The Last Motel

by Brett McBean

  He smiled to himself. This is the sort of seedy place he loved to stay at. If only they didn’t have this problem to deal with. He couldn’t relax and completely enjoy the atmosphere.

  Great place to spend Halloween, though, he thought. If we get through this, we have to get everyone together and come up here next Halloween and have a party. And we’ll make sure to bring a shit load of booze. Fuck what that old bag said.

  He had his eyes closed and was thinking about the party, when a newsbreak came on.

  “...Police are searching for nineteen-year-old Jeffrey Olsen who disappeared earlier tonight from the Mt. Evelyn area. He was apparently going to the shops to buy some food for a Halloween party he was attending later that night. The shops were only a ten-minute walk, and he told his mother that he would be back shortly. Jeffrey never returned home.

  Police fear foul play was involved, but have no leads at this time.

  In other news, we have yet to receive further details of the shooting of an eighteen-year-old male in Lilydale. We’ll keep you posted on that story.

  The time is six-past eleven, and the temperature has dropped to a very cool eight degrees. I hope you are all enjoying Halloween tonight – I know we are, at Melbourne’s favourite station, 3-MLB...”

  A song came on that Al had never heard of, so he turned the volume down. He lay back and closed his eyes again.

  That Jeffrey kid’s probably out having a great time and getting laid. Like I should be. Maybe we should go looking for a prostitute and...

  The door opened and Eddy walked in. He was shivering, but had a goofy smile. He shut the door and raised a packet of cigarettes.

  “Looky what Eddy brought.”

  Al propped himself up on his elbows. “A whole packet?”

  “Yep,” Eddy said. “And I didn’t have to perform any sexual acts, either.”

  “Wow.”

  Eddy made his way towards his bed, opening the packet. “They’re only Benson & Hedges, but it’ll do.” He stuck a cigarette in his mouth, dangling it from his lips, then handed the packet to Al. “Got your lighter?” he asked, sitting on the bed. He rested his back against the headboard.

  “Certainly do.” Al pulled out his Bic. “How were the couple?”

  “Quite nice, actually. You’re right, though, the husband looks a bit rough. Wouldn’t like to get in a fight with him.”

  “You and me both,” Al said, lighting his cigarette. He stretched over and handed the lighter to Eddy.

  “Looks like a redneck, too,” Eddy said.

  “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  They took long drags of their cigarettes.

  “Much better,” Eddy sighed, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.

  “Really soothes the nerves,” Al said.

  “And Lord knows we need it.”

  Al took another drag and nodded. “The wife look beat up?”

  “Nah, just a faint smudge on her cheek. Nothing major. A real fucking dog, though. Typical fatty – sweatpants and flannel shirt.”

  “Real pillars of fashion, hey?”

  Eddy chuckled.

  “What are they doing here? Did ya have a chat with them?”

  “Not really. Just a quick how’d ya do. God knows why someone would want to willingly spend a night in a place like this, though. I mean we are because we have to be.”

  “Maybe it’s their honeymoon,” Al said.

  “Don’t think the bed will hold up if it is.”

  “I don’t know,” Al said. “I was thinking how this place would be great for a Halloween bash. Next year, I mean. Have all the gang come up here, it’ll be a wild time.”

  “You and your fucking horror movies,” Eddy said. “This place is a dream for you, isn’t it?”

  “Don’t you agree?”

  Eddy puffed another billow of smoke while he thought about it. “Now that you mention it, these cabins do have a certain squalid charm to them. I doubt that old bag would allow it though.”

  Al shrugged. “Probably not. How much did ya pay for the smokes?”

  “Ten bucks, can you believe it?”

  “Ten? Ripped off, man.”

  “It wasn’t even their last packet, either.” Eddy shook his head. He took a long drag, then blew a mass of smoke out into the room.

  Al did the same.

  “What I should’ve done was sneak into their cabin while they were out just before and stolen one of their packets of cigarettes.”

  Al huffed. “Haven’t you learned your lesson yet? Stealing shit is what got us into this mess in the first place.”

