The Cabin Getaway

The Arrival

The silence was overwhelming.

No lawn mowers buzzing in the distance, no cars making their way through the thick woodland, not even a dog barking. The only sound she could hear was the rhythmic beating of her own heart.

Outside, the sky was growing darker. Absent-mindedly, she let a finger run over the surface of her phone, following the tiny web of cracks that ran through the glass, the black surface mirroring back her distorted face.

She had never liked the woods. She didn't know if it was the tall dark shadows of trees closing in on her wherever she turned, or the uncertainty of what might be lurking in the undergrowth. Either way the vastness of it all made her uneasy, like she was nothing more than a speck in the universe, insignificant and defenseless. But she was supposedly safe inside, sheltered from the damp forest in this unfamiliar cabin.

Her hands rested on a cup of freshly brewed tea, warming her fingers, the heat slowly spreading through her body. She would be alright, wouldn't she? The car had brought her this far, but the last stretch of the drive had been agonising, and she could barely recall how either she or the car had managed to make it all the way out here. For now, she was fine, but she had no idea how she was going to get back home.

It was supposed to have been the perfect getaway - just her and Tomas in the rented cabin, reconnecting. They needed this. Things had been off lately, and she wanted them to be back on track, for them to spend quality time together, without the distractions of work and everyday life.

Sometimes it felt like they didn't really know each other, as if life was pulling them apart more than pushing them together. What they needed was some undisturbed time alone, but unfortunately that wouldn't be happening now. There was nothing suggesting Tomas was on his way, her phone was dead and the car wasn't going anywhere. Even with the limited time she had been outside, getting from the car to the cabin, it was obvious the place was as deserted as the description had said it would be.

She glanced once more at her useless phone before putting it down on the table with a sigh. At least she had the foresight to print out the map and instructions to the cabin when she had stopped for petrol. It had been on a whim, the filling station being so isolated she had suddenly been afraid there wouldn't be any coverage, leaving her with no directions to the cabin.

Lost in the vastness of the northern Swedish woods, with trees stretching for miles in all directions, she questioned her decision of coming here. If only she had chosen somewhere else; a mini cruise in the Swedish archipelago or a stay in one of the nice hotels in the city. Then she wouldn't have been stuck in this forsaken place. Alone.

The thing was, Tomas loved nature, and he had talked so passionately about his childhood holidays at his family's cabin, a place where he and his parents had chopped their own wood and cooked food outside over an open fire. It had given him such fond memories, and she had wanted to be a part of that, to show him she could share in that part of his life. But she would never have picked this place if it hadn't been for him. Her idea of a nice getaway was more along the lines of a pleasant weekend at a spa hotel or an all-inclusive pool holiday. Anything with room service and fancy drinks. Not middle-of-the-woods nature escapes.

Her thoughts were disrupted by a rustling noise outside the kitchen window. Quietly she got up and looked out. The long shadows from the trees danced in the wind as she listened for something indicating she was not alone; footsteps in the dried leaves, the closing of a car door.

But nothing.

The silence was tangible. It made her wonder if she had even heard anything in the first place. Had it been her mind playing tricks on her? Her own fear conjuring up ghosts in this unfamiliar place? She wasn't used to this kind of deafening silence, and it felt overpowering. Even louder than the busiest urban street.

She had lived her entire life in London. Nature for her was Hyde Park or a boat trip on the Thames. She couldn't remember ever being so deep in a forest before. It made her feel claustrophobic, knowing she couldn't escape, that everywhere she turned there were trees and more trees, and nothing else.

It had been a big change for her when she had first moved to Stockholm, but it had at least still been a large city. This was something completely different - she had no skills to survive in this kind of wilderness.

When she had arrived at the cabin some hours earlier the adrenaline had still been working its way through her body, the shock of the accident fresh and raw.

Following the instructions from her printouts, she had found the key in the lock box, and once inside the cabin, she had figured out how to turn on the power, before making herself a cup of tea.

Now, standing with her back against the window, she took in the small kitchen. In the pictures it had looked charming, a quaint place in the woods with a burning fire and wildflowers on the table. In reality, it was not cosy at all, or inviting.

It was run-down.

Dust had gathered on every surface, making the place appear more neglected than rustic. Even the tea she had found in the kitchen cabinet had a dusty taste to it, which made her appreciate her own foresight of buying some when she had stopped for supplies on her way up.

She was thankful for the bag of wet wipes she always carried with her - both the cup and the kettle had needed a good clean before she had felt comfortable using either of them. The faucet in the kitchen hadn't been working either. Not a drop of water had reached the sink when she turned it on, and she had ended up filling the kettle with the remaining water from the bottle she kept in her bag.

The cold was getting to her, even with her jacket pulled tight around her, and she moved away from the drafty window, deciding to explore the cabin.

The kitchen opened up into a living room with a fireplace and an old sofa in the furthest corner. It was hard to imagine anyone enjoying sitting on it, as it was too far away from the fire and looked worn out, a big tear running through on one of the seat cushions. Next to it were two small bookcases, one on each side, pushed up against the wall. The one on the right contained a stack of tablecloths and a lonely vase, the other one was empty.

In front of the fire stood a beat up, but at least comfortable looking, armchair and a table just big enough for a cup of tea and a book.

She let a finger draw a line in the dust that had gathered on the window sill. There were a few knickknacks, but they seemed random and not very personal. On the walls hung a series of paintings, all of them different views of the forest. They were nothing remarkable. She guessed they had been painted by the owner or someone who knew the cabin.

In one of them, she thought she could make out a small building of some sort between the tree trunks, but there wasn't much light in the room and the painting was dark, so she couldn't be sure. She liked the details and the strokes, but the mood was too gloomy for her taste.

