by Jon Sauve
I'm incredibly frustrated. Being twenty-three isn't as great as people think, both younger and older. The former, they look forward to the "freedom" that my age provides. The older, they want to get that "youthful energy" back.
But what good is freedom when you are too much of an idiot to know what to do with it? And what good is energy, for the same reason?
I wonder sometimes if everyone my age feels the way I do. Doesn't seem like it. Other people have jobs, or they are in school, or they are trying to achieve one of those two things. In other words, they are able to stick to whatever goal they have chosen. Maybe they're just scared of doing anything other than what society expects. The more frightening alternative is that they know exactly what they want and how to get it.
I don't have that. I'm a loser. No car, job or motivation. No skills to speak of. I have talent. I'm good at some shit. But I don't have the drive or decisiveness to choose a path and follow it. Whenever I try to do something, I chicken out or I suddenly turn into a moron. Trying to write a novel? All your characters suddenly lose their personality or start to speak like third graders. Trying to get that certification? All the sudden a lifelong passion for computers evaporates and all you want to do is write again. I'm the best at writing, I like it the best, and I have a lot of cool ideas and I will write all of them. Yeah, right.
That's me, pretty much. I hate everything, most of all myself. I'm terrible.
To reiterate, I am fucking frustrated. I'm tired of being me. I want to have a life of some kind. I want to get rid of this schizophrenic bullshit. How am I gonna do that, though? I'm really reaching for something. I've been scouring newspapers, Craigslist, anything, hoping something will jump out at me. SEEKING UNEMPLOYED, UNSKILLED SOCIAL REJECTS WITH NO JOB HISTORY OR EDUCATION! PAYING SIX FIGURES FOR YOU TO PROVIDE US WITH INCOMPLETE MANUSCRIPTS WITH MORONIC CHARACTERS AND PLOTS THAT GO NOWHERE!
Fuck me.
Alright, so I saw something interesting that maybe, just maybe, I can do. When I say interesting, I mean interesting, but maybe not in a good way. I'll let the posting speak for itself.
5/12/15 - Seeking men and women over age twenty for a very unique and mature "scavenger hunt". Hunt will take place at the Allnighter Travel Lodge off highway 12, exit 102. All participants must bring ID. All electronics, including cell phones, are prohibited.
No special qualifications required. Seeking a diverse range of age, race and background. Doors will open at 11 PM, May 14th. Only the first ten will be accepted. There is no test or survey required for entry, but please note that a pat-down and check will be performed on all participants.
Payment depends upon performance. 1st place will earn ten thousand dollars. Hunt begins after all participants have arrived and gone through briefing.
Jesus. It seems too good to be true. You telling me I don't need a PhD and twenty years of past job experience to even qualify? And if I win, I get ten grand?
I was skeptical, needless to say, so I did an internet search on the Allnighter. There it was, the Allnighter Travel Lodge, at allnighterlodge.com. There was nothing on the site about any scavenger hunt, but the Craigslist ad mentioned somebody name Jeremy, and the same name appeared on the website. I guess it might just be a trick, but what the hell would anyone get out of that? "Hah hah, I just tricked a bunch of people into driving to this hotel!" The payoff seems really low on that.
So I decided that the thing must at least be partially true. I'm sure there would be some huge catch, like maybe your winnings would be worth ten thousand, by some arcane logic, instead of being in cash. It was possible. But hey, it's a scavenger hunt. I remember I found the most eggs during an Easter egg hunt as a kid. Maybe the skills would carry over.
Then I started to wonder what the hell we would be hunting. The ad mentioned the event being "unique" and "mature." Being twenty-three, my mind immediately went to sex. But that couldn't be it, could it? Or were we consenting to be extras in a porn flick? No, not that either. There wouldn't be any first place if that were the case. Right?
I've been thinking about it for hours and I have no goddamn idea. The ad was posted yesterday, which means the "doors" of the event will open tomorrow night. Even if I decide to go, which is by no means a certainty, I will also have to figure out how to get there. Like I mentioned earlier, I have no car.
