The Revenants

by Castle, Jack

  It’s the motel, lass. Big Bad-Ass Becca is afraid of a wee lil’ motel. Oh, that’s precious.

  Donnie was right. What Becca Chaffee felt from the motel was a feeling of animosity. It was as if the moment she stepped through the main door and crossed the foyer, they would enter another dimension, which bore nothing but hatred for all humankind.

  There was a loud CLICK as the deadbolt finally turned over between her thumb and forefinger. Becca carefully moved her hand and wrist through the hole. She was about to say, ‘Wall-La!’ when Peyton pushed past her, shoved the door open, sprinkling more glass on the floor, and stepped inside, glass crinkling under her sneakered foot.

  Like the true gentleman he was, Wally held the door for everyone to enter. Eager to get out of the wind and pelting snow, Big Leonard quickly followed; Becca hesitated.

  She was not unmindful of Wally’s discomfort. He was really beginning to feel the icy wind assaulting him. It was turning into a true test of his chivalry standing outside like that, holding the door open like a New York hotel bellman while the frigid winds dropped his core temperature by about ten degrees. Consciously forcing any impatience out of his voice he asked, “You coming?”

  Shoulders hunched, head low, Becca checked back with the ambulance in the parking lot one last time. Seeing no other options she shrugged her shoulders and s-l-o-w-l-y ventured inside.

  “Damn, it’s cold out here,” Wally complained, and practically leapt inside after her. Unaware of the danger they were truly in the fireman turned around and dead bolted the doors. As much as she hated him for doing it she understood the reason; he locked the doors to keep the wind from forcing them open again.

  Inside the lobby area the silence was so thick she almost found herself wishing for some more of that annoying Christmas music on a faded soundtrack. And somehow, it was colder inside too, only a different kind of cold. Not wet versus dry; humidity had nothing to do with it. No, this was frigid; like seeing a loved one seared like a well-done steak on a metal slab in the morgue.

  Shaking the sleet and snow from her jacket (only anyone who lives in the north long enough can tell you how it can sleet and snow at the same time) she turned around and surveyed the interior like a writer looking for material for his latest book.

  The inside of the lobby was what you might expect from a motel that hasn’t been remodeled since the late seventies; wood paneling, thin and fading blue carpet, vomit brown countertop. And best of all (and Golly-Gee-willikers, so happy here), was another one of those annoying shiny bells on the front desk you hit with the palm of your hand. Peyton was all over it too, like a… (well, really no analogy really needed here is there) DING-DING-DING!

  (Must’ve been a sale)

  “Hello? Anybody?”

  This time Becca wasn’t waiting around for some clerk to wake up in the back. “Let’s go check behind the counter,” she announced. And just as she had in the gas station she hopped her butt on the counter, swung her legs over to the other side, and dismounted like the seasoned pro of a whole two times that she was. As she did this, Wally had found a little man door at the end of the counter, stepped through it, and gave her a look as if to say, ‘You could’ve used the door.’

  Spying the narrow man-door Big Leonard bellowed (which is kind of the way he talked all the time; ya know, no inside voice). “Whoah. Yeah, I ain’t doing that.”

  This was probably a good idea anyway since Becca was fairly certain Big Leonard could neither hop the counter nor would he fit through the tiny little man door used by the motel staff.

  “Alright, why don’t you stay out here with the Peyton,” she began, and then trying very, very hard to remove any and all sarcasm from her voice added, “If that’s okay with you, Peyton.”

  The cheerleader crossed her arms over her uniform but didn’t object.

  “Wally and I will search the back offices and see if we find the clerk, or maybe a phone.”

  “I have a phone right here,” Peyton said. She was so short she had to jump up so she could land her upper body within reach of the motel phone. She clasped it and as she allowed her body to fall back off the counter the phone came with her.

  She lifted the phone to her ear. Becca could tell by Peyton’s face she didn’t expect to get anyone on the line, and she didn’t. She hit the call button several times before announcing, “Phone’s dead.”

