AN: Yes, I know another story. But for the record this idea came up before Coincidence. So this will be, or rather was, a small one-shot. But it will be another two or three chapters until it is finished. I would like to thank NightmareWorld, for being my beta! Have fun reading!
Cabin Secerts
The trees swayed slightly in the breeze. Horizon spreading on the country side, the setting suns bright colors, all the different shades of oranges and pinks blended together. A small forest was off to the side of the road. In the dead silence you could hear different animals chattering away, the noise getting louder in comparison to the dead of the country side.
Then all of the sudden the animals were quiet.
The eeriness stretching as far as the sunset colors faded into the sky. A single black bird flew away from the wooded area, and landed on the ground a few yards away. The black bird had its head tilted towards the tall trees. It waited like that, watching, for a few more minutes. It swiftly took flight again, heading in the opposite direction of the woods.
Almost every little thing was still, the only indication that the world hadn't stopped was the air rustling the grass. A small crack came from the woods, and a figure stepped out of the clearing. The said figure was a man, about 5' 6" and his attire was a pair of jeans and a leather jacket. He had long fair hair; it came down to his shoulders, and covered his eyes almost entirely. Though he looked pretty skinny; the jacket seemed as if it were too big for him. The person kept walking as if nothing was weird about him being in the middle of nowhere and leaving the woods.
He walked a while, looking down at the dirt covered road and the dirt that now covered his black converse. He didn't glance up at all, for what seemed to be a good time because the sunset was now fizzling out. As he walked he had a slight limp, though it was only noticeable at certain moments. Like when he put too much pressure on his right leg, the slight breeze picked up a bit, making the air bite at the skin that was exposed.
He zipped up the jacket, and stuffed his hands in the over-sized pockets. He picked up the pace as the sun hid behind the ground, now only lighting up half the sky. He kept walking, not seeming nervous that the sun had just set and he was in the middle of nowhere.
A ways down the road was a small shimmer of some object. The person looked up and smirked, before putting his head back down, and quickened his pace. Ahead in the distance was the shimmer, belonging to a car. It was silver, and upon getting closer the dent could easily be identified on driver's door.
He finally got to the car, the sun now gone and the darkness settling in. The driver's door window was shattered, and glass on both the outside as well as the inside. He took his left hand out of his pocket and brushed the glass that was still attached to the window, aside. The tiny shards fell to the ground on top of his scuffed up converse.
He reached inside the car window and hit a button. The car clicked and he opened the car door in one graceful move. On the inside was of the car was expensive leather seats and a stick shift in the middle of the console.
He got down on his left knee and winced before brushing the pain aside and getting to work. He opened the paneling underneath the dash, revealing multiple sets of wires. He glanced at the dashboard and reached with his left hand and grabbed a paperclip that was placed there. Only now he knew the importance or misplacing office supplies.
He put the paperclip between his teeth and uncoiled it. As soon as it was straight, he turned on the overhead light next to the driver's side, and got close to the wires. He tilted his head so it wasn't blocking the little light that he had. He immediately found what he was looking for. The bright blue and dull red wires stood out against the many black ones.
He shifted the paperclip in his mouth. He had to work faster; it was getting colder. He shivered slightly as another breeze came by. He grunted as he shifted his foot, getting in a better position to start working. He took the paperclip out of his mouth, put it against the two wires, and gently cut them open.
The frays of the wires were spread out. He threw the paper clip in the passenger seat and put his attention on what he was doing. He carefully put the wire frays together, and rubbed. He was awarded with a small spark, and soon after the engine roared to life. He smirked and gently stood up. He put his hand to his knee as he did so; he just sighed and straightened up.
With the car now working, he silently glided into the front seat. He stared at the fuel pedometer with hate. It was almost empty, and he needed to cross a lot of miles to get to where he wanted to go. He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.
He finally shut the door, and the small light source that he had vanished. He put his left hand by the wheel and flicked on the back light for the dashboard. The bright red stood against the midnight black, which surrounded everything else. The speedometer could go up to two-hundred, and he was going to need all the horse power to get where he needed to be.
On the console of the car was a small screen. He put his fingertips to the black smooth surface and it flashed on. It was a simple GPS system, though it only activated by his touch. He typed in a coordinate number. The system changed colors and gave him the directions, from where he was right now to follow the green line to where he needed to be. It looked farther away than he expected.
He clicked a button on the screen and it showed how many miles it took to get to the house, just below twenty miles. He glanced at the dashboard, and glared at the little mark just barely above the E.
He closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to get to the house in his car. Still, he would push the car to its very last mile. He suppressed a shiver as the cold night air filled the car, but he did not turn on the heat. For one reason, it wasted gas and he needed every last drop. Another, more obvious thing was that the window was no longer there. So why waste heat when it was literally going out the window?
