The Vanishing Eight, page 6
But before we could contemplate any of its mysteries, our attention was drawn to the ominous presence lurking out front.
There it sat, a police SUV, nestled amidst the barrenness, radiating an air of absolute authority. Its polished exterior seemed to emit an unwavering assurance of law and order. Yet, in this desolate backdrop, it was strangely out of place.
"I wonder what that's about," Carolyn murmured, her eyes fixated on the vehicle.
"Don’t think on it too much," I replied. "Knowing the sheriff, he probably loaned it to Dawn for the weekend."
Carolyn nodded in silence as I maneuvered my car beside the SUV.
"Look, no one's inside," I shared, my voice carrying a faint note of confidence. "I’d take that as a good sign."
I stepped out of the car, the crunch of snow beneath my worn, brown leather boots echoing through the stillness. The wind had picked up considerably, and its bite tugged at my coat and seeped into my jeans. Carolyn gathered her coat around her and we ventured closer to the motionless vehicle, our footsteps leaving imprints in the virgin snow.
“Whoever it was driving the cop car, they’ve been here awhile. There are no footprints in the snow.” Carolyn looked at me like I was some sort of genius for picking up on this.
My fingers grazed the vehicle’s icy surface, and a shiver coursed through me. Carolyn's voice urgently, broke through my haze. "Come on, let's get inside," she pleaded. Reluctantly, I withdrew my hand, tearing it away from the enigmatic embrace of the cruiser.
We grabbed our backpacks and I slammed my truck’s door shut. We carefully navigated the icy path that led to the cabin's front door. The structure appeared smaller than the distant memory I clung to, yet a familiar surge of excitement stirred within me. Our footfalls crunching through the hardened snow— the eerie silence of mother nature, whose whisper sounded among the old trees and barren undergrowth. At last we arrived at the sizable wooden door. My face burned crimson, a testament to the biting cold encasing us in its frigid embrace.
"Bet you’re glad I made you bring a different coat," Carolyn laughed from behind me.
"You know I love that jean jacket… I mean, I knew it would be cold, but Jesus," I shot back, my teeth chattering. My dad’s old CPO jacket hung loosely from my build, its black and white gingham hardly supplying enough heat atop my knit, blood-red sweater and plain white tee. Hastily, I knocked on the door. "Let’s hope there’s a fire," I muttered to myself. The door creaked open, its rusty hinges protesting against the intrusion, and Becca emerged, quickly enveloping me and Carolyn in a familiar, suffocating embrace.
"Carolyn, Jonny!" Her voice sliced through the silence, sharp and full of life. A fluffy, white, cashmere turtleneck hugged her frame and large cherry-colored glasses sat perched on her nose. Her red, leather bell bottoms came into view, and her feathered hair flowed in the frigid breeze. "Here, guys! Come inside out of the cold," she beckoned. We obediently followed her lead, crossing the threshold. The cabin stretched out before us like a wide-open invitation, just waiting for us to dive into the possibilities of the night.
"How was the drive?" Becca inquired, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "Dawn and I just got here maybe an hour or two ago– Sorry if the place is still a little chilly, but it’ll warm up soon!"
"Oh, that’s okay! I guess the drive wasn't too bad," Carolyn chimed in.
“Yeah, except for the broken fence, the near miss, the skid on the icy road, and all the shadows that felt like they were directly trying to make trouble for me,” I said sarcastically.
“But we made it here in one piece, right?” Carolyn quipped. “Thanks to my hero driver here. I didn’t realize you were such an expert, Jon.” She slyly winked at me over Becca’s shoulder.
“Nothin' my truck couldn't handle. Yeah, took us 'bout an hour and a half, give or take,” I replied, trying to make light of it all. I pulled my boots off and ventured deeper into the heart of the cabin, my footsteps causing the old hardwood floor to creak in protest. The flickering fire cast shadows on the walls, their movements conjuring shapes that seemed to dance in every corner.
"Where's Dawn?" I asked, my voice reverberating through the hallowed space.
"You just missed her! She just darted off to the store. We forgot something, so she ventured out a little while back," Becca replied, gliding into the living room. The space brimmed with scarlet-hued velvet furniture, complete with two armchairs, an ottoman, and a large three-seater sofa. On one wall stood an exquisite, wood-burning fireplace of rugged local stone, and an ornate, dirt-colored coffee table had been placed in front of it.
