His Home and Castle

    He lived in the wildernesses and the mountains, and his sons lived with him; His wife was dead.  Constant caution was the rule, and consequently, suspicion.  All things out of the ordinary were received with extreme prejudice.  And it had all worked out fine thus far.

    Albert Samuel Redding III trooped single mindedly back to the cabin.  Years ago he would have insisted on taking the time to breathe it all in, the cool mountain air, the majesty of unadultered natural beauty all around him.  Nowdays, there was no time to be wasted, no wisdom in dawdling so far from the shelter.  These winter nights had certainly slowed them down in the past, which is why he had allowed himself to stray a little farther than his usual hunting grounds.  It had proven fruitful, the stringer full of rabbits and a few squirrels being testament.  The few that he had left alive struggled when he set them down, but Albert had learned a while back that tying a tiny bag around their head kept them mostly quiet.  Those were for Sal.  He crept to the crest of the ridge to sneak a peek down at the cabin, and satisfied that things were all clear, returned to snatch up his bounty.  He was almost home.

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    "You don't think he's going to find out?  Jesus, Will, you know how he gets."

    "He gets that way 'cause he's scared."

    "Well there's plenty to be scared of!  Remember what happened to Mom?  And everybody else?!"

    "That was forever ago."

    "That was four years and three months ago, damn it!  Your memory can't be that short."

    Will crossed his arms against his older brother's admonitions.  He felt like a prisoner here.  It used to be fun, the highlight of the year.  The whole family would start packing a couple of weeks before they were supposed to go.  They'd chat up what they had done last summer and what they were going to do this time.  It used to be that Will could be out until dark.  Now he wasn't allowed out at all.  He was ten years old and like any ten year old, he needed to romp around, to kick about in the woods, build a fort, yell at the top of his lungs...

    "I HATE it here, Solomon!"

    His older brother stepped forward and grabbed ahold of Will's arm.  His patience was exhausted.  Squeezing hard, he put his face so close their noses almost touched.  "You just keep it down," he hissed, "Dad's coming home soon and you're gonna get us both in trouble.  Do your homework."  He released his little brother's arm with a flick.  "And don't you go traipsing around out there again.  It's dangerous."

    Just after dark there were footsteps on the front porch.  Will looked up from the dusty bible which constituted his homework and over to his brother, who stood slowly and motioned for him to keep quiet.  The cabin was completely dark apart from a lantern which burned just brightly enough for them to see by.  It was always dark.  Normally you wouldn't know night from day as the windows and doors had long since been barricaded with heavy boards.  The only way in or out was the front door, also shored up against anyone or anything which might come along from the outside.  There WAS also the trap door in the back room which led to the cellar, but that served only two purposes:  As an exit in extreme emergency, and...

    The muffled knock at the door- one, one-two, one- indicated that their father had returned.  That was the first part of two steps for admitting anybody into the house.  Protocol required peering through a peephole to confirm that there was no danger.  Solomon confirmed and started the cumbersome process of opening the series of locks and baffles which kept the world at bay.  A few moments later and their father stepped inside, holding the day's catch and shaking the cold and the snow from his frame.  Solomon dutifully began locking up for the night.

    "Everything alright?" Albert walked casually between the two boys as he laid his quarry upon the kitchen table and began pulling the live rodents from their snares.  Will looked past his dad and toward his brother who shot him a severe look from across the room.

    "Nothing out of the ordinary."  Solomon forced a smile as he finished throwing the last few bolts on the door and came over to inspect their next few meals.  "How'd you do?"

    Albert looked from one boy to the next as if trying to gauge the tension in the cabin, and then seemingly dismissed it.  "Not so badly."  He raised his chin toward the stringer.  "Cabin fever?"

    There was only silence.  At this point, Albert smirked to himself and dropped the subject.  "It's been a long winter."  He carried his surviving quarry, still shrouded, by their tails into the next room.  Relieved, Solomon motioned for Will to get back to his studies and got to the business of dressing the animals that remained.

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    Something was going on with the two boys, sure enough.  He would find out in due time, but for now Albert had more pressing issues.  He held three squirrels aloft as he kicked the threadbare carpet away from the trapdoor beneath it.  Leaning low, he yanked on the handle.  Was he getting old or was this thing getting heavier?  The door banged loudly as it fell entirely open and Albert moved to mount the small ladder which plunged into darkness below.

    It had been a shame to have to do this, and a growing concern of Albert's as he got older, but what options did he have?  The smell had become overbearing up in the house.  It was worse during the warmer days of spring and summer.  Occasional wafts of sweet smelling rot would come up through the floor, a couple of days in you'd get used to it.  Albert stepped off of the ladder and onto the soft dirt of the cellar floor.  He turned and lit the lantern which hung just a foot or two away.

    "Sal?" The soft light revealed a huddled mass a few feet away against the wall at the edge of the room.  "Sally, it's me, Albert.  I've got supper."  The squirrels began to struggle more noticeably as if they could sense a new and impending danger.  There was the soft rattling of chains as the lump against the wall shifted, responding to the broken silence.  Sally sat up.  There was a muted purring beneath the burlap sack which covered her face-- Albert had learned a while back that tying a sack around her head kept her mostly quiet.

    "Hold still, Sal.  I'm going to get the sack."  He approached slowly, as she could be unpredictable.  With a jerk, the hooded face burst into view.  Sally snarled as her eyes fixed on Albert.  She was looking very bad.  Large amounts of flesh hung loosely to what was once a beautiful face and the way her lips had receded, her mouth looked unnaturally large.  The teeth that remained were blackened and ragged, as was every inch of what was left of her.  She stank to high heaven, but it might have been expected seeing how she'd been dead about four years.