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The Hunger and the Cold (standard:horror, 4100 words)
Author: Robert G MoonsAdded: Oct 16 2013Views/Reads: 3753/570Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Something hungry this way comes. Three friends spending a weekend at an isolated log cabin, soon find themselves in a desperate battle for their very lives.
 



January 16, 1987 

We arrived at the log cabin on a Friday in the late afternoon, three
middle-aged men pretending to be outdoorsmen. The idea was to go ice 
fishing, but in reality, it was a chance for us to get away from our 
wives and drink beer. 

It was one of the coldest days I can remember. It wasn't exactly the
arctic, but northern Ontario can get as cold as a witch's... well, 
let's just say... it can get very cold. 

I looked out over the recent snowfall that left the area a foot deep in
snow and the forest's trees white with lines of the light powder. It 
made for a pretty picture, but it was a bitch to walk in. The log cabin 
was several miles away from its nearest neighbour. We were in the 
middle of nowhere, and in the back of beyond. 

"Can it get any colder?" Sam joked. "Well, at least I can still feel my
nuts." He grabbed three bags from the blue truck and trudged toward the 
cabin, taking the lead. 

Samuel was my best friend. Originally from Jamaica, he looked totally
out of place in this frozen North Country. He came to Canada with his 
parents when he was a child, but still retained a slight Jamaican 
accent. He was a mountain of a man, but also the nicest guy I have ever 
known. He was comfortable talking to children and old ladies alike, 
quickly changing their preconceive perceptions of him, and always 
leaving them with broad smiles. 

"You can feel your nuts?" Kevin said with pretend surprise. He picked up
his suitcase from the back of the truck and followed Sam, stepping into 
the tracks made by the big man. 

Kevin was a coworker of Sam's at the steel plant. Sam worked the crane;
Kevin worked in the electrical department. Kevin was a bit of a geek, 
and I mean that in the nicest sense of the word. He was the 'brains' of 
our little gang, or at least he thought he was; he had an opinion on 
just about everything. 

"Are you coming, Alex?" Kevin looked back over his shoulder at me, "or
are you just going to stare at those dead trees all day?" 

"They're not dead," I replied, fearing I may have walked into another
argument. Kevin just grunted. I breathed a sigh of relief and picked up 
the last two bags. "The edge of the lake is about a hundred feet on the 
other side of the cabin. We should get an early start tomorrow 
morning." 

Kevin looked back at me with a look one makes when smelling something
foul. "I can't believe the two of you talked me into this. Ice fishing? 
I don't even like eating fish, and now I'm going to try to catch them." 


"Yes, 'catch' is the operative word," teased Sam as he approached the
cabin's front door. 

"Whatever," Kevin lamely fired back. 

Once inside, Sam and Kevin stowed their stuff away while I started the
central oil furnace. 'Central', meaning, it was a black, metal box the 
size of a small fridge that stood in the centre of the small living 
room. My cabin warmed up quickly, and soon we were able to remove our 
heavy coats. I had bought the cabin years ago. It was a place to get 
away from the city when I needed to. Sam had come along with me a few 
times, but this was Kevin's first time. The cabin wasn't fancy, but it 
was comfortable and had all the amenities. 

"No TV! Are you kidding me?" Kevin looked around in disbelief. 

"I guess you didn't read the fine print on the memo," Sam joked. 

"Relax, Kevin," I tried to calm him down, "I've got a radio." 

"Oh, a radio, great, just great. News flash, you can't watch a radio." 



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