Page 26 of Monsters

Chapter 10

We were all ravenous.

The day’s journey, plus our efforts in getting the cabin prepared, had left us hungry for more than what we’d brought. Four empty spaghetti cans sat on the counter, and half a loaf of bread remained.

“That was delicious,” Lucas smiled while scraping the leftover sauce from the plate with another slice of bread.

“Far from delicious. We were all so hungry I don’t think it would have mattered what we ate,” I said.

“What’s for dessert?” Mason asked, leaning against the sofa and stretching his long legs in front.

“We have my mom’s leftover peach sponge, and there’s a bag of—”

Thud.

Our eyes darted to the door where a quick, yet dull thump sounded. Having received quite the fright, we jumped over the scattered plates and sat facing the front of the cabin. With hearts pounding, and still with the fear of knowing we were trespassing, we watched through the windows for any sign of movement.

“What was—”

Thud

“Arghh!” We all screamed again, as yet another noise, identical to the previous one sounded against the door.

“Wh… what is it?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“I don’t know,” Lucas admitted, somewhat calmer than me. He placed a comforting hand on my arm to ease the shaking.

“I’ll find out.” As Mason rose slowly to his feet, he retrieved something blue and metallic from his shorts pocket. With a flick of his thumb, the switchblade extended, the knife gleaming in the light of the fire.

I swallowed hard at the sight and fought against the uncomfortable realization that Mason had the knife in his possession this entire time. While he’d been showing his good side so far on the trip, he was unpredictable. Him being a loose cannon and carrying a weapon had me nervous.

“I’ll come with you.” Lucas rose to support his brother, and hating to be left alone, I followed close behind. We inched toward the door, a rather ridiculous notion since we couldn’t see outside but whoever, whatever it was, would be able to see us no matter how fast we moved.

“Just… be careful,” I mouthed almost silently, hands balled into fists. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

Mason was first at the door and stood adjacent to it against the front wall. With his right hand on the handle and his left wielding the knife, he swung the door open and came face to face with nothing but darkness.

“There’s nothing here,” he announced, his bare shoulders now visibly relaxed.

We sighed with relief, and joined Mason, scanning the woods. There was no movement except for the gentle sway of the trees as the breeze traveled through. A bug crawled up my bare leg, and when I bent down to brush it away, I saw the cause behind our scare.

“Look,” I said, moving past the brothers and pointing at the bare garden bed next to the step. “There’s two of them.”

Crouching down and using both hands, I scooped up the first bird and held it for Mason and Lucas to see. Its neck was broken—a result of hitting the door during flight.

“It’s a wren,” Mason observed, his finger stroking through its soft peachy-colored head feathers.

“Wrens are only small, aren’t these two too big to be wrens?”

“Not if they come from Mexico. They’re double, sometimes three times the size,” Lucas chimed in.

“Mexico is a long way from here, and when did you two become experts in bird species?”

“Ninth grade geography,” they declared in unison.

“Well, that still doesn’t explain how Mexican wrens wandered so far north.”

“Weather patterns,” they both offered, again at once.

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