Chapter 55
The hotel owner and the girl were back, and they had a woman and two kids with them. Clinton Scarrow observed this from a third floor window of the ‘Clear View Hotel’ and had to admit he wasn’t all that surprised. Clinton had expected the owner to stay put even when the Sheriff's Deputy left earlier on, but he knew he couldn’t stay away for long. No doubt he felt the hotel was ‘part of him’ or some such garbage.
Scarrow was tired now, and he wished these people coming through the carpark had arrived with the panicking runners earlier on, those who had been fleeing the spiders only to be greeted with a worse monster lying in wait. He smiled devilishly at the recollection of the last few hours.
The carpets of the hotel were red on every floor and in every room. It was mostly still thick, but had thinned here and there on the halls and corridors. Scarrow had heard the owner say to one of the guests who’d remarked on it (before any of the murders had taken place) that ‘“No matter where you go in the Clear View Hotel, you get the red carpet treatment.’ It was pathetic, but Scarrow was sure it went down well with the travelling rubes who’d choose to stay in a place like this in the first place.
The carpet was what you would call ‘bloodred’, but Scarrow had to say, real blood showed up quite clearly on it. Each room in the hotel could bear witness to that now. Each room now littered with the dead. The spiders had shepherded the people here, but once inside they belonged to Clinton Scarrow, and he went from room to room killing and maiming with an axe from the yard shed and some long knives from the kitchen.
It had been glorious work, but terribly taxing. Very few of the one hundred and two people Scarrow had killed in the last two hours had gone without some kind of a fight. His own face showed evidence of this where the flaps of stinging skin hung loose after two different women dug deep into his fleshy cheek with their fingernails.
Room after room, he found small groups cowering, terrified the spiders were coming for them. It had been Clinton himself who’d met them at the door and told them to go into the rooms, that the spiders couldn’t get in here. So it was much more of a shock, and the first few in each room fell dead all the easier for it when Scarrow came calling at their doors.
Of course not everyone waited in a room like lambs for the slaughter. People charged around the hotel frantically, and some did choose the windows, leaping into the spiders to try their luck rather than eat the axe blade. No need to say how that choice ended up for them.
“Do you think anyone is inside?” Scarrow heard the woman say, and her voice struck him at once. He looked closer and saw that she was the one who’d flagged him down the morning of the town meeting. She didn’t look so well now as then.
“There could be,” the owner said, looking around the ground, no doubt looking for spider bodies. He wouldn’t find any out that way; those who had jumped out the windows did so from the back and crushed a few spiders on the grass there. “If no one else came by here, and there were no spiders, it’s possible the killer from last night is still here,” the owner said, pointing to Scarrow’s car in the lot.
“You don’t think that was the spiders now?” the woman asked, and Scarrow smiled at this; she hadn’t seen what he’d done to that couple. It seemed a terrible injustice that those murders and that of Danny would be lost in all the madness that followed. What Clinton Scarrow had done before the spiders came deserved to be known, and it was a shame this wouldn’t come to be. He knew the way people thought; they would only be interested in the big picture of what had taken place here, and he’d be lucky if his murders were anything more than a footnote to the larger event.
“Definitely not!” the young girl said, and Scarrow was pleased to see her face drained of colour at the recollection of what she’d seen. She’d remember, Scarrow thought, if she wasn’t going to die real soon.
“Let’s just get those bikes of yours and get out of here,” the older woman said. The two boys were just looking around, one scared the other, numbed maybe. So they’d come for bikes, Scarrow thought. He’d already used one to go and block the road earlier, but she would find one where he left it.
Should he go down and kill them or leave them to the spiders? He wondered. But then, he didn’t know where the spiders were gone or if they were coming back. He did know, though, that no one was supposed to get out of town. So he guessed that was his decision made. It was up to him to tidy up these loose stragglers as they came to the hotel. He started down the stairs.
“Is that where I left my bike this morning?” he heard the girl ask on his way down. He knew it was close enough for her to believe it was.
On the first floor landing, Scarrow could see through the end window that the hotel owner was rummaging around in the shed where earlier he’d gotten the chainsaw. Where had he put that? It would be of use now, he grinned.
“I don’t think this old thing is going to run,” he heard the man call out from within the shed amid a heavy clanking noise. Those gathered at the door backed away as the man emerged with a big old black-framed bicycle, like something from the 1920s. It was rusted over and didn’t look like it’d seen use since that roaring decade.
“You’ll need a whole lot of grease to get that moving,” the larger boy said, tapping the drivetrain with his foot.
“I got drums of cooking oil in the kitchen that might do the trick,” the owner said. This is exactly what Scarrow wanted to hear. He ran down the last flight of stairs quickly and slipped into the bar/dining area where the owner would pass through on his way to the kitchen.
Would they all come inside or just him? Clinton Scarrow smiled; this was the exciting part. He hoped the owner came in first alone, or with one other, and then the rest of them followed in a while when no one came back out to them. People could be so predictable and dumb as animals, he sneered. It was no wonder he’d never liked anyone in this town.
