by Castle, Jack
“No,” the Big Lineman corrected, “That thing wasn’t your friend, Denise. The woman who was Denise was long gone before you stabbed her in the head. Whatever came back in her place, the demon, was using Denise like we might wear a coat or jacket. We might be able to dismember the host but we can’t kill what’s inside it. Demons, angels, they’re eternal. Only God can kill a demon.”
“So, what are you saying? That we’re screwed?” Calvin asked anxiously.
Before answering, Big Leonard paused. “Pretty much.”
Calvin let this sink in for a moment and then turned to Becca. “You mentioned earlier you had an idea on how to get us out of here?”
“Yes. My Land Rover. The ambulance could be rigged with chains from the garage. You know the ones I mean, Wally?”
The firefighter nodded. “Even with chaining up the tires I don’t think the ambulance will make it all the way to Rapid City.”
“It doesn’t have to. We only have to make it back to my Land Rover. It’s got four-wheel drive. It’s practically designed for these types of road conditions.” Before Wally could bring up the fact that when they last saw her old Rover it was upside down in the middle of the highway she quickly added, “With the winch on your ambulance we could turn my rig over, top it off with some gas from the ambulance, and drive the rest of the way to Sioux Falls or, if we have to, double back to Rapid City.”
“Even if we do manage all that I still don’t think that’s such a great idea.” When they all kept looking at him expectantly Big Leonard finally added, “What I mean to say is, what if this is a whole world situation? What if it doesn’t matter where we go?”
Becca was trying to visualize the whole world just like the Paradise Lost Motel. Why hadn’t that occurred to her before? It was certainly something to think on, but not right now. If she did, she’d go mad.
After a couple seconds of everyone trying to digest this latest bit of horribleness Wally ultimately said, “It doesn’t matter, even with chaining up the tires it’d be suicide going out into that storm.”
Becca raised her eyebrows toward him. “I don’t care.” But, of course, she knew Wally was right. Even with the chains they wouldn’t get more than a couple miles before they got stuck, and that was at best. Then they run the heater until they ran out of gas and next stop… corpsicle.
“How about we hole up for another eight hours or so?” Wally asked soothingly. “This storm can’t last forever. And even if it does this is the best place to be.”
Becca raised her eyebrows at him.
I knew it. He’s a demon. Why else would he want you to stay here? Eh, Becca-bear? I say first chance you get, put a bullet between his pretty blue eyes.
Wally quickly recovered from her icy stare. “Look, I don’t want to stay here any more than you do, but we have warmth and shelter here. And between the food in the motel, the food stores in the garage, and the diner across the street, at least we have plenty enough to go around.”
This made Calvin raise his head. “Do we?” He surveyed each of them, his face the epitome of forced calm. “We have over two dozen mouths to feed. That food is going to go pretty fast.” Intentionally or not, his gaze ended up on Big Leonard’s substantial girth.
“Hey?” Leonard asked harshly. “Why is everybody looking at me? I got a slow metabolism, okay? I guarantee I won’t eat any more than the rest of you.”
Becca shook her head. “This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea,” she repeated. “We should leave now.” The feeling was back. Her mortal life wasn’t the only thing in jeopardy.
“How about this,” Wally answered her. “First sign of that storm letting up, we chain up on the ambulance and try to make it back to your Land Rover. Until then, we’ll post guards around the clock and keep an eye on everybody.”
“Hey, who wants the last bit of coffee?” Calvin swirled around the swill in the glass carafe.
Becca waved her hands in front of her. “No. I’ve got to get some sleep soon or I’m just going to keel over and die.” She realized what she had said when the three men stood there just looking at her.
“Sorry, poor choice of words.”
Chapter 30
Jaden
“All by myself…”
Jaden sang quietly to himself in a self-mocking tone. He had meant for it to be joking in nature but the Celine Dion ditty just came out plain sad. Everyone else was a couple. And yet, here he was, all by himself… again. No one cared.
