B&B

by Amy Cross

  Four

  “Where are you?” I yell, wading through the snow, almost stumbling a couple of times. “Matilda! Can -”

  Suddenly I bump against something buried in the snow. Falling forward, I barely have time to raise my hands before I slam into the wall. I feel a sharp pain in my ankle but I keep pushing on, desperately trying to get further along the alley. It'd help if I could see anything, but the moon has slipped behind a thick bank of clouds.

  “Matilda!” I shout. “Say something!”

  Stopping, I look back the way I just came, but there's no sign of anyone. Lloyd had better be on the phone to the police right now, but I don't have time to go and check. I look ahead again, hoping against hope that I'll spot some sign of Matilda in the snow. Instead, however, the moon reappears and I see something dark sprinkled against the white just a few feet away. I wade over to take a closer look.

  Blood.

  “Oh no,” I whisper, “please, no...”

  The blood is in two big dollops and doesn't look to be sinking deep into the snow. My mind is racing and I'm convinced that something really bad must be happening out here, even though there's no sign of an attack. Stepping back, I look both ways, and finally I realize that I'm completely defenseless. I've handled myself in tough situations before, but never anything quite like this, and I think maybe I should've at least grabbed a knife from the kitchen before I came out here.

  I take another step back, as snow is blown against my face.

  Suddenly I hear a voice giggling nearby.

  Startled, I look toward the shadows. I step back again as soon as I spot movement, but the giggling is continuing and it's sounding more and more like a girl. Finally, I'm shocked to see Matilda emerging into a patch of snowy moonlight, and she quickly tosses something small down onto the snow next to me. When I pick it up, I find myself holding a twisted, squeezed-out ketchup sachet.

  “Your face!” Matilda says, still laughing. “Priceless! Isn't Lloyd with you? He's the one I really wanted to freak out. Can you go get him and bring him out here, so I can scare him? Please?”

  “You staged this?” I ask, looking down at the dollops of ketchup that I'd somehow, unbelievably, mistaken for blood. “But I heard you scream...”

  “You mean like this?”

  Suddenly another shrill scream fills the air. I put my hands over my ears until it stops.

  “I'm so sick of the way everyone talks about that goddamn Snowman,” she continues with a grin. “You understand, don't you? Lloyd and the others skulk about in the B&B night after night, going on and on about this terrifying killer who only strikes when there's snow. I swear, even if there really is a killer on the loose, I'd rather meet him on a dark night instead of listening to one more of Lloyd's long, rambling soliloquies about how we all have to be so careful. If he had his way, none of us would ever leave that goddamn basement again.”

  “You staged this?” I ask again, still struggling to believe that she'd be so completely stupid. “For a joke? You really -”

  Suddenly she screams again.

  “Stop that!” I hiss, putting my hands back over my ears.

  “I just did it to prove a point,” she replies, wading past me as she heads toward the B&B's back door. “I've listened to Lloyd night after night after night, since...”

  She stops, and when she turns to me I realize that there's a hint of confusion in her eyes.

  “Well, since as long as I can remember,” she adds, “which is...”

  She pauses, her face a picture of doubt, before finally she forces a smile.

  “Oh, I don't know. Sometimes I feel like it's been forever since I arrived in this miserable city. I'm sure keen to get moving, though. I can't wait to leave.”

  “And when are you leaving?” I ask.

  “Soon.”

  “When?”

  She shrugs. “Soon. I don't remember exactly, I'll have to go to the office some time and check. It can be hard to keep track of things like that.”

  She takes a step back, while keeping her eyes fixed on me.

  “Oh God,” she continues. “You're not like Lloyd, are you?”

  “Like Lloyd?”

  “Don't you have a sense of humor? Can't you see the funny side?”

  “I can -”

  She screams yet again.

  “Stop!” I shout, shuddering at the shrillness of her voice.

  She starts laughing. “I've got a good scream, huh?” she says after a moment. “It's one of my best features.”

