The Revenants

by Castle, Jack

  This was confirmed when the vent cover fell off the wall and clanged to the floor. Now arachnids poured out by the handful.

  Yep. Time to go!

  Couldn’t agree more there, lass.

  She stood up on the bed and made ready to jump when she remembered Peyton sleeping in the bed beside hers. I can’t leave her behind. But when she looked over to where the cheerleader should’ve been sleeping soundly beneath the covers, she found only a neatly made bed.

  And her pistol was gone from the nightstand.

  That little bitch ran off with my1911. Not that a gun will do much good against tiny house spiders (I guess Becca had seen that Bugs Bunny cartoon, too). When I find that little brat I’m going to wring her neck.

  Still standing in the center of her bed she could see the spiders had now formed a ring around the bed like a moat, and some of them were beginning to climb up over the edges toward her. And still they exited the vent in droves.

  Time’s running out, lass. Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock.

  If she got a running start maybe she could jump the moat of spiders and sprint for the door.

  The only problem with that plan was would her lower back take the landing? If she landed on the other side of the moat and had a back spasm she would be left paralyzed and helpless on the floor--easy prey.

  The stinging bites on her toes made up her mind for her. She let out a calming breath, ran down the length of the bed and launched through the air.

  She cleared the moat of spiders easily enough and landed gracefully by the far wall. She hesitated a second and waited for her back to send up a very painful message. She did feel a twinge of pain in her back from the impact but it was manageable. Nope. We’re good. She sprinted for the door and as she passed the dresser she snatched her ball cap and slapped it on top of her head. For a split second she thought about grabbing her backpack but remembered she had left it in the ambulance.

  Reaching the door she yanked the chair blocking it and as she did so was forced to wonder, ‘Wait a minute, if Peyton left the room, how did she put the chair back under the knob of the door?’ Becca quickly checked the bathroom. This only took a second because the shower curtain was pulled back and there was no other place to hide in the tiny bathroom.

  ‘Nope, she’s not taking a midnight shower, get your arse out of der!’

  Becca ran back for the door.

  ‘Wait.’ She had to know. Even though every part of her brain was telling her to run like mad, she had to know the truth. ‘Take a breath. If this is like every B-Horror movie you and Mike ever watched, when you turn back around, the vent cover is going to be back in place, and the spiders will be gone. The last thing you want to do is to bring everyone back to the room and everything will be perfectly normal and they will think you are certifiable. This could still all just be all in your head.’

  Don’t do it, lass!

  ‘I have to.’

  Becca shouldn’t have looked back, but just like Lot’s wife, she did. She turned around, much slower than she would’ve liked and… nope, they were there, now more than ever, rounding the wall and coming for her fast.

  Shite! Run, lass, run!

  As she fumbled with the door lock over the door (You know the kind, the ones that look like a bent coat hanger. Did we cover that already?) she saw the swarm of spiders change their focus from the bed to her fumbling with the lock on the door.

  It’s okay. You have plenty of time. Fast as you can, slow as you have to. This was Mike’s voice in her head. He used to tell her things like that all the time on the gun range when they were practicing for timed shooting qualifications. Fast as you can, slow as you have to.

  She could almost seeing him standing there, leaning on the wall that divided the small foyer from the tiny bathroom, arms crossed, smiling gently at her. Of course she knew Mike wasn’t really there. It was nothing more than wishful thinking. But maybe this place, the motel, was some sort of nexus, or thin layer between here and the afterlife.

  “Ouch!”

  The first tiny spider reached her heel. She calmly turned toward the door, flipped the locking mechanism that looked like a bent coat hanger, unfastened the deadbolt, and opened the door.

  Becca nearly fell out of her room and into the hallway but caught herself on the opposite wall before going all the way down.

  Still clutching boots in one hand, she fully regained her feet and this time she did not look back; instead she ran down the carpeted hallway as though hell itself were on her heels.

  (And you know what? It kind of was.)

  Chapter 21

  Abomination Desolation

  Everyone was gone.

