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The hour-long ride was full of small talk which was my mother's somewhat obvious attempt to keep my mind from racing in too many directions, that would eventually leave me begging her to turn the car around and take me home instead.
In the end, she got me to the airport, and I managed to get myself through security and into my seat—by the window, thank goodness—without any problems or any more anxiety than I'd already anticipated.
I made the next seven hours slip away by my book, before resorting to daydreaming, thinking about what might be in store for all of us when we got there.
Would we do cheesy trust-falls like I'd seen in the movies? Blindfold each other and be led through the woods in blindness? Would someone set up hundreds of cups filled with liquid on the ground, cover our eyes, and have our teams navigate us through the makeshift minefield?
And after all those trust-building exercises were completed, how would everyone want to spend their time? Would there be group activities? Canoeing on the lake? Long hikes through the woods? Binge-drinking and getting crazy?
I had no idea.
Usually the not-knowing was enough to send me into a tailspin, leaving me fidgety and anxious.
But, I reminded myself as the plane descended, I wasn't going to let my mind run away with itself. This was going to be a fun trip with people I already knew I liked and was comfortable with. Whatever we all ended up doing, I was sure it would be fun. And I could always fake some sort of injury to prevent myself from being dragged to do something truly torturous like group exercise.
I navigated my way through the airport after arriving, getting my bags, and making my way to the car rental area where I picked up the car Fiona had reserved for me.
After I got the car loaded and sat down in the driver's seat, I took my first real, deep breath since I left New Jersey.
The hard part was over.
Judging by my GPS, it was a solid two and a half to two-hour drive, depending on traffic to get from the airport to the cabin. Which gave me just enough time to decompress from the whole flying thing.
Once I was outside of the city where the airport was located, the landscape got more and more rural until all there was to be seen were trees and hills and a narrow two-lane road leading out to the middle of nowhere.
About twenty minutes from the actual destination, my wifi cut out, making me really thankful I had taken a second to glance at all the directions, or else I would be stranded in the woods with no way to reach anyone, just praying someone would come along and find me.
The days were getting shorter, so by the time I found the turnoff- a simple gravel road with a set of reflective markers stationed at each side—the sun had already set low.
I thought I would find it scenic, cozy. Instead, as I drove along, white-knuckling the steering wheel, I felt an odd sort of creepy dread settling upon me.
It only intensified as I got to the cabin, and found no other cars around.
Granted, I had set out early, always preferring to be early rather than late. The others might not have been so keen on getting up at three in the morning to get their days going.
It was fine.
Fine.
There had to be a host or something inside. At least, that was what I was telling myself as I took a deep breath, parking as close to the front walk as possible, and cutting off the engine.
Mentally, I took a second to scan my belongings and the contents of the car, trying to decide if there was anything to use to defend myself on the walk up to the front door. From what, I wasn't sure. Bears, coyotes, crazy mountain people, all toothless gums and stringy hair.
But there was nothing.
"You're being ridiculous," I decided, looking at the lamppost near the edge of the walk. It didn't light the whole thing, but it wasn't a long walkway either. I was just being a baby.
So on that thought, I grabbed my carry-on bag and my rental key, and threw open the car, trying to walk deliberately toward the front door, but breaking into a dead run when there was some sort of rustling in a nearby bush.
I grasped the doorknob with a sort of horror-movie-style desperation, heart lodged so far up my throat I felt like I was choking on it before the knob turned in my hand, and I could throw myself inside.
Into complete and utter darkness.
Chest heaving, my hand groped at the wall to my side, finding a switch, flicking it on, making a hideous antler chandelier brighten above my head.
