Haley's Cabin

“Great, no cell service, no car, what the hell else could go wrong on this trip to the boondocks? I hate

rental companies,” Jeremy grumbled as he gave the ugly-as-hell car one last look. He grabbed his duffel

bag and keys, then started walking. He looked around the area, hoping to see a cabin. Even a shack.

Anything that hinted at civilization. All he saw were trees and more trees. “And I fucking hate nature.”

Why’d he take the doc’s advice anyway? He never bothered to take any of his brother’s other advice,

so why break with tradition this time? Simple: Brad had explained that if Jeremy didn’t take a holiday,

he’d end up working himself into an early grave.

“Ha, now what do you think, all-knowing one ? I’m stuck out in the middle of nowhere and it’s all your

fault.” As Jeremy walked, visions of suing Doc Brad ran rampant in his head. He didn’t give a shit if Brad

was his flesh and blood. The guy was going down.

In a rare exhaustion-induced moment which left him feeling exposed, Jeremy had complained to his

brother about the stress of his job as a detective with the Columbus, Ohio police. Brad, being the good

brother he was, offered him the cabin for the weekend. Jeremy pretty much jumped at the idea, even

though he’d never actually stayed there.

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Brad had bought the property a little over a year ago as a vacation spot, a home-away-from-home.

Jeremy had come out several times since to help Brad install this or that or do a bit of remodeling, but

he’d never personally used the place. However, after Jeremy’s uncharacteristic whine-fest, Brad had

shoved the keys into his hands and practically pushed him out the door, telling him to leave the job at the

office for a change and take a break.

Jeremy walked for what felt like miles, sweat dripping down his spine, his T-shirt sticking to his ribs,

cursing his brother’s shitty advice every step of the way. Then it appeared, like a beacon of light. Not his

brother’s cabin, but a smaller log house that sat off the road, and it was beautiful.

“Civilization!” he moaned in relief. “If they have water, I’ll kiss their blessed feet. If they have a phone,

I’ll think I’ve died and gone to heaven.” His mouth was dirt dry, and he was starting to wonder just how

long a person could go before dehydration or sunstroke set in.

As he stepped off the gravel and onto the cool grass, Jeremy realized his shoes were ruined. The melting

tar had done a real number, and bits of rocks and grass stuck to the soles. “Brad, so help me, when I get

my hands on you…” Jeremy let the sentence trail off and stopped dead in his tracks as he saw what had

to be a mirage.