Chapter Eight
The old cabin shuddered in the gale. The blizzard had gotten even worse after the still unseen sun had set. Even through the heavy wooden walls, the howling wind could be heard. The hot metal of the old stove pinged occasionally, followed by a sharp pop! from a piece of burning wood. The rusty old stovepipe creaked and rattled as stray gusts of wind shook the outside piece
Sandi slept uneasily on the bare boards of the old wooden bed, her white, pinched face visible in the dim, flickering firelight that leaked out of the old stove. Her hands were clenched over her lower belly, a constant whimpering coming from her bitten lips. Quinn had led Stacy and Tiffany in pushing the old bunk bed closer to the stove. Even without a mattress, it was better to sleep on than the floor. They had then pushed the table against the front door, trusting the thick wooden bar to shut the back door. Quinn had also taken some old axe and shovel handles from the shed, as makeshift weapons if needed, though against what she wasn't sure.
What is going on here, she thought bitterly to herself. Sandi starts singing in what sounds like Japanese, and has ice in her gut, Stacy gets buried alive, and becomes a I don't know what for a few minutes, and Tiffany tells me Sandi fell down a flight of stairs, while her mother almost applauds watching! It sounds paranoid, but I'm starting to think we were lured here. Stacy and Tiffany weren't paying any attention to the road, and I was talking with everybody, but I think now we must be far away from the main highway. That time we were camping, Daria had trouble calling out, and she told me later that cell phone transmitters are mostly in big cities, and follow interstate highways. We must have driven straight away from the highway and Lawndale. The road was paved, but seemed old, now that I think about it.
At least things weren't all bad. They had cleaned a few rags from the shed enough to use as washrags, and cleaned their faces and hands, though they still felt dirty. Being a little bit cleaner seemed to help Sandi, anyway, though Quinn noticed another disturbing thing then. When she or Tiffany were with Sandi, touching her calmed herStacy couldn't get close without causing Sandi's cramps to get worse, much worse. Stacy seemed confused by this, and it brought her close to tears, at not being able to help Sandi.
Sandi was becoming a problem too. Her intense physical pains caused her to become short tempered, and her almost constant sobs were getting on the other girls nerves, even though they knew the pain she was in. It's almost like she's getting close to having a baby, Quinn thought, then paused. She tried to remember what she had ever heard about childbirth, from her mom's various "Birds and Bees' talks, and all those generally boring classes in high school biology, and safe sex talks. Oh, My God! That cold point is right where Sandi's uterus is! Quinn realized. How can something that cold be inside there?
Sandi huddled in pain, almost touching the stove, but still cold, even though she was sweating. Her hunger pangs were acute, in addition to her cramping belly. She had trouble drinking water, even though she was always thirsty. Fire and ice seemed to be fighting a war in her body, and both sides seemed to hate her. Why me! I'm trying to do better! I'm trying to be better! I want to have friends, real friends! Why doesn't dad help me?! Why does mom despise me so much? She didn't care before about my grades! Now Quinn and Stacy are going to go away to college, and I'm going to be alone! Was I that bad a sister to Sam and Chris? Was I? The sympathetic looks of the emergency room nurses ate at her, too. The questions about if she was sure her fall was an accident, the dark, questioning looks at her helpless father. No, it wasn't my dad, it was my oh so important mother! Why doesn't mom love me, like Quinn's mom loves her! Quinn's nice, my best friend! Helen has been nice to me, too, she doesn't seem to hate mom, though she is wary around her.
The feeling of always being watched was getting to her, too. She seemed to feel a pair of cold, dark eyes, watching her every move, something pale and icy. Even worse, it seemed to be inside Stacy, her oldest friend. Stacy had this helpless look in her face, when her just getting close to Sandi seemed to make her pain worse. But when she would start brushing her unbound hair, Stacy's face seemed to blur, her hair darken, and Stacy's soft brown eyes become a hard empty darkness, drinking in all they saw. Quinn and Tiffany couldn't see it, but Sandi could.
