The cabin prompt 1/13/11

The cabin stood awkwardly in the field, listing to one side as if whoever had built it had neglected to level the ground beneath. Cam could see from a cursory glance that the joints weren’t properly fitted, there were gaps between the boards. The whole place simply seemed askew. Yet Cam could not wait to carry her boxes up the stairs and settle in. It was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

In order to finish her dissertation, Cam had realized a few months ago that she needed solitude. It would certainly help to get away from the party atmosphere her friends reveled in. The boxes contained reams of research. Behind her, she heard John wrestling the red portable generator out of the truck bed. With it came ten gallon gas cans, five of them, and bags of groceries which didn’t require refrigeration. A neglected nearby orchard would provide fruit for her. The generator was there simply to power her iBook and desk lamp.

The cabin was rented for a month, with the contingency that she may need to extend her stay. September was barely born, and John said she could have the cabin for the whole winter if need be. He would transport supplies for her and come up once a week to make the place more air tight. When she protested that she may only need the month, he raised a placating hand and said the time was an investment. He may want to retire here some day and couldn’t if the place frothed snow at every joint.

While John set up the generator to the side of the cabin, Cam began hauling boxes and bags up the stairs. Inside, the cabin was hardly airtight, but it was clean and comfortably furnished. Dropping her bag on the dark craftsman sofa, she pulled a box to her and got to work.
*
The orchard was less than a hundred yards to the rear of the cabin. With the advent of fall, the heavy fruit was falling but the trees still carried plenty of edible produce. She carried a boxful of the apples back to the cabin and sat them on the front porch to prevent the heat from the woodstove from prematurely spoiling them. A wooden chair faced the road- a trail, really- and the woods beyond. She sat in the chair, wiping an apple clean with a damp towel, a mug of black coffee on the narrow boards at her feet and contemplated her next chapter.

Across the road, a hulking figure moved through the woods. It was massive, brown, its weight precariously balanced on wiry, bony legs which comprised most of its height. When she moved in John told her about the local moose herd. Apparently if she didn’t approach, they wouldn’t either. She’d taken to calling the one now foraging the woods across from her Jinny. Jinny had a narrower nose than the other moose she’d seen over the last week, and a star of white on one ear. Every so often, Jinny would stand at the edge of the road and stare at the cabin, as if acknowledging Cam. Cam would wave and Jinny would wander off.
*
Cam woke to something heavy brushing the side of the cabin. The wooden box shuddered and slumped around her again. Cam’s heart pounded, more from the abrupt awakening than the fear of something out to harm her. She pulled the heavy down blanket tight around her as she sat up in the bed, listening. The cabin was cold, the world outside as silent as nocturnal woods could be. Ten minutes passed as she contemplated the possibilities. None were particularly frightening. Wild animals could be terrifying, but generally left human habitations alone unless provoked or hungry. Whatever had brushed the outside of her cabin had likely been curious, not dangerous, and wandered off when it smelled human. She settled back down onto the bed, plumping the pillow and curling into her preferred sleeping position on her right side. She tucked the blanket tight around her to maintain her heat and drifted back to sleep.

In the morning, Cam woke with a start. There was an odd smell to the cabin, part wet dog, part wild animal. Now her heart pounded in earnest. She heard a shuffling outside her bedroom door, which she closed during the night to keep in the heat from the small woodstove in the corner. Something snorted at the narrow opening at the bottom and Cam heard the small clatter of a hoof lifted and set gently down.
The door crashed open, hitting the wall next to the bed. It bounced back and there was a crack as it hit something solid. Cam threw the blanket over her head, trying to be invisible, to provide as little threat as possible to whatever was in her room. Even deer could be dangerous if threatened. They could kick and bite, or gore a hazard with antlers. Cam wanted to finish her dissertation, she wanted to someday get married. She wanted to write a book. And right now, she wanted to get the hell out of the woods.

Something snuffled at the blanket. Through the weight of down and dense thread count she could smell something rancid. It wasn’t rancid the way meat does rancid. It was rotten in the way decayed vegetation reek s. And it smelled fermented. Like poorly made apple cider. The snuffling continued for a few moments, whatever the beast was exploring the length of the bed. Something else, heavy and freely moving, kept smacking her under the covers. Huge hooves moved unsteadily across the wooden floor. Finally it settled heavily on the floor at the foot of the bed, jouncing Cam around under the covers when one if it’s harder extremities jostled the bed. She heard her suitcase clatter across the floor. She stayed hidden until she heard the breath of the beast even out as it dropped into a heavy sleep.