"Come and take a load off, folks! Feel free to leave your bags wherever. You can haul ‘em to your rooms later on."
I followed Becca's orders obediently, dropping our packs on the floor. As I began to shed my CPO jacket, a question gnawed at me. "So, if Dawn's at the store… whose police cruiser is out front?" I asked, glancing at Carolyn.
"Oh, that's Charles'," Becca replied, her tone betraying a hint of nonchalance. "Dawn's dad is making him stay with us. He's his new deputy, and it was the only way the sheriff would let the gang come up here with everything going on."
Becca plopped down in an armchair, her large red frames reflecting in the light of the fire. "Not much of an SUV, though, if you ask me. He was saying the police radio isn't even hooked up yet. Honestly, I'm not too upset with him being here, apart from the fact he's taking up one of the rooms. He’ll probably just be hunting all weekend anyway."
I glanced around, my mind wandering as to how I could reconcile the impending problem. I knew the cabin only had three bedrooms, while our gang plus one numbered seven. It didn't add up. As I turned to face Carolyn, she was the picture of grace, tugging off her hand-knitted poncho and revealing my Piedmont Football crewneck, its oversized fabric draping off her shoulder. I’ve been looking everywhere for that, the notion bringing a smile to my face. Her eyes reflected a glimmer of hope, her dirty blonde hair swaying rhythmically with her bell-bottom jeans as she cascaded to my side. Fuck it.
"Looks like we’ll deal with the cards we’ve been dealt," I said, my voice betraying a hint of optimism. I slid my arm around Carolyn as I soaked in the familiarity of the room, its every detail etched into my memory. Everything remained in place, with beaming pictures of Becca’s family decorating the cozy atmosphere. The faint smell of cigarettes still lingered in the air, a somber callback to Becca’s late mother. But most impressive of all, and true to Becca’s nature, not a single speck of dust settled into any corner, leaving the cabin almost immaculate, as though untouched by time. As I stood there, the zeal of nostalgia radiating through me, the silence was brought to an end by Carolyn's warm voice.
"Could you point me in the direction of your restroom?"
"Oh! It's just down that hallway, right next to the bedrooms. You can’t miss it!" Becca replied to Carolyn. "I forgot you haven't been here!"
"Don't worry at all! I'll be back in no time," Carolyn declared, slipping out from under my arm. As she shuffled off, I pushed up the sleeves of my sweater and tucked my hands in the front pockets of my jeans. The sound of Carolyn’s Sacha platforms reverberated down the hallway as they clicked against the hardwood floor. Turning my attention to Becca, she was suddenly leaning forward in her armchair, a playful smile meeting her lips.
Her voice was hushed and tinged with mischief, her brown, doe-like eyes vibrant behind her glasses as she schemed. “So, here's the thing: Dawn and I are gonna bunk together in my folks' old room, just so y'all can have a little more elbow space. We're all squared away in there already–" Becca started. But before she could get another word in, we were interrupted by a sudden knock at the door. Jumping to her feet, Becca straightened her sweater and dashed past our bags and to the large wooden portal. With one swift tug, she flung open the door, her face lighting as a smile tugged at her cheeks. "Shelly! Andy! Oh my gosh, I'm so happy you guys are here!" she exclaimed, beckoning them inside.
Andy laughed, his face as red as mine was. "Glad to be here, almost didn’t make it! Did you guys see that goddam fence? Nearly killed us!” He chuckled, his brows obscured by his shaggy blond hair. “What should I do with the bags?" he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
"Drop those anywhere you want and come warm up!" She turned her attention to Shelly, who stood shyly in Andy’s wake. "Shelly, oh my goodness, look at you! It's been ages!"
A gentle smile grew across Shelly’s freckled face, her fringed coat dancing as she embraced Becca. "I’m glad to see you too, Beck. I’m excited for this– for tonight," she said, her tone teeming with sentimentality. “I really needed this.”
"Hell yeah!" I chimed in, flanking Shelly's side with Andy and Becca as we wrapped her in our arms. "We got you, Shell. Till hell freezes over," I reassured her.
“Dammit, did I miss something cute?” Carolyn exclaimed, her already bright features beaming with elation. With a chuckle, Andy and Shelly hugged their hellos, before turning back to me and Becca.
