Page 18 of Freshmeet
“What the hell?”
Wedging my shoulder against the faded, stripped wood, I counted to three and threw all two hundred plus pounds into the door. It flung open, and I flew into a rack of kayaks. My hip slammed into the wooden frame, and I tumbled to the dirty floor, skinning my palms and knees on the rough wooden planks.
I slowly rolled to my side, sitting with a loud thud. Blood trickled down my shins, and I dreaded the thought of having to check for splinters.
Brushing the loose, sweaty hair that had fallen from my ponytail off my face, I looked around the cramped space. Two kayaks lay next to me on the floor, while three remained hanging on the wall. Twenty or so life vests hung on rusty hooks behind me. Next to the open door was a small window with glass so filthy it let in very little light.
“Not creepy at all.”
Setting my tote bag in my lap, I dug through it searching for something to write with, but, of course, there wasn’t a marker, pen, or pencil in sight. I sighed and slowly stood.
Pictures will have to do.
I took pictures of all the items on my to-do list and put all the kayaks back on the rack. As I turned to leave the Aquatic Shack, the door slammed shut.
“Hey!” I shouted, banging my fist against the door. A shadowy figure moved past the dirty window, and I jumped back. The sound of footsteps on gravel circled the shack. I took a step into the middle of the room and followed them. A loud thump hit the wall with the rusty hooks, shaking it, sending life vests to the floor.
I yelped, my hand digging through my bag for anything that might be used as a weapon.
Kind bar, bottle of water, ChapStick, tiny notebook, whistle, my tiny purse, hand sanitizer?—
Unless my mystery visitor had a nut allergy or was a hemophiliac and could be taken out by a bunch of paper cuts, I was shit out of luck.
“Whoever you are, this isn’t funny!” I shouted, my voice shaky but loud.
Another thud, but this time behind the kayaks. In a surprising show of craftsmanship, the kayaks stayed put.
“Stop it!” I shrieked, wishing I had the pepper spray the university gave out during Homecoming last year.
A high-pitched scraping followed the outside wall next to the door, intensifying when it reached the doorframe.
My throat tight, I shrilly yelled, “I mean it! Fuck off!” My heart raced wildly against my ribs, and I struggled to take a complete breath. Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes, but there was no way I was blinking. I would stare at the door, willing it to stay closed until my eyes drowned.
Whoever was outside the door started to pound on it, hitting the wood until it creaked like it was seconds away from splintering. Now that my wide eyes had adjusted to the darkness, the light coming through the cracks surrounding the door was ultra-bright. The halo shook with each strike. Spots clouded my vision, but I fought the urge to shut them.
If I can just keep them open, the door will stay shut. Right?
There was a deep shout that sounded miles away, with the hammering on the door drowning it out. After one last crack, there was the crunch of gravel away from the Aquatic Shack.
The sound of my panting filled the small space. Even as I strained to listen for movement, all I could hear was my blood pumping and my lungs struggling to find air. I waited, preparingfor what I didn’t know. Minutes passed as I stood there, sweat dripping into my cuts, soaking my bra under my boobs, pooling under my belly, and along my thigh crease.
At least the hangover isn’t my biggest problem anymore.
On shaky legs, I took infinitesimal steps toward the door. I was in no hurry to leave the hot-ass shack, but I knew I couldn’t stay in there forever. Eventually, I needed to head back to the welcome center and beat the shit out of whoever thought it was funny to fuck with me in the woods.
I turned the handle, and just like before, the door didn’t open.
“You’ve got to be kidding me—trapped in a fucking death hut.”
Locked in the murder shanty, I checked my phone and silently cheered to see I had a signal. The phone rang and rang, but before Mona answered, I heard her voice outside the shack.
“Mona?” I yelled, my voice raw from all my panicked shrieking.
“Sarah?” Mona hollered back. “Why is there an ax in the door?”
“The fuck?” Carter grunted closer to the door. “Backup, I’m going to try to unwedge this thing.”
I took a step back, and sure enough, Mr. Gym Bro wiggled the ax until it came out, and the door swung open.
