The Last Motel

by Brett McBean

  The three men shuffled up the dark path, with only the headband torch guiding the way.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Sweating and panting hard, Madge stood up and wiped her hands on her jeans. She then wiped the jacket sleeve across her dripping forehead.

  Tying two people to a bed had been a lot harder than she had imagined. But positioning them with their hands above their heads, then tying the rope around their hands and feet was exhausting work. Especially when the two people were such big lugs like Morrie and Judy.

  Neither had woken up, fortunately. Madge was dreading a sore and pissed Morrie waking up before she had a chance to restrain him. That’s why she had kept the baseball bat within reach. Another firm swing would do the job again, if need be.

  Madge bent over and tested the ropes again. She liked to double check. They were tied with tight knots.

  The Prescotts weren’t going anywhere.

  She picked up the bat then tested the ropes that bound their feet. They were secure.

  Satisfied, Madge sauntered over and sat down at the round table. She placed the bat on top, then closed her eyes and sighed.

  Now she could relax a little and think about what to do.

  She wondered how long they would be out for. She knew they weren’t dead; she had checked their pulses before tying them up.

  But she had hit them hard, Morrie perhaps more so.

  There wasn’t any need to be concerned about bleeding. The blows hadn’t cut them deeply. Judy had a small nick on her cheek and there was a patch of blood where she had whacked Morrie. Nothing too serious.

  She wasn’t real sure how long people who have been hit in the head were usually out for. She had never hit anyone before. Ten minutes? An hour? A couple of hours?

  She opened her eyes.

  What to do while she waited?

  Her gun!

  Morrie had to have been the one who stole her husband’s Magnum. He was the only person to go into her residence.

  That slimy bastard, she thought.

  She stood up and looked around the room. Where would they hide it?

  She left the baseball bat on the table and headed over to the bedside drawer. She stood by the drawer and turned and looked at Morrie.

  Seeing him lying there, as if sound asleep, made Madge feel lost and hurt. He looked so damn peaceful and innocent.

  “How could you do this?” she muttered. “Why did you do this to me?”

  Her eyes went blurry. She quickly wiped away the tears. She wouldn’t allow any feelings of love or compassion cloud what sort of man he really was. She couldn’t let it, not if she was to go through with what she had planned.

  She faced the set of drawers and opened the top one. There was nothing but two candles.

  She closed it and pulled out the second drawer. A solitary Bible sat gathering dust.

  She closed the second drawer and opened the bottom one.

  This one was empty.

  She slammed it shut and straightened.

  Where else? she wondered.

  Where do people keep guns, other than in drawers? In closets...in cabinets...under their pillows!

  Madge faced the bed and placed her hand under Morrie’s pillow. She felt around but didn’t find the gun.

  She took her hand out then shuffled around to Judy’s side. She pushed her hand under the pillow but felt only cold sheets.

  She brought out her hand.

  Maybe Morrie didn’t take it, she thought nervously. If he didn’t...then who did?

  Still, she thought Morrie was the most likely suspect. He was in her house for starters, numerous times, and had the time to take it. And he had reason to take it. It made sense, so she continued searching.

  She spotted the pile of bags on the floor. She hurried over to them and crouched down. There were four altogether – two gym bags and two suitcases.

  She zipped open the old blue bag and rummaged around. By the underpants and blouses, she guessed this was Judy’s bag. She had a good look inside, even opening the side compartments, but there was no gun.

  Next she grabbed one of the suitcases.

  She flipped up the latches and opened it up.

  This was obviously Morrie’s. There were pants and jeans and a lot of flannel shirts and old jumpers. She flung the clothes out, only to find a toothbrush, deodorant, after-shave and razor.

  No large, shiny Magnum revolver.

  She tossed the clothes back in, then closed the lid.

  She turned her head back and gazed at the two fugitives. Still out cold. She turned back and grabbed the black Adidas bag.

  She zipped it open, gazed inside and almost fell backwards.