And why should anyone here be any different from the rest of the world?
The Voice in his head was right. No one back home in Montana cared, that was for darn sure. His dad, a long haul trucker (man’s-man, working man, hurrah!) never cared for him much, or his lifestyle. And after his two sisters got married off and Mom died, there was really no point in sticking around where he wasn’t wanted.
He flicked on the light. The motel room was quaint, but at least it smelled clean. The old wood paneling must have been put up in the 70s and the television was the size of a small trunk. He didn’t even get a queen-sized bed; only two twins, practically inviting something supernatural to join him. As though the room were reading his thoughts he realized someone had left something for him under the blanket on one of the twin beds, on the far bed by the window. The size and shape was about the size of one of those greyhound racing dogs you see at the track, only curled up to sleep in a little ball. The image of a greyhound with flesh peeled from its body and slobbering jaws snapping at him suddenly sprung to mind.
You really need to lay off the horror movies, son.
Thanks, Dad. Always there in a crisis, he thought. But Pops was right. Most likely the maid left a pillow in the center of the bed when she had made up the room. He grabbed a handful of bedspread, was about to pull covers back, when he froze.
Go on, son, there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just a pillow.
For some reason Jaden felt trepidations about pulling the covers back. He no longer imagined a vicious, What do you even call something like that, a Devil dog? (No. It’s a Hellhound, duh.) Nor did he imagine a mound of oversized centipedes or slithering snakes. Instead, he imagined a deep dark, perfectly circular, hole. One large enough for a man (well, maybe not Big Leonard, seriously, that dude is huge) and at the core, far below, if you really looked down into it and squinted your eyes real tight, you might see the glowing, white-hot light, like at the very end of a really hot poker stick.
You’re being stupid, just pull back the covers. You’ll see, it’s just a pillow, he said to himself.
You can do it, son.
Jaden wasn’t sure why his dad decided to start speaking to him now but just to spite him, he let sleeping dogs lie (pun… intended) and left the bed covers right where they were. “It’s just a pillow.”
As though speaking to someone in the room, even though no one was really there, he said, “I’m just gonna sleep in this bed over here.” What he actually thought, however, was, ‘If that lump under the covers so much as twitches I am outta here.”
Giving the suspicious bed a wide berth, he doubled back to the bed closest to the door, passed it and went into the bathroom. He reached into the darkened interior and flicked on the light. He ducked instinctively when the bathroom’s single, overhead lightbulb burst on ignition. “Charming,” he muttered aloud as he brushed the shards of broken glass out of his hair and off his clothes. He then reached into his pocket and pulled out the mini-mag light his dad gave him on his last birthday. Jaden didn’t appreciate the gift much at the time, ‘Oh yay, a flashlight’, but he sure used the extremely durable and bright mini-light more times than he could count working as a tour guide. He set the flashlight down on the sink behind him and as he undid his pants to do his business, he spotted his own shadow on the wall behind the toilet.
While peeing, he joked to his own shadow. “Well hello there, handsome.” And as he was was contemplating the shadowy outline of his own head and thinking, Wow, I really need a trim, a second shado
w rose up behind his own.
Jaden let out a scream that would’ve made Pops just all kinds of proud and flipped around, all the while peeing everywhere but in the toilet.
But there was nothing there. His frantic gaze shot back to the wall behind the commode but he saw only his shadow remained. “Damn tour group has got me jumping at my own shadow.” He saw the line of pee soaking into the drywall. “Oh well, not my problem,” he mused. “That’s what room service is for.”
While washing the pee from his hands and giving himself a quick check in the mirror he heard a knock at the door. He sighed heavily. He loved his job. Loved the tax-free tips even more. The part he hated the most though was being at the constant beck-and-call of his passengers. Most of the time they’d leave him alone until morning, but often times they felt just fine calling on him after bedtime for something as trivial as getting them a pillow. Ironically, the most demanding passengers were usually the worst tippers.