  “I thought you'd been attacked,” I tell her, feeling my fear slowly starting to become anger. “Lloyd's probably on the phone to the police right now. We both thought you were in trouble. I thought I saw blood on the snow and -”

  “That was ketchup, silly!”

  “I know it was ketchup now!” I shout, before realizing that there's no point letting myself get too worked-up. Matilda's clearly nothing more than a dumb, immature kid with no real understanding of the world, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to even try setting her straight.

  “It's cold out here,” she says after a moment, turning and forcing her way through the snow until she reaches the back door. “I'm going inside to warm myself up. Are you coming?”

  “In a minute,” I stammer, wanting to let her get ahead of me so I don't have to listen to her infuriating, rambling voice for even a moment longer. Besides, she'll probably want to demonstrate her scream again. “I just need to do something out here first.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  With that, she disappears inside, leaving me standing all alone in the snow. I know I shouldn't stay out here, but I honestly can't stand the thought of being anywhere near that annoying girl right now. I figure I'll just wait a minute or two and then I'll go straight up to my room, and hopefully I won't see her again, not even tomorrow morning at breakfast. I'm starting to think that this B&B is a little too crazy for my liking, and that I'd be better off getting out of here as soon as I can. Part of me thinks that getting out of here right now would preserve my sanity, but part of me doesn't like the idea of sleeping on a bench at the station during a snowstorm. Besides, I've always run from problems in the past. It'd be good for me to stick it out, and it's not like things can get any weirder. I'll just go to my room, shut the door, and sleep until morning.

  Once I've left enough time for Matilda to be out of the way, I start wading through the snow, making slow progress as I head toward the back door. Snow is soaking through my trousers now and my legs are aching, and all I can think about is the soft, warm bed that's waiting for me upstairs. If I just -

  Suddenly a figure slams into me from behind, knocking me off my feet and landing right on top of me as I hit the ground.

  I try to cry out, but my voice is muffled, and I try to break free only to find that I'm being held far too tight. Still desperately wriggling, I can feel hot breath on the side of my neck. I try again to scream, but the hand pushes through the snow and covers my mouth again, and then my body is twisted around. I feel someone clambering on top of me, kneeling on my chest and forcing me deeper into the snow. The pressure is so immense, I can barely breathe at all.

  My eyes are wide with terror, but all I can see is the faintest silhouette above me, barely visible against the dark night sky.

  I try again to get my hands free, but they're being held far too tight. I can hear my attacker grunting, as if he's struggling to hold me down, but he's clearly far too strong. Tilting my head back, I let out a muffled cry, desperately trying to open my mouth and scream despite the hand that's clamped tight against my face. I can see the rear of the B&B building, and there are lights in some of the windows, but I just can't quite manage to shout for help. Besides, before I can cry out, I need to get some air into my lungs.

  I struggle again, straining every muscle in my body, but nothing seems to work as I try to wriggle free. No matter how hard I try to cry out for help, the hand over my mouth muffles my screams so that they're nothing
more than a perpetual, agonized hum. Tears are streaming down my face, and suddenly it occurs to me that maybe the only way out of here is to somehow turn and try burrowing down into the snow. As soon as I try, however, my left shoulder is slammed back down with such force that I involuntarily let out another pained gurgle. Tilting my head back, I look toward the B&B, desperately hoping that someone is going to come and save me from this brutal, grunting monster.

  And that's when I see her.

  The bandaged landlady is at one of the brightly-lit upper windows, staring straight down at me. I swear I can even see her eyes glinting in the snow-light, watching me as I continue to struggle. She must be able to see what's happening, but she's not lifting a finger to help. It's almost as if she just wants to watch as this monster has his way with me.

  I try again to cry out, but I feel as if there's not an ounce of air in my lungs. I know I have to stay strong, and my mind is racing as I try to think of a way out of this, but my body seems to be becoming a terrified, shaking mess.

  “Help me!” I try to gasp, weeping as the hand clamps even tighter over my mouth. “Somebody help me...”