  “Too true,” Eddy mused. “Too true.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Al and Eddy’s Story

  9:02 p.m.

  “How about that one?”

  “Nah, too posh. Probably has an alarm.”

  Al gazed at the sleek Porsche 911 and nodded. “Goddamn yuppies.”

  Edward Worchester and Alfred Taylor continued walking down the footpath. They were in the East Melbourne suburb of Mt. Evelyn. Al was carrying a plastic bag that contained two six packs of Victoria Bitter. They had almost finished both packs.

  Staggering slightly, Eddy scrunched up his finished beer can and threw it at a modest weatherboard house. It landed on the overgrown lawn. He let out a burp and turned his head back to Al. “I was aiming for the window. Fucking missed!”

  Al chuckled and took a drink. “What time does Craig’s party start?”

  “It’s already started, idiot. He said to come around at eight-thirty. But who the fuck gets to a party on time? Throw me another beer, huh?”

  Al had polished off his can so he threw it to the pavement. He reached into the plastic bag and broke off two more cans. He called out to Eddy, who turned around just in time to catch the flying beer can. Al popped open the top and began drinking his fifth beer for the night.

  “Isn’t it a dress up?” Al said.

  “What, the party?” Eddy called back.

  “What else, numb-nuts?”

  “Supposed to be. Craig and Ally are going as Bonnie and Clyde. Woo-hoo,” Eddy cried. “Couple of party animals.”

  “What’s the time?”

  “It is...” It took Eddy a bit longer than usual to read the time. “Four past nine, my dear Alfred.”

  “You know I hate being called that.”

  “Sorry,” he sniggered. “It’s four past nine, Aaaaal. Hey, don’t you have a watch on?”

  “Sure,” Al chuckled. “But I just wanted to see your drunken arse read the time.”

  Eddy laughed and raised his middle finger.

  Grinning, Al crept as quietly as possible up to Eddy, and shot out a swift kick to his left leg. Eddy let out a huff, and almost buckled to the ground. He managed to maintain his balance, and with a sly grin turned around and pointed at Al.

  “You’re gonna pay for that,” he said in a dreadful Clint Eastwood impersonation. “You punk!”

  Al cackled. “That was terrible. My mum can do better than that!”

  “Yeah, well, your mum fucked me good last night. She’s not bad for an old hag.”

  Al laughed. “She may be a middle-aged alcoholic, but she still wouldn’t lower herself and fuck you. Now your mum on the other hand...”

  “I know, she would fuck anyone,” Eddy finished.

  They both laughed. “You have no respect at all, do you?” Al said.

  “For my two loser parents? Not one bit. They care about as much for me as I do for them.”

  In the distance a group of trick-or-treaters were coming down the street, jumping and laughing. Al counted five kids, and one poor woman, who was trying, without luck, to stop the kids from making so much racket.

  “Ain’t that cute,” Eddy said, taking a sip from his beer.

  As the trick-or-treaters neared, Al saw that one was dressed as a ghost, one was a pirate, one was Yoda, one was a vampire, and the last one was a fairy. The woman wasn’t wearing a costume.

  Al saw the woman eye them closely as t
hey approached, glancing at the cans of beer in their hands. She gave them a fleeting smile as she neared.

  “Having fun kids?” Eddy said, sounding drunk.

  “Yeah!” they all said, almost in perfect unison.

  “You want some lollies?”

  The kids all said “yes” eagerly, but the woman shook her head. “That’s okay. They’ve got enough, thank you.”

  “Nonsense,” Eddy said. “You can never have enough junk food. Hey Al,” he called back. “How many beers we got left?”

  Al had to snigger, but the woman frowned, and put her arms around the kids.

  “Let’s go children. You horrible men. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

  “What?” Eddy said and shrugged.

  The woman pushed the kids past Al and Eddy, glaring at the two men as she hurried past.

  “Have a good night, kids,” Eddy called. “Don’t get too drunk.” He chuckled and turned to Al. “No sense of humour, some people.”

