13 Night Terrors

by D A Roach et al.

  “Of course,” the ginger woman said, still typing. “How many nights will you be staying with us?”

  Glancing over at her sister, Frieda said, “Only a few nights. Three at the most.”

  “Excellent. I’ll book you for three, and if you decide to check out earlier, please see me at the desk. How many rooms would you like to book?” The ginger stopped typing and looked up at Freida.

  “One, please.”

  “Not a problem. We have an excellent suite on the third floor. Very spacious. And recently renovated.”

  Still looking at her sister, Frieda asked, “Do you have anything on the first floor?”

  “First floor?”

  “In case we need to leave in a hurry.”

  “Hurry?”

  “The baby…”

  “Of course. Let’s see.” She resumed typing. “We do have one room here on the first floor that should meet your requirements. Two queen beds, a living room, but no upgrades I’m afraid.”

  “We’ll take it.” Frieda fished for her wallet in her pocket.

  “The room will be eighty-five a night, and we will need a credit card on file in case of damages to the room.” The receptionist sat tall and rigid, her cool gaze fixed on Freida.

  Frieda bit her lip, trying her best to ignore the spasm running down her spine. “Credit card? I’m…I don’t have one. Is there anything we can do? What if I paid double?”

  “Double?” Ginger’s bored expression melted away.

  “Call it a security deposit, you know, in case anything happens to the room.” Frieda pulled out several one-hundred dollar bills and slid them across the tall desk.

  The ginger didn’t even glance on the money. Her gaze remained fixed on Frieda.

  “Please,” Freida added, “cash is all we have.”

  Still nothing, only the soft voices coming from the TV in the sitting room.

  “Please, my sister needs to rest.” Frieda leaned closer on the tall desk, whispering hotly. Ignoring the best she could her own invading doubt and the creeping uncertainty that if she and Maria were not allowed to stay here they’d be forced to find a hospital and then the church would find them.

  I can’t let them find her…I can’t.

  “Please!” Frieda hissed, more pleading than threatening.

  The blue lipstick woman glanced over at Maria, who was still watching the news. She sighed, more out of annoyance it sounded. “Okay,” she said matter-of-factly. She took the offered bills and resumed typing on her keyboard. “You’ll need to check out at the desk if you want your deposit back, following an inspection of the room, of course.”

  Frieda nearly jumped. “Thank you, thank you so much! You’re a life saver.”

  “I’m sure.” More clicking. “Checkout will be at eleven on the third day, unless you need to leave earlier. The same applies: you’ll need to check out at the desk, emergency or not, if you want your deposit back. Failure to do so will result in a forfeiture of said deposit. Does this sound fair?”

  Freida was still dancing on her toes. “Yes, whatever it takes.”

  Finished with her typing, the ginger-haired woman slid across a small envelope. “Here is your keycard, room 158. Room service will be available until midnight. Breakfast is served between eight and ten in the morning.”

  Freida reached and took the envelope.

  The receptionist smiled, still with that strange mix of boredom and amusement. “Enjoy your stay with us here at the Twin Pines Hotel.”

  Chapter Four

  Freida led her sister through a set of wide double doors, thick oak with a small oval viewport showing the other side. The carpet spread out down the hall in what look like miles of diamonds set upon diamonds, over and over, blue with gold latticework. Heaving their suitcases, one in each hand, she glanced up at the circular room numbers plated on each door.

  “Room 158 should be around the corner,” she called to Maria, who was waddling in front of her, one hand placed on her stomach, as if cradling the baby inside, the other swishing back and forth by her side. Her gaze danced from one thing to the other.

  “Do you know what all this reminds me of?” Maria gestured to one of the taxidermized critters sitting atop a small table at the end of the hall before the corner.

  Freida glanced past her sister. “A stuffed fox?”

  Maria giggled. “No. Well, yes, but they also remind me of Uncle Frank’s cabin. Do you remember the hunting trips we used to go on when we were little girls?”

