out of my bed if they were just passing through and being stupid. But the longer I listened, the clearer it became that they were tampering with something outside. I wracked my brain trying to figure out what might be entertaining them so much. My cabin was pretty much out in the middle of nowhere. The only thing outside that wasn’t on the porch was—
“The mailbox,” I muttered. “Damn it.”
If this had been my place, I might have left it alone. But it wasn’t. It belonged to the sweet elderly couple in Miami, and I’d be damned if I was going to let a group of stupid kids mess with their property. Besides, the mailbox was obviously hand painted. I’d noticed it on my way home from the market earlier in the afternoon and assumed the wife had done it at some point when they used to live here themselves.
I pulled the covers off.
Nope. I wasn’t going to be the guy to roll over and pretend he never heard anything. I’d teach those damn kids for coming and messing with the new guy on the island. I had no doubt in my mind that was what this was about. They were probably some locals who got their kicks hazing people who had recently arrived on the island. They couldn’t mess with anyone in the hotels for obvious reasons, so I was the lucky bastard they’d settled on.
I moved silently through the house. By this point, I’d picked out which floorboards were the loudest. I avoided them diligently. In some places, I had to press myself up flush against the wall and creep around it just to make sure I didn’t tip the kids off that I was coming for them.
My slow stalking through the house reminded me of the days when I was young and used to scare the shit out of my younger brother. Mike had always scared easily and I relished making him scream like a little girl whenever I snuck up on him. Our father found it infuriating. Every now and then though when I got Mike really good, I’d catch my father smiling before he collected his composure and yelled at me for being a menace.
I’ll show these kids what a menace really looks like. My stomach was full of butterflies. A sense of playfulness unlike any I’d felt in a long time rolled through me as I approached the back door.
I had no intention of going out yelling like a madman and chasing them off.
Oh no. I had bigger plans than that.
I unlocked the back door and the screen and pushed it open as quietly as I could. Inevitably, it creaked softly on its un-oiled hinges. The kids around the front went quiet, but I didn’t hear them retreat, so I moved down the back steps. My bare feet hit the grass and I began to creep around the side of the house.
It was extremely dark out. The only light was that of the single light post that stood loyally at the edge of what might have once been a driveway. Now it was overgrown and full of weeds.
I used the grass to my advantage. My steps were silent as I crept out into the surrounding bush. I moved off of memory and kept low as I moved up the side of the house to where the mailbox was.
I spied the teenagers as I came around the bend.
There were three of them. All boys.
Surprise, surprise.
They’d knocked the mailbox over and had stomped on it, flattening the metal like a broken down cardboard box put out for recycling. I grimaced and wondered how much time and effort the old lady had put into painting it. How long had it taken her husband to put it up for her?
Better yet, how long had it stood at the edge of the property?
At least twenty years, I assumed.
Little shits.
I continued creeping through the greenery. The soil was wet and soft beneath my feet.
Up ahead, the kids spoke quietly amongst themselves. Laughter ensued, and I remembered being their age and being filled with terrible ideas and no sense of self-preservation or respect for others.
They had a new idea. Whatever it was, I doubted I would like it.
They began moving toward the cabin. They kept low and to the shadows, and one of them, the ring leader, stepped out in front and gestured for the others to follow.
I wasn’t going to get a better chance than this. Somehow, I’d managed to