  Al waited until the group was out of hearing range before he said, “Lady wasn’t bad.”

  “Tell me about it. Wouldn’t mind sticking it to her, that’s for sure. Hey, what about that one?”

  Al gazed over to where Eddy was looking, and spotted a sporty Mazda RX-7.

  “Wouldn’t mind taking her for a spin,” Eddy said.

  Al agreed. They walked up to the parked car.

  They stepped up to the window and cupped their hands around their temples.

  “Ah shit,” Eddy groaned.

  Al smiled, gazing into the dark interior. “You know how to pick steering locks?”

  “Fucking yuppies!” he said. “Always spoiling my fun.” Eddy spat a thick glob of phlegm at the window.

  “Charming,” Al said.

  The mucus dribbled down the glass, leaving a thick sticky residue.

  They left the Mazda and crossed over to the opposite side of the street. They continued to stroll down the footpath, scanning the area for cars. To their right lay a large park. The dim lamplight made the area extremely dark. Not even Eddy and Al would venture into that park at night. It had been the scene of numerous robberies, rapes, gang beatings – even murder.

  “You know that Lester Wallace got bashed in there last week?”

  “Really?” Al said. He didn’t recall hearing anything about that.

  “Yeah. Couple of damn pussies jumped him. Really messed him up. If I remember correctly, he had a few broken ribs, broken jaw, busted nose; he even lost consciousness for a few minutes.”

  “Shit,” Al said, gazing into the dimly-lit park.

  “Scary place.”

  Al didn’t want to think about who might be prowling around down there, so he began walking faster.

  They eventually came to the edge of the park, where a side street joined the main road. They were about to cross over when Al spotted a car down the side street. It was shrouded in darkness and was sitting parallel to the edge of the park. From the light of the moon, Al could see it was an older-model Datsun Bluebird.

  “Hey, look down there,” Al said, pointing.

  Eddy followed the line of Al’s finger. A grin spread across his face. “Let’s go check it out,” he said.

  They hurried down the side street and over to the parked car. Al wasn’t particularly overjoyed that the car was parked so close to the edge of the park, but at least they had the darkness to conceal their activities.

  “Perfect,” Eddy said as he peered into the window. “No steering lock.”

  Al was too busy looking over his shoulder and into the darkness of the park to join in with Eddy’s rapture. “That’s great, Eddy. Just hurry up and start the thing.”

  Eddy glanced back and grinned. “What’s the matter, Alfred, a bit spooked?”

  “To tell you the truth, I am. That park gives me the creeps.”

  Eddy peered behind Al, and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll try and be quick.”

  He turned back to the Bluebird. “Jesus Christ,” he gasped. “Look at this, will ya?”

  Al quickly joined Eddy.

  “Can you believe it? Bugger’s left the doors unlocked.”

  Al was astonished, but very grateful. He knew from experience that picking the locks can often take the most time.

  Without hesitation, Al hopped into the passenger seat and chucked the cans of beer on the floor. He slammed the door just as Eddy jumped in behind the steering wheel. He shut the door then bent down and started with the underneath of the dashboard.

  “Hurry,” Al whispered, keeping watch for any police or people that happened to walk past.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Eddy said, his head buried under the steering wheel.

  Al knew a bit about hot-wiring cars – Eddy had shown him a few things – but Eddy was the expert. He could hot-wire a car as quick as it took to turn a key. Well, almost.

  The Datsun came to life with a loud rumble, and Eddy let out a cry of triumph.

  He sat back up and faced Al. “We’re in business,” he said. “Ready to have some fun?”

  “Let’s rock and roll,” Al said.

  Eddy flicked on the headlights, and raced out of the parking space, the tyres screeching as he sped off. “Woo-hoo!” he cried out, banging his hand against the steering wheel. “Nothing gets my blood pumping like stealing a car.”

  Al opened up the glove box and searched around.

  “Anything good?”

  “Nah, just some papers. No wallet or anything.”