  “That figures,” Big Leonard grumbled.

  “Alright, give us a minute while we go check the back rooms.”

  It didn’t take them long to explore the small office in the back. Like the gas station, it appeared as though someone had just up and left. She saw a heavy coat on a hook by the door with sorrel winter boots underneath. Becca knew from personal experience that most South Dakotans don’t usually leave their heavy coats and snow boots behind. She was reminded of how the crew of the Celeste had left their oil skinned boots and pipes behind, as though they had left in a great hurry.

  Knock it off. You trying to scare yourself even more? Maybe it’s just an extra coat and boots. But somehow she doubted it.

  At the end of a short hallway was an illuminated EXIT sign. The metal door had one of those crash bars on it and it was currently cracked open. Snow had already begun to pile in.

  So, the clerk had locked the main doors, retreated to the back rooms, and fled out the employee exit to the parking lot. Wait. Why does it have to be ‘fled out the exit’?

  Becca cracked opened the door a little more and checked outside. The snowstorm was beginning to flurry but she could still see the parking lot outside. It was devoid of vehicles. She kicked the snow out of the doorframe with her boot and was about to secure the door when Wally’s hand shot out and stopped her.

  Becca turned to face the fireman. He was staring intently at something, or someone outside. Becca was about to ask the what he saw but after studying the man’s face she now fully understood the expression, ‘You look like you’ve just seen a ghost’.

  Becca snapped her head around back to the empty parking lot, stared intently, but didn’t see anything. Still scanning the parking lot for whatever had frightened the fireman so badly she asked him, “What did you see?”

  When Wally didn’t answer Becca reluctantly turned back toward him (because who knew what sort of Lovecraftian creature might grab her the moment she turned away from the parking lot). “Wally?” she prompted again urgently. “What did you see?”

  The man’s lips parted and Becca could see him struggling to form words. “I thought… I thought I saw someone…out there, in the storm.”

  “Who?”

  Wally was on the verge of answering when Peyton’s voice yelled from the lobby, “Hey back there? You guys get lost or what?”

  “We better rejoin Peyton and Big Leonard,” Wally announced, then finished kicking the snow out of the doorjamb for her and helped her pull the door closed against the wind.

  She and Wally returned to the main lobby. If she had more time she’d have thought about asking the fireman what was going on with him, and what he had seen in the parking lot. Wally had lost his edge. Had losing Denise really shaken him up so badly?

  When she saw everyone staring at them expectedly she explained, “There’s no one back there.”

  Wally added, “We also found an open door. There’s no cars parked in the interior parking lot either.”

  Big Leonard popped his head up at this. “That’s weird. Because this motel is the halfway point; it’s usually packed with buses and truckers, even during the winter.”

  “And check this out,” Wally announced, fingering the hooks where several motel keys still remained. “About half a dozen room keys are missing.”

  Peyton leaned in with both arms on the counter. “Maybe they all had to leave suddenly and forgot to turn in their keys,”

  The Mary Celeste Motel. Oh, girlie, that would be a good name for this place for sure. If you don’t off yourself, perhaps we could go into business together.

  For a sec
ond the room actually spun. Becca was that tired. She outstretched her hand and steadied herself on the nearby counter.

  Voicing exactly how she felt Big Leonard said, “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m beat. I’ve been driving since this morning. What do you say we hunker down here for the night? Maybe the phones will be working, or help will arrive, in the morning.”

  “I told you. I’m not staying here,” Becca heard herself say.

  Big Leonard frowned at this. “Where ya gonna go, Becca,” his big, deep baritone voice somewhat reminiscent of Tower’s back on the highway. Had that really only been hours ago? “We can’t make it back to Rapid City because of the storm, and from what you described it sounds like something way worse than what I ran into is waiting for us toward Sioux Falls. Seems to me the best course of action is for us is to wait right here.”

  Becca paced back and forth in a way that made her think of an unhappy caged lion. Her voice, almost pleading, asked, “Don’t you see, that’s what they want?”