"So, what's the sleeping arrangement?" Andy inquired, beginning to remove his brown, sheepskin coat. His wavy beach-tossed hair framed his face, hiding the tips of his ears as it hung above his white turtleneck.
"Well, we've got seven bodies and three rooms–," I commenced to explain, my words swirling in the air like ghosts eager to be heard.
"Technically, there's only one room," Becca interjected, her voice slicing through the conversation like a sharpened blade.
"Which means me and Shelly are taking it," Carolyn suddenly quipped, her words dripping with determination, catching me off guard.
"Nah, no way! If anything, me and my man Jonny are sharing a bed while you ladies have fun out here," Andy said, throwing his arm around my shoulder, a mischievous glint in his eyes, seeking my approval. For a slight second, I considered it, the idea creeping into my mind like a tempting forbidden fruit. But I could see Carolyn's point, a truth holding me back from fully embracing Andy's audacious suggestion.
"Don't worry, man, we can camp out on the couch," I joked, my laughter echoing through the lukewarm room. "Carolyn, Shelly, you guys should take the bedroom, and we'll make it work out here. We'll probably pass out drunk on the floor anyway," I added, the words floating in the air with a tinge of resignation.
"Damn straight we will!" Andy exclaimed high-fiving me, his enthusiasm a little too over the top. Carolyn shot him an exasperated glance.
"Alright… Shell, let's snatch our bags before they change their minds," Carolyn concluded, her tone laced with finality. With a nod, Shelly unbuttoned her jacket, throwing it to the sofa and revealing a humble navy crop top with a cartoonish mushroom plastered in its center. Andy turned to me and Becca.
"So, uh, who's our seventh takin' up a room?" Andy questioned as the front door unhinged with a click. Just then, Dawn strolled into the cabin, her black Doc Martens thudding on the creaky wooden floor, her arms burdened with a case of beer in each hand.
"Don't worry, guys, there's liquor in the car!" she chimed, a glimmer in her eyes. Her long, loopy curls bounced atop her black, faux fur coat as she gently placed the cases on the worn floorboards. With a wide grin, she enveloped Shelly in a warm embrace, her body radiating familiarity and relief. "Holy shit, I missed you, Shell! God, I'm so sorry to hear about everything going on–"
Shelly's response came in a soft, subdued tone. "I really missed you too, the both of you," she murmured, her arms clinging tightly to Dawn, her eyes wandering to Becca. "And I truly appreciate your kind words, but if it's not too much trouble, I think I'd prefer to not talk about… everything… while we're here," her request hung in the air, a silent plea for respite. We all understood, exchanging knowing glances, our agreement unspoken but palpable. Dawn reluctantly released her grip on Shelly after one final, lingering squeeze.
"I hear you loud and clear, babe. So, who wants to fish out those bottles from my ride?"
The night drifted in with the scent of nostalgia and the promise of camaraderie. The Scooby Gang, or at least what remained of it, had reconvened once more, like shards of a broken mirror coming together to reflect a distorted but familiar image. There was a subtle understanding—an energy—that this gathering held something special.
As the dusk settled and the moon cast its pale winter glow upon the ethereal landscape, a sense of liberation seemed to fill the room. The cabin had finally warmed up, and Andy and I, like two cunning scavengers, snatched the last remnants of liquid courage from the depths of Dawn’s wood-paneled station wagon.
Before we knew it, everything was back to the usual groove. We were chatting, cracking open some cold ones, and last week's drama was like ancient history. At least for the moment. Amid all the laughter echoing through the cabin, Dawn came up with this wild idea, daring us to push the limits of sobriety. "Let's shotgun," she said, looking for takers for this boozy adventure. Of course, Andy, Becca, and I were quick to jump on it, pulled into the whirlwind of fun without a second thought. I pulled on my shoes and made a beeline to the kitchen for my first drink of the night.
But Carolyn, my stunning connoisseur of life's absurdities, stayed true to herself. She rolled her eyes, silently judging from the depths of her rather proprietary soul. Slamming back beer like a champ wasn't her thing. No, her secret indulgence lay in the sleek curves of a whiskey bottle. She went against the norm, choosing a stronger potion that promised a closer dance with being totally out of it.
