by Mac Flynn
I turned my car around and crept back the mile he advised. My short, light-weight car slipped and slid in the increasingly tall snow drifts that littered the road. The wind picked up and threw the white fluffy stuff across the narrow highway so that I couldn't see the yellow center-line. The lines on the sides were covered by the drifts from plowings past.
I crept along the road and was relieved to see the turnoff. The country road was well-plowed compared to the highway, and I steered onto the road with a sigh. The road was barely wide enough for two cars of my size to pass, but I didn't have any opposing traffic. The road wound as the trooper said. Civilization was left behind and replaced by scattered farmhouses and open fields dotted with the occasional bunch of trees. To my left and some five miles off was a large forest that stretched into a group of peeked mountains. To my far right was another group of craggy mountains. Those were part of the mountain range over which I was unable to pass. That meant the town I headed was cradled between a rock and a hard place.
I weaved around a few corners and watched with increasing concern as the snow drifts piled higher around me. There was a slight tunnel effect, and what with the road being so narrow I felt that any chance at turning around was cut off.
"Just don't stop if you hear banjos. . ." I muttered to myself, referencing a theme from an old movie about hillbilly cannibals.
The worst part was that I'd make a great meal. I wasn't exactly skinny. Some people, trying to be polite, would call me big-boned, but I knew I wasn't the slimmest Barbie on the block. I was definitely plump, but at least I had the boobs to go with my figure. Everything else was in proportion, too, just a larger proportion than I would have liked.
"Come on, girl, get yourself together. . ." I murmured as I rounded the last bend.
I slowed the car to a stop and beheld the hollow below me. From the trooper's description I expected a cluster of houses with a ratty motel. Instead I was greeted by a bowl-shaped depression in which sat two dozen rows of fine houses, most of a great age, and all in perfect square blocks that were evenly spaced. The sidewalks were lined with ancient oaks and maples, and the center street that connected with the road on which I sat was clearly designated as the commercial district. Small shops with clean windows looked out on the main road, and their bright, warm lights invited people inside for the coming holiday season. A large hospital stood in the south, and at the east in the distance was the two-floor brick schoolhouse.
The countryside around the town seemed to blend into the outlying neighborhoods. Yards melded into fields that stretched to the farmhouses, and beyond those was the dark forest. The whole area was covered in a thick layer of white fluff. It was as perfect as a postcard.
"Wow. . ." I whispered.
A harsh wind against the side of the car reminded me I wasn't in the perfect-picture town, yet. I drove down the gentle hill and into the town. I left behind more than just tire tracks. The harsh wind and flurries were left at the peak of the hill. There must have been some sort of micro-climate caused by the depression.
I looked around. There was hardly a soul in view. The wintry weather kept most people indoors, but a few school-aged kids wandered down the sidewalks in groups, and here and there were some shoppers.
I passed an intersection and got a view of the side streets. To my left and one street down sat a tall brick building with a bell tower. On its right and situated on the corner of the block sat a combination of the police and fire stations.
I found my motel at the end of the main street. It was a group of small buildings shaped into a three-sided square with the office in the left front corner. The sign over the front read Moonlight Motel. There were a few other cars in the plowed parking lot, but I got prime real estate in front of the office. I stepped out and looked around.
The first thing I noticed was how quiet the town was. There wasn't a single blaring horn, yelling pedestrian, or even a mother shouting for her kids to get the hell inside. The silence wasn't unnerving, though. It actually felt peaceful. I took a deep breath and inhaled the scent of pine trees from the nearby forest, and a hint of diesel from the recently departed plow truck. The smells actually complimented each other.
"Not bad, but I bet not much goes on. . ." I murmured to myself as I shut my door and walked to the office door.
The lights were on, and as I stepped inside I noticed an older gentleman behind the desk. He looked up from his paper, a rag with the title of The Daily Brew, and smiled at me. The man folded the paper and met me at the desk.
"What can I do for you?" he asked me.
"I need a room for the night, or at least until the pass opens," I told him.
"I'd be glad to put up such a lovely young lady," the man replied as he took a key from a board full of the things and held it out to me. "I think Number Thirteen should do just fine for you."
I took the key, but frowned. "Isn't that a little bit unlucky?" I pointed out.
He chuckled and his eyes crinkled around the corners. "Around here we consider it an especially lucky number."
"Oh-um, thanks, I guess," I replied.
He waved away my compliment with his hand. "None of that now. You'll make an old man blush."
"Do these rooms have any microwaves or stoves?" I asked him.
The man shook his head. "Nope, but there's a good diner just down the way. You won't find a better home-cooked meal."
"I think I'll try it. What's its name?" I wondered.
"Spellbinding Food," he told me.
