The Last Motel

by Brett McBean

  The Last Motel

  by

  Brett McBean

  Published by: LegumeMan Books

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2011 by Brett McBean

  Cover & Design © 2011 by Spatchcock

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the express written permission of the publisher and author, except where permitted by law

  Contents

  THE LAST MOTEL

  PART 1: THE CONVERGENCE

  PART 2: THE STORM

  GALLERY OF IMAGES

  Praise for the Last Motel:

  “A thrilling read about fate, coincidence and murder. McBean pumps up the tension to unbearable levels, and then lets rip.”

  —Tim Lebbon author of Fears Unnamed and Desolation

  “Brett McBean is as brash and brutal as a young Jack Ketchum. He visits the dark rooms inside us all. The Last Motel is the first stop on his way to the top.”

  —Scott Nicholson author of The Manor and The Farm

  “The Last Motel is fun; a thrilling, white-knuckled suspense read. McBean’s voice is one that should be heard – a hint of Laymon and Koontz, yet distinctly his own. Genuinely creepy stuff!”

  —Brian Keene, Author of The Rising and Terminal

  “Brett McBean’s The Last Motel is dark and gritty, relentlessly fierce but tempered with keen wit and characters so real you can hear them breathing. The book is a loving, bloody homage to an underappreciated genre and McBean’s writing compels you to keep turning pages even as you cringe. A book as hard to put down as Misery — I couldn’t look away even when I wanted to. The Last Motel makes the Bates Motel seem like a trip to Disneyland.”

  —Tamara Thorne author of Thunder Road

  “Brett McBean’s The Last Motel moved me to that level of horror rarely visited. He writes without a safety net and crosses all lines as he illuminates the true essence of fear. Mesmerizing and frightening.”

  —John Paul Allen author of Gifted Trust

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Dedicated to Bruce ‘Butch’ Callaghan (1944-2009). Special thanks goes out to the wonderful and hardworking crew at LegumeMan Books. Simply put, you guys are the best. My gratitude to everyone involved in ‘you know what’. Simply put, you guys rock!

  THE LAST MOTEL

  PART 1: THE CONVERGENCE

  CHAPTER ONE.

  October 31, 1980

  9:28 p.m

  He pulled up to the sidewalk, cranked up the handbrake, then switched off the lights and engine.

  He had parked three houses down.

  That way he was close enough to see, but not enough to be noticeable.

  He took another swig from the flask, savoured the warmth as the whisky flowed down his throat, then screwed the top back on. He placed the stainless steel hip flask under the driver’s seat, then sat back up and wiped his mouth.

  He checked his watch under the faint glow of the moonlight. It was nine-thirty. Helen’s dork of a husband should be gone by now: sailing somewhere high above, on his way to Japan – on a business trip.

  He huffed loudly. “Fucking dork,” he slurred. “What the hell she sees in him I’ll never know.”

  For a thirty-five-year-old bank teller, Helen was remarkably sexy. Tall, long red hair, uncharacteristically tanned. Plus she had a great set of tits.

  But for some reason she was married to a guy like Gavin. Medium height, receding hair, and growing the sort of belly that only a once thin man can grow – small, yet protruding. A lazy, office worker’s belly.

  Plus he wore those fucking ridiculously thick glasses that served only to amplify his squinty little eyes.

  Helen wasn’t married to Robert Redford, that’s for sure.

  He reached into the glove box and pulled out his Smith & Wesson. He flicked open the chamber, just to check that it was loaded. After all, he was drunk and in a foul mood. A little thing like loading his gun might’ve slipped his mind. But all six rounds were jammed with cartridges.

  He flipped the chamber back and shoved the revolver down the front of his pants.

  Not that he was planning on using it. No way. It was merely a precaution. In his line of work, you learned pretty fast to take every precaution necessary.

  As he reached down to switch off the radio, a wave of dizziness overcame him. He suddenly saw everything twice and, for a moment, thought he was going to throw up.

  He rolled down the window and stuck his head out.

  But the feeling quickly passed and he pulled his sweating head back in.

  How much have I drunk? he wondered and smiled lazily.

  He steadied himself and was about to hop out when he glanced over at the house.

  “What the hell?” he muttered.

  He knew that both Helen and her husband owned one car each – she a blue Ford and he a red Alfa Romeo. The Alfa was gone, probably parked at the airport garage, and the Ford was parked in the driveway – he could see it from here.

  But there were two more cars parked behind the Ford – a white Volvo and a dark coloured Mercedes.

  Fuck! She has people over. Why has she got people over?

  He sat back in his seat and thumped the steering wheel. She was supposed to be alone tonight. No husband, and no friggin’ guests.

  He switched the radio back on, then placed the gun back in the glove box. “Stupid bitch,” he huffed. “Having a party and not even inviting me.”

  It was lucky he brought another hip flask. It looked like it was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER TWO

  10:24 p.m.

  Madge Fraiser switched off the radio. She had heard a car pull up outside – her first customer for the night. She had finished sweeping the office floor, so she propped the broom against the wall, turned around and sat down. The cushion hissed as tiny pockets of air escaped.