  “Maria,” Frieda groaned, “maybe we shouldn’t be thinking about Uncle Frank right now, huh? Let’s focus on getting to our room and getting some sleep.” She continued down the corner on another stretch of endless diamond-carpeted hall. The last thing in the world she wanted to do now was to think of their uncle Frank.

  Of all the things and all the people…Maria thinks about him. Uncle Frank and his cabin past the fields of wheat on the farm.

  Hunting…

  Somewhere in the back of her mind, Freida could hear the piercing cull, the frantic screams of the doe. Whining, only worse. Much worse. A continuous uncontrollable utterance that experienced hunters talked about giving them nightmares. Over and over and over again until the sounds sounded less like a deer and more like a little girl and the rusty gyration of a cheap spring mattress.

  “Hey,” Maria called to her. “You passed our room.”

  Frieda shook her head. “That’s weird,” she said, walking back to her sister. “The rooms must not be in chronological order.” She looked up at the number in the oval plate on the door.

  “Says Room 158.” Maria was obviously suppressing a laugh.

  “Yeah, but this one is off. The door down is 156.”

  “So?”

  “Where’s Room 157?”

  Maria looked around at the other rooms and shrugged. “Who cares?”

  Frowning, Freida set down their luggage, fishing for the keycard. “Let’s see if the card works.” She took out the card the receptionist had given her and slid it into the electronic reader. One of the lights on the box flashed red. “Something’s wrong.”

  Maria leaned against the wall, rolling her feet one at a time, groaning a little. “Try it again. My feet are killing me.”

  Freida glanced at her and smirked. “You mean your cankles?”

  Maria mocked as if she were hurt. “Just do it, missy.”

  She did as requested, and this time the light on the card reader flashed green. The door lock popped, and Freida twisted the handle.

  “See?” Maria beamed. “Sometimes you gotta go with the flow.”

  “With the flow? Where did you hear that expression?” Freida looked at her sister quizzically.

  Her sister said matter-of-factly, “Aunt Rebecca.” And then Maria pushed past her and went into the room.

  Freida followed her in. The front half of the hotel room was a living room of sorts, a couple of chairs and a plush sofa set in front of a TV sitting on top of a stand. There was a small refrigerator and a desk with a white notepad sitting next to a cheap-looking pen with the name Twin Pines Hotel stenciled on the side.

  Maria plopped down on the sofa, kicking off her sandals and grunting as she lifted her legs off the floor, laying them on the couch. “Any chance for a foot rub?” She wiggled her toes, smiling widely.

  Rolling her eyes, Freida hauled the two suitcases into the next half, passing a bathroom. She peered inside. Wall-to-wall tile that maybe had once been white, now stained with age, looking more like a yellowish cream. But there was a large mirror, a toilet, a shower, and a large shelf stacked with towels. What more did they really need?

  She continued on into the bedroom. Two queen beds, as promised. Dressers as well, and another TV, a smaller tube Magnavox. The walls were decorated with a flowery wallpaper and paintings of children playing on a swing roped to a large elm tree. There was one window. Curious, Freida pulled open the thick curtains. Outside, the view was dark, but the shadows of tall pines no more than a
yard away were easily recognizable.

  “That lady wasn’t kidding about this place not being updated,” Freida said.

  Voices and sounds came from the living room. Maria had obviously found the remote. Freida left the luggage and went back into the living room area. The news was on. “Comfy?” she asked her sister.

  Maria moaned pleasantly, rolling her head back to look at her sister. “Very.” Her attention went back to the TV. The news was still covering the manhunt for Andy Derek, showing images of what appeared to be the Twin Pines Hotel.

  Freida gaped. “Is that our hotel?” she asked, gesturing with her finger at the screen.

  “Crazy, right?” Maria said. “They’re saying that this was the last place he was seen.”

  Freida growled. “That bitch forgot to mention that there was a known killer on the premises.”

  Maria waved her off. “Come on, do you think if he was really here, the police wouldn’t have closed the building down? Be real, sis. Twin Pines is only his last known whereabouts. He could be all the way to…huh…Canada by now.”

