The Unwelcome by Jacob Steven Mohr

Author:Jacob Steven Mohr
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: John Hunt Publishing
Published: 2020-11-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Welcome Wagon

There was a boy Cormac didn’t know in the gravel lot in front of the cabin.

He punched off the music inside the Jeep with his thumb, then tilted his neck one way, then the other, touching ear to shoulder to feel the stiff vertebrae pop in sequence. The other guy, he’d come up through the trees on the other side of the gravel, kicking red sneakers through fallen pine needles. Now he loafed on the steps, chin in his hands, half-hidden behind the wood-paneled station wagon with the propped-up hood. He was close enough to hear Cormac’s Grand Cherokee idling, but he didn’t so much as turn his head: He kept staring off into the forest, cold as a sphinx, occasionally shutting his eyes and angling his face as though listening for something, some otherworldly signal coming through the trees.

Cormac watched him through the windshield, drumming nervous fingers on the steering wheel as he weighed options against each other. He’d hoped he’d see Riley first, make contact before he tried to smooth in with the rest of her crew. Her last two broadcasts had him scrambled: the first, a shaky cell cam video inside the cabin, audio all blown out, a wash of shouts and squeals as the camera swung around a ring of flushed, laughing faces. He’d begged the address—then, silence for two hours. And then at last, when he’d started kicking himself for blowing so much gas money on nothing, her strange truncated reply blipped in:

BEN’S PISSED I ASKED Y—

He’d mulled that one the rest of the night. There had to be more to it, he figured—he’d fired off half-cooked late-night texts himself after an O-Lambda boozer wound down… But instead of getting a straight answer out of her, he’d lolled in bed another two hours, thoughts chasing round and round like slot cars, until at last he sank into tossing, hot-breathed dreams. That ring of red faces circled him in his sleep, faster and faster, their laughter distorted into animal screams and grunts and cries.

She sent him the address in the morning, but by then he’d had time to question the position of all the stars in his sky—and now he was here, staring over the steering wheel at who could only be Benjamin Alden, his wind-tossed hair piled like lint in a dustbin, and he felt those old scratching anxieties come clawing back to surface. He thought about squeezing off a quick text to Riley, Hey, come outside, I’m here, but thought better of it.

You’re here now, Caveman. You got this far. Go bang rocks together.

Make nice with the big dog.

He feather-footed the gas, pulling into the lot at last, gravel grumbling under the Jeep’s tires. Benjamin’s head whipped towards him like a bird’s—no surprise on his face, just a level studying gaze. Cormac killed the engine, slid his seat back, and swung out the driver-side door, wary of eye-contact. The cold hit him like a wall of force, but the silence hit harder.

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