The Last Motel

by Brett McBean

  Oh shit, what if he’s in the office?

  The thought made him uneasy.

  Then, as if he sensed somebody was watching, the boy lifted his head and looked ahead towards the window.

  Morrie’s first reaction was relief that the boy was alive.

  The face. The boy’s face.

  Relief turned to disbelief.

  The boy lowered his head, and Morrie was left standing out in the storm, a stupid grin on his face.

  * * *

  Judy was by the front window, watching the rain fall from the night sky, when Morrie burst through the door.

  She turned to her drenched husband, and frowned. “What happened?”

  He threw back the jacket hood and shook his head. “We’re staying,” he puffed.

  “What! Why?”

  He grinned. “You will not believe what I saw.”

  “Did you get the smokes?”

  “Fuck the smokes. Listen, when I went over there, I knocked and knocked, but nobody answered the door.”

  “They were probably asleep.”

  “Not in this cabin,” Morrie said. “So I looked in through the window, through a gap in the curtain, and I saw a teenager tied to the bed, naked and covered in blood.”

  “Are you joking?” Judy said.

  “Absolutely not.”

  She knew he wasn’t lying. He wouldn’t make something like that up, not now, not with all their problems.

  Judy’s legs felt weak. She staggered over to the bed and sat down. When she got her breath back, she looked up at Morrie. “We can’t call the police, Morrie. We just can’t.”

  Morrie chuckled. He went over and sat beside Judy. He took her quivering hand. “I saw his face, Judy.”

  “The teenager’s?” she said softly.

  Morrie nodded. “And you won’t believe who it was.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Simon’s Story

  8:55 p.m.

  David Lau was driving along the dark street, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a thin joint. “Great area to have a Halloween party,” he said, turning to Simon.

  Simon Facey nodded. “I didn’t know that Bryce lived out here. It’s pretty remote.”

  “Hey, we’re only in Lilydale. This ain’t exactly the country.”

  “Give me a hit.”

  David passed the joint to Simon.

  “I think this is it,” David said.

  Simon took a puff, then looked out the windscreen. The small brick house sat alone, surrounded by dense woodland. The last house was a few kilometres back.

  David crossed the road and pulled up to the kerb, near the driveway, then cranked up the handbrake.

  “Are you sure?” Simon said. “There are no cars around. I thought there would be P plates as far as the eye could see.”

  David chuckled. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet. We’re probably just early.”

  He grabbed the piece of paper that was sitting on top of the dashboard. “I have number seven, Taylor road. And this is definitely Taylor road.”

  Simon gazed out at the number on the letterbox. “And this is number seven.”

  “So there we go,” David said.

  “Are you sure you copied the address correctly?” Simon took another drag of the marijuana.

  “Of course.” He turned to Simon and grinned. “But I was drunk at the time.”

  “How reassuring,” Simon said.

  David switched off the headlights, then killed the engine. “Ready to party?”

  Simon raised his eyebrows. “And to get laid,” he added.

  “That’s what I meant,” David laughed.

  Simon reached over the back and grabbed the sunglasses. He handed one of the dark pairs to David.

  “Thank you, Elwood,” David said. He slipped on the glasses.

  “No problem, Jake.”

  They both laughed.

  “How does my hat look?” David said, adjusting his black fedora.

  “It looks fine. You know, you’d be the perfect person to play Jake if they ever made a sequel. You’re a spitting image of John Belushi.”

  “Fuck you,” David huffed.

  “How does my hat look?”

  “Beautiful,” David said.

  “Okay, my brother, let’s do this. And remember – we’re on a mission...to get laid.”

  “That was terrible,” David said. “That didn’t sound anything like Elwood Blues.”

  Simon shrugged. “Let’s see you do it better. Have you got your invitation? You know they won’t let us in without it.”

  David patted the left side of his jacket.

  “Oaky, here we go,” Simon said.

  They hopped out of the car, slamming their doors shut.

  Simon walked around the car and followed David up the path that led to the front door.

  He glanced over at the car sitting in the driveway. He couldn’t see any P plate stickers. He turned his attention back to the small brick house. There was a faint whistling that came from the wind, but that’s all Simon could hear. “I can’t hear any music,” Simon said. He threw the smoked joint to the ground.

  “It’s windy. You probably can’t hear it.”

  David’s right, Simon thought. This is a great place to have a Halloween party.

  They approached the door. Only a small light above them was on. No other light could be seen, either around the house or through the curtains.

  David leaned in and pressed the doorbell.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  They waited out in the bitter wind for about twenty seconds before David pressed the doorbell again.

  “Come on,” he muttered. “It’s freezing.”

  Simon glanced back towards the road. He could see David’s car and the woods beyond that. Because of the sunglasses, the dark night seemed even darker.

  No other cars were pulling up to the house.

  He turned to David. “I’m really beginning to think this isn’t the place.”

  “Sure it is. They’re probably all out the back or something.”

  “In this weather?”

  “Too busy bobbing for apples?” David offered.

  Simon shook his head. “That’s kid’s stuff.”