  “Somehow that doesn’t comfort me.” Freida crossed her arms over her chest.

  Maria kept her gaze on the TV. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  Freida stood there for a moment. The hours of the day were starting to weigh down on her shoulders. Her skin felt grimy and unwashed, as if it had been years since she took a bath, the taste of her saliva gummy and stale. She went to check the lock on the door. “I’m going to jump in the shower. You good on your own for a few minutes?”

  Maria was glued to the TV.

  “Maria?”

  “What?”

  “Shower?”

  “I’m fine. You go ahead.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” Freida rolled her eyes, went into the bedroom area, and opened her suitcase. Fishing out a pair of panties and a fresh t-shirt, she started off for the bathroom. Looking back into the living room, she said, “Don’t rot your brain.”

  Maria didn’t seem to hear her.

  After turning on the water to warm, Freida undressed. Steam quickly began rolling over and between the faded shower curtain, fogging the large mirror in front of the sink. She grabbed the complimentary bottles of soap and conditioner and stepped into the tub. Scalding at first, the hot water soon relaxed her strained neck and shoulder.

  Eyes closed, she rolled her head slowly left to right under the showerhead, steamy water soaking the back of her head and flowing down her body. The shower was exactly what she needed. The drive from Mallard had been tedious and had strained her nerves to the point she never imagined she could handle. But she had, as had Maria. How she had been able to convince her sister to leave the farm still troubled her. Since they were kids, Maria had always been a true believer. What changed?

  The baby.

  Perhaps some part of Maria that still doubted crawled inside her instinctive need to protect her child, no matter what.

  Maybe.

  No matter. She had come, and here they were.

  Using the complimentary soap bottles, Freida lathered and washed. First her hair and then her body, running over her smooth skin, tracing the scars belonging to memories she refused to recall, especially the thicker lines around her lower abdomen where they had taken the very thing that made her a woman.

  Feeling spoiled by all the hot water, Freida shut off the valve and stepped out of the tub to dry. Fog covered the mirror, and she was thankful for that. It was enough to have felt the scar, her touch taking her back to that awful day. The surgery was to be her sacrifice. Her dedication to the Way. To the Coming Days. It was also the start of her apprenticeship as a midwife, for she would never be a mother herself.

  Forcing away the encroaching thoughts of years past, Freida dried her hair with a towel, ignoring the glaring black tattoo on her rib, ignoring the twin serpents suckling a golden rod. Moving quickly, she pulled on a pair of clean panties and the t-shirt she had brought. She brushed her teeth and combed her long hair, pulling it into a ponytail, as was her custom.

  As the fog cleared, her reflection glared back at her in the mirror. The lines under her eyes were much darker than when they had first started running. Freida knew she needed sleep, but how could she? They would be looking for them now…for Maria.

  What if they come while we sleep? What if they find us…somehow? What if—?

  Freida shook her head. They weren’t going to find them. How could they? No one had seen them, as far as she knew. The car was stolen, they didn’t have cell phones, and they hadn’t used any credit cards—how could they be found? They couldn’t, simple as that.

  She rubbed her face and stepped toward the door.

  Voices came from the living room.

  What’s she watching now? Freida wondered. Wait…is she talking to the TV? No. That’s not the TV. Someone is in the room talking to her!

  Freida rushed out from the bathroom, thinking the worst. “Maria, who are you talking—” She froze, eyes wide, mouth ajar. Her thoughts were swirling between disbelief of what she was seeing and the reality that stood before her.

  “Who are…you?” The words felt gummed in her mouth. She could only stare at the hulking man standing near the door, his massive clawed hands pushing a cart filled with covered plates that smelled savory.

  He stared back.

  He, if such a word could be used to describe this creature before her, this massive man with wide shoulders and greenish scaly skin wearing a white shirt stained with grease spots and black slacks, his exposed feet revealing yellowed talon nails to match his yellowish crocodile eyes.

