Bottle 2: An Unlikely Accident

The sun dipped below the horizon, its golden light reflecting off the lake in shimmering ripples. Inside the cabin, the mood was anything but serene. Abby, still kneeling beside Jamie, checked his vitals for what felt like the hundredth time. Jamie, who was subsequently moved to the living room for what Nina believed to be more comfortable for him, lay motionless and pulseless.

Lori, still compressing the bag valve mask every so often, nervously asked, “He should have a pulse by now, right? This... this isn’t normal.”

Abby exhaled sharply; her hands steady but her voice betrayed her frustration. “We are doing everything we can. EMS is on the way.”

“Should we just give up at this point?” Sara asked

“Oh, you’d love that miss I wasn’t even there when this happened.” Lori sarcastically exclaimed.

“Oh, shut up Lori, I am just as upset as you.” Sara shot back.

Traci sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the wall. “Should we be doing more?”

“And what do you suggest we do?” Abby snapped. “We’re hours away from the nearest ER and EMS said that we were in the middle of nowhere”—her glare briefly shifted to Eve, who rolled her eyes— “and even if we got him there, there’s no guarantee they’d do anything we are not already doing other than intubate him.”

“We could do a cric” Nina casually mentioned.

“Good grief Nina” Abby said with her mouth wide open as if she never heard such an egregious recommendation.

“Damn it!” Sara chimed in; her arms crossed as she leaned against the kitchen doorway. “We still do not even know what happened.”

Eve’s voice was sharp, her pace quickening. “What if there’s more going on here? Traci, you were there when we arrived; and you were holding the bottle!”

“I swear I did not do this.” Traci exclaimed “Why don’t you pester Sara, to ask her whereabouts instead of me? Plus, she wants to off him now anyway.”

“Oh, shut up Traci” Sara angrily shot back.

“Here we go,” Nina muttered, rubbing her temples. “Eve’s diving headfirst into one of her conspiracy theories again.”

“It’s not a conspiracy theory, girl!” Eve shot back. Her eyes were blazing. “Something’s not right about this. Bottles don’t just get switched and people don’t get knocked unconscious that easily. Jamie’s got the reflexes of a damn cat. How did this happen? That is, unless he had his back turned to whomever whacked him.”

“Eve!?! Maybe it’s just stress,” Sara offered flatly, her tone practical. “Fatigue? Too much wine, maybe?”

“And you seriously think that is all it is? Jamie died because of stress?” Eve retorted.

“Jamie is not dead!!!” Abby cried out “He seems to have a faint pulse. But keep bagging”

“Come on, Sara. You’re the one who’s always talking about looking deeper. Aren’t you even a little curious about how strange this is? And furthermore, Jamie had not even started drinking and did not fall until we got there. Well, until most of us came into the kitchen I guess.”

“Come on Eve, stop it” Sara pleaded.

“What if he just bumped his head?” Lori asked.

“Enough!” Abby’s voice cut through the escalating argument like a scalpel. “This isn’t helping Jamie one bit. And unless someone has actual proof that something shady happened, we are treating this as an accident. Period. Plus, the police are coming with EMS, I am sure. If we start accusing one another, so will the police and we do not need that at all. This was just an accident! Got it?”

For a moment the room fell silent, except for the hum of the ceiling fan overhead.

Then a faint groan broke the tension.

“Jamie?” Lori rushed to his side as his eyelids fluttered weakly.

Jamie let out a low, painful sound, he was gone.

Abby leaned in, “Shit! He’s gone.”

Abby nodded, refocusing her attention on Jamie’s vitals, or lack thereof.

Sara stepped into the kitchen, her steps slow and deliberate. But as she approached the counter, she froze.

“Uh... guys?” Her voice was tense, sharp enough to draw everyone’s attention.

Abby sighed, exasperated. “What now, Sara?”

“Someone’s been in here.” Sara mentioned.

The group crowded into the kitchen; confusion etched across their faces. Sara pointed to the refrigerator door, which hung slightly ajar. A faint trail of condensation streaked from the fridge to the counter.

“Did anyone leave this open?” Sara asked, her voice tight.

“No,” Traci said, glancing around. “We’ve all been in the living room since... you know.”

Eve crouched near the adjacent corner of the kitchen, her sharp eyes catching a glint of something small and round. She reached out, her fingers brushing against it before lifting it into the light.

“What is that?” Nina asked, leaning closer.

“It’s the cork,” Eve said, her voice low.

“I wondered where that went!” Traci reflexively responded.

The group fell silent as they stared at the object in her hand. The glass-free cork looked splintered, its edges jagged, embossed with wording which were written in French. Faint traces of a sticky, amber-like residue clung to its surface.

“Is that... glue?” Lori asked, her voice trembling.

Eve turned the cork over in her fingers, her expression darkening. “I don’t know if it’s glue or molasses, but it is definitely sticky.”

Abby, who had now finally left Jamie’s side, grabbed the cork from Eve, inspecting it with a clinical eye. Her jaw tightened. “This doesn’t make sense.”

“It makes perfect sense,” Eve said, her voice hard. “As I have been stating, someone switched the bottle! Which, if it was not one of us proves that someone else had to be in this house.”

“How are you so sure that someone switched the bottles?” Nina asked, “It is literally just a cork.”

“Look! these words” as Eve pointed on the cork, “these words on the cork are in French.” Eve continued “The label on the bottle did not look French. This cork says, La Cuvée blah blah blah and Jamie previously taught us that the cork and label matching is how wineries prevented fraud.”

“Really?” Traci asked “Fraud?”

“Yes” Eve answered. “This is why a waiter will present the cork to you at a table in a restaurant. It is not for you to smell and look all fancy, but rather for you to look at the cork and the label to ensure the name on the cork matches the name on the label. The label and the cork must always match. This cork and that label do not match!” As she gestured to the table where the label currently rested.

The realization sent a ripple of unease through the group. The air seemed to grow heavier, the shadows longer.

The tampered bottle revealed that Jamie’s death was quite possibly deliberate. Suspicion fell within the group, each member now wondering: Who could have done this—and why?

To be continued March 31st, 2025.