  It kind of startled everybody the way she said it. Hell, she startled herself. As if she had been keeping it somewhat together… until now.

  “What they want?” Wally asked, “What who wants?”

  Oh, they’re on to ya now, lass. You’ve gone and done it. They now know you’re as crazy as a loon.

  “Nothing. Nothing. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m just tired.” Becca was the first to step forward and hold her hand out for a key. “Give me room Twenty-four, it’s the room I had before.”

  But before Wally could hand her the key Big Leonard asked, “Maybe we should all take adjoining rooms, for safety. Does that sound good to everybody? Ladies, are you okay with that?”

  Both she and Peyton nodded. Well, nice to know we can actually agree on something.

  Wally added, “And I think we should take these rooms in the interior.” He pointed to a laminated map placard on the wall. “If that storm is as bad as you say,” he nodded to Big Leonard, “then the interior rooms will be the safest bet.”

  To Becca, all of these seemed like good ideas.

  I bet that’s what they thought on the Celeste… I’m just saying. Tee-hee.

  Wally scanned the map again. “Alright, according to the map, rooms 107 and 109 fit the bill.” Scooping the keys off their hooks he added, “These rooms are right next to each other, and in the center of the building.” He handed them out. “How about you girls double up? Big Leonard and I will share a room, too.”

  The Big Lineman grabbed the key from Wally. “Okay there, young fella, but I should probably warn ya, I’ve been told by the missus that I snore like a drowning bear.”

  Wally smiled as he finished handing them their keys. “See you both in the morning.”

  But as Becca took the key from him she was fairly certain none of them would ever see the morning.

  (Well, Becca certainly seems to be taking things in stride, don’t you think? I mean, I know when we first met her she was ready to blow out her brains and everything but she certainly seems resigned to her fate. And now look at her, here she is practically saying, “Hi there, I’m fairly certain we are all going to die horribly but could you pass me my motel key so we can get on with it?”)

  Chapter 18

  Roomies

  Becca swung the door to the motel room open. Still standing in the hallway she flicked the light switch on and peered inside tentatively.

  The room was just like the room she had stayed in before, square in shape, bright yellow paint at one time, but now smoke-stained and faded. The only real difference was that instead of the one queen bed she had before there were now two twin beds with the comforters tucked over the pillows like half-buried corpses.

  (Oh my, that’s morbid)

  Standing beside her in the hallway Donnie leaned in and asked, practically singing, Kewpie Doll, you in here?

  She thought about telling Donnie to shut it, but it seemed moot at this point.

  “You going in or what?” Peyton asked behind her.

  Becca thought about giving her a quippy reply, something like how about ‘you just hold you your horses for a second,’ but all at once her voice seemed as far gone as their chances for survival. Little does she know, Becca thought bitterly.

  Peyton sighed heavily, turned sideways, and scooted past her.

  As Becca followed Peyton inside, barely even aware she was doing so; she noticed a painting on the wall that separated the bedroom from the bathroom area. It depicted some sort of cobblestone church-looking building situated on a small overgrown island in the middle of a small lake. Connecting the small island to the mainland was an obviously manmade bridge, approximately thirty yards or so, comprised mostly of boulders and rocks. The details were so meticulous Becca decided the island-church had to be a real place, although she had never heard of it or seen it before.

  Peyton plopped down on the edge of the bed closest to the window. She just sat there, staring at her hands in her lap. Her white sneakers were an odd contrast to the multi-colored round rug beneath her feet. That was when Becca noticed the flecks of blood on her shoes; she wondered if Peyton had seen it, too. It was blood from her schoolmates, her chums, her compadres.

  Becca decided to leave it alone for now. If Peyton had not noticed it no good would come from bringing it up to now.

  The room was surprisingly warm and most welcome after being in the cold for so long. She could hear a rattling noise coming from the vent on the wall. Somebody must’ve left the heat on. She half expected to find the former occupant’s luggage still in the closet and underwear in the drawers, but when she opened the closet only empty hangers remained like hanged skeletons warding off trespassers.

