Chapter 5. The Cosy Cabin.
They parked next to a somewhat reliable map showing most buildings, at the side of a forest road, and got out. Another sign proudly displayed the species in the area that faced extinction. It was evening, but the temperature was pleasant. Amir stayed in the car, talking on the phone. Caro looked at the map. Sara glanced at the other sign with its cute and unconventionally cute animals. She wished to ban aftershave but only from spaces in which people interacted. The men were visibly relaxing.
Rayhan lit a cigarette and wondered, ‘Is he ever happy?’ Caro replied, ‘When he has a challenge.’ The men laughed. Javed said, ‘He is getting more restless every day. Can he never relax?’ Amir left the car and said, ‘Rayhan. Grow a beard.’ The others laughed. Amir hesitantly took off his sunglasses. ‘So, where exactly is the boy?’ Caro looked at her phone. ‘Close. There is a cabin here that can be rented. The tracker should be there.’
They walked towards the lonely cabin. Amir stopped to throw a stone at a squirrel and missed. In the distance a wolf howled, as if to mock him. Caro jokingly howled too. Sara just looked at them in disbelief. They did not have to walk far before they saw a couple of rabbits cautiously moving around in front of a cosily lit cabin. A red car was parked nearby. A Garfield figure was stuck to one of its windows. The car had no number plate and no sweets in its glove box.
Amir yawned. ‘Do you recognise the car?’ Sara nodded, though in fact she only recognised the Garfield figure. Amir asked, ‘Are they happy and stupid or is this a trap?’ He pointed at Sara. ‘Expendable.’ Sara winced. Caro asked, ‘Are we just going to waltz in?’ Amir shook his head. ‘I will go in after you.’
Rayhan asked, ‘Sorry, but should you even be out here with us for just a boy?’ Amir shrugged. ‘I was bored. The girl will ring the doorbell; Caro will shoot whoever opens the door. You two, my dogs, will go in from the back. I will signal when the door opens.’ Caro asked, ‘What if it is a trap?’ Amir replied, ‘The girl dies. My mother told me to always listen to my heart and here we are.’
Sara was about to piss herself as she stood in front of the door. Caro stood nearby, close to the wall. She had a handgun with a long silencer. ‘Ring the doorbell.’ Sara did and prayed to God. The doorbell triggered a classic movie clip: ‘They are here!’ Sara heard someone approach and a bald, bearded man (with bad breath) started to open the door.
The bald man died as soon as he saw Caro, surprise etched on his face as he fell forward. Caro went in. Sara backed away and clasped her crucifix. She heard gunfire and ran towards Amir. A sane part of her brain suggested that she should run away from Amir instead, but another part countered that he would shoot her. Amir paced some distance away. He had a small handgun with a large silencer in one hand and his phone in the other. Amir idly drummed his fingers on the phone.
A colleague popped in to watch me draft a scene. She asked if it were not rather difficult to be creative on demand. I told her I was like a geyser. Simply put, writing comes naturally to me, and I have much to express. I do not need to sit like a philosopher and ponder. She laughed and suggested that I was like a ‘shit fountain’ and that I was certainly special. She looked at what I had on my desk, shrugged, and left.