I nodded. I remembered seeing that name on one of the long shop windows. "Thanks for the info."
He winked at me. "Don't mention it."
I looked down at the key in my hand. "Do I pay now or later?"
"Oh, no need to worry about payment just yet," he assured me.
My eyes flickered up to his smiling face and I frowned. "Why not?"
There was a twinkle in his eye that I couldn't read. "Just call it a hunch. Oh, and tell Mab Troy sent you. She'll give you a piece of apple pie, or a piece of her mind." He chuckled at his own joke.
I managed a strained smile. "Thanks, I'll do that."
He smiled and nodded. "See that you do." He turned away, paused, and glanced over his shoulder with a wide smile on his face. "Oh, and good luck tonight. I'm sure you'll need it."
I backed up and nodded. "Um, yeah, I'm sure I will."
This guy was nuts, but I didn't have much choice but to follow his advice if I wanted a hot meal. The weather outside was calm, but the snow still fell in sheets of white. The job of the snow plow was fast disappearing, and so was the light. The time was three, and in an hour it would be dark.
"I hope I can find my car tomorrow. . ." I muttered to myself as I pulled my overnight bag out of my car.
I made myself comfortable in the uncomfortably numbered room, and walked down the street to the diner. Something made me pause halfway down the road. I rounded a corner on one of the streets that intersected with the main road and glanced down at the residential area. The depression around the town forced the houses to be built on higher and higher ground.
Down the street I could see a good-sized hill. A group of kids sledded down the slope and climbed back up for another run. I watched mesmerized as the monkeys raced up the hill like they were high on pixie sticks. Their speed was incredible. They were just as fast going up and coming down.
I don't know how, but I must have caught their attention. One of the sledders reached the bottom and froze. They pointed at me and yelled something to their friends. The group scattered like criminals alerted to a cop car, leaving behind their sleds and the echo of their laughter.
I shrugged and walked on. Weird kids.
The diner was one of those old-fashioned ice cream parlor-type diners with a counter on the right and tables on the left. The floor was decked in large red and white tiles, and the stools were a bright, shiny red. I decided to forgo the stools and stand-alone tab
les, and went for one of the cushioned booths. My rear was tired from the long drive. It needed a break and some pampering.
I sat down and leaned back. My eyes caught movement at the counter, and my gaze fell on a fiendish-looking feline. I furrowed my brow. I'm sure I hadn't noticed it earlier. The creature was hard to miss, what with its jet-black fur and piercing yellow eyes. It stared back at me without blinking. Not even its tail or whiskers twitched.
I was never any good at staring contests and decided this one wasn't worth winning, so I looked away. Movement grabbed my curiosity again and I glanced back at the counter. The cat was gone, but a human woman veered around the counter and walked over to me.
She was middle-aged woman with purple streaks in her long black hair and a wide smile on her face. She wore a white apron over her ample bosom and a long purple dress that draped like a robe down to her ankles. Her wrists were covered in shimmering bracelets that looked awfully real, and an ornate necklace was wrapped around her pale neck. In one hand was a pad, and in the other hand held the pencil.
She looked down and studied me with a sly smile.
"What a treasure the storm has brought us," she commented.
I managed another of my tense smiles. By the time I got out of this weird town my face was going to be stuck like that. "Yeah. Just a lonely traveler trying to get over the pass."
Her eyes flashed a strange color, I would have almost called it purple, and her sly smile widened. "But I sense your journey is almost over."
I shrugged. "Yeah, or mostly. Anyway, what's on the menu?"
"I think a spaghetti for you, and some garlic bread," she commented.
I blinked at her and my eyes swept over the diner. "Is this an Italian place?" I wondered.
"For you, yes. Would you like our special sauce on the noodles?" she asked me.
"Um, yeah, I guess." I did hanker for some pasta. "And with-"
"Large meatballs," she finished for me.
I shrank into my cushioned seat and regarded her with suspicious eyes. "Yeah. How'd you know?"
She chuckled. The sound sent a shiver down my spine. "You have the eyes of a predator. Would you like anything to drink with that?"
"Not blood," I quipped before I could stop myself.
The woman didn't lose her smile as she wrote a few notes on her pad. "A coke will do, then. Your food will be ready in a few minutes." She half-turned away from me, paused, and glanced over her shoulder. Her gleaming eyes looked down at me with a teasing look. "And you needn't worry about the pass. The snow will stop soon enough."
"The weather report says that?" I asked her.
She chuckled, and again I was left with a tingle down my back. "No, young one. Those weathermen are all fools to believe in their machines and graphs. I can't smell it as well as others, but I can feel it."
And with that she walked away with my order. That I kind of didn't quite order myself.
"Smell it. . .?" I murmured.
And that's when he came into the diner, and my life.
CHAPTER 3