Chapter 56
“You don’t want to go in there alone,” Maggie said as Landy started to step away from them, having leaned the bike against the shed.
“It’s a very short distance,” he said. He knew it could be dangerous in there and he didn’t want to take anyone into that.
“No one should be on their own for even a second,” Maggie pressed. He knew she was right, but he didn’t like it at all. There was something oddly quiet about the hotel. It made no sense that people would not have run here from the road when trying to escape the spiders. Did they all die before getting the chance to leave the road? He didn’t think so.
“I’ll go in with you, Charley,” Emily said, “I know the hotel as well as you do and can keep an eye out while you get the oil drums.” Landy didn’t like the idea, but he knew they didn’t have the time to stand around arguing about it. They needed to be gone already, not dragging this out.
“Fine, fine!” he said exasperated, “But you stick to my back like glue, Emily, you got that? Not even a small distance between us!”
“Don’t worry,” she answered, “I just want to get in and out as fast as possible, just like you,” Emily assured him.
“We’ll bring the bikes around front and meet you there,” Maggie said. Landy nodded and took Emily by the hand like she were a child. If that was what it took to make sure she stayed by him, so be it.
The steps creaked as they came up to the double doors. A sudden pang of emotion thumped Landy hard in the chest as he pushed though slowly into the lobby. This was his home and he was losing it! Tears formed but he didn’t want to let them fall. They had a job to do, and he had to keep Emily safe, but oh how he would have loved to walk all the halls and rooms of his hotel just one last time. Perhaps there would be a chance to come back one day long after all of this was over? It was wishful thinking, but it was all that was keeping him from weeping just then and he was thankful for it.
“It’s so quiet,” Emily whispered. Her grip on him had tightened once they stepped inside the building. She should not be in here. Landy nodded in agreement as they started
to cross the reception area.
This was when Landy saw the metal key box. It wasn't just a little dented now but had been completely mangled and torn open. It lay on its side on the desk like a monster’s crooked jaws, and there were no keys on any of the small hooks inside. Though he couldn’t tell why, this caused a sensation of nausea to rise up in him, the acid broil burning the back of his throat.
“What is it?” Emily asked, and he realized he’d stopped walking.
“The key box,” he said nodding to it. Emily looked too and they took a step closer to the desk.
Landy saw it first, and he pushed Emily back before her eyes could see over the raised lintel side of the desk.
“What?” she said, looking around in fear.
“Wait there a moment,” he said, and he let go of her. There was no other way to check the veracity of what he thought he’d seen without her also seeing it. He crept to the desk and looked down on the flat surface.
There laying open was the guest book, and each line of the two open pages was filled with names all signed in the same hand but with red ink that could be one thing only. Landy couldn’t hold in the gasp that escaped him.
“What Charley, what is it?” Emily said, frightened. He lifted the corner of a couple of pages carefully, trying to keep his hands away from the blood, and confirmed there were more pages like those open.
“The guest book is filled with names,” Landy said, “and they’re all written in blood.” Emily was aghast but suddenly rushed over and spun the book around so she could see it properly.
“Emily!” Landy cried, trying to push her away, “What are you doing?” She pushed back with her hips fiercely, using a strength he wouldn’t have thought her capable.
“I need to see if my parents’ names are here!” she cried out.
“That won’t mean anything!” he shouted at her, “This is the work of a crazy man. You think he knows everyone’s names in town!”
“These people are here!” she retorted angrily, “Can't you smell the death here? They are in the rooms on every floor!” Landy could smell it now, though he wasn’t sure if it was just the blood on the old guest book pages in his nostrils. Emily was still reading through the pages, flipping them frantically from one to one and zooming down through each entry with her finger. There was no stopping her, and Landy could only hope the names she was so desperately searching for were not there.
“Emily, this isn’t doing us any good. This killer could still be here; we have to go!”
“Go get the oil drum,” she said absently. “I’ll be done here before you’re back.” She hadn’t looked at him as she spoke.
Once more the required haste of the situation drilled into Landy’s mind. He wasn’t going to be able to talk her away from the book. If he ran to the kitchen, grabbed the oil and ran back, they could be back outside with the others in under a minute. This is what he had to do.
“Wait here!” he said, and he ran through the doors into the dining area.
This was a space he’d always loved in the hotel, and many nights he’d sat in here having drinks with some of the guests. Other times, Landy had sat alone here when everyone else was in bed. There was a calming atmosphere in the room that he had never been able to explain but he loved.
Now as he entered it, however, that atmosphere was gone, and if he had not felt the death outside in the lobby, there was no escaping it in here. And yet, Landy didn’t see any evidence of violence in the room. His pace slowed naturally, his senses alert. Was he alone here? He looked around. The room seemed empty, but it didn’t feel empty.
The swinging door to the kitchen was very close now, and the light was on in there. Landy wasn’t sure if he’d turned it off earlier. There was a small gap between the door and he was able to see inside to a limited extent. It seemed as still as this room.
