Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 2
- Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 1
- Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 2
- Serial Saturday: On The Road Again by JR Grues, Part 3, Finale
On The Road Again: Part Two
The sign read . . .“Welcome to The Cabin Getaway. Camping has never been more Glamorous!” It was an Airbnb mixed with the idea of camping. The site was comprised of a small circle of tiny cabins that were more like tiny homes. They even had a sketched map of the place on the sign near the entrance. There were five small trailers accessible by a gravel road. The one lane road led to each home and looped all the way around back to the entrance, which was also the exit. There was one way in and one way out. At the entrance was a small office trailer. It appeared to be where the tenants checked in and out. That would be my first stop at dusk. The thoughts were nonstop in my head. “How could I do this?” “Should I make a plan or just wing it?” “Knife or gun?” I could just use what was readily available. I should wait to use the gun until I absolutely need it. I haven’t needed it since I found it. I picked it up off one of my famous truckers. It was a black 9mm honor-guard. I also found a full box of bullets. It has some bang to it, but the kick back isn’t too bad. Best not to use unless necessary, perhaps maybe for my final victim. There was no need to alarm the entire campsite before the fun really got started.
The sun starts to set, so I make my way to the office. There was only one person at the front desk. This will be a piece of cake. I don’t want to get too cocky just yet, so it’s best I make sure he is the only one around. The door was open, so I invited myself in for a chat with the man sitting at the desk.
“Excuse me sir, is there a manager I could speak to? I’m having trouble with the Wi-Fi.”
The man looked confused for a second. There are not that many cabins, and I assume he meets with everybody that checks in. He didn’t recognize me and was unsure which party I was with.
“Umm…what cabin are you in?” he asks as he checks the computer. “The Wi-Fi is up, so I’m not sure why you wouldn’t be getting a connection.” Still looking at the computer, he clicks the mouse a few of times before he focuses his attention back to me. “Are you sure you’re connecting to the right userna…” The sight of my gun now pointing at him threw off his speech. I asked him again, “Is there a manager I could speak too, sir?” He shivered at the presence of a gun. So many thoughts probably flooded his head. Who is this? What do they want? He most likely begged me for his life in his own head before he could ever get the words out. Please don’t hurt me, take what you want! But those thoughts never translate to words when regular people are thrust upon with real violence and threats. He finally spit out some words riddled with stutters.
“Please, I, I’m the only one working. We don’t have any money. It’s . . . It’s all done online. Please.”
This was fun and all, but I had no time for this. Once the piss became visible in his jeans, I told him to turn around and take off his belt. I instructed him then to get on his knees and close his eyes. He complied. I placed the gun on the desk and tied his hands with his own belt. I saw a meat cleaver in a butcher’s shop about a month ago, and I just had to take it. I knew someday the perfect time would present itself to use it. Today was the day. I grabbed the cleaver from my bag and went at his neck until I freed his head from his body. He had soiled himself, so I dragged his body into a closet that was filled with toiletries and snacks. I propped his head on the desk for my own personal amusement. I helped myself to a bag of cheese puffs as I scrolled through the computer files, checking on my new guest. This system had it all—the detailed layout, trails to and from, even a complete guest list of who was staying in each cabin. To my disappointment, only three out of the five were occupied. How could there be vacancies on the night of my arrival? Were they not expecting me? How could they do this to me? Very well. I will make do with what little opportunity I have.
Cabin 1- The Johnsons. Husband, wife, and child. Ages aren’t shown in the registry, so I will have to determine that upon visual. Maybe I can circle back to them on my way out. They are the closest to the exit, so maybe that’s not a good idea. I’m expecting some screams so best not make it too easy for escape.
Cabin 4- Cindy Pental along with two female guests. This one could be fun. Three friends camping together, who knows what kind of debauchery they are up to. They could be drinking heavily and consuming drugs together. I find it odd that they have their sexes identified in the system. Anybody could be looking at this thing, so why would you make it known three girls are alone in a cabin out here? Strange world.
Cabin 5- Louie and Lucy Lockwood along with Brad and Stacey Vine. Two married couples. This could be my toughest one yet. The husbands could be a problem. Maybe they are swingers, then I could surprise them all while they are in the middle of full-on orgasmic group sex. What are the odds they are a boring pair of couples out here for some regular glamping?
I’ve made up my mind. First, I’ll hit the Johnsons. I’ll take care of the couple and the child first. The office attendant had no car in the parking spot, so I can use theirs to block the exit so no one else has an easy escape with a vehicle. Then I will take care of the three damsels, in soon enough, distress. I will have to be sneaky with that group to limit the number of screams. I will save the toughest for last. If all else fails, I can always use my trusty firearm to end the husbands and polish off the widows. I don’t ever cover my face when I do my deed. I’ve never once left a witness to any of my doings. Why start now? In a situation like this, a mask or paint of some sort is useful. It gives off a certain spookiness to my victims—makes the scares even scarier. All my big screen heroes have them, but there are no viewers here, so who am I trying to impress? Plus, I may have to blend in and make myself look like a camp goer. Nobody in their right mind would trust some stranger wearing a hockey mask asking for directions.
I disabled the internet and checked the office attendant’s phone to see if he still had service. He didn’t. That’s great. Assuming he lived nearby and still had horrible service in these parts, then the tourists wouldn’t either. I stashed my bag in the office for safekeeping. I tucked my gun in my waistband and my knife in my boot and made my way through the trees to Cabin 1. I thought about casing every cabin out before I made my move on the family, but I spent too much time planning in my head already, I just wanted to get started. I couldn’t wait any longer. The excitement was too much to bear. As I crept on the first cabin, I felt as if I needed to pee. I was almost shivering in this hot humid night from wanting this so bad. The Johnsons were sitting at the campfire outside their cabin. The orange and red flames lit the front of their faces as they sat with marshmallows at the ends of their sticks. They were an older couple, maybe in their 40s. As I sat in the darkness, I got lost for a second in their conversation. They were worried about their son who was having trouble at school. They didn’t know how to deal with it anymore. They talked as if they had given up. The mother started crying a bit and then I snapped out of it. Where was this child? What was wrong with him? What kind of parents would give up on their son? I snapped a branch, knowing it would get the father’s attention. It did. He shot up, not out of worry, but weirdly excited. “Did you hear that?” he said to his wife. “Could be some wildlife.”
The wife grew worried a bit. “Should we get inside?” she whispered to Mr. Johnson.
“No, nothing too dangerous out here,” Mr. Johnson responded sarcastically to his wife as he approached the tree line to where I was hiding. As the husband walked closer to where I crouched, he turned to his wife and told her to get his flashlight on the picnic table closer to their cabin. She reluctantly went for the light as her husband now stood mere inches away from me. I pounced from the shadows of the forest and stabbed him in the throat with three of the fastest jabs I’ve ever taken. I felt an intense quake run through my body starting from my knees. I couldn’t stop there. With the same murderous angst, I rushed toward Mrs. Johnson, who had yet to turn around to witness the brutality that awaited her. I grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her head back to expose the bare and vulnerable neck. I slit her throat from ear to ear with a clean cut from the sharp edge of my trusted blade. Neither of them made more than a slight moan from my quick and precise attack. Now, where is the kid? I peeked through the window of the cabin and to my surprise it was empty. You can view the entire cabin and bunks through the main window. No one else was with them and their luggage looked to be packed for just two. This was confusing, but I assume they needed a little separation from the troubled child, deciding to leave him behind. I took their keys and moved the Johnsons family vehicle to block the road. No one will leave this camp alive but me.