  Gathering her balance, Madge reached in and took out the rifle.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered.

  She stood up and placed the bag on the table.

  She held the gun in her hands, a slight grin on her face. She had always wanted to hold a rifle, and this is exactly how she had imagined it to be.

  It felt long and heavy and powerful.

  She saw that the gun had no magazine, so she took aim at the side of the fridge and squeezed the trigger a few times. It felt smooth and natural.

  She lowered the gun, then turned back to the Adidas bag.

  Inside, she found a magazine, half a dozen boxes of ammunition and a few loose cartridges. She placed them all on the table. Then she threw the bag down to the floor.

  She carefully put the rifle down on the table then picked up the magazine and the loose cartridges. She thumbed them into the top, opening a new box when she ran out of cartridges.

  When the magazine was full, she picked up the rifle and locked the magazine in place. She didn’t load the chamber. She thought it best that the gun wasn’t ready to fire until she needed to use it; and hopefully she wouldn’t have to.

  Then a thought struck her.

  This was most likely the gun that Morrie used to kill that boy. She didn’t think the news mentioned what type of gun was used, but she would bet all she had that this was the one.

  Suddenly feeling dirty and evil for holding the rifle, Madge placed it on the table.

  Now, to find the car keys.

  Her plan was to use Morrie’s car to drive over to Hutto. There she would call the Mansfield police.

  But she wanted to wait until they both had woken up.

  She wanted to tell Judy what really happened between them. After what he did to her, to both her and Judy, he deserved to pay.

  That was what she was most looking forward to. The look on Morrie’s face when he realises she is about to spill everything. The look on Judy’s face when she finally knows the truth.

  The police catching them was merely a coda, an afterthought.

  But getting Morrie back for lying to her, for having his way with her all the while knowing that he was a murderer, for stealing her gun, and for cutting the telephone wire and slashing her tyres – that was what she wanted most. And the way to do that was to tell his wife that he was a cheating, no-good, lying prick.

  She headed over to Morrie. First she reached into his two jacket pockets. They were empty.

  Then she dug her hands into his front jeans pocket. Again, there were no car keys.

  Jesus, where does this guy keep all his things? Does he have a secret compartment where my revolver and his keys are locked away?

  Madge placed her hands under his bottom and felt his back pockets. They felt flat and empty. She pulled her hands away quickly.

  She sighed, which turned into a long, wide-mouthed yawn.

  God I need sleep, she thought.

  She was exhausted from all that had happened tonight. And it wasn’t over.

  She would just have to wait until Morrie regained consciousness to ask about the car keys.

  Her bladder felt full, so she headed into the bathroom.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  It was working. His plan was working.

  In the half-hour since he had started
towards the bedside drawer, Simon had managed to move the bed about a third of the way.

  By that time frame, he would be at the candles in another hour. He just prayed that the man didn’t come back before then.

  Simon relaxed his arms – he needed to rest every five minutes – and closed his eyes. He could hear nothing but his heavy breathing. And that’s when he realised that the storm had passed.

  He could hear no rain, no thunder and no lightning. Every so often a gust of wind would blow against the cabin, but that too had died down.

  Everything seemed so still and dead. It was too quiet.

  He missed the noise of the storm. It was like a companion. He felt like it had gone and left him alone, in the cold cabin, like an old friend leaving to go and live in another country.

  It made him think of David, and how he was gone as well.

  Simon’s arms were extremely sore. His wrists were burning from the pillowcases digging in each time he pulled at the bed.

  Now, his arms and wrists hurt more than his knees and feet.

  They had dulled to a mild ache; perhaps they were just numb from lack of movement and blood flow.

  His buttocks, however, were still painful. Each time he jerked his upper body to shift the bed, his backside would roar with agony and pain would shoot up his back.

  So too his chest. The blood had dried a long time ago, but it still stung. Every movement intensified the stinging.