Creeping to the doors, he leaned on one and peered inside, ready to fly at the slightest noise or movement from within. His heart raced, his vision starting to get a little blurry to go along with it. Then his eyes stung, and he realised it was sweat running down his forehead and into his eyes that had caused both these things.
Suddenly screams started to come from outside,
“Emily!” Landy shouted and abandoning his quest, he set off at a run to the reception.
When he got there, however, he found it had not been here at all. Maggie and the two boys were in the reception now, and their faces were white with fear.
“What is it?” he asked, looking them over for injury.
“The spiders are back,” Maggie said through gulped breaths, “They’re surrounding the hotel!” Landy rushed to the glass door and looked outside and saw the evil tide of arachnids assembling in the carpark. There was no escape for them now, he thought.
“Don’t worry,” a sneering voice said from behind them all. “We are all safe and sound in the hotel.” Landy and the others spun around to see Clinton Scarrow standing in the doorway to the dining room. He looked pale and haggard, and his skin and clothes were covered in drying and dried blood. Hanging loosely at his side was an axe that Landy could see at once was his own and had done great evil this morning.
Why did they have to come back to this goddamn hotel!
Chapter 57
Deputy Harry Sanders was well within the town limits by now. There had been a few more frantic people stupid enough to approach him on his walk through the jammed up road and each of them now lay dead behind him. All the time Harry had been walking, the Deek had been showing him images of what was going on all over. It had been particularly amusing to see the Mayor first cast his loyal aide aside for his own survival and then see him get his comeuppance out on the lake.
Then he saw something he didn’t like at all. It showed that some of the humanity was still within Harry, though it was a part most people would like to do without. It was his jealousy that came to the fore when he saw Garrick rushing about in his car, the acting Sheriff. The Deek seemed to feed on this jealousy, and it released something into Harry’s body that was like some crazy drug. Never before had he felt so good, and he didn’t want it to ever end. Though the Deek didn’t talk, Harry felt it say to him and he repeated out loud,
“Let’s go get him.” That would take ‘Sheriff’ Garrick down a peg or two.
Harry came to the end of the row of cars and got into one that was unencumbered and used the key (still in the ignition of course) to start the car and reverse around to drive away.
The Deek had tiny eyes everywhere, and Harry was able to work out Garrick was heading for the old Mercy road - the same road Harry had driven up to search the mountains. How long ago that seemed, like years ago.
The car drove well and was obviously well maintained. Harry looked about the seats and dashboard for clues as to who may have owned it. There was no trace of personality in the car at all, and he supposed it didn’t really matter who had owned it; they were dead now whoever they were.
Only a few minutes had passed when Garrick’s shot-up cruiser came into view, crossing at a junction just before Harry got there. No doubt Garrick had seen the car, but there hadn’t seemed to be any reason for him to stop or approach it. He was most likely running scared now that he had his wife saved from that fat bastard butcher, Barber.
Pressing on the accelerator, Harry sped round the corner with the screech of the tires filling the air (the careful owner would be spinning in his grave if he knew what was happening to his car!).
Harry came up on the wrong side of the road - if such a thing still existed - and made to look as though he were going to go right past Garrick. The cruiser didn’t make any alteration of speed or position on the road. This car was of no concern to Garrick, and that was just how Harry wanted it. He pressed down on the pedal again, the engine roaring, and came up on the cruiser.
Harry had to play this just right, because if Garrick caught sight of who was driving, he would know something was up at once. This had to be done with perfect timing, and he was
determined. Picking up as much speed as the car would allow, Harry waited until he was about twenty feet off the passenger’s side before swerving widely to the right.
Garrick could only have barely seen the move (if he saw it at all) and there was no time for any meaningful reaction. There were a terrific bang and then the sounds of mangling metal and shattering glass filling the air. Harry lost control of the car as it went into a rapid spin, and the cruiser’s back end went out widely as Garrick tried to bring it back level but then swung back the other way until it was travelling sideways and at speed. The driver’s side wheels left the ground and then the brief battle for control was lost.
Harry had come to halt in his spinning car just in time to see the first of two rolls the cruiser would complete before sliding along on its roof for some distance as it ground to a halt. Getting out of his borrowed car, Harry looked down the street at the carnage he’d created.
Glass was strewn the full distance between him and the car. Tyre marks weaved on the road where Garrick had braked hard trying to save himself - this brought a smile to Harry’s face.
“Didn’t go too well for you, Garrick, did it?” He laughed.
Then there was the noise of newly tinkling glass and Harry looked closer. Someone was moving around in the car - no, two or three people were moving around in there. It hadn’t killed anyone!
Garrick looked out through the now glassless back window of the upside down car and made eye contact with Harry. There was no familiar recognition there at all, but Harry had no doubt Garrick saw him, or what was within him.
“Come on, we have to get out of here,” he said to the two people (both women) who were in the car with him. They were groaning and crying, but they moved all the same, one of them looking back to see what Garrick had seen. Harry was still just standing there, but he guessed he was quite a sight right now to those who had seen him before.
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