As Jaden moved over to the door and reached for the lock a second, even louder knocking started. Judging by the sound, the man must’ve been enormous.
“Just a sec,” he sang. It was either that or start screaming.
He opened the door and to his surprise he saw the tiny cheerleader, Peyton. She kept checking over her shoulder and wringing her hands.
“Oh hi, Peyton,” he chimed, with no small effort of forced charm. What he thought however was, A cheerleader in a scary motel, that’s not cliché at all.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
Several things ran through Jaden’s mind, the first being, ‘Wait a minute, this little brat isn’t one of my passengers,’ so he didn’t exactly have to be nice to her. Secondly, she was a teenage girl, and once inside she could tell the cops, news reporters, and anybody who would listen, anything she wanted.
“Sorry, sweetie, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” He was about to close the door in her face when her hand reached up and stopped the door from closing completely.
Geez, for a little thing she sure is strong.
(Oh, Jaden. You have no idea.)
Peyton checked in both directions of the hallway again and said, “I don’t want to be alone. This place. It gives me the creeps.”
Whoa, son, this girl is trouble with a capital C.
Jaden was inclined to agree with his old man.
“Again, sorry, hon, but I can’t have anyone in my room. It’s against company policy. I’d get fired.” Seeing the young girl’s obvious distress he suggested, “Why don’t you go find that nice military lady, the one with K-9 ball cap. I’m sure she’d take you in for the night.”
“But…”
Easing the door he said, “Sorry, have to get my beauty rest. Night-night,” and locked the door with deadbolt and bent-hanger-looking thingy.
Dodged a bullet there, son. Good job.
Satisfied with himself Jaden returned to the bedroom area and was surprised to find the pillow under the blanket was gone. In fact, where the misplaced pillow under the blankets had been was now a circular hole in the mattress. Just like he had imagined earlier. And the hole was widening. He no longer had to choose between letting sleeping dogs lie (really, does anyone even say that anymore?) or pulling back the sheets because the last of the bedspread was getting sucked into the hole. And still it widened.
“What the hell,” Jaden uttered in horror, mesmerized with fear.
“Exactly.”
‘Who said that? It couldn’t be the cheerleader. He had double-locked the door. Then who?’
Jaden spun around.
It was Peyton. Only she didn’t look like Peyton anymore. Her facial expression had become feral, her eyes bristling with hate. When she opened her mouth to mutter incomprehensible words in a twisted guttural tone her breath was rotten and foul.
For a moment, he was frozen, rooted to the spot. Peyton’s eyes didn’t seem to be her own anymore. A loud baying laugh gurgled from her throat.
Wallop her a good one, son! Just like I showed you. Do it now, while you still have a chance!
It wasn’t as though Jaden didn’t have the technical skill to fight. Pops had made sure of that a long time ago when some bullies had teased him in junior high. His dad had pulled out his old scarred and smelly boxing gloves and every day after school, for weeks, they used to spar until he actually got pretty good. So good, in fact, he actually laid out one of those bullies out flat. And after that, no one ever called him any reindeer names again.
Even with all that skill, and Pop’s incessant urging, hit-her, hit-her, hit-her, Jaden found that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move. She was that horrific.
Peyton, or rather the thing she had become, tilted her head to the side and studied him for a moment. And with a mocking smile she stretched out her hand toward him. Without even touching him; he flew across the room and tumbled into the circular pit. He didn’t go all the way in though and, with his legs dangling in the vast vacuum beneath, he held fast with a death grip on the mattress. For he knew it wasn’t just his life that was dangling over Hell’s fiery furnace.
Peyton, now transformed back to her sweet original form, jumped up on the bed, stood up on it and stared down at him like he was a worm on the sidewalk at her feet.
“What are you doing?” he shrieked up at her. “Help me! Please!”
Peyton rolled her eyes. And still standing on the bed, she carefully placed the sole of her sneakered foot gently over his face and after a brief hesitation, gave a firm push.
Goodbye, son.
As Jaden fell his last thought was funny how his dad’s last good-bye had a little snickering tone to it.