  Even with all this pain, Simon would never give up. The need to see his family again, and the need, of course, to stay alive, was too strong in him.

  And, eventually, the need for revenge. That was always simmering in the back of his mind.

  Opening his eyes, Simon gazed at the cabin door.

  With every passing minute the man was closer to coming back. And he had to come back. He had to finish Simon off.

  Because Simon knew his face. He would never forget that face.

  Having rested for long enough, Simon gathered his strength and began the slow and painful journey to the bedside drawer, and hopefully, freedom.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  “We can’t get up that. No way.” Al let out a long sigh.

  “Come on, it’s not that high,” Wayne said.

  “It’s high enough.”

  “Can we drop him?” Eddy asked. “While we talk about what we’re gonna do?”

  The others nodded.

  Eddy hadn’t meant to literally drop the body, but both Al and Wayne let go of their ends, and Jeffrey crashed to the damp forest ground. Eddy winced.

  He guessed they were both fed up from carrying him. It had taken them an hour to get up to this point, and it had been mostly uphill. There had been a few small boulders and narrow fissures they had to hazard through, but nothing they couldn’t manage. Eddy’s body was aching all over, particularly his arms and shoulders. So he was a little pissed at the body, as well, even if it wasn’t Jeffrey’s fault.

  Still, dropping him to the ground like that didn’t seem right.

  “Okay, what now?” Al said, looking back and forth between Eddy and Wayne.

  Wayne adjusted the torch headband and gazed up at the massive mound of rocks. Eddy joined his gaze. Al followed.

  The cliff of rocks was about three metres high, and spread across the whole breadth of the path. There was no visible way around it – the mountain fell away on both sides of the path into an abyss of trees and rocks.

  “Well, at least the storm has stopped,” Eddy commented. “That’s something.”

  Wayne looked upward at the sky, then back down at his watch. “Yeah, that is good. But we don’t have too long before sun-up.”

  “Fuck,” Al said, shaking his head. “We can’t climb up there with a dead body.”

  “The rocks are gonna be slippery,” Eddy sighed.

  “Damn right they are,” Wayne added. He walked over to the left side of the mound of rocks.

  “What are you doing?” Al called out.

  “Just making sure we can’t go around this thing,” he shouted back.

  Eddy and Al watched the large man explore the woods and the rocks.

  “I can’t believe it’s past four o’clock in the morning,” Al muttered.

  Eddy sniggered. “Way past my bedtime.”

  “What a night,” Al said. “Think we’ll make it to Devil’s Gorge?”

  Eddy shrugged. “Hopefully. But even if we do get past this thing, there will be plenty more obstacles like this one.”

  Al nodded. “You know, when this is all over, we should take Wayne down to the pub and shout him some drinks. Thank him for all his help.”

  Eddy glanced over to where the light was bouncing around, and saw that Wayne was now over on the right side, checking for any way around the hill of rocks.

  “Good idea,” Eddy said. “God knows I need a drink.”

  “I hear that, buddy,” Al chuckled.

  Wayne came back. “No good. Sheer drops on both sides.”

  “Damn,” Eddy said.

  “We’re fucked,” Al said.

  “Maybe not. The bad news is that the rocks are slippery, but the good news is that we can climb up. The way the rocks are sticking out, they act as a kind of ladder.”

  “That’s the good news?” Al said.

  “Could be worse,” Wayne said.

  “Could be a lot better,” Eddy added.

  “You think we can climb up there, with a dead body, when the rocks are slippery?” Al said.

  “You’re looking at this all wrong,” Wayne told him. “It’s actually not that difficult.”

  “You reckon?” Eddy chuckled.

  “Let me guess...you’ve done this before?”

  Wayne grinned at Al. “No I haven’t. But there is a simple way of doing this.”

  “What is it?” Eddy asked.

  “We can’t go around it – that much is clear. So the only way is to climb it.”

  “No shit,” Al huffed. “Therein lies the problem.”

  Wayne glared at Al. “Can I finish?”