  Becca had tried to tell all of them that there was something very wrong with the Paradise Motel; very wrong indeed. But did they listen? Nope. And now, they were all dead. Why didn’t they listen? Becca knew they would’ve been better off on the highway, even in that mother-of-a-storm, even if they died out there--at least their souls wouldn’t be stuck in here, in the Paradise Lost Motel.

  Whoah… that’s really dark, lass, even for you.

  Becca fled her room, stopping in the hallway only long enough to straighten out her skewed ball cap and hastily slip into her combat boots. She slammed on the exit door’s crash bar, bolted through the door and across the interior parking lot like a frightened deer. Surprisingly the rear exit door that led to the main lobby was unlocked. She took a breath before entering, and stepped inside.

  The lights were off but the red glow from the EXIT signs illuminated the way. She tiptoed down the hallway with one hand dragging along the wall like a ship pulling an anchor across a sandy sea floor. Nearing the end of the hallway, her heart was pounding so hard and her breathing so rapid, she realized that if she didn’t slow things down she was going to pass out. She paused and took several controlling breaths just like Mike had taught her, too, on the gun range.

  After taking several more calming breaths, she began to creep forward again. She couldn’t help but wonder how Peyton could have left the room with the chair still shoved under the door knob? Was Peyton a ghost too, like the Christmas Kewpie Doll? If she was, Wally and Big Leonard had both seen her too; they talked to her. Didn’t they? For the life of her she couldn’t remember if they had actually talked to her. Yes, of course they had, back at the bus-tower Wally had lowered the cheerleader to the ground in the harness and Big Leonard had called her ‘a real pistol’, or some other such nonsense.

  (See, I told you it was important to remember. I wouldn’t want you to continue on thinking Peyton was really a ghost. Although. That would explain a lot, like how she had survived the bus crash when all of her classmates didn’t.)

  (And if she was a ghost, why her and not anyone else? I mean, seriously, the cheerleader? What’s next, a man in a hockey mask with a machete?)

  (Machete… now there’s a fun word.)

  (Muh-shet-tay. Machete)

  (Now I’ve got you saying it)

  Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was still broken. Finding an ornate clock on the wall in the lobby she saw it was eight-thirty am. Had she really slept so long?

  Becca entered the main lobby area and noted all the empty high-backed chairs and desolate fireplace. “Hello?” she cried out tentatively. Not getting an answer she raised her voice and called out again. She half expected something to jump out and grab her. Isn’t that what was supposed to happen in scary movies? Part of her wished something would; that way at least the waiting part would be over.

  Awww… they’ve gone and left ya all by your lonesome, lass. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.

  “Pipe down, Donnie,” she grumped aloud. Then thinking of how both Wally and Big Leonard had saved her in the last twenty-four hours she said, “They would never do that.”

  Ignoring her, Donnie added, Well in that case, they’re probably pushing up daisies, then. The whole lot of ‘em--dead. But you already know that, don’t ya, girlie-girl.

  Feeling like the protagonist of
an episode of Twilight Zone (specifically the one where the book lover is the last person on earth all alone with his treasured books only to step on his thick-reading glasses; that one is my absolute favorite. Oh, the delicious irony.) Becca hastily checked the nearby gift store by poking her head inside. “Hello? Anybody here?”

  ‘Okay, what do we have? Work the problem, Becca-Bear.’ This wasn’t Mike’s voice but her own. ‘You woke up alone and found yourself surrounded by a moat of spiders. Somehow Peyton managed to leave the room and put the chair back under the doorknob. The fellas aren’t in the gift shop or the lobby. You don’t have your gun anymore…’

  I’m still with you, lass.

  Perfect. The only good thing about losing her gun would have been losing Donnie, too.

  Oh that hurts, lass; it really does.

  “Get over it.”

  Fabulous, you’re talking to yourself now. Hee-hee.

  (Becca’s not the only one. They say that’s the first sign you’re going crazy.)