  The office door opened, and in stepped a young man. His short hair was mussed from the strong wind and his clothes were a bit grubby. With his thin build and smooth face, he looked around twenty years old. But there was secrecy in his eyes, an intelligence that told Madge he was slightly older.

  The man approached the counter, giving her a wan smile.

  “Need a room?” she asked.

  “What’s that? Oh yeah, a room.”

  He had a mature voice. It didn’t suit his juvenile looks. She could also smell alcohol on his breath. It was stale, yet horribly pungent.

  She wanted as little conversation as possible with this man. Though judging by his manner he felt the same way. “Will you be the only person staying?”

  “No, there are two of us. Me and my friend.”

  Great, she thought to herself. Just what I need.

  She could hear the shutters outside, down the back where her living quarters were, crashing against the windows. She would have to go out and close them later.

  “You want a room with two singles, or one double?” she asked, not sure if the friend was a guy or girl.

  “Yeah, two singles. Just for the night.”

  Madge reached under the counter and pulled out the registration book. She placed it flat on the counter top, open at the present date.

  She gave him a pen and the man began scribbling down his details.

  Madge watched him closely as he wrote down his name, address and car registration. He hesitated on all accounts.

  She smiled guilefully. She had seen this same scenario too many times during her twenty years of running this motel. At least half of her clientele used false names and addresses. It was often a source of amusement to look at what names people came up with. She could always pick the false ones.

  The man finished writing down his details then handed her back the pen
. She thanked him and took the registration book, shoving it back under the counter.

  She hopped up from her padded chair and went over to the key rack. She took one of the small cabin keys from off its hook, then shuffled back.

  “Cabin three. It’s directly in front.” She chuckled. “We’ve only got five cabins, so it won’t be that hard to find.”

  The man smiled and nodded. She handed him the key.

  “I’ll pay now, if ya don’t mind.”

  “Sure,” Madge said. “That’ll be ten dollars, thanks.”

  The man pulled out his wallet and handed her a ten dollar note .

  She thanked him, then opened up her cash register and placed in the money.

  “Okay, thanks,” the young man said, and hastened towards the door.

  “Name’s Madge,” she called out. “I’ll be here all night if you need anything. We lock the door at midnight. So just press the doorbell if you need me, okay?”

  The man nodded quickly, then hurried out the front door. Wind moaned for an instant, then all was quiet, except for the clanging of the shutters.

  “Strange man,” Madge sighed, shaking her head. Bending down, she slipped the registration book out and opened it to the present date.

  She smiled.

  It wasn’t a bad name; simple, yet believable.

  Michael Clayton.

  She placed the book back under the desk and glanced at her watch. The newsbreak would be on the radio about now. She leaned over and switched the knob to ‘on.’

  “...A perfect night for Halloween. The temperature in the city is ten degrees, and there’s a strong wind outside. The rain that was forecast has so far held out, but reports say that it is definitely on its way.

  And if this night isn’t spooky enough, police still haven’t caught the person, or persons, responsible for the murders of seven young men. They have no leads, and have yet to report any suspects. So please, while you’re out having a good time tonight, take care, and don’t accept any lifts from strangers.

  In other news, police are investigating the shooting of an eighteen-year-old male, which occurred earlier tonight in the Lilydale area. We have yet to receive furthers details, but we’ll keep you informed as the night rolls on.

  The time is ten-thirty-one, and this next song is a classic...”

  “Same old nastiness,” Madge said as she switched the radio off. She shuffled from behind the office desk and made her way through the curtains and down to her quarters.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “What took you so long, Eddy?”

  “Calm down, man. I had to pay and everything.”

  Eddy jumped into the driver’s side and slammed the door.

  “Who was in there? How many?”

  Eddy laughed. “Fuck. Calm down, I said. There was just some old bag.”

  “See anyone else?”

  “Don’t worry so much.” He gently slapped the side of Al’s face. “We’re in cabin three.”

  Eddy released the handbrake and headed towards the cabin directly opposite the office. The car bounced over forest floor.

  “Did ya see any maps?” Al asked.

  “In the office? Nah. Not that I could see, anyway.”

  “Place is deserted,” Al commented.

  Eddy glanced over at Al. His face was a contortion of nervous anxiety. “Relax, Alfred. We’re in the mountains. No one’s gonna find us.”

  “I hope not,” Al said.

  They pulled up to a cabin, and the headlights lit up, cast in bold black metal, the number 3.

  “Here we are,” Eddy said.

  It was a small cabin, as they all were, and it looked rather decrepit. It was private, however, which Eddy was glad of. The next cabins were about five or six metres away on either side.

  “Shit!” Al spurted out. “You didn’t give ‘em your real name and address did ya?”

  “What do you take me for? Of course not.” Eddy shook his head. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

  “Wait a minute,” Al said. “I’d feel a lot better if we parked the car around the back. Out of sight, ya know.”

  Eddy nodded. “Good idea. Can’t be too careful.”