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Okay, here’s my plan. Two people can climb on top of the rocks, while the other one stays down here, with the body. The person down here can lift the body up to the other two, and they can pull it up. Simple.”

  Al sniggered. “That’s your great plan?”

  “Have you got a better one?” Wayne spat.

  “Hey, it’s as good as any,” Eddy said. “Only problem is, how can one person lift the entire body by himself? Wouldn’t it be better if two people stayed down here?”

  Wayne shook his head. “I thought about that, but it takes more energy and manpower to pull something heavy than to lift it.”

  “He’s right,” Al said.

  “Oh, so now you’re on his side?” Eddy said.

  “I’m not on his side, it’s just that...”

  “Will ya both just shut up,” Wayne huffed. “There are no sides.” He sighed. “You’re both acting like a couple of fucking ten-year-olds. Let’s concentrate on getting through this, okay?”

  Eddy and Al nodded.

  “Now, who wants to stay down here?”

  “That’s obvious,” Al said. “You’re the strongest. You stay down here while me and Eddy climb up.”

  Wayne nodded. “That sounds fine. Okay with you?” he asked Eddy.

  “Sure. Don’t think either of us could lift him all by ourselves.”

  “So it’s settled then.” He clapped his hands together. It echoed loudly through the mountain. “Let’s get going.”

  They walked over to the rocks. Eddy and Al stood at the base and looked up.

  “Catch me if I fall,” Eddy said, looking back at Wayne.

  He smiled.

  Eddy placed his hands on the cold, wet rocks, then lifted his right leg and settled it into a crack. He glanced over at Al, who was doing the same thing.

  “Hang on,” Wayne blurted.

  Both men flinched and turned around. Wayne was looking ove
r at Eddy.

  “Your gun. We don’t want it to fall out while you’re climbing. It might get lost down the mountain, or bust. It happened to me once. I had the gun jammed down the front of my pants while climbing, and with all the straining, it fell out. I never found it.”

  Eddy glanced over at Al. He expected him to give some sort of protest. But he just shrugged.

  Part of him didn’t like the idea of giving the gun to a stranger. But he told himself that Wayne wasn’t really a stranger, and that he had helped them out tremendously. He also thought that Wayne was right. There was a chance the gun might fall out.

  Besides, why would Wayne want to turn on them? It was not as if they had any money. They weren’t up in the mountains searching for gold. And he didn’t have to worry about them going to the cops about him. They had stolen a car.

  Eddy lifted his jumper and took out the revolver. He gave Wayne a quick smile then handed him the gun.

  “You’re right,” Eddy said. “I would never have thought of it.”

  Wayne took the gun and nodded. “Good thing I came along.”

  He then did something that seemed strange to Eddy. He flipped open the chamber and studied it closely. Smiling, he closed it.

  Why does he care if there are rounds in it? Eddy wondered.

  “Hurry up,” Al called to Eddy.

  Wayne continued to smile. He looked Eddy in the eyes, and said, “Good thing I came along...because you two are so fucking stupid.”

  Eddy’s stomach dropped and he broke out in a cold sweat. For a second, Eddy agreed with him.

  Wayne lifted the revolver and aimed it at Eddy’s face. He then glanced over in Al’s direction. Eddy turned his head and saw Al shielding his eyes from the beam.

  “Get your arse over here,” Wayne said flatly.

  “Come on, don’t fuck around with that thing,” Al said.

  “Get your arse over here before I blow your friend’s head off!” Wayne shouted.

  There was a moment while Al seemed to be thinking the situation over. He suddenly gasped. “You’re a cop!”

  That was obviously very funny to Wayne. He burst out laughing. Shaking his head, Wayne chuckled, “A cop! Me, a fucking policeman.” He continued to laugh.

  Al lunged at Wayne.

  Before he had a chance to fire the gun, Al had knocked him to the ground. The headband torch was sent flying as both men crashed to the damp earth.