the big man already climbed the ladder to a narrow mezzanine above the interior dock. He stepped into the shadows near the two metal lockers and hanging coat racks, blending with the baggy raincoats, towels, life preservers, and waterproof boat tarps.

Scottie squinted through the narrow window slit on the sliding door. He couldn’t see Eddie moving inside, so he walked over to the edge of the dock and found the garage door still down. He scanned the lake and saw no canoe rowing out to the middle of the lake. He was unsure if he saw Eddie enter the boathouse, realizing he must still be hiding inside.

His lips twitched, and he gripped the wrench harder. He pivoted and went back and opened the door, creaking ominously. He closed it behind him, probably to stop Eddie from running away if he found him.

Scottie’s phone pierced through the gloom, pointing at the fishing nets tangled like cobwebs in one corner. Silence clung to the air, broken only by the distant sound of lapping waves against the wooden pilings. Three kayaks hung on one wall opposite the various boat tools, fishing poles, and other equipment. Three stacks of boxes stood at the corners, which were primarily empty, made only to fill out the room and complete the boathouse’s decor. No kayaks sat on the well dock.

Scottie grinned. He’s still inside, he probably thought.

He took a tentative step forward; his footsteps echoed through the space, amplified by the eerie stillness.

There was not a lot of space to hide on the first floor, which was pretty much open. Still, Scottie checked the dark corners and behind the boxes but didn’t find Eddie.

A distant scuttling sound startled him, and he spun around, pointing his phone toward the source; the mezzanine. Above, the Goliath gently scraped the but of his axe on the floor before he went still as a statue. He was trying to draw him in.

Scottie hesitated for a moment and glanced at the door and then the wooden ladder.

He slipped the wrench securely on his belt and climbed the ladder.

I heaved a sigh. “He’s coming,” I told the Goliath.

The Goliath nodded, ready.

Scottie hauled himself up the mezzanine and looked around. There weren’t any windows here to let in some natural light from the outside (which barely had any due to the thick fog). The only source of light was the one on Scottie’s phone. He immediately spotted the two lockers as tall as him.

Scottie’s smile grew even wider. He walked over there, biting his lower lip to stifle his chuckle. His Resolve went back to green.

He was in control now. After all, he had Eddie in his sight. He raised the wrench above his head, hand slowly reaching out for the locker’s handle.

He yanked it open!

Empty.

Before Eddie could react, Scottie quickly yanked the other locker open and raised the wrench even higher, but when he peered inside, he didn’t find Eddie cowering in there. His shoulders slumped.

“Where the fuck are you?” He muttered.

The floorboards creaked behind him, and Scottie whirled around; his flashlight’s beam illuminated the huge barrel-chested figure mere two feet away. A shiver ran down Scottie’s spine as he locked onto the Goliath’s face concealed behind a dull white-fox mask, his dead gaze piercing through him.

It was as if time had frozen over, even for a split second. Scottie stood transfixed, his mind struggling to comprehend the giant before him; his own senses betrayed him.

Before he could react, the Goliath backslapped him. Scottie yelped, clutched his reddened face, and tumbled to the side…and off the mezzanine’s edge.

He fell on his back, scrambling for something to hold (there was none). But instead of hitting the water, His left side smashed the edge of the rickety wooden dock, probably spraining his arm and might have broken a rib or two. The impact quickly spun him into the water like a fucking crash test dummy. He stayed under the water for a few seconds before he broke through the surface, thrashing in a mad panic; pain, shock, and terror mingling into a scream.

The Goliath stood at the mezzanine’s edge, glaring at him. He jumped off with his axe in one swoop and landed with a hefty thud on the dock, making it look so easy that even I doubted he hurt his knees doing that stunt. It was meant to unnerve Scottie, and it fucking worked. A big guy coming at you with a big axe and jumping from thirteen feet, AND made it look like nothing? I’d be shitting bricks.

Scottie’s Resolve turned a darker orange as the Goliath stood at the dock’s edge.

Scottie’s eyes darted to the door and the Goliath. He could not climb out of there in time and escape out of the boathouse. His shoulder still hurt from the fall because he had difficulty staying afloat.

“I’m sorry!” Scottie begged. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to trespass!”