  The sound of rustling paper drew her attention to a book on the coffee table set in-between two couches. The pages were slowly flipping from one page to the next. Okay… that’s weird. Especially since Becca detected no wind in the room. No blowing vent, open door, or cracked open window. She jumped slightly when the flipping pages rapidly increased in tempo. They continued onward like that until arriving to halfway through the book. Then it stopped abruptly on one page.

  Awesome, a haunted Book!

  Any normal person would have bolted for the exit the moment the book had starting going all poltergeist on her, but Becca didn’t budge, not this time. She could never fully articulate the feeling she was having at the moment but it was almost like someone standing behind you who deeply cares about you, like a dad standing behind his little boy who is getting ready to dive into the swimming pool for the first time, or maybe hit his first baseball. What Becca could tell was that this warm glowing feeling was the same one she got when she answered the Midnight Knocker at her door.

  Becca checked her six ( fancy military talk for looking behind you) and then tentatively stepped into the motel’s sitting area (the one with all the comfy high-backed chairs and desolate fireplace). Never taking her eyes off the book, which she could now see was an old heavily used Bible; she lowered herself to the couch.

  I wouldn’t touch that if I were you, lass.

  Becca sneered. ‘I know. I’m not going to touch it, Donnie. I just want to read what it says.’

  The Bible had dozens of sticky notes sticking out of it on multiple pages. The pages were worn, and many of them were crinkled and bent from considerable use. Leaning over the words the way a woodland animal might lean over and sniff bait in a bear trap, Becca could see where someone had highlighted a passage in the Bible in bright yellow.

  And forces shall stand on his part, and they shall profane the sanctuary, even the fortress, and shall take away the continual burnt-offering, and they shall set up the abomination that maketh desolate.

  Abomination Desolation. An old memory surfaced. Having been raised Catholic, and spending hours upon hours studying for Confirmation, she recognized the verse from the Book of Daniel, Chapter 11, verse 31. Reading the passage again she noted the part that read “…and they shall set up the abomination that maketh desolate.” It had been underlined several times, almost to the point of tearing through the page.

  What did it mean? She had never fully understood the passage in the first place, and what was Mike trying to tell her now (assuming it is her dearly departed, and I’m not saying that it is; or that it isn’t. My, isn’t this fun.). Forces shall setup abominations and make the sanctuary desolate?

  A heavy gust of wind rattled the main entrance glass doors and then died down. She wasn’t sure, not with the snow blowing in the wind like sand in a sandstorm, but she was pretty sure she could see lights across the street, er… highway.

  Becca stood up. She was about to turn away but couldn’t resist the urge and glanced back down at the Bible once more.

  Oh, lass, that’s a bad idea. Terrible, just terrible. That book is possessed to be sure. Who knows what will happen if you tote that thing around with ya. You’re liable to become possessed there yerself.

  This time, she guessed Donnie was probably right.

  Sounding relieved he breathed, Smart, lass, smart. Listen to ole Donnie and we’ll get out of this fer sure.

  Becca left the Book behind and crossed over to the main entrance. She could feel the bitter cold outside pulsating off its glass panes.

  “Damn,” she muttered under her breath. “I left my jacket back in the motel room. There’s no way in hell I’m going back there to get it.”

  Spying a coat rack in the gift shop she went back inside the little store. Becca had never stolen anything in her life. Well that wasn’t true; when she was six she had once stolen a matchbox car (Land Rover), from Robert Dunn down the street. She felt so guilty about it she hadn’t slept a wink the entire night and gave it back to him the next day.

  She was about to select something off the rack when she spied a box in the corner by the register labeled, “LOST & FOUND”. Digging through the box she found a nice thick coat just her size. It was obviously expensive when purchased but it had definitely seen better days. Perfect. She didn’t find any hats or gloves in the box so she grabbed a pair of brand new thermals off the rack.

  Stealing now, are we? This time Donnie was dressed as a clerk and he was standing behind the checkout counter.