  I feel fingers pressing against my belly.

  My eyes are fixed on the bandaged woman as she continues to watch me. No matter how hard I try to fight back, this monster has me pinned down. Is the woman simply going to watch while I'm killed? Is she in on it all?

  If this is the end, it means I never got to atone for what I did. I would've gone home eventually, I swear, and faced the punishment for what I did. I would have tried to -

  Suddenly the monster pulls back, letting go of my mouth and hauling itself aside through the snow. Startled, I sit up, just in time to see the figure wading frantically through the snow as it rushes away from me. For a fraction of a second, I'm convinced that this is only a temporary reprieve, but soon the figure has disappeared into the darkness entirely. Although I feel no pain in my belly, I still reach down with shaking hands and fumble beneath my shirt, terrified in case I find wounds and injuries that have cut deep. Maybe I just haven't felt them yet.

  There's nothing.

  He didn't cut me.

  I scramble to my feet and clamber, sobbing and wailing, through the snow. I look up at the B&B's window and see that the bandaged woman is still there, still watching me impassively, and then I force my way to the back door. Finally, exhausted and aching, I drop down onto the carpet before hauling myself back up and pushing the door shut. Quickly finding the bolt, I slide it across and then slump back against the wall, desperately trying to get my breath back.

  For the next few minutes, I search frantically for any cuts or stab-wounds on my body, but there really is nothing at all. I was down for the count in the snow, the monster could have done anything he wanted to me, yet apart from a twisted ankle I'm completely fine. I can only assume that something must have scared him off. Maybe he saw the woman in the window, although it's hard to believe she was enough to make him run.

  She was just watching.

  Waiting.

  Almost as if she wanted to see something awful happen to me.

  Forcing myself up, I lean against the wall for a moment before stumbling along the corridor. My clothes are soaking wet, with clumps of snow frozen stiff to the fabric. My right ankle is killing me, but I think pure adrenaline might be masking the worst of the pain so I keep going and finally I start hobbling up the stairs. When I reach the bend, I stumble again and reach out, supporting myself against the large plant pot. As I do so, my right hand brushes against one of the large, juicy leaves, and I feel an instant scratch of irritation. Letting out a gasp, I pull my hand away and see that there's already a faint red rash. Whatever this damn plant is made of, it's clearly not good for human skin, but fortunately that won't matter for long.

  I'm getting the hell out of this B&B.

  My legs are aching so much from all the snow, and it takes another couple of minutes before I reach the landing. Limping over to the door to room four, I fumble for the key and finally get inside. I don't know where I'm going to go once I leave this place, but staying here is definitely not an option. I'll sleep at the station, and then I'll get a train to London, or I'll go home. There'll be time to make a final decision later. Grabbing my suitcase, I haul it off the bed and drag it back out onto the landing.

  I glance at the nearby window. I'm pretty sure this is where the bandaged woman was standing a few minutes ago, while she calmly watched me getting attacked in the alley, but she's gone now. Then again, she might have been in one of the rooms. It's hard to tell for sure.

  “Bitch!” I mutter under my breath. “Goddamn -”

  Spotting movement nearby, I turn and look at the next set of stairs. Somebody is creeping down, not making any noise at all, and a moment later the timid, long-haired woman comes into view once more. She freezes as soon as she sees me, and then she starts backing away, heading up the stairs again.

  “It's okay,” I tell her. “I'm not -”

  I sigh as she withdraws once more into the shadows.

  “I'm not going to bite,” I add, although I guess it's too late. Whatever's up with her, she seems perpetually terrified.

  Turning, I look back at the spot where the bandaged woman stood earlier when she was watching me.

  “Thanks for nothing,” I mutter darkly, looking around at the doors for a moment before turning and starting the slow, painful job of lugging my suitcase downstairs. “God forbid that you'd actually help someone who's being attacked by a monster!”

  Each step is difficult, and I soon have to stop to get my breath back.