Okay, just in the name of entertainment I went on Google and plotted out a bus route. It wouldn't be too bad. I would have to switch buses once, and the whole trip would take fifty-five minutes. I have nothing else to do, so I don't have any real excuses. The only legitimate reason I'm apprehensive about going is that I am a social moron, and I am also terrified of public transit. The people, the anxiety of getting the right bus and worrying about missing your stop, I hate all of it.
The whole scavenger hunt thing still seems really dubious to me. But that's no excuse, either. If I get there and it still seems weird, I can just leave.
Come on, Orin, you can do this. It's ten thousand dollars!
It's the morning of the hunt, and I still really don't know. My stomach has been upset since last night. I'm nervous and antsy. Just the fact I'm even considering going has got me worked up. I woke up at three AM and couldn't get back to sleep, so I went for a long walk. I walk a lot at night. Fast walking in the open air is the best way to think through your problems, and at night you don't usually see anyone.
I got back at half past four, and went to sleep. Now it's nine, and I've been awake for half an hour. My mom is at work, and I'm alone. She won't get back until five or six. That would be too early for me to go. But she knows about my walks, so she wouldn't think anything was weird if I went out the door at nine-thirty.
That's the time I decided would be best, by the way. Nine-thirty. That would give me a half hour or so of wiggle room, to make up for delays in the bus routes. I might reach the hotel a little early, but probably not. The closest the bus gets is a mile from the hotel, so I would have a little bit of walking to do. No sweat.
Now it's three. I've been in agony the past six hours. I barely know what to do with myself. I had coffee, which didn't help the anxiety at all. I keep pacing. I can't even go for a walk. It's way too sunny and hot outside.
A normal person would probably either decide to do it or not. And once they made a decision either way, they would feel resolute rather than nervous almost to the point of puking. I wish I was a normal person.
Okay, that was bullshit what I said. Everyone gets nervous. If you watch reality TV, especially the singing competitions, those people are all nervous as hell before the big moment. But they're singing for millions of people, not trying to figure out whether they want to join a scavenger hunt or not.
It's eight o'clock now. I really have to decide. Jesus Christ, I'm nervous. Even more so now because I've admitted to myself that I want to go. What's funner than a scavenger hunt? And I can earn money, too. The ad only mentioned a first place prize, but I think it's safe to assume that second and third would get something too.
Eight forty-five. I've made my decision. I'm going.
Phew! I'm writing this on the bus. I have the notebook turned to the side so no one can read what I'm writing. I have earbuds in. The cord is going down into my pocket, but it's not plugged into anything. The ad said no electronics.
There aren't many people on the bus. Only eight or so. Some normal looking people, but a couple of the usual bad-smelling weirdos. They are hanging out at the back, talking loudly to each other in what sounds like gibberish. I guess they are either drunk, brain damaged or mentally ill. Don't know whether to be afraid of them or feel sorry for them. Both at the same time, I guess.
Whatever, I'm just rambling now. I'm still nervous and a little excited. Some of the nerves come from the reality
that I might not be one of the first ten. That would suck. But most of the anxiety comes from the fact that I might actually make it in. The ad was kind of obscure. I only found it because I've been obsessed with Craigslist, scouring every corner of it I can for anything. So I might even be the first person to get there.
What if I'm the only person to show up? I kind of doubt they'll just say "oh well" and give me the money.
Okay, so things are looking good.
I got off the bus at the right place. I was super worried the whole time, craning my neck to make sure I didn't miss the gas station that marks the spot I need to get off at. Every time I saw a sign, I put my hand up to the cord you pull to tell the driver to stop. In the end I didn't have to worry about it. Either someone else pulled the cord before I had a chance to or the driver just stops there regardless. Whatever. The point is I got off at the station and went in to get a bottle of water because I was thirsty and I live in a dry place. Not quite desert, more high-plains, but definitely dry. After procuring a drink, I started my walk out to the Allnighter.