  “I’ll pay the clerk back as soon as he shows up.”

  Leaving Donnie the clerk behind, Becca moved back into the lobby and, bracing herself for the icy winds, stepped outside.

  Either the jacket was really warm or she had remembered it being a lot colder outside but for now, the storm seemed to have abated somewhat.

  Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the ambulance was no longer where Big Leonard had parked it when they had first arrived.

  See, it’s like I told you, lass, they left without you.

  Becca wasn’t buying it. She hadn’t known Wally or Big Leonard for very long, but of this she was certain, the two men would never have left without her. Peyton might, but not the boys.

  Scanning the parking lot she saw the ambulance parked over by the gas station. That’s all it was, they were filling it up. Shielding her eyes from the wind with her hands, and squinting, she couldn’t see any sign of them under the gas station’s canopy. Maybe the pumps were back on and they were inside the gas station. She was about to hike toward it when she noticed the lights again, across the street. Dang it, highway.

  “Is that… is that the diner?”

  She suddenly recalled the old diner across the street. When they had first arrived the lights had been off and the place appeared closed for the season.

  That’s probably where everyone is. Becca raised her collar up over her neck, zipped her coat up to her chin, and set out for the diner.

  When she got to the highway and checked for non-existent traffic, the oddest thing happened; a gust of wind blew snow up into her face shielding the diner from view for only a moment and then just as quickly as it had sprung up, the wind died back down. Only this time the Interstate now had four lanes instead of two.

  “What the hell?”

  Oh shite! It’s the Christmas Kewpie Doll over again. Run back to the motel, lass! Run!

  Becca was certain the Interstate only had two lanes, but now she was staring at four. She placed one booted foot on the asphalt and a wave of vertigo swept over her. And in that moment, each of the four lanes seemed to widen exponentially.

  Becca fought down the nausea, steadied herself, and took another step on the interstate. With each step she took, the highway seemed to widen a bit more. She didn’t hear laughter, but she sure felt it, as if the very road was laughing at her. This should have scared her; instead, it only pissed her off.

  Becca ran.

  The highway widened more but it soon bec
ome apparent the road couldn’t keep up with her progress. Seeing this gave her a glimmer of hope and she poured on the speed. Soon she was gaining ground, and before long she was even passing the halfway point. Now the widening highway was losing ground but it (whatever IT is) refused to give up.

  Eventually she began to reach the other side. Nearly there, and nearly out of breath, she dove for the parking lot pavement like a baseball player sliding into home.

  Lying face first in the snow she felt as though she had run a half-a-mile, not the twenty-feet-or-so that it should have taken to cross the road. Becca spit the snow and dirt accumulated in her mouth and lifted herself to all fours.

  When she turned around to check the Interstate it was the same narrow two-lane highway as before. She lifted her eyes up from the highway to the motel across the way and stared at it. A desolate chill washed over her; she could never fully describe the feeling, but it was almost… almost as though the motel were laughing at her.

  Chapter 22

  Welcome to the Paradise Motel Diner

  Brushing herself off Becca crossed the parking lot without further incident and reached the diner. A sheet metal awning covered a quaint wooden planked porch out front. On the deck, all the summer tables and chairs had been stacked and covered with a tacky blue tarp universal to every state and country on the planet.

  Bells jangled overhead as she entered and when the door closed behind her it was a blessed break from the constant wind assaulting her ears.

  The diner had a checkerboard tiled floor and countertops. Stools with faded red cushions sat posted at the counter, and equally worn candy-striped couches served as booths. An old television hung in the corner near the ceiling. The TV dated the place a bit but for the most part the joint was clean. Despite the circumstances, she liked it. It was her kind of place; what truckers liked to call a real dive.

  (How charming)

  And it was more than the cheery décor; the café didn’t have that creepy-vibe she got from the motel across the highway. She was forced to wonder, what is it about the motel? She didn’t recall hearing Donnie’s voice as much the farther they got away from it. If that was the case, why? Why did the motel seem like a nexus for evil?