  “Who…?” Freida tried working out again.

  Wordlessly, the creature looked on at her before starting in with the cart.

  “Don’t!” Freida yelled.

  He stopped, seemingly accustomed to her reaction.

  “Freida, stop being rude. This is Al. He works here at the hotel. I ordered room service. I wasn’t sure how long you’d be, and I was getting hungry.” Maria looked at her from the couch, her expression that of mild amusement.

  Freida blinked, allowing the information soak in. “Room service?”

  “I’ll take that, Al. Thanks.” Standing with a grunt, Maria took the cart, handing Al a crisp green bill.

  Al took it and smiled at her in his own reptilian way. He then glanced at Freida, his expression sharpening. He turned toward the door, his incredible frame shadowing everything. “Leave the cart in the hall when you’re done. I’ll collect it later,” he said, his voice deep and filled with gravel.

  Freida swallowed hard, praying silently.

  And then he was gone.

  “Thank you, Al. We will.” Maria closed the door behind him, her expression still somewhat colored with amusement. “Do you have to be so rude? You could have at least put on pants.” She waddled to the sofa and her food.

  “Pants?” Freida looked down at herself, only now realizing that she was still in her panties and t-shirt.

  Chapter Five

  Freida lay awake listening to her sister’s heavy breathing. From her peripheral, she saw the steady rise and fall of her swollen belly beneath the mounds of blankets on her bed. Outside the window, the full moon rose high, shining bright white light through the folds of the thick curtain, casting strange shadows in the room.

  Rolling away from the window, Freida stared at the wall to her right.

  Got to sleep sometime, girl. If not for you, then for Maria. She’s going to need you more than ever now. Especially in these Coming Days.

  Cripes…Coming Days?

  She was starting to sound like those freaks at the convent.

  Only New Birch understands the truth.

  Days when the wicked will be swallowed into an oblivion of their own design. For the Lord of Flies will come and put gnashing teeth to the Good Work. Do you hear, children? Do you hear? So said the Teacher.

  So said Uncle Frank.

  She could hear him and all the rest, the Sisters and their ashen b
reath; like dragons they culled and they reaped and they listened and they offered themselves.

  Still, Freida could hear the sounds from that horrible cabin when she and Maria were Baptized Into the Way. Baptized in flesh and ruination, the sacrifice of innocence.

  “We’ll get away from them,” she mumbled, half asleep now. “She’ll give birth, and we’ll fly far away.”

  Steadily now, Freida yielded in the heaviness of sleep. Her eyes drooped, shot open, and then finally came to rest closed. Her thoughts were muddied. Too many concerns. Too many things to wash away in the coming years she prayed they could find together, just the two of them and the baby. Two sisters against the world. Just as it should be. But there was also the fear, no matter how distant she rationalized it. Fear was ever present, thicker than shadow, more potent than spoiled, sour meat in the sun.

  And then there was her past. The bright places she liked to go, the bright places she feared her younger sister Maria had long forgotten. In her dreams, there was a farm in the town of Mallard with vast stretches of bulging land for wheat and mud-coated stalls near the house for pigs. They whined and oinked and stunk, but she loved them so. Even the names of nearby towns filled her imagination with excitement. Places like Fort Dodge that was southeast of them and north of Pocahontas. Rural and quiet and simple.

  In her dream now, her mama was speaking Spanish to her. This was before the Coming Days when foreign tongues would be forbidden by her family’s new Way. Her mama and papa were immigrants from the small coastal town of Luquillo in Puerto Rico, and every night Mama made arroz con gandules y lechón. The smell of savory pork filled the small flower-wallpapered kitchen.

  Mama sang as she cooked, something native and sweet.

  Outside, Papa fed the hogs, the sound of greedy squeals carrying inside.

  And then the darkness came.

  Corpses of swine piled in a pit. Freida’s sullen faced father struck a torch and burned the herd. Every one of those once happy greedy pigs succumbed to some strange disease.