  I can see the stupid plant ahead, sitting in its stupid pot with its stupid fronds reaching over the edges. My hand is really itching now, but I figure the irritation will heal soon enough. Besides, that's the least of my problems.

  “Okay,” I whisper under my breath, bracing myself to drag the suitcase down a few more steps. “Time to -”

  Before I can get another word out, my damaged ankle buckles beneath me. I try to steady myself but I'm too late and I tumble down, landing against the pot with enough force to push my face straight into the heart of the evil plant. I wince as I pull back, but one of the fronds cut my cheek and I can already feel a stinging sensation on my cheek and forehead.

  “Great!” I hiss, hauling myself up and grabbing the suitcase. “This is just the house that keeps on giving!”

  I pull on the suitcase, only to find that it's caught on one of the steps. I pull again, and this time it comes loose, almost sending me thudding down against the plant yet again. Fortunately I manage to hold myself up this time, although my face is really starting to burn now.

  Determined to get out of here, I push through the pain and drag my suitcase all the way to the hall. I can't hear any voices talking in the breakfast room below, so hopefully everyone has finally gone to bed. I make my way straight to the door that leads into the office. There's no sign of the bandaged landlady, although I'm not even sure what I'd say if I found her. Honestly, I think I'd just thank her for the complete lack of help earlier. Clearly she's running some kind of insane set-up here, but it's none of my business and I just want to get out of the damn place.

  Leaning through the doorway, I hang the key to room four on the hook. Just as I'm about to turn and leave, however, I spot a large bottle of anti-irritation lotion on the table.

  I glance up the stairs, before figuring that the least I'm owed is a little relief from the increasing pain caused by that goddamn plant.

  I haul my suitcase into the room and head to the table. Grabbing the bottle of lotion, I turn it around and take a look at the label. Sure enough, it's specifically designed to deal with pain and lesions caused by certain types of plant. I guess the landlady has had a few run-ins with the damn thing already, so I open the bottle and squeeze some of the thick white lotion onto my irritated hand. Almost immediately, I feel the pain starting to subside.

  I wait a moment, just to make sure that there are no side-
effects, and then I squeeze out more lotion, quickly slathering it all over my face. The relief is instant, and I add a second layer and then a third.

  Glancing across the room, I spot a phone in the corner.

  I pause for a moment, before limping over and picking up the receiver. For a few seconds I actually consider calling the police, but I'm not entirely sure what I'd say. This B&B is certainly weird, but it's not like anyone has done anything illegal, and my story of finding a dead man in the bathtub would probably get laughed out of consideration. I can't even begin to separate the genuine weirdness from the parts that were all in my head. Setting the receiver back down, I suddenly realize that my hand and face are itching again, as if the lotion is starting to wear off. I head back to the table and read the rest of the label, only to find that the damn thing only works if it's used in conjunction with aloe-treated bandaged.

  Sure enough, there's a huge bundle of bandages on the table in the corner.

  I want to get out of here, but my snow-soaked clothes are freezing against my skin and I'm starting to shiver. Sleeping on a bench might be fatal in this weather. There's a fireplace on the far side of the room, so I limp over and take a closer look. Spotting a box of matches, I take one out and use it to try setting light to the wood, so I can get a little heat. The wood seems burned already, and charred, so I set the matches aside and grab the iron poker that's resting against the wall. I use it to push the wood around, before realizing that this is hopeless. I'm never going to get a fire spotted.

  Turning, I spot an electric heater nearby. My ankle is throbbing, so I lean on the metal poker, using it as a walking stick as I start hobbling across the room.

  Suddenly the poker's tapered tip breaks through a gap between the floorboards, sliding down to the hilt. I fall, landing on my hands and knees, still holding the handle of the poker.

  “Great!” I hiss, wiggling the handle for a moment, trying to pull it out. Finally, after a couple of tries, I manage to start sliding the iron poker up, pulling it from the hole in the floor. Figuring that there's no point relying on it again, I toss it away and then get to my feet, preferring to hobble unaided to the electric heater.