The blanket was wet on the outside. Rancid drool practically dripped from it. She moved timidly across the length of the bed and stared at the mountainous moose on her floor. It was Jinny. And she was drunk. One of the huge ears twitched and laid back against the heavy skull as Cam couldn’t help but whisper a Hail Mary. She moved gingerly off the bed. Her slippers were covered in moose drool, so she slipped on her tennis shoes without tying them and moved as silently as possible out into the cabin’s main room.

How she had slept through the chaos caused by Jinny in the cabin was beyond comprehension. Boxes of paperwork were scattered by the stumbling hooves. The table lay on its side, the bowl of fruit now trampled and chewed. Cam felt her heart slapping her ribcage and her lungs lock. The paperwork could be saved and reorganized. But where was her laptop?

Cam had placed it back in the bag as she always did in the evening. The bag was waterproof, and the leaky cabin did not inspire her confidence for laptop safety. The bag had been zipped and left on the table. It should have been large enough to spy even in the chaotic pile of papers.

Cam tried to calm herself and think logically. If it wasn’t under the papers, maybe it hadn’t been trampled. Under the couch? Cam dropped to her knees as quietly as possible and scanned the space beneath. Not there. She stayed down and explored the floor for nearly fifteen minutes before giving up on that idea. Rather than stand, she sat in the middle of the mess, pulling her knees up to her chest and trying not to cry. Two years of hard work, meticulous research and a clinical trial. The data was backed up, but the writing wasn’t. There were nearly 150 pages of writing on the laptop which existed nowhere else except her head.

She heard the bed shudder in the next room as Jinny moved in her drunken stupor, likely kicking it. Wait- Jinny. Something had bounced off the blanket while the moose was busy drooling on it. Cam nearly jumped up. If Jinny had toppled the table with her nose, it was just possible-

She moved back to the bedroom, trying to avoid tripping on the mess and waking the moose. Climbing quietly back onto the bed, she peered down at the inebriated mammal. Wrapped around the cow’s neck was the long strap of the laptop. Her head rested on the body of the case. Cam stared at the case and imagined thick, malodorous slobber dripping through holes in the newly damaged case into her laptop, onto the keyboard, down to the precious hard drive. Can they recover data from that?
Cam jumped as Jinny suddenly lifted her head. The drunk female stared at her, blinking slowly, before letting her head sink leisurely back down onto the case.
*
Cam was on the front porch, in her flannel jammies and wrapped in a thin lap blanket two hours later when John showed up for his weekly supply drop and repair spree. Cam hadn’t had coffee. She hadn’t brushed her hair or teeth. She looked and felt like hell.

“Rough night?” John was a man of few words.

Cam said quietly. “Very. The moose has my laptop.”

John blinked. “The who has your what?”

Cam gestured to the thrashed cabin. She front door was off it’s hinges, and the chaos was visible from the porch. “See for yourself. There is a drunk moose named Jinny in my bedroom with my laptop around her neck, drooling into the hard drive.” Cam blinked, feeling a frustrated tear roll down her face.

John waded carefully into the mess and whistled. He looked back at Cam. “Drunk moose. Hand me an apple.”

The box of apples had been turned on its side and trampled but a few still looked somewhat edible. She tossed one through the door and sank silently back down in the chair.

A few minutes later, John emerged with the drool-sodden case hanging from the strap. He held it out to her. She stood and snatched it from his grasp, placing it gingerly on the uneven boards of the porch before tugging at the zipper. The case, aside from being smelly and beyond damp, seemed unharmed. Her heart lifted as she tenderly pulled the laptop free and pushed the case aside. The laptop appeared fine, but she held her breath as she pressed the power button. John wandered the inside of the cabin while she did a quick inspection of the laptop functions. 150 pages, intact, her studies, intact, her laptop, a constant companion of her school career, intact.

“Is it okay?” John stood in the door, a pile of papers in his hand. He had apparently been attempting a little cleaning.

Cam grinned. “Yes. Thank god. All here. Thank you so much. I didn’t know how to get it away from her-“

John grinned back. “You just have to know how to deal with party animals. Snacks should always be served.”