The Goliath’s grip on the axe tightened.

“Please! Look, I’ll get out of here so fast; you won’t hear from me again. Promise. I…I was lost! Yeah! I was lost, okay?” He let out a pathetic whimper. “Don’t hurt me. Please.”

The only answer Scottie heard back was the Goliath’s heavy breathing behind the mask. The Goliath wedged the axe on the floor, turned around and walked toward the tools hanging on the wall, and picked up a spear gun.

Scottie’s eyes bulged. “No! Please! I’m going to leave! I swear! I’m sorry!”

The Goliath remained unperturbed and walked back to the dock’s edge. He wouldn’t be able to talk his way out of this.

Scottie screeched. “John! John! Help! Help me!”

But he was too far away from the others. They had already reached the cellar and found Eddie down on the floor.

The Goliath pulled the trigger.

Scottie ducked under the water as the spear smacked through the pilings inches above his head and kept himself under for several seconds. He tried to get under the dock, but it was too dark. He knew he would end up drowning if he continued searching for a way out below the boathouse. His lungs begged for air.

He broke through the surface again, taking in a lungful of breath…and the Goliath reached out from above and yanked him up by the hair. Hoisting Scottie out of the water, the Goliath threw him across the room, rolled, and tangled with the fishing nets. Scottie scrambled to his feet and ran for the door.

But the boathouse’s obstacle had already been triggered a while ago, freezing the wheels momentarily. It would take considerable strength to open it, and Scottie struggled to put as much weight to wiggle it loose.

The Goliath sauntered to pick up his axe, still wedged on the floor. He headed for Scottie next.

“Come on, come on! Open you big, freaking-!”

The Goliath raised his axe above his head.

Suddenly, the sliding door gave way and parted open, and Scottie tumbled out onto the exterior dock.

The Goliath brought the axe down, the blade splintering through wood between Scottie’s parted legs and inches away from his groin. Scottie yelped and crawled backward. As the Goliath tried to pry the blade off the wood, Scottie got back on his feet and ran.

“Oh. It looks like he’s getting away,” I muttered.

The Goliath said nothing and yanked the axe lose. He continued the chase. He didn’t even run, carrying almost this confident and menacing gait.

Scottie leaned a little to the left side, his right hand cupped around his left shoulder to prevent his left arm from swinging while he ran. His face contorted from the pain, especially when I could sense he broke a handful of his ribs when he fell; his breathing was strenuous.

He took the trail back to the cabin. Thorny thickets and hanging branches lashed against his skin, with some drawing blood.

“Help!” He cried out again, desperate. “John! Leo!”

He slowed down a little, still trying to put as much distance between himself and the killer, and felt confident that he could no longer see him. But he could be hiding from behind a tree or something. He winced from the pain radiating from his left side when he accidentally grazed a branch with his left arm.

“Fuck!” He bawled.

He heard heavy footsteps against the undergrowth behind him and picked up his pace again. He wanted to call out to John and the others again. Maybe he’s getting closer to the cabin, and they could hear him. Then again, the killer would know where he was. A shuddering sob escaped his lips. He should have searched for the walkie-talkie. Should have—

His phone!

He could call John!

He leaned against a tree and searched his pockets but found them empty. He realized it must have fallen into the lake along with his wrench. “Shit!” He gritted his teeth. All he found was the bowie knife still sheathed on his belt.

He gripped tightly on the handle when he pulled it out, the blade gleaming against the fog. At least he had a weapon. He could fight back.

He stepped away from the tree and continued up the trail—

Schlink!

A sickening crunch echoed through the forest, followed by a sudden hot warmth radiating from his ankle and then followed by the most intense pain that almost shocked his system. He looked down at the thick claws embedded through his flesh—a bear trap.

His scream pierced and cut through the dense fog, reverberating among the canopy. Panic coursed through his veins as he struggled to free himself from its steel jaws. The forest came alive with a sinister breeze.

A soft crunch echoed from the darkness, and Scottie’s heart skipped a beat. Fear took hold as his gaze fixated on the masked figure standing thirty feet away behind a dense thicket, looking almost curious about his torturous struggle. The Goliath didn’t move and waited.

