“Maybe we should just drive on,” Heather suggested. “I’m not that tired. I could drive while you doze, and then when I start getting sleepy, we’ll switch.”
“Why?” Todd gestured around the room. “Granted, it’s not deluxe accommodations, but we’re here and we paid for it.” He smiled, wiggling his eyebrows lasciviously. “We have a bed.”
This was their honeymoon, and if there was any time she should be in the mood, it should be now. But she kept thinking of the small man with the gigantic penis. The thought was in no way sexual. It was, instead, unnerving, and it tainted the entire idea of sex for her. Looking around the dim room, she wondered if this was one of those creepy motels where the perverted owner had installed hidden cameras to spy on the guests. She imagined the dwarf watching them make love on a closed-circuit TV, using both hands to grasp his enormous—
“Hey, it’s working again!” Todd had switched on the television. “Maybe all we needed to do was turn it off and on.”
Ernie and Bert were staring out at her from the screen, their puppet mouths opening and closing out of time with what they were saying.
She turned away. Through the wall came the sound of muffled voices: the woman they’d talked to, and a man. The two were arguing, and although no words could be made out, the tone of the voices was angry.
Something hit the wall. It was followed by a woman’s scream. And then silence.
Heather and Todd looked at each other.
Seconds later, there was a sharp knocking on their door.
The pounding was loud and frantic, but it wasn’t accompanied by a voice or any other sound and seemed to exist in a weird sort of vacuum. Todd got up to answer the door and see who it was, but Heather grabbed his arm. “Don’t!”
He turned to her.
“We don’t know who’s out there!”
She expected disagreement, but he must have felt some of the same trepidation because instead of opening the door, he peeked through the peephole located above a yellowing sheet of paper outlining evacuation procedures that was framed and mounted in the center of the door. “It’s her,” he said. “That same woman.”
“Don’t—” Don’t open the door, she’d been about to say, but Todd was already undoing the latch and turning the knob.
It was indeed the woman who had engaged them earlier, and to Heather’s surprise, she looked neither hurt nor disheveled. She stood in the open doorway, an ice bucket in her hand. “I was wondering if I could trouble you for some water,” she said in a calm and reasonable voice. “Our faucet isn’t working.”
Todd frowned. “We thought we heard…”
“Fighting,” Heather finished for him. “It sounded like you were getting beat up.” She held the woman’s gaze.
The woman chuckled. “Oh, that wasn’t us.”
“It was from your room,” Heather said evenly, pointing to the wall.
“Those are the others. The people in-between. You can hear them sometimes.”
“In-between what?” Todd asked. “The wall?”
“No. In-between here and…” She shook her head. “I don’t know. They’re people that were here and now they’re not. But they never left. They’re…in-between.”
This was getting too crazy. Heather took the ice bucket. “I’ll fill that up,” she said. She wanted that woman out of here. She wanted out of here. It occurred to her that the best thing she and Todd could do right now was leave. At the moment, parking by the side of the road and sleeping in the car seemed infinitely preferable to this.
The bucket was too big to fit under the sink faucet, so she used the one in the tub. When it was three-fourths filled, she turned off the water and brought it out, handing it to the woman.
“Could you fill up your bucket, too? And bring it over?”
No, Heather wanted to answer, but Todd was already agreeing to do so, and, shooting him an angry look, she grabbed their bucket from the dresser and stormed back into the bathroom.
“I just wanted to see her room,” Todd said, appearing in the doorway. “And what type of person would marry her.”
“She’s mentally disturbed,” Heather said, turning off the faucet and standing up. “We shouldn’t have any contact with her.”
“It’ll just take a second.”
“That’s all it’ll take to stab us.”
He took the bucket from her hand. “I’ll go in first,” he promised.
“Scant comfort.” But she followed him through their room and outside.
The woman’s door was open, and when they stepped inside, she was pouring water from her ice bucket onto the bed, where what appeared to be a brown wrinkled watermelon lay in the center of the mattress.
“That’s just my husband,” she explained. “He’ll be all right once we get him some more water. It’s so dry here.” She shook the last few drops onto the dead watermelon before tossing the bucket aside and reaching for the one in Todd’s hands.
Heather’s initial reaction was that the woman was even crazier than she originally thought. But when the water touched it, the dried-up object actually moved, and when water from the second bucket was poured onto the bed, it began to stretch, until it resembled a skinny miniature man. A squeaky voice issued from the open O mouth.
“Danny!” the woman said, dropping the second bucket on the floor. “You’re back!”
Out of habit, Heather picked up their ice bucket, but then she and Todd were hightailing it out of the room, shutting the door behind them.
“What the hell?” Todd said outside.
She shook her head in disbelief.
“I think it was alive.”
The bucket was yanked out of Heather’s hand, and she looked down to see an enormously fat man crawling backward, away from them, wearing the bucket on his head like a hat.
If she’d been thinking logically, she would have let him go and immediately locked herself in their room, but her instinctive reaction was to grab the bucket back from the person who’d taken it, and she lunged for the object. The fat man was quick, though, even crawling backward, and he not only eluded her clutching fingers but scurried into the room on the other side of theirs.
