Amy Johnson had never fucked up this bad before. Maybe that awful trip to Cancun came close, but it wasn't as bad as what she was faced with now: several days sharing a broken-down cabin with her son, in the middle of nowhere.
They'd just gotten dropped off by a local after an all-day bus ride, with instructions to come back for them in 4 days. After a walk down a narrow drive, they'd come across their 'cabin'.
The listing had pictures showing a lovely building with two bedrooms, a sitting room, and a nice big kitchen. Less of a cabin, more of a vacation house. What they had in front of them was a run-down piece of shit that looked like it could fall apart at any time. Gray wood siding, a rickety door, two small windows covered in grime. Not a great start to her getaway.
Amy looked at her son with dismay, and he returned the look. "I swear," she blurted. "I swear, I booked a lovely cabin. This has to be a scam."
"Are you sure we're at the right place?" he asked, his usually mellow timbre troubled.
"We better be," she muttered. Tucking her amber hair behind her ear, she bent to her bag and pulled the booking info from a side pocket. "Number 11 Marsh Avenue," she read.
"You told that guy Marsh Road," Chris stated.
"I did," Amy confirmed, heart dropping. So, not an incorrect booking, but a fucked up destination. She felt her mood dip even lower. "I wonder if we can catch the driver?"
Chris' face didn't give her much hope. He said, "That guy was gone right away, and it took us 10 minutes just to walk down this drive."
Amy looked around. Maybe there was someone living here who could help? As she turned 360 degrees, she found just tall grass, trees and more trees. No cars, no people. She looked up at Chris, who towered over her every day of the week. "Let's check out the cabin, maybe there's a phone."
"This is why you should have let me bring mine," he grouched, as they picked up their bags and trudged to the steps leading to the rickety front porch.
"Hush. You'd be on it too much. This is a getaway...and I'm not even sure we'd get a signal out here."
The steps creaked alarmingly as they climbed them. In front of the door was a charming doormat that read: 'Welcome to our Family'. Chris knocked on the door.
"Hello?" he called, followed by another knock a few seconds later, with a louder hail. Nothing.
Amy reached to try the knob, but it was locked.
Chris started to check around the door frame, before kneeling down to lift the mat. Under it was a key. "Why bother locking it?" he asked rhetorically as he fitted the key in the lock and let them into the single room beyond.
The inside seemed to be no nicer than the out. The dim light seeping through dirty windows barely illuminated the space. On one side was a wooden table with two chairs, a small counter, and some shelves. Against the back wall was a wood stove next to a narrow bed which seemed to have a patchwork quilt. The only other furniture was a tattered upholstered chair near the door.
"I don't see a phone," Chris intoned.
"I figured. There weren't any wires leading to the house. Probably no power," she said, adding to the miserable situation.
"So, what do we do? Head back to town?"
It was a ridiculous suggestion, and they both knew it; the ride out had taken a while; they'd never get back before dark. Amy did her best to wrap her head around the situation. It was bleak: Thursday afternoon, and no one was coming to get them until Monday.
Walking to the shelves above the counter, she spotted a pot and a pan, some plates and utensils. Enough for two. A large bowl and a jug on the counter showed where water could be poured. Maybe there was a well? They'd brought enough food to get them through the four days, but it was just staples.
Thinking of the food, Amy remembered it was still in boxes back at the head of the drive. She turned to her son, seeing the anxious look on his handsome face, and felt a surge of sympathy. He hadn't signed on for this. "I'm sorry I screwed up the directions," she said. Her admission threatened to make her cry, so she clamped her lips together.
He'd always been observant, so it was no surprise Chris came to her and took her in his arms. "It's okay, Mom. This wasn't what you sold me on, but I'm sure we can make it work. Who knows, maybe the owner will show up and help us get back to town?"
"Maybe," she said into his shoulder, doing her best to keep it together while clutching at his larger frame. The warmth of his embrace filled her up, giving her strength. When she had a better grip on her emotions, she said, "We need to go get the food before an animal finds it."
"Okay."
Together they clomped down the hollow stairs and hurried back the way they came. It ended up taking them two trips each to get it all to the small cabin, and once settled, the boxes ended up taking a significant chunk of the floor space. Amy left one box of perishable food out on the porch to use the colder temperature outside to keep it fresh longer.
"Can you see if there's any wood around? I'll see if I can find some water."
"'Kay," he said.
Amy checked the sides of the cabin, and then looked for any trails that may lead to a well or spring. Nothing. She spotted Chris carrying stacks of wood into the cabin, so at least they'd have heat. She felt a surge of gratitude she'd convinced him to come with her, even if it had already gone wrong. He worked out regularly, and handled the pile of wood in his arms like it was nothing.
Amy was about to give up on her search when she spotted a trail out back. It led to a hand pump sticking out of the ground just a few yards into the trees. A few tentative pumps soon had cold, clean water streaming onto the ground.
Feeling marginally better, she headed back to the house to get the pitcher from the counter. Chris had a flame flickering in the stove by the time she returned, which further improved her mood. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Amy looked around, noting that between their bags, the food, and the wood, there wasn't much room left for them. She sat in one of the wooden chairs, finding that it wobbled on the rough floor. Figures. She watched Chris struggle to get the fire going. It had been a few years since boy scouts, so he must be rusty.
"How much wood was there?" she asked.
"Plenty, more than enough for the weekend."
Well, that was something. The last thing they needed to be dealing with while bored was being cold as well. What were they to do with themselves? She had a couple books, but wasn't sure if Chris brought anything besides a deck of cards. It could be a dull weekend.
When the fire eventually got hot enough to keep itself going, Chris closed the little door and stood up. He looked around, meeting his mom's eyes. She gave him a little smile. "Sorry," she said again.
He shrugged. "Have to make the best of it, I guess. The owner might show up. Maybe someone will see the smoke and come investigate."
"Maybe." She didn't hold too tight to that hope.
The one blessing of the trip to that point turned out to be the metal roof. A roar built overhead as the clouds opened up and dumped their load onto the area. It was thunderous within the cabin, but when Amy walked to the porch and looked out at the forest around them, it was oddly peaceful. The rain on the roof transformed into a bright tinkle in the open air. She found herself smiling, the soothing susurration easing her anxiety.
Wanting - needing - to be in this scene longer, she went inside and grabbed one of the chairs, dragging it to the porch and sitting down. Chris joined her a minute later with the other chair, and the two of them sat and took it in. It was very different from city living, as there was rarely a lack of noise. Here, despite the metal roof, it was serene.
At one point, Chris leaned back in his chair, causing it to groan an urgent warning. He slammed it back on all four feet, grinning sheepishly at her.