  “Ah well,” Eddy said. “We’ve almost got a full tank of petrol, and the whole night to enjoy it. Where to, Al old buddy?”

  Al thought about it, then clapped his hands together. “Let’s go to the highway.”

  “Yeah,” Eddy said. “Sounds like a plan.”

  He revved the accelerator pedal, and drove in the direction of the highway.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  9:20 p.m.

  They had been driving along the Maroondah Highway for about ten minutes, and were travelling about thirty kilometres over the speed limit.

  Al took a long drink from his last can of beer, then threw it to the floor. Eddy had already finished off all his.

  “Isn’t this just fucking awesome?” Eddy laughed.

  “The best,” Al said. “I’d forgotten how great it feels.”

  Eddy nodded.

  They had passed few cars. The highway was dark and narrow in parts, but Al thought that it added to the excitement.

  “Where exactly are we going?” Al said. “Are we still going to Craig’s party?”

  “I don’t know,” Eddy said. “Whatever.”

  “How’s the petrol holding up?” Al asked, leaning over to see the gauge.

  “Still got close to a full tank. Don’t worry, if we need to fill up, we can do it in Healesville.”

  “We could always skip Craig’s party, and drive all night.”

  “I suppose,” Eddy said.

  There was silence in the car.

  All of a sudden the car ran over a large pothole. The two men bounced around in the car. Al almost hit his head on the roof, as did Eddy.

  “Jesus, somebody ought to fix that,” Eddy said afterwards.

  “What the fuck is that?” Al said. He turned around. “That’s the third time I’ve heard it.”

  “What?”

  “There’s something banging around in the boot.”

  “Probably a suitcase or a spare tyre.”

  “Stop the car,” Al told him.

  “Fuck off,” Eddy said.

  “I mean it, man. It might be something interesting. What if it is a suitcase, and there’s a shit load of money in it?”

  That got Eddy’s attention. He slowed the car down and veered off to the side of the road. He put on the handbrake. “Just one problem – no key. How are we gonna open up the boot?”

  “Can’t you pick the lock?”

  Eddy shook his head. “Got nothing to pick it with.”

  “Well, I gotta find out what’s in there.”
/>
  “Why?” Eddy said. “It’s probably just a loose tyre.”

  Al positioned himself so he was kneeling on the seat, then bent over and started feeling around the back floor.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Eddy said.

  “Trying to find something that will open the boot.”

  “Jesus,” Eddy chuckled. “Give it up.”

  The floor behind his seat was scattered with pieces of paper, some clothing, and some hard objects. “Found something,” Al said, picking up one of the hard objects. He brought it up, and saw he was holding a hatchet.

  “Look at this,” Al said, showing Eddy the hatchet.

  “Whoa, be careful with that thing, man.”

  “Why would someone have an axe in their car?” Al said.

  “He’s a fucking serial killer, Al. How the hell should I know?”

  Al threw the hatchet down to the floor, then bent back over and searched for something else. He felt the clothes again, then his hand touched something cold and hard. He grabbed it and brought it up. Just as he thought, he was holding a crowbar.

  “We’re in luck,” Al said. He waved it in Eddy’s face.

  “Great,” Eddy said. “Let’s go get your fucking treasure.”

  They jumped out and hurried around to the rear of the car. With the crowbar clutched in his hand, Al placed its flat end under the lid of the boot. Using all his drunken force, he cranked the crowbar upwards, while at the same time trying to push it forward.

  “This is harder than I thought it would be,” Al choked out.

  “Not like in the movies, huh?”

  The metal bar scratched and dented the car, but the boot refused to give.

  “Fuck,” Al breathed out. “Do you want to give it a go?”

  Eddy scratched his head, then shrugged. “You know, if you break into the boot, you won’t be able to close it again. The lock will be broken.” He grinned. “Unless you have some strong rope to tie it down.”

  Al sighed. “Well I guess I forgot to bring the goddamn rope!”

  Eddy reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened the tattered case and brought out a hairpin. “This way’s much easier. And you don’t break the lock.”