"You want any, Shell?" Carolyn's voice slithered through the air as she extended the bottle.
Shelly's gaze shifted downward, her hands entwined in uncertainty atop her white, corduroy bell bottoms. "No, I… I think I'll pass on drinking tonight. Everything's still... raw. I don’t want to ruin the mood by being a crying drunk, you know?" she replied. Shelly was always a trooper, but her words now were whispered and burdened, belying her true mood.
Carolyn nodded. "I get it, I really do. I won't go too hard myself– but feel free to at least have a beer. You're my best friend, and you know I'll look after you. And also screw the mood! Sometimes a good cry can be just what the doctor ordered."
"Yeah... I'm not even sure if there are any tears left to cry,” she muttered. A surge of defiance suddenly came over her. "Fuck it, yeah, I'll have a beer," she concluded, a smile unfurling upon her lips. A small glimmer of life seemed to rekindle in her glassy blue eyes. From the kitchen, I heaved a sigh inwardly, thanking God for this momentary reprieve from what would continue to be our commitment to finding Roy and April.
But in my heart of hearts, I felt a dread unlike any I’ve ever felt, like there was going to be more to this episode than what was currently meeting the eye. I almost felt… guilty. Carolyn picked up on this and her eyebrows furrowed, as if to say what’s up?
"Stellar! Alright, then, let's go fetch you one," Carolyn responded, putting her attention back on the immediate situation at hand. She extended her arm like a guiding beacon to lift Shelly from the embrace of the couch's velvety cushions. The two women embarked toward me in the vast expanse of the open kitchen, a blank canvas awaiting their indomitable presence.
"Changed your mind 'bout the shotgun?"
"Dream on, loverboy. You know damn well what those bubbles do to me," she retorted, a sly smirk gracing her lips as she plucked a liberated beer from the case. "This one," she paused, her gaze shifting, "is for Shelly." She brushed her lips against my cheek in a fleeting caress.
"Oh, hell yeah, Shell! Have as much as your heart desires; there's a shit ton," I chuckled, my hand sweeping across the cases and bottles scattered atop the sprawling granite island at the center of the room.
"Jonny! Get your ass out here or we're starting without you!" Becca ordered, cracking the back door open. A frigid gust of wind barreled into the kitchen, flicking our hair into action and sending a chill down my spine.
"Hurry up, man! It's colder than a witch's tit!" Andy followed, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
"I told you to grab your coat!" Dawn teased.
"I suppose that's my cue," I said, flashing a smile at Carolyn and Shelly as I made my way toward the frigid outdoors. "It's not too late to join us!" I yelled before shutting the door behind me, fully aware there was no way they would change their minds.
After a triumphant round of shotgunning, it was Andy who first flung himself back inside, his tan trousers swishing viciously with every beat of his leather boots. Dawn, Becca, and I trailed closely behind, but upon entering, we found him already sprawled in a disheveled heap on the Persian rug in front of the crackling fireplace. The flames danced and flickered, casting shadows upon his motionless form.
Nearby, Carolyn and Shelly occupied the sofa, their faces flushed with the effects of a new, swirling concoction. Glasses in hand, they reveled in laughter and animated conversation, their voices punctuating the stillness of the room. Carolyn, with her luscious, dirty blonde tresses cascading down her slender back, looked damn beautiful. The faint creases adorning her delicate cheeks every time she smiled only added to her image, captivating my heart.
Warmth began to return to my body as I stood there, the heat of the fire finally caressing my skin, yet a peculiar sensation crept over me. It was as if the future they spoke of, so casually discussed amidst their banter, held an ominous weight. I’d been feeling this a lot lately, and I didn’t know whether it was because of Roy and April or… but I remembered feeling this way at the graduation, before the two of them went MIA. I couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom, like the other shoe was about to drop. What was I missing?
"What do you guys say to me cranking up some tunes?" Becca proposed, sliding off her rainbow parka and draping it over the coat rack near the back door. Dawn followed in her wake, removing her fur coat and revealing a purple, striped pullover sweater and black bell-bottom trousers.
That broke me from the dismal inner workings of my mind. "You know I'm always game!" I exclaimed, my face lighting up. Becca chuckled and sauntered out of the kitchen, making her way toward the bedroom as Dawn flung herself into the armchair.