  “I was only kidding, man.”

  Simon stood back from the door and looked at the dark windows. “There are no lights on,” he said.

  “So? It’s a Halloween party, you’re supposed to have the lights out and shit. Creates atmosphere.”

  Simon went back beside David. “You’ve never been to Bryce’s house before?”

  David shook his head.

  Simon was nervous to say the least; his gut was fluttering and the hat was making his head itch.

  He suddenly got the feeling that he was being watched. Tentatively, he looked at the windows, then the garage, then to the street. He couldn’t see anybody. He couldn’t shake the feeling though.

  “Fucking hell,” David spat.

  “I don’t think this is the house,” Simon said.

  David let out a long groan, and ignoring Simon’s comment, banged his fist on the front door. “Hello. Anyone in there?”

  Simon waited anxiously. David pounded on the door a few more times then stopped.

  “What, are these people deaf?” he whined.

  “I’m telling ya, I think we got the wrong house.”

  David turned and looked at Simon. “Will you relax? I didn’t make a mistake. I distinctly remember Bryce saying – seven, Taylor Road, Lilydale. Christ, he even said that it was surrounded by bush land. I remember that because he said we could all go out into the woods for the party. You know, later in the night.”

  “Most of the houses around here are near the bush,” Simon argued.

  “Whatever,” David said. “This is the house.”

  “How long are we going to wait?”

  David shrugged. “Till they let us in.”

  David pressed the doorbell one more time.

  “
Somebody’s home,” Simon said. “There’s a car in the driveway.”

  David left the front door and walked over to the side of the house.

  “Where are you going?” He jogged over and joined David.

  “Thought I might be able to see into the backyard from here.”

  Simon nudged David out of the way and poked his head over the fence. He saw nothing but darkness. Trees shrouded the side of the house, so the backyard was blocked from view.

  “No good,” Simon said. “Can’t see a thing.”

  He looked back and saw David standing in the middle of the lawn. He went over.

  “Maybe this is all part of the party. Give every person who arrives a fright.”

  “I doubt that,” Simon said. “You got any more dope?”

  “Nope.” He turned and grinned.

  They both heard it at the same time; a movement over by the garage.

  Simon looked over and saw a large figure skulking by the side garage door.

  “Can I help you?”

  His voice sounded rugged, strong. Simon squinted, but the man was only a blur.

  David started walking towards the man. Simon remained still.

  “Hey man, what kind of party is this?” David chuckled. “What are you supposed to be?”

  This isn’t right! Simon screamed in his head. This has to be the wrong house!

  “Don’t come any closer!” the man bellowed.

  Simon had his eyes on David. Despite the man’s warning he proceeded forward.

  “Very funny,” David said. “Now let us in.”

  Simon had to say something. When he spoke, his voice came out timid. “Come back, David. We’ve got the wrong house.”

  David stopped and turned around. “Relax,” he whispered. “I think this is Bryce’s dad. Hurry up, will ya!”

  David faced the man again and continued to approach him.

  Simon still didn’t move. He wasn’t sure what to do.

  Go with David? Go up to the man, apologise, then leave? Or run?

  The sound of the man’s voice startled Simon.

  “I’m gonna have to ask you men to leave.”

  David laughed. “Very funny. What took you so long anyway?”

  Simon’s heart was pounding. He remained standing on the front lawn.

  The cold wind blasted at his face. He hated seeing the world through the dark glasses. He felt trapped. He wanted to be able to witness the events clearly. Gradually Simon removed the sunglasses. The night brightened and so did the man, who seemed to be looking in his direction.

  Oh my God he’s staring at me!

  Simon held his breath until the man diverted his eyes back to David. He let out a shaky breath.

  “Stop!” the man roared.

  Simon jumped at the sound of his voice. This man was not joking around – he sounded deadly serious.

  Simon watched as David put up his hands in mock hold-up fashion. “Hey, it’s cool.”

  This is getting out of hand, Simon thought.

  What David was taking as a joke, Simon knew the man was taking seriously.

  So seriously that he was now holding a rifle.

  Where did that come fr...?

  A loud shot blasted in Simon’s ears. He at first thought it was a warning shot. But then he saw all too vividly the blood flying out of David.

  From somewhere far off, he heard what sounded like a woman cry out.

  Another blast.

  He saw David lurch backwards, his hands flapping in the air.

  What struck Simon was that despite the gunshots, the night was quiet. There was no crying (the woman, whoever she was, had stopped), no screaming. It made what was happening all the more terrifying, yet all the more surreal.

  The silence was broken by David landing on the ground.

  With smoke lingering in the air, Simon looked down at his fallen friend, and watched him gasp his last breath.

  Expecting to feel the sting of a bullet at any moment, Simon gathered up enough courage and sprinted away from the house down the dark street.

  He didn’t want to leave David back there, lying on the damp grass. He felt like a coward for doing so. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he ran.

  No shots rang out. No bullets whizzed past his head.

  He ran over to David’s car. He had to get out of here.

  The keys. David has the keys.