Stacy nervously sat away from Sandi. Even when Sandi was asleep, she seemed to be looking at her, out of slitted eyes, afraid of her, Stacy! A shadow deep inside Stacy relished that fear, though, craved it. All those years she bossed me around, she deserves a little payback, a little voice deep inside her whispered. Just because she's nice now, I'm supposed to forgive and forget? And the oh so beautiful and smart Quinn, and poor, stupid, Tiffany. You both put me down, too. Well, my time is coming! I'm going to dance in the snow, free! Free of all of you!
Dim visions filled her mind, wild, intoxicating, of strength and power, of hurtling over snow covered fields, free as a bird, a great white bird, a powerful gust of snow filled wind, that would blast away all who would try to stop her! She, Stacy, would take anything she wanted! She wasn't too sure yet of the how or why, but she had received a promise!
Tiffany shuddered, staying close to Quinn. She wasn't sure what was going on, but she seemed to feel unseen currents flowing in the atmosphere of the battered old cabin. Quinn was the only familiar thing to cling to, and Tiffany could tell that the red haired girl was reaching the limits of her own strength. She had very deliberately sat between Stacy and Sandi, steeling herself. We are four friends who care for each other, Quinn carefully thought, Sandi Griffin, Quinn Morgendorffer, Stacy Rowe, and Tiffany Blum-Deckler. We were the Fashion Club, but now we are four friends. We got lost in the storm, it was an accident, that's all. We are ordinary teenage girls. We like boy bands, we read Waif magazine, we talk fashion, we love our families. There is nothing strange here, strange things aren't real.
Quinn said, "Stacy? Who were you going out with tonight?" Stacy just continued brushing her hair, lost in her dreams. Her eyes were unfocused, a low humming coming from her throat. Quinn couldn't place the tune at first, but feeling Tiffany stiffening at her side brought it into sharp focus. It was the same tune Sandi had screamed earlier, the tune Tiffany had heard outside in the night.
"Stacy!" Quinn cried out.
The constantly moving brush slowed its rhythmic pace, then stopped. Stacy shook her hair back over her shoulders, the long brown strands almost rippling in an unconscious sensuality. She arched her body while still sitting on the bench, pursing her lips, and giving Quinn an almost coy look, like one of the models in Waif. Her normal appearance of sweet innocence seemed to fade, becoming sultry, wild, dangerous, three words Quinn had never even imagined about Stacy.
"Ye-es, Qui-nn? Did you ne-ed something?" Stacy purred, in a smooth, seductive tone.
Quinn gulped, becoming scared, bur determined to reach through to Stacy.
"Yes, Stacy, I asked who you were going to go on a date with tonight."
Stacy considered this for a moment, seeming to struggle, reaching deep inside herself for the answer to Quinn's question. Then she smiled.
"Why, it's Robert, Quinn. You do remember Robert, don't you? So tall and strong, with such big shoulders? He's not much of a dancer, but he's very nice and polite, and so very, "Stacy's voice trailed off.
"Very what, Stacy? Robert's very what?"
Stacy stood up and stretched.
"Why, nothing I'm sure you'd be interested in , Quinn. After all, you have your pick of the boys in school, don't you? The three J's trail you like puppies, begging for a treat that you never seem to have time to give, do you? So what do you care about Robert?"
"Stacy, Robert is very nice. I'm sorry you missed your date tonight. I'm sure that Robert likes you very much."
Quinn's quiet reply seemed to confuse Stacy. She stood, her brow furrowed, running her fingers through her long hair.
"Quinn, I, I'm sorry, I don't really know why I was so, so catty just now, it just seemed to come out of me, and, and, "Stacy's words trickled to a halt, as she slowly sat down again. She pulled her hair to the front, her fingers twitching, as if to braid it again. She held it in front of her eyes, staring at it, then let it fall, shaking her head.
"I like it loose, though, I'll keep this look, I think." Stacy said quietly.