When I was looking at the maps of the area, it struck me that the Allnighter was kind of remote, off in a desolate place by itself. Now that I was actually out here, walking, I realized just how far-off it was. The pavement was cracked, there were potholes everywhere, and the weeds were starting to take over the shoulder. I didn't see any houses or anything, at least none that were lit up. It was pitch black. There wasn't much of a moon. Thankfully, I wasn't completely stupid when I left home. I had a little flashlight, one that takes a single triple-A battery. It helped me to follow the road and avoid cacti, at least.
I could see the lights of the hotel up ahead. It was totally isolated, standing at the end of a road that hadn't seen a single repair in years. I started to think that the place had closed down long in the past, and was being used this one night only. But then again, it had a website that looked pretty new. But maybe they made the website for the sole purpose of the hunt. Who knows?
If you hadn't noticed, I'm still nervous and can't stop thinking.
I saw the first car when I was about halfway there. The lights flashed behind me, and I walked off to the side so I didn't get hit. It was OK, though; they moved over into the middle of the road to give me plenty of room. What they didn't do was stop and ask me if I wanted a ride, which I regretted at the time. I usually avoid interaction at all costs, but I was pretty anxious to get to the hotel before it was too late.
Three more cars passed before I got there. None of them stopped. Towards the end of the trek, I did a bit of jogging. Three cars meant at least three people, but maybe the drivers had brought along a friend or two. I wasn't taking any chances.
I was out of breath when I reached the parking lot, which was in just as sorry a state as the road. Grass and tiny wild flowers were growing up through the cracks.
Along with the three cars that had passed me, there were four other vehicles parked here already. They were all identical pickup trucks, so I was pretty sure they belonged to whoever had organized the hunt.
The Allnighter Travel Lodge stood at the end of this huge wasteland of asphalt. I could tell immediately, even in the crappy lighting of the single lamp post that was lit on the sidewalk, that the place was old. Probably at least ten years since it had been worked on at all. Some of the windows were broken, the siding was sagging off here and there. It just generally looked uncared for.
There was light shining out through the glass double doors at the front. Four people were already standing there, looking around with their hands in their pockets. I slowed down to a walk and went over all casual like, smiling and waving at them when they noticed me.
"Hi," I said, my voice going kind of high and squeaky for no reason.
Only one of them, a young woman, said hi back. The other three, all men, just nodded and grunted. That heartened me a little bit. Maybe everyone here would be just as much of a social idiot as I am.
Unfortunately, I had to go and notice that the woman was very pretty and close to my own age. That made me nervous all over again. So I looked at the men instead.
The guy at the front, who I assumed had gotten here first, was kind of old. He was at least sixty. He had a tough cowboy look to him, but he was wearing the kind of clothes you might see on a college student at a nightclub. Collared polo shirt, khaki shorts. His shoes were the only old-guy thing he wore. They were moccasins. And they were dusty and beat-up looking. I guessed he had probably walked here too.
The next guy was thirty-five or so. He looked tough. He was bald and wore sunglasses even though it was dark out. His left hand was shoved into his pocket. He had a watch on his right wrist, which he kept checking. His facial expression never changed.
The third guy, standing in between me and the girl, looked like he was probably in IT. He had the long hair, the Adam’s apple sticking out, and just looked geeky overall. He was tall and skinny, rather than short and chubby, which seem to be the two main archetypes of computer nerds.
And then there was me. I look pretty average, I guess. I'm not tall, I'm not fat, I'm not skinny. I don't look like anything special or unique. Try to imagine a generic white male in their early twenties - you probably just pictured me.
"So," the girl said.
The bald guy checked his watch again.
"What time is it?" moccasins asked. He had a voice like a cowboy too; kind of gravelly and dry.
"Ten forty-nine," bald guy said.
The girl stood on her toes and looked in through the glass doors. The glass was fogged, but you would still be able to see movement beyond it. We didn't even see any, though, just the vague shape of an entryway.
