“Wow. You a fan of the genre?”

Until he stops me, I don’t realize I’ve been rattling off my list out loud.

“Terra is. I don’t know why I keep letting her talk me into watching them.”

“Well, you forgot the most obvious one: The Cabin in the Woods.”

“Oh, yeah! That one’s funny at least. But you’re just proving my point.”

“It’s only scary because it’s nighttime. Believe me, tomorrow, you’ll think this is all gorgeous.”

“If I live that long.”

Ben laughs and chooses halfway through to morph it into a creepy, evil cackle. My only recourse is to punch him hard in the leg.

“Ow! Okay! I’ll stop!” He’s back to normal laughing, which has me smiling reluctantly. “We should have one more turn, and then we’ll be there. And I promise there are lights we can turn on to scare away all the monsters and murderers.”

Five minutes later, the GPS proves Ben right by telling me to make a left onto a gravel road. In fact, it’s not a road at all, but instead, it is a long driveway ending outside a cabin.

“Welcome to my hideaway.”

BEN

Four months. That’s how long it’s been since I last drove up to this place. I’ve come here a lot over the years, each time planning an extended stay. Invariably, I barely make it through one night before escaping back to the city. Whenever I pull up to the place, a strange cauldron of emotions boils in my gut, threatening to burn me. There are the old remnants of familiarity, excitement, comfort, but then there’s also the new spectrum of despair and loneliness.

Holly shuts off the engine but leaves on the headlights. I don’t know why I decided bringing her here would somehow make everything easier. But I’m willing to try.

“Are you renting, or is this your place?”

“It’s my place. My grandpa left it to me when he passed away.”

I’ve never thought passed away is an accurate way to describe how Grandpa Ben died, but Holly doesn’t need to hear the harsh truth. At least, not at the beginning of what I hope will be a fun, relaxing weekend.

“Were you close?”

“Yeah. He lived here, and I’d stay with him for a few weeks during the summer and visit throughout the year.” I know she’s ready to ask more, and normally, I love her inquisitive nature, but if I’m going to talk about my grandfather, it’s not going to be in a cold car after a long drive. “Come on. Don’t want to be caught outside when the zombies start coming out of the woods.”

“That’s not funny,” she grumbles the words but turns off the headlights and exits the car.

The distinct click of the trunk’s latch sounds loud in this quiet space. Before I can grab her bag, Holly has the strap slung over her shoulder.

“You can’t unlock the door if your hands are full. Now, please tell me this place has heat.”