  There’s a cheery thought, lass.

  She saw a dresser that ran the length of one wall with an old television upon it.

  Becca moved in-between the two beds and sat down on the bed next to the bathroom wall and rattling vent. On the small night table sat a lamp, digital clock, and phone that were so old they were practically ancient. She thought about checking the phone for a dial tone but figured if the main lobby phone was dead, which is where phone calls were most likely transferred through, then this one would be corpsified as well.

  (Corpsified. Is that even a word? Where’s the editor?)

  (Oh… right.)

  Screw it.

  Becca picked up the phone anyway and listened for a dial tone. Staring at Peyton’s back she pressed the receiver as quietly as possible a few times. Nope, ‘dead as a doornail,’ as Mike used to say. She hung up and the back of her hand brushed the little chain that dangled down from the lamp.

  Behind her, on the wall, the heater continued to rattle; the noise somehow more comforting than annoying.

  If they had brought any luggage, which they hadn’t, they would have put it on the folding luggage rack next to the dresser. It was a painful reminder that everything she owned, except for her trusty sidearm nearby and knapsack in the ambulance, was back in her upside down Land Rover.

  Maybe I should go back to the gift shop and grab a few things. Then another familiar voice answered in his typical Irish accent, Really now, lass, that’s what you’re worried about? Toiletries?

  Donnie was now sitting on the bed beside her, staring forward with his hands neatly folded in his lap.

  Yeah, feminine products were pretty low on the list of priorities when staying in a what? A Haunted Motel?

  There ya go, lass, now ya got your melon top on straight, with me by yore side, we’ll get through this yet.

  ‘Thanks, Donnie.’

  And lest ye forget, once this is all over you and I still have unfinished business to attend to, don’t we, lass?

  ‘I know, Donnie, I know. One thing at a time. Okay?’

  No answer. And when she turned her head she found he was no longer sitting on the bed. She began to wonder what motivated him to come and go. Maybe he had other people to terrorize than her. Maybe he had to take coffee breaks like everyone el
se.

  (More like smoke breaks. Trust me, that will be funny later.)

  She took her 1911 out of the holster and put it on the nightstand between them. She saw Peyton’s eyes go wide at the sight of it.

  ‘Oh, got nothing to say, no, you little brat,’ she thought, but didn’t say anything out loud, and quickly felt guilty for scaring a teenage girl who had obviously been through something horrific. To make up for it she asked delicately, “Do you mind if I keep this on the nightstand for safety?”

  Peyton nodded briskly. “I prefer it.”

  I guess she’s not as shaken up as I thought.

  In a small voice Peyton said, “Sorry if I was a bitch earlier. I was just really scared, ya know?”

  “I’m not sure if this helps you or not, but I’m scared, too.” The cheerleader looked ready to lose it at any second so she quickly added, “But hey, you got nothing to worry about, did you see how massive Big Leonard is, he’s got to be like seven feet tall.”

  “Hadgrid.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He kind of reminds me of Hadgrid, you know, from Harry Potter?”

  “Oh, you mean the witch kid with the glasses?” When Peyton nodded, Becca explained, “I’m probably the one person on the planet who hasn’t read that book.”

  Peyton’s eyes went wide with amazement. She shook her head in astonishment. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

  Seeing Peyton light up at the mere mention of her favorite novel Becca realized, Gosh, she’s just a kid.

  “So what happened to you?”

  When Becca raised her eyebrows at Peyton’s query the young girl added, “You and Wally, before you pulled me out of the bus. What happened to you two? Are you friends?”

  Becca didn’t know which question to answer first. Now that she thought about it, it had been a long while since she had been around any young people. She started with, “No. Wally is… Wally is somebody who helped me out when I was in a jam,” and went on to tell her a rough version about what happened to them with the ravens. She purposely left out the part about the crazy firefighter attacking them with the ax.