When she turned to go back to the kitchen, she noticed a staircase next to the fireplace leading up to a loft. There was no bed in the living room and no other doors beside the one leading back into the kitchen, so she figured it had to be the bedroom.

Reluctantly, she put her foot on the first step. She felt uneasy walking up into the darkness and fumbled along the wall for a light switch. Once again, she wished she had made other plans for the weekend.

Almost at the landing, her hand felt the familiar form of a switch and she turned it on with a relieved sigh.

The light revealed a bedroom taking up the entire space, spanning the length of the house. It was dim and even with the lights on, most of the room was in shadows. Above the bed was a small round window almost at the ceiling, letting in a narrow beam of the last of the daylight. The only other light source, apart from the ceiling fixture, was a small lamp on the bedside table.

Still, for what it was worth, the place seemed clean, and the bed was made up with fresh linen, making it the only room in the house which appeared to have been touched recently by human hands. It both pleased and upset her at the same time. The thought of not knowing whose hands had touched the place where she was going to sleep turned her stomach with an intensity that surprised her.

She had stayed in plenty of hotels without the thought ever entering her mind, but here it felt more personal somehow. Like the scent of whoever had been here still lingered in the air, their presence lurking in the shadows.

With a light shake, she pushed the thought away, not wanting to upset herself.

Downstairs, she picked up the crumpled note with instructions from the owner. There hadn't been a phone anywhere in the cabin, which worried her, and there wasn't any contact information on the sheet of paper either. It seemed strange for such a remote place. The least they could have done was leave a phone number or some way of getting in contact with them in case of an emergency.

Which this was.

She had been in an accident.

It felt so unreal now, but she could have been seriously hurt. Perhaps she even had a concussion, or internal bleeding?

She inspected herself, as if only now realising this, but she seemed fine, nothing broken, no real bruising, nothing that seemed significant anyway. Her head hurt and she had a cut on her forehead, but it was superficial and didn't bother her other than a light throbbing. So she guessed she would be okay.

Carefully she touched her forehead and winced. Perhaps she would have felt better if she could have seen a doctor. Either way, she couldn't do anything about it now, so she turned her attention back to the note.

The electricity had been easy enough. It had only required her to find the electrical panel in the kitchen and switch on some relays. It appeared the water and fire would be more tricky. There were no logs near the fireplace, only a well-used box of matches and a set of fireplace tools, which meant she would have to collect wood from somewhere outside.

To get the water working, the instructions described an old bunker located on the grounds where she had to go inside to turn on the water. She had no desire to explore dark bunkers in the woods, but she hadn't brought any more water with her, leaving her with no real choice. If she was smart, she would do it straight away before the last light of the day was gone, engulfing the cabin and the surrounding woods in darkness.

Reluctantly, she grabbed a torch and a set of keys, both hanging conveniently on a hook next to the door, before heading out.

Once outside, she found the sky brighter than it had appeared from the kitchen, and the sight eased her nerves. Darkness always unsettled her. Across the lawn, directly opposite the cabin, stood an old barn, and behind it, the forest loomed, trees packed so densely they formed a towering wall, hemming her in. She lifted her gaze to the sky, silently urging the light to last just long enough for her to settle in for the night.

Close to the cabin were a couple of minor buildings. The nearest one was small and only a short walk from the front door. Her fear was confirmed when she looked inside; an outhouse. For some reason, she hadn't noticed the lack of a bathroom inside the house. How could she have missed this when she booked the place? How was it even going to work? There was no way she was leaving the cabin during the night. She would just have to avoid drinking anything after dark, simple as that.

The decision made her more determined, as if the plan in itself made her more accomplished. She was obviously way out of her comfort zone, but these small things reassured her she would be able to make it through the weekend.

She closed the door to the loo and continued. Next to the outhouse was an outdoor shower. No need to figure out how that one worked, as there was no way she was getting naked out here. She could handle a couple of days without a shower. Especially since she apparently would be alone her entire stay. She sighed. But again, why hadn't this bothered her more when she booked the cabin? How lovesick had she been to be willing to live through this for Tomas?

Walking past the shower she noticed a tall stack of firewood leaning against the wall, a basket casually dropped next to it. When she bent down to pick it up, she saw a door hidden in what she first had thought was an overgrown hedge. This had to be the entrance to the bunker the owner had mentioned.

Luckily for her she hadn't arrived any later, as there had been no map or guide to the place, and if it had been just a little darker, she wouldn't have been able to see the door at all.

The vegetation had almost taken over the small building, half of it covered in bushes and vines, the other half built into the side of a rocky hill, using the natural coolness of the earth to keep an even temperature inside. They were quite common in rural Sweden, these kinds of buildings. Tomas had told her that every farm and cottage used them as a large refrigerator or storage place.

She had never seen one up close and wrinkled her nose at the sight of the snails and woodlice that were crawling up the walls and scaling the stems of the vines. It gave her the creeps and she winced before carefully pushing the plants away to get to the entrance door.

The bunker was the first building on the grounds. The dirt road she had arrived on earlier curved away behind her, disappearing into the vastness of the woods. Her stupid car was parked just as she left it, the door still ajar. Had she left it open? She didn't think so, but then again, she hadn't been thinking straight at the time. There was a big dent in the front and it looked suspiciously as if the left tyre was completely flat. She had been lucky to reach the house while there still had been enough air to drive it.

Seeing the car reminded her she needed to grab her bag and groceries from the boot before she locked herself in the cabin for the night. She sighed. If Tomas had been here, she would have been on the sofa with a book or perhaps starting dinner in the dusty kitchen. But no, it was all on her, and she had to turn on the water before she could do anything else - the only scenario worse than being in an enclosed bunker, was being in one in complete darkness.

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