He set his left foot all the way down on the clutch, changed the gear, and slammed on the accelerator. He turned the dial to his low lights, only seeing the bare minimum in front of the car. And he was off into the night, searching for the house that in his opinion was located too far away.
The sky was dark. Not just a normal dark either, more like an eerie, creepy, darkness that surrounded everything and didn't let go. However there were a few sparkling stars in the sky. There was a man walking in the middle of the street, the same guy that was in the car previously. He had abandoned the car for a while now; it ran out of gas as he was going two hundred. He had made it a mere fourteen miles in the car, and he only had six miles left until the house came into view.
He had been to this specific safe house only once before, but he could tell it from anywhere. After all, it was in the middle of nowhere and was a tiny cabin with only three rooms.
He picked up his pace, knowing that he left his car down the road at 6:45. If he was lucky he would make it to the cabin by 7:30 and be out of there by dawn.
Continuing to walk, he was starting to think that he had wondered in the wrong direction. Staring, at the ground he was about to turn around when he stepped over a tree branch. He glanced up to see another entrance to a small wooded area.
The full moon lit up the sky as well as the earth below, making everything have an illuminating glow. The trees were a more deep mahogany wood color than they normally would be, and with the leaves in the ground it made it look far too real.
He kept walking to a clearing of the woods, with his hands in his pockets and his feet moving briskly, but silently. He didn't make a noise as he maneuvered around tree branches and fallen crisp leaves. After a few minutes of trekking through the woods, he saw a small brick cabin off in the distance.
Coming through the clearing, he saw the various shades of brick color; the tiny deck that connected the steps to the front door. The steps were denigrating and scratched up, with broken pieces were hanging off of them. The door was a solid sturdy door with no dents or anything of that sort, on the white surface.
He jumped the steps; ignoring them and the slight pain in his knee and swiftly walked to the door. He pulled out the paperclip that he stuck in his pocket before he deserted the car. He started to bend the paperclip, so it vaguely looked like a key.
The door had two different locks on it; a deadbolt and the knob. He started getting to work with the deadbolt. He stuck the paperclip in it with his left hand, and started to shift and move it in different directions. After a few minutes the deadbolt clicked.
He sighed and rolled his left shoulder a few times before he crouched on his left knee. He stuck the paperclip in the doorknob, and with as little as four movements, the door clicked again. He put the paperclip back in his pocket, and opened the door.
Inside he immediately closed the door, locked it, and went over to the alarm system. Flipping up the case, he typed in a code and a red light turned on.
He let his shoulders slump, releasing the stress that had built up in his undercover work. Before he did anything else, he pushed a button that was next to the alarm system. A light in the corner fluttered on. The light itself was dull, but the metal shade hid most of the light behind it. A lamp was perched on a crocked end table. Next to the lamp was an old, flimsy, beat up couch. It was pushed up against the opposite wall, facing a small coffee table. The coffee table had scruffs on the sides of it, looking as if it gotten thrown around.
He turned around and now that the light was on, his face was more distinguished. He had a slight fresh bruise on his jaw that wasa dull purple color. It flared up with pain every now and again, but he ignored it. His cheek had two scratches on it. Both of them were parallel to each other, and coated in dry blood.
He silently observed the kitchen, which was in the same cramped room as the living area. The stove was a gas one that had obviously been worn out. Rust stained the corners, and the stove was wearing down to its last peg. There was one counter that separated the fridge from the stove, and that had a sink in it. In the middle of the squished kitchen was a wooden island, and two bar stools stood behind it.
He walked over to the coffee table. The tile beneath him creaked slightly as he walked over to the coffee table and kicked the bottom of it, as if it didn't' have enough scuff marks on it. After he kicked it, a small compartment opened up. He slowly bent down, and stuck his left hand in the table. He curled his fingers a certain way, and pulled towards him. Another notch opened and he reached inside of that one and grabbed something.
He took his hand out and produced a gun. A light weight model, yet still powerful.
He gently got up, and kicked the door closed with his right foot, and winced. He took the short walk to the kitchen, and sat on a stool. The leather creaked under his weight as he put his feet on the rim. He set the gun on the smooth surface.
He swiftly took it apart, looking at each piece for only a second before continuing. His right hand moved dramatically slower than his left, but he did not seem to notice. He laid all of the parts out in front of him. He picked up a bullet, and felt the cold metal in between his fingers. He sighed and set the single bullet down. This specific gun only had the lone bullet. He put the gun back together again, only this time seconds faster than compared to when he took it apart.
