Devil In A White Dress

Fifty Seven

Mrs. Summers had this idiotic grin throughout the rest of the trip to their cabin near the Hudson River all the way till approximately 6:00 on a Friday morning. Shocked, she kept an immense gaze at her husband because words failed to be uttered from her mouth.

The thoughts running through her head had been very tricky, because if she followed the voice that told her to thank Mr. Summers for his heroic deed back at the store, it would lower down her whole self-esteem. She nervously placed the cigar in her mouth and lighted it, feeling so much guilt over the fact that she had been misjudging her two-timing husband all because of his "manhood" problems.

Don't feel bad, Mrs. Summers muttered silently, don't even think about having second thoughts. He's a two-timer. You are not going to apologize, or even try to have a sense of pity. The man you met at the strip club doesn't love you anymore. You're a mistake. Deal with it.

She did listen to the voice behind her, but her actions spoke louder.

"Thanks for having my back, sweetie," she smiled.

Mr. Summers teared his four-eyes from the road and smiled back with no hesitation, "You're always welcome."

She tuned the radio to a different station where a talk show host was speaking to a Friday Night Special stand-up comedian in an interview. During the talk, the comedian talked about his past with his former friend from the Alabama State University Peter Woodburn himself. He mentioned him as one of the most iconic stand-up comedians of the show and one of the many stars who inspired him to be the man he is today.

He went on saying how much he had missed his buddy and that if the October 9, 2008 incident had never happened, his dear ol' Peter would have been proud of him. Mr. Summers looked back and took notice of Austin, Timothy and Brianna deep in slumber.

"Wake up, guys. We're here," Mr. Summers called out. Taking one good look at their cabin, the wild thought of the biker gang from the store, actually chasing and hunting them suddenly fled Mrs. Summers' mind.

"Guys! Get up! Slumber is over!", Mrs. Summers yelled in a mocking tone. Simultaneously, Brianna jerked her eyes open and gave the impression of someone just being dragged out of cold water. Austin jerked and had the impression of a toddler being forced out of sleep by his mother amidst a chilly weather, while Timothy, like always, had no vivid impression whatsoever.

He simply pouted his face at Mrs. Summers like a Bombay kitten. Both Austin's Death Proof laptop and his mother's How to be the Next Jennifer Lopez novel fell to the floor. The teenagers raised their eyebrows looking at the cabin.

"How long was I sleeping?", Austin stupidly asked.

Brianna decided to say nothing. When she got out, her thoughts were that she had been given the wrong impression of the woods all along. The area looked very peaceful, windy, spacious, and filled with crows soaring around. She spotted the other neighboring cabin owners and two bodies in a boat on the river downhill.

A suspicious looking black man with a 70's styled moustache, dark shades, a peach-colored hat and slightly protruding tummy along with a black girl who looked to be a bit younger than Timothy. Probably twelve years of age. Not that she gave a shit, but the teen became quite observant of the father-daughter relationship. This guy was yelling at the girl and grabbing her wrists tightly. He was definitely abusive, she deduced.

She prayed silently, God, please don't let this be one of those horror movies where there's no stupid signal. Please, don't let it be. God, please don't let it be. Brianna took out her cell phone and found out praying could sometimes be a bitch.

"Fuck. I fucking knew it," Brianna cursed after finding out there was no reception after all.

It was definitely like one of those horror movies.

"What the hell have I told you about cursing, lil' girl?", Mrs. Summers caught her at once.

"There's no reception," she replied, "This is stupid, mom. How can we ever stay in a place where the signal doesn't work? How are we supposed to call the cops when you-know-what happens?"

"S'no problem," Sam replied from behind, walking in his Jeffrey Dahmer-style, "See this?", he took out a small device with the Jeffrey Dahmer smirk, "It's my brand-new GPS. In case any of us gets stranded in the woods, we'll found you. Plus...there's an alarm in my RV that's activated once I hit the switch on this GPS. It's completely traceable on any radar. Once the police get to find this signal, they'll be here right before you can say Somebody call nine one-one."

For a minute, Mrs. Summers and Brianna remained speechless. Sam read the looks. He got the feeling in his gut that his niece and sister-in-law wanted to tell him directly to his face Boy, you look like Jeffrey Dahmer.

"What do you think? Resourceful?", Sam asked in discomfort.

"I didn't know they actually had those things installed in an RV?", Mrs. Summers blurted out.

"Where d'you get those things?", Brianna joined her mother's inquiry.

"Amazon Prime", Sam smiled, taking off his glasses and spraying it before hoisting them back to his eyes.

"Figured", Brianna shrugged.

"Such a genius, my husband," Kitty boasts as she wraps her arm carefully over her husband, "Why do you think I married this guy?"

The couple laugh as they stare each other in the face, but Mrs. Summers gets the feeling again. Not that things, like Kitty said would turn out where the Summers break into their endless arguments and Sam displaying serious OCD habits that make everyone uncomfortable. The feeling that this vacation was already jeopardized from the start.

She couldn't understand why Carl was barking so profusely at the RV. Curiosity lingered in her, Mrs. Summers slowly crept toward the back of the Jay Flight. Carl's barks were wild. He got more vicious to everyone's misunderstanding. Warmer and warmer Mrs. Summers walked behind the vehicle to see the unspoken evil hidden behind the glass. Her eyes caught blood stains which made her heart skip four beats. Before she could get any closer, a figure popped out of nowhere.