  He screamed in his head, then continued down the road. He didn’t look back.

  He grabbed the hat from off his head and threw it to the wind. Next to go was his sunglasses. Without a thought, he let them drop to the ground.

  He swung his arms hard and fast. He remembered the car in the driveway. He looked over his shoulder and saw only darkness.

  He knew that the man would be coming after him. It would only be a matter of time.

  Have to find a house. Have to hide.

  The woods over on his right would be the obvious choice to hide out. But what if the man knew those woods like his own house? Knew every place to hide?

  Get to a house, he told himself.

  The nearest one was about ten minutes away.

  But what if all the people out here were demented, gun-happy crazies?

  Simon cried even harder. He felt lost, scared and alone.

  He felt a sudden surge in his stomach.

  Simon stopped running and threw up.

  He tried to make as little sound as possible, but as the spasms tore at his body, he couldn’t help but retch and make horribly loud gagging noises.

  When his stomach was empty, and he was down to the occasional cough, Simon straightened up and wiped his mouth. He peered down the street and saw no sign of the car. He gazed down at the puddle on the footpath, took a few deep breaths, and then started to jog.

  Cold sweat dripped down his face. He tried to recall how long Taylor Road was. His mind was all over the place, so he couldn’t think how long it was. He knew that it joined to another rather desolate road, but beyond that, it could be a thousand kilometres long.

  His feet began to drag. He almost fell flat on his face a couple of times. The dim night was blurry due to his perpetual tears. They felt like ice on his face.

  A faint light penetrated the darkness. Simon looked back and saw a car approaching.

  He stopped jogging and darted into the sparse forest on his left. He found a large tree and fell behind its thick trunk. He waited until the headlights grew larger and brighter, then finally the car zoomed past. Simon peered around the tree and saw that it was a dark coloured station wagon.

  Not the man’s car, Simon thought.

  An idea came to him. Perhaps his only chance was to flag down a car. Pity that this was some back-road out in Lilydale. The traffic was few and far between out here.

  Simon stepped away from the tree and wandered back to the road. He looked to his right, back towards the house, and satisfied that no other car was coming, continued to jog up the road. It didn’t take long for him to become fatigued and weak.

  His legs felt heavy. Each step took all his energy. His head felt dizzy and he had a hard time focusing.

  Please don’t faint, he told himself. Not now.

  His feet became tangled, and he fell down to the gravely road. Fortunately he wasn’t travelling very fast, so he only scraped his knees and palms.

  Exhausted and aching, Simon lowered his head and cried. He cried for David and for himself. He cried for his parents; would he ever see them again? Never had he wanted to hold his parents so much. He endeavoured to control himself, the thought of the car coming giving Simon the strength to pick himself up and keep on moving.

  So he gingerly stood up, wiped the dirt and gravel from his clothes, then began picking out tiny stones that were lodged under his skin.

  It hurt a lot, but he managed to pick all the bits of gravel from his palms. He started to walk. He tried to make his legs jog, but they wouldn’t comply.

  In the distance, Simon saw the faint glow of headlights. T
he car was driving towards him, so he knew that it couldn’t be the man. The possibility that he was safe overwhelmed Simon and he broke down crying.

  He staggered out to the middle of the road, waving his hands.

  The car slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road.

  “Thank you,” Simon choked out.

  He hurried over to the idling car. As Simon approached the driver’s side, he saw a man roll down the window. He had a look of bewilderment.

  “Please help me,” Simon spat out.

  “What happened?”

  “Can I get in? Please?”

  The man nodded. Simon rushed around to the passenger side and yanked open the door. He hopped in.

  The man looked Simon up and down. “Is this some sort of Halloween joke?” he asked, a slight grin on his pudgy face.

  “No!” Simon cried. “My friend is...is dead. He was shot.”

  The man opened his mouth and drew in a sharp breath. “Shot? Where?”

  Simon was about to answer in the chest, but realised what the man meant.

  He pointed down the road. “About five minutes that way. We were there for a party, but it was...was the wrong house. Guy was c...cra...” His voice trailed off and he began to sob.

  “Okay,” the man said. “I’ll get you to the police. What’s your name?”

  “Simon,” he breathed.

  “Okay, Simon. Everything’s going to be all right. My name is Wayne.”

  Simon flopped his head back on the headrest and closed his eyes. “Thank you,” he sobbed.

  A sudden blow to his head sent an explosion of pain down Simon’s body. His world flashed bright sparks before it went a deep black nothing.

  11:57 p.m.

  As the blackness faded and consciousness gradually found its way back, so did the pain. It was a dull ache at first, concentrated mostly around his head and buttocks. As he slowly regained his senses, the pain grew. It now felt like his head had been split open and his anus had been ripped apart.

  And now the cold.

  Simon felt the gentle breeze wash over his back. He began to shiver.

  Am I naked? he wondered. Where am I?

  The cold seemed to intensify all his aches. He let out a groan.

  “Awake. Finally.”

  That voice seemed to register a faint reminiscence in Simon’s mind.