The farther Jaden dropped the more blackness enveloped him. The circular gateway was now far above him and soon became only a pinprick of light; and even that quickly vanished.
Jaden was gone, as if he had never existed.
Chapter 31
Unwanted Dreams
Somehow… Becca fell asleep.
So she knew it was a dream. It was no watching dream either; she was living it. She was back in the motel lobby. The windows and doors had been smashed open by the storm and the snow had flooded inside. Not a single spot on the floor wasn’t covered with white powder, in some places, piled as high as the windowsills.
When Becca had first come into the dream she found herself buried up to her waist and frantically digging herself out; literally barfing up the stuff.
Eventually freeing herself from her icy tomb she stood up. The snow was piled so high it was hard to stand all the way up without hitting her head on the ceiling. A tattered curtain gently blew inward from a calm breeze outside signifying the storm had passed and was now over.
“Oh no.”
Becca spied the top of the Big Leonard’s bright yellow hard hat, barely visible in the snow. She stumbled over to where he was sitting on the couch next to the coffee table. She frantically brushed away the snow and ice from his face. His skin was a combination of purple and blue, and his mouth frozen in an open scream and packed with snow.
In a wild frenzy, Becca moved about the room. Everyone was in their spots, Peyton curled up asleep on the couch by the wall, Calvin playing cards with Mr. Blowhard (never did get his name) and the thin old man with glasses and golf cap. It was as though they had all been flash-frozen in an instant.
Then she saw Wally’s hand sticking out of a snow drift over by the doors. She knew it was pointless but she uncovered him anyway. “No, no, no,” she kept repeating, as she pawed away the snow. When she finally uncovered him she could see Wally was as perfectly preserved as the rest of them but she could still detect the faint smell of death. He was gone. The man who pulled her from the Land Rover and tried so hard to keep her, and everyone else alive, was gone. Even in death he had tried to save them by securing the entrance.
I’m so sorry, lass. I liked him. I really did. A swell bloke, he was.
“Shut up, Donnie,” she said aloud. There was no point in hiding her craziness
now. There wasn’t any one left to point fingers.
I’m still here for you. Oh, and your gun. Lookee there.
With the storm abated she figured she might as well go outside. Trudging through the fresh powder she found a crystal-clear blue sky. Topping one of the taller snow banks she discovered an endless sea of snow dunes. The gas station, the highway; all of it had vanished beneath the snow; not a single shred of humanity was left to be found. It was as though they never were. Was it really like Big Leonard had said? Was this the whole world?
God kept his promise; he didn’t destroy the world by flood again. She would’ve thought he would’ve used fire, but if you read your Dante (and I have, big fan) you know the ninth level of Hell wasn’t fire… it was ice.
Becca turned back toward the buried motel. She didn’t take more than two steps when she first spied something moving in the snow, just below the surface, like a shark, hunting its prey. Becca didn’t know how she knew this but it was something grotesque, something… hideous. Instinctively she reached for her pistol. Naturally, it wasn’t there.
The snow demon leapt out of the snow, talon fingers outstretched for her face. In those last few breaths on her new ice planet, she didn’t have time to take in much; bulbous white milky eyes, skin dark blue in color, and most prevalent however was the crescent-shaped maw filled with long bony fangs that curved inward. Must be the newest resident to Becca’s ice world.
(There goes the neighborhood)
Darkness fell.
Don’t worry, I’ve got you.
This time it wasn’t Donnie speaking to her from the inky blackness. It was Mike.
Becca bolted awake and found herself in bed, in her motel room. No. That wasn’t quite right. This wasn’t like the motel rooms of the Paradise Lost Motel. For starters this room didn’t have cheap stained carpet. Instead the floors were antiquated wood. Surveying the room she didn’t see any windows, only her small soiled bed, a rickety rocking chair and not much else. Even though the room was vastly different from any of the motel rooms, somehow, she knew she had never truly escaped its clutches.