Another car pulled into the lot. It was old and beat up, and the shocks were no good, which was obvious by the way it bounced and jiggled around on every tiny crack in the pavement. It came to a stop close to the door, and its brakes let out a god-awful high-pitched whine. Everyone standing at the door cringed, including me.
Another young guy got out. He was black, wearing basketball shorts, with his mouth open and eyes wide. He looked like he was feeling as nervous as me. He pulled a phone out of his pocket, threw it down on the driver seat, and shut the door. The car shook again. The engine was still making noises as it cooled down.
The newcomer walked up behind me, moving in a slow, casual swagger that was at odds with the wary expression on his face. He stopped just behind me, cocked his head in greeting, and said, "Number six. Alright."
The girl chuckled. Bald guy shoved his right hand into his pocket too and turned to regard the newcomer.
"What's up," the younger man said. "I'm Ben."
"Shaun," bald guy said in a voice as steady as his facial expression. "Good to meet you."
"I'm Mary," the girl said.
"Luke." That was the IT nerd.
Moccasins cracked a smirk. "Name's Jacob. Friends call me Jake."
Then everyone was looking at me.
"Um, I'm Orin," I said.
"Cool," said Ben. "I guess we're in Club Punctual."
"Six members and growing," Jacob said, nodding toward the parking lot.
Here came another vehicle. It was a Mercedes SUV, twelve years old or so. There were some dings and dents in it, but it sounded alright. The windows were tinted, so we didn't see the driver until she stepped out. My immediate thought was she must be a volleyball player. This woman was tall and muscular. She wore her hair in a low, messy ponytail, and she had the face and eyes of an eagle.
"Hey," Ben said, looking her up and down. "I'm Ben. This here is Orin, and that's-"
"Name's Beth," the tall woman said. "Has anyone learned anything about this ‘hunt’?"
Ben shrugged, and looked over at the rest of us. No one said anything.
Beth nodded and looked back across the parking lot, down the dark stretch of the road. "Three more spots left."
"Doors open in eight minutes," Shaun said.
"Any guesses on what we're going to be hunting?"
Mary asked.
"Dunno," said Ben. "But I have a feeling it's going to be something creepy. Look at the place."
I agreed with Ben. The setting of a dilapidated, remote hotel was too good to waste on anything else.
My imagination started to run while I stood there. I imagined that the inside of the place would be decorated like a haunted house. I imagined mazes and spinning tunnels like you find in a funhouse. All that sounded fun and horrifying at the same time, but it was probably too good to be true. The hunt was probably going to be for something boring. Anything scary we found was likely to be related to the sorry state of the building. Rats, rotten floorboards, spider webs, stuff like that.
“Everyone have ID?” Shaun asked.
My stomach did a little nervous flip. But of course I had ID. I always put my wallet in my pocket when I leave the house. Reflex, I guess. And I remembered specifically to bring it, anyway.
It seemed like everyone else had it too. Duh. Except for Jacob, they had obviously all driven here.
"Is everyone over twenty?" Mary asked, and everyone laughed except Shaun.
I looked at the door. Nothing moving. Then for a second I thought something did move, but it was just headlights reflected on the glass. I turned back around, and watched as a crappy little car pulled up. Two guys got out, in their late twenties or early thirties. They resembled each other vaguely. Maybe they were cousins. There was nothing very distinctive about either of them. They wore jeans and t-shirts, had military style haircuts, and faces that were neither handsome or ugly.
The two of them came up to the line and said nothing. I guess everyone got a weird vibe from them, because no one even asked their names.
Four minutes passed. No one else came. Finally, we all heard a click from the door and looked over in expectation. It had unlatched and popped open an inch or so. Everyone kind of looked around at each other. Finally, Jacob hooked a finger on the door and yanked it open. There was no one inside, but we all saw the electronic device that was hooked to the inside of the door, near the handle.