Heather dashed forward, Todd right behind, but the two of them stopped as they reached the open doorway.
The ice bucket had fallen off his head, but the man made no effort to retrieve it, instead crawling frantically back and forth between the doorway and the bathroom. An equally obese, equally grotesque woman had made the king-sized bed into a nest, with torn clothing and newspapers piled in a circle around her. She sat in the center of the mess, making clucking noises, moving her head from side to side in a herky-jerky manner.
This time, Heather and Todd did retreat to their room, locking the door the second they were inside. Both of them were breathing heavily. How were they supposed to process what they’d encountered? There were probably scenes such as those behind the doors of every occupied room, things that were wrong, and Heather looked over at Todd, who returned her gaze.
Todd’s heart was pounding. He could hear the rapid pulse of blood in his ears, and when he looked at Heather, he saw in her eyes the same frightened panic he was feeling. They should not have stopped here, he thought. It had been a big mistake. What he’d hoped would be quirky and romantic had turned out to be a nightmare. He remembered seeing a car commercial a few years back in which a couple debated whether they should take the main highway or a small dirt road. A disastrous but interesting sojourn in which the couple encountered a skunk, a bear and some hillbillies was contrasted with a boring khaki clothing store. It was a piece of “the road less traveled” propaganda, and at the time Todd had bought into it. But right now, a khaki clothing store or a Days Inn sounded like heaven to him.
He wanted to get the hell off this less-traveled road and never look back.
They both voiced their thoughts at the same time: “Let’s leave.” “Let’s get out of here.”
With no need of further conversation, th
ey closed their suitcases, grabbed their belongings, and hauled everything out to the car. Todd refilled his pocket with the fifty-two pennies he’d been given as change.
“Are you awake enough to drive?” she asked him as he closed the motel room door.
“I can drive all night,” he assured her.
“Good.”
They got in the car, and he backed up, swung around and pulled in front of the office. Dashing out, he ran inside, dropped their key on the counter and told the manager, “We’re checking out!” He didn’t wait for a response but ran back to the car, put the transmission in Drive and turned onto the highway.
Seconds later, the car started shaking, and they’d gone less than a quarter of a mile before it slowed…then stopped.
“Damn it!” Heather shouted, slamming her palm against the dash.
Todd could hear a hint of panic in her voice. He thought of what the weird woman in the room next to them had said about the manager.
He comes out at night and steals parts from your car.
Sure enough, when Todd got out and popped open the hood, it was clear that something was missing. He didn’t know what it was—he wasn’t really a car guy—but there was a circular zone within the tangle of hoses and intersecting parts that seemed empty and was considerably cleaner than the surrounding area. Whatever had been there, someone had taken it out.
He won’t let you leave.
The fear in him was bone-deep. None of this made any sense. It was as if the logical world in which he’d spent his entire life had been yanked away and replaced by some irrational nightmare universe. He felt lost, adrift, with no idea what to do.
But he needed to stay cool for Heather’s sake. This was supposed to be their honeymoon.
She got out and joined him, looking into the open engine space. Maybe, he thought, she knew something about cars and could figure out a solution. But she turned to him and said, “What do you think it is?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted.
“Then what are we going to do?”
“I think we have to go back,” he said.
She shook her head emphatically. “No. We can’t.”
“We don’t have a lot of choices here.”
“We could sleep in the car!”
“What if someone came by and hit us? We’re not even pulled all the way off the road.”
“You’re right,” she admitted.
“Let’s just do this.” He closed the hood while she went back to the passenger side of the car and took out her purse before locking the doors.
Walking back along the side of the road, Todd thought that he had never seen a night so black. Not only was there no moon, there were no stars. All around them, the world was dark, the only exception the motor court and its sign.
In the front office, the manager was waiting for them, holding out the ring that held the key to their room. In the past five minutes, he had taken off his shirt and was now standing behind the counter bare-chested. Heather grabbed Todd’s hand, squeezing it tightly enough to hurt, almost as though she were afraid of the dwarf. He flexed his fingers, trying to loosen her grip.
“Our car broke down,” he said, nodding toward the highway.
“Really?” The manager’s voice betrayed no surprise. He smiled at them. “The room’s still yours. You can call a mechanic in the morning.”
He won’t let you leave.
Todd suppressed a shiver and took the proffered key.
Defeated, the two of them walked across the cracked asphalt. From within one of the rooms, he heard low growling. From another, high-pitched laughter.
They reached room six, and he used the key to open the door. The lights were still on. They must have forgotten to turn off the television because on the screen was the frozen image of Grover from Sesame Street, the blue character’s dead plastic eyes staring lifelessly out at them as they entered.
They paused for a moment, looked at each other in silence.
Todd closed the door behind them.
THE TRAIN
(2017)
Scott glanced over at his son as he drove. These were the days he looked forward to, and he realized how lucky he was to have a job that provided him with so much time off, and how lucky he was to be married to Violet, who did most of the parental grunt work, getting Vincent dressed, making his meals, reading him books, performing all of the boring foundational chores day in and day out that allowed him to be the fun parent.