“Oh, my god….” He gasped. He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him.

With a huffed grunt, the Goliath put the axe against the tree, bent down, and grabbed the bear trap’s chains hidden under the fallen leaves. With a mighty yank, He dragged Scottie behind the thicket, screaming. The Goliath loomed over him.

With the knife still in his hands, Scottie tried to stab Goliath’s leg, but the big man already read his moves. He twisted Scottie’s wrists, and the knife fell onto the dirt. The Goliath let him go, and Scottie reeled back from the pain, cradling his sprained wrist.

The Goliath fell on his knees and straddled Scottie’s hips, locking him onto the ground. He picked up the fallen bowie knife and lifted it above his head. Scottie raised his left hand to block it, but the blade went through his palm instead. Blood gushed out and fell into Scottie’s gaping mouth.

Pulling out the knife, The Goliath sank the blade into Scottie’s abdomen and forcefully worked his way above his belly button. Scottie’s screams were strangled and desperate, clinging to the Goliath’s collar, reaching for his neck, mask, and anything he could grab. The Goliath quickly swatted his feeble attempts to escape, pulled the knife out again, and drove the blade through Scottie’s spleen.

Scottie arched his back, thrashing underneath the giant. Blood poured out of his lips.

“No! No! Please! No!”

Then, Scottie’s Resolve turned crimson red.

There was a drastic change in the Goliath’s demeanor. At first, he was slow and deliberate in where he stabbed Scottie to keep him alive, but as if he smelled blood in the water, the Goliath went into a frenzy of stabs, splattered blood, and shrieks.

Seven, eight, nine, ten stabs…and I lost count after that. Between whining screeches from Scottie tearing through vocal cords, which no human should ever produce, the earth beneath and the nearby bushes began to stain with blood and urine.

The Goliath stopped and took a lungful of breath as if reveling in the kill. Scottie gurgled a gasp.

He stopped screaming, fighting hard to keep breathing; arms splayed open wide like an angel. A single tear rolled down his left eye. He tried to speak, but he strained his throat shut.

The Goliath picked up his axe, grabbed Scottie’s uninjured ankle, and dragged him back to the cabin three hundred feet up the trail. Scottie weakly grabbed clumps of grass along the way but couldn’t find the strength to hold on.

“Scottie’s still not answering,” John said worriedly.

Leo thinned his lips. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

“You got that right.” John climbed up the stairs and hauled himself out of the cellar.

John tried the radio again, but he received the same static. He looked out the bay window and could still see the van. At least he didn’t leave, so he’s still here. “Scottie, answer me, for fuck’s sake!” He shouted onto the radio.

Still, no answer.

Behind him, Leo and Art helped Eddie out of the cellar.

“What now?” Art asked.

“Scottie’s still not answering, but the van’s outside,” John replied.

“Good! Who’s got the keys?” Eddie asked.

Leo frowned. “Scottie does.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Eddie exclaimed.

“Come on, asshole. Up your feet,” Art said to Eddie.

“Easy for you to say. I’m the one with a chunk of my leg missing.”

“Quit yapping, and let’s fucking move.” Leo marched toward the door and opened it.

He froze, and all at once, the men’s Resolve turned a solid orange.

Standing between the van and the cabin was a mountain of a man wearing a blood-splattered white fox mask. Leo’s bowie knife was in his left hand while the other held Scottie, barely kneeling on the ground, hoisted up by his mangled and blood-soaked hair. Leo couldn’t even tell where the stab wounds were all over Scottie’s body, stained dark red.

“Scottie!” John screeched, but Art grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back inside the cabin.

“That’s him! That’s the guy!” Eddie pointed.

Leo remained frozen.

“Johnny…” Scottie whimpered. A trickle of blood escaped his lips. “Sorry—”

Scottie’s voice was cut short as the Goliath jammed the bowie knife through his throat. Scottie’s legs kicked for a second before it went deathly still. The Goliath pulled the blade out of the flesh with a sickening slop.

[You have gained 1 essence: Scott “Scottie” Kitson]

[You have gained 150 crystals]

The Goliath shoved Scottie to the side like a rag doll and glared a mocking challenge at the four men standing on the front porch.