His feet touched the ground as he moved away from the island to the stainless steel fridge, about the only thing worth a penny in this safe house. He opened the fridge door, using his left hand, and saw that it was empty besides a full case of water. He grabbed one and set it next to the gun.
Closing the refrigerator door, he smoothly opened the freezer. A slight chill ran down his spine as the vapors hit his face. He reached for two ice packs, one of them smaller than the other. The tinier one he sat next to his water, and the bigger one he kept in his hand.
He set the larger ice pack in the sink. Turning around he grabbed the other ice pack, and set it on his right shoulder. Putting pressure on it he sighed and closed his eyes for a second, wishing he were somewhere else.
Opening his eyes he was slightly disappointed that he stared at the brick behind the sink.
He threw the small ice pack in the freezer, not minding that it hit the back of the ice machine, making little ice pickets fall in the container.
Grabbing both the water and the gun, he wandered to the hallway. In the narrow space there were only two doors. He opened the closest one and hit the light switch.
The bulb that hung from the ceiling lit up the tiny room. The bathroom had a toilet, a sink with a medicine cabinet above it, and a single shower stall shoved in the corner. He set the water down on the counter. Checking the safety on his gun, he set it next to the water and slipped off his jacket.
His T-shirt was gray except for the bottom of it, which was soaked in something. He managed to pull his left arm out, rather smoothly, and craned his neck out of the top.
He then very carefully took his right arm out of the shirt, with tremendous help from his left. He dropped the shirt silently and observed the damage done to his side. On his stomach was the start of the blood. It went from his front, in a thick line, and carried its way all the way to his back. Near his spine is where the line ended.
Among everything else, his upper body was littered in different types of scars. A few big gashes, which were red but closed, on his back. On his arms were small white lines, looking like fresh scratches, but he knew otherwise. His front was littered with more lines, which differed in both size and length. His chest was yellow, contrasting against his slightly pale skin, with old bruises just starting to vanish. But just above his heart was a small bulge, and if you did not look close enough, it would appear as if it weren't there.
He silently opened the medicine cabinet. About five pill bottles stood out, but it was the white plastic box that he grabbed first. He left the cabinet open and released the safety on the box. The box was a first aid kit, on a first glance to the continents inside. He picked up the alcohol and a hand towel.
Leaning over the sink, he let the towel lay in his right hand as he poured with his left. After it was soaked he capped the bottle, rung out the cloth, and positioned it to his bleeding wound. His breath quavered a bit before he started on whiping the dry blood away.
After cleaning it thoroughly he unraveled the white gauze and wound it tightly over his torso.
Once he was satisfied with the way he had wrapped his cut he decided that he had better head for bed.
Glancing at his watch he saw that it was 7:52. Shaking his head at all the time the broken car had wasted, he put everything away, grabbed the water, gun, and his bloodied shirt. He scooped up his jacket, threw it over his shoulder, turned off the light, and went into the hallway.
He backtracked his way to the living room/kitchen, looked around, and saw that everything was as he left it. He walked over to the door and checked the locks and the alarm system. They both were in working order so he flipped the light switch and the small lamp flickered off.
Walking back towards the bathroom, he opened the other door. As soon as he did so he turned on the light, and a bedroom appeared in front of him. There was a twin bed shoved against the far wall. Not more than four steps away from the foot of the bed was a simple wooden desk. A bright blue plastic chair was sitting in front of it. However to his right was also a wooden dresser. Everything clear of personal items, just how it was supposed to be.
He gently laid his shirt and jacket on the back of the chair. He made his way towards the dresser and placed the water and gun upon its smooth surface. Opening the first drawer, he found a display of black sweats. He threw them on, using his left hand with little to no difficulty, and his jeans accompanied his pile of clothes on the chair. He cracked open the third drawer and spotted a few gray shirts of different lengths. Pulling out a t-shirt he put it through his head, then his left arm, followed by his right.
He straightened out the shirt, closed the drawer and picked up the gun in his left hand, liking the way the weight of it felt. He closed the door, turned the light off and made his way over to the bed. Pulling back the sheets he heard thunder in the distance. He glanced out the window and saw nothing but his reflection, which was horrid, so he peeled his eyes away. He settled down by putting the gun under his pillow, and laying on his stomach with his face towards the door, and his left hand lightly gripping the gun. He shut his eyes, and very easily, either through practice or exhaustion, welcomed the darkness.
However not long after his eyes snapped back open.
AN: Thanks for reading! Sorry to say, I don't know when I will update this. Though if I get some reviews perhaps soon? And the chapters will be longish, like this one was. And split into three or four parts. Would love to know what you guy's thought of this! :)