Today, they were going on a field trip to McDougal Regional Park, a place Scott had heard about but never visited. It was Daddy Day at the pre-school, and he and Vincent were supposed to meet the teacher, Miss Mike, as well as the other kids and their daddies, in the parking lot of the park at eleven. They would have a picnic lunch, participate in group games, go on a nature walk, then have free play until it was time to go.
He pulled up to the toll booth at the park’s entrance. The surrounding hills were home to expensive gated developments, but the park itself, a sprawling 124 acres that had been set aside for protection, remained semi-wilderness. The huge parking lot was nearly deserted, and Scott pulled next to the handful of other vehicles that were near the picnic tables and playground, assuming they were from the pre-school.
They were. A few moms were here, too, and they were helping the teacher set up the picnic tables: pulling open tablecloths, setting out plates and cups, removing drinks from ice chests. If Scott had known that both parents were allowed on the field trip, Violet could have come, and he resented the fact that no one had told him that mommies were also welcome on Daddy Day.
Vincent ran off to the playground, immediately getting in line for the slide, while Scott took his place with the parents, asking the teacher if there was anything he could do. He’d brought hot dogs for barbecuing. Bob Greenleaf, whose son Nick was Vincent’s best friend, had brought the charcoal, and the two of them were tasked with setting up the grill. There were rusted metal barbecues all around the picnic area, one per table, but it took a few minutes to find one that wasn’t filled with broken beer bottles or scrunched up McDonald’s bags. Neither he nor Bob had brought a brush to scrape the grill, so Bob walked back to his car to see if he could find something that would work while Scott dumped out the charcoal.
The day was colder than it should have been. Since they’d arrived, clouds had drifted over the sun, and a chill breeze had kicked up. He probably should have brought along a jacket. At least Violet had made Vincent bring a coat, and Scott motioned his son over and had him put it on.
Bob came back with two screwdrivers, and after they’d used the tools to scrape the grill as best they could, Bob put a match to the fast-light charcoal. They walked back to the table where the other parents were. Scott used the ladle to pour himself a glass of punch and grabbed a handful of ranch-flavored potato chips.
Gathering the children, all of whom had arrived by now, Miss Mike brought out a multi-colored parachute, and the parents stood in a circle, holding the edge of the parachute, raising it up and down, while the kids ran underneath, trying not to get trapped under the billowing material. The kids then played Hot Potato, ran a relay race and went on a scavenger hunt with their dads. Scott and Vincent came in second.
The teacher herded the children over to the playground. Scott got some more punch and took a few chocolate chip cookies. A couple of the dads were talking about a soccer league their older kids were involved with, a few of the others were talking or texting on their phones, Bob had gone to return the screwdrivers to his car, and the moms were either playing with their kids or taking pictures of them.
Scott walked over to where Miss Mike stood supervising the children. Next to the play area was a bulletin board on which was posted a map of the park. A red dot with a small arrow said, “You are here.” Above that was the circular playground, and beyond that a line intersected by small crosses that wound through the wilderness area of the park and formed a closed loop. It looked like a train track. Glancing up, he
saw, past the last slide on the far side of the playground, what appeared to be a playhouse-sized depot, and he walked through the sand to find a narrow-gauge track running along the ground in back of the depot and disappearing between two high dry hills.
“Hi, Daddy!” Vincent called, waving to him from the top of the slide.
Scott waved back. “Hi!”
He returned to where Miss Mike was now standing with several other dads, watching the kids on the playground. “What is that?” he asked the teacher, pointing toward the small building.
“Oh, they used to have a little train here. I don’t think it’s running anymore.”
“Too bad,” Scott said, and the other dads nodded. Most of the boys were at the age where they were heavily into trains. Vincent was even wearing a Thomas the Tank Engine shirt today, and Scott knew that he would have loved to take a train ride.
Bob had gone back to check the charcoal, and he came over to announce that the barbecue was ready. Scott went over to the ice chest where he’d put the oversized package of Costco hot dogs he’d brought. Jamal’s dad picked up the package of meatless Smart Dogs he’d contributed, and all three of them headed toward the grill. Miss Mike and the moms gathered up the children and made them wash their hands.
Lunch was expectedly noisy and chaotic, with the spilling of punch and throwing of potato chips, and one little girl named Teena actually threw up because her friend whispered to her that there’d been a fly on her hot dog and she’d eaten it. Everyone was happy to be at the park and having a picnic, and though some of the parents tried to keep their kids from getting too hyped up, all of the students were loud, talkative and excited.
After lunch, they went on the nature hike, Miss Mike periodically consulting a wildflower guidebook in order to let the kids know which plants were poisonous. The wide dirt trail passed over hills and through gullies, past dried grass and cactus and native California trees. Most of the students were bored by the ten-minute mark, and when they reached a fork in the trail, one branch heading deeper into the wilderness, the other leading back to the parking lot, they opted for the latter.
Walking Alone Page 27