  He backed the car up, drove through the gap between the two log cabins, and around to the back. When the car was completely blocked by the backside of their cabin, he stopped. Bending down, Eddy gripped the two wires under the dashboard and unhooked them. The engine stopped. He then shut the headlights off. They were left in utter darkness. The only sound came from the wind outside.

  “What now?” Al asked.

  “We go inside, and talk about what we’re going to do.”

  “What about...?” Al motioned with his head towards the back of the car.

  “Leave it,” Eddy told him. “It’s not going anywhere.”

  They hopped out. The bitter wind was fierce, and although they weren’t far up the mountain, the night air was noticeably cooler.

  Eddy breathed in deep. “Ah, I love the smell of pine. Don’t you?”

  “I don’t really give a fuck. Come on.” Al started walking alongside the cabin.

  Eddy smiled. “You know, you really need to relax a bit more, Alfred. Take a few deep breaths...”

  “Don’t call me Alfred,” he whined.

  They trudged up to the front of the cabin. Eddy reached into his jeans pocket and fished out the key. “This place is kinda spooky,” he said, gazing around. “Don’t ya think?”

  “Whatever,” Al said.

  “Kinda fits in with Halloween and all that, huh?”

  Al gave him a hard stare. “Come on, be serious, Eddy.”

  “Sorry.”

  Eddy opened the cabin door, and they stepped inside. Al found the light switch.

  “Talk about spooky,” Eddy mused.

  “Almost reminds me of when we visited that old Sherwood house last year.”

  “Hell, I remember that,” Eddy said. “The one where all the murders occurred. What did the old lady say?”

  “Which one? The tour guide?”

  “Yeah. Something about a man dressed in a gorilla suit.”

  “Can’t remember.”

  “That was a great weekend, huh? What was the name of that motel we stayed in?”

  “Ah...the Sleepy Hollow Inn, I think.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Hell, that dump was a palace compared to this.”

  The cabin was small, and very sparse. It housed two modest beds, a closet, one set of drawers, small refrigerator and there was a door leading to what Eddy guessed could only be the bathroom. The walls and ceiling were made of cheap pine board; the floor was covered with ratty carpet.

  “And there’s not even a TV,” Eddy said as he closed the door.

  “We’re not here on a holiday,” Al reminded him. He was in the middle of closing the tattered curtains.

  “True. But it would’ve been nice to have the box on while we thought of what the hell we’re going to do.” Eddy hiked over to the closed door and opened it. He switched on the light.

  “What is it?” Al called out. “Bathroom?”

  “Yeah.” Eddy chuckled. “Charming facilities. Ain’t exactly the Windsor.” He switched off the bathroom light and sauntered over to one of the beds. He jumped onto the mattress, resting his head on the pillow.

  Al walked over to the other and sat down. “Man I’m buggered.” He rubbed his forehead. “At least we have a radio.”

  Eddy glanced over at the small radio. “I wonder if that thing gets FM. So, what’s the plan?”

  Al let out a long sigh. “A fine mess we’ve gotten ourselves into.”

  “I say we leave the car here and hitch-hike back home.”

  Al shook his head. “That woman’s seen your face.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t wanna take any chances. Besides, our fingerprints are probably all over the car.”

  Eddy nodded slowly. “I guess so. I really need a beer,” he sighed.

  Al licked his lips and groaned
. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Any left in the car?”

  Al shook his head. “All gone. Think the old lady would have any to buy?”

  Eddy grinned. “Should’ve picked some more up on the way.”

  “Yeah, sure,” Al huffed

  “Well, it’s gonna be a long night,” Eddy said, his hands tucked under his head. “Booze would really come in handy.”

  “Yeah,” Al agreed. “I don’t think I can handle tonight if I’m sober.”

  Eddy chuckled. “What a night, huh?”

  “And it’ s a long way from over,” Al sighed. He put his head in his hands and mumbled, “Happy fucking Halloween.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  10:47 p.m.

  Madge had just finished locking the last shutter when she heard another car pull up. Its engine was just audible over the wind.

  This is the busiest I’ve been all year, she thought, and smiled.

  She placed the small key into her coat pocket, pulled the shawl tight around her body, and shuffled around to the front of the office. She was greeted by a large man. He wore a blue chequered flannel shirt that hugged his bulging gut. He sported a short bristly beard, and what little hair was left on his head was the same reddish tinge as his beard.

  “Good evening,” Madge said. “Windy night.”

  The man gave a small, polite smile.

  A white car sat parked in front of the office, and gazing through its front windscreen, Madge saw a woman sitting in the passenger seat. She too looked quite heavy.

  “My wife, Judy,” the man told her in a gruff voice.

  The woman never once looked over at Madge. She had her head turned, gazing out towards the cabins.

  “Come inside,” Madge said, facing the man. “We’ll freeze out here.” She shuffled towards the office entrance.

  The man nodded and followed her into the office.

  “Nice little place you’ve got here,” the man said as he closed the door.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It’s been my home for the past twenty years.” Madge took her place behind the desk.