My fear kept me walking for miles, constantly watching for signs of pursuit. No werewolves ever entered within the perimeter of my other gaze though I thought I spotted a bear. Maybe a werewolf escort wouldn’t have been so bad.
Hours later, tired beyond imagining, and feeling satisfied that Sam’s dire predictions turned out to be false, I spotted a motel ahead. The empty parking lot screamed vacancy better than the creepy flickering red sign mounted in the office’s window. My feet and legs hurt too much to ignore the opportunity to rest. Sighing, I pushed open the office door and rented a room for the night with the emergency cash I always carried. My plan remained simple enough. In the morning, I would find the nearest bus station and buy a ticket home or as close to home as possible.
Key in hand, I walked to the door matching my key number and let myself in. Turning on the lights, I closed the door behind me and grimaced at the room. It smelled musty, looked worn, and didn’t inspire any thoughts of recently washed sheets. Pulling off my shoes, I set them near the door. About an hour into the walk with no one following me, I’d stopped to put on socks.
I padded across the dirty carpet making my way toward the bathroom thankful for the protection of the socks. The shower curtain looked brand new, but the tub and floor hadn’t seen a scrub brush in months. I used the toilet, but didn’t look at it closely before or after. Sometimes ignorance was bliss.
The water dripping from the faucet had stained the porcelain brown. I let the water run while I dug through the bag still slung across my body. My stomach rumbled and I regretting not grabbing some food before walking off on my own. Ignoring my protesting stomach, I scrubbed my teeth with the toothbrush I’d found in my bag. When the water ran clear, I spit and rinsed, smelling the water too late. Rotten eggs. After rinsing, instead of wishing for food, I wished I’d just left the toothpaste in my mouth.
I wanted to go home, where a clean bed waited... where inadvertently swallowing water from the bathroom sink wouldn’t put me in the hospital… where I could pretend this weekend never happened.
Purposefully not thinking of anything but the present, I focused on getting sleep. I left the bathroom light on and moved to the main room turning off the lights. Setting my bag on a chair, I collapsed fully dressed on the bed, pleading with the universe that nothing gross contaminated the coverlet.
The drama of my day had taken its toll. My eyelids refused to stay open. Grossed out and hungry, my last thoughts were of the creepy guy at the front desk and chaining the door.
I stretched, only half awake, and fell off the bed. Laughing at myself in the darkness, I pulled myself back up on the bed wincing at the soreness in my legs from the walking I’d done. For a queen size bed, I must have rolled around on it a lot to work myself so close to the edge. I paused trying to get my bearings. Darkness? My stomach flipped in fear as I remembered the light I’d left on in bathroom.
I blindly stretched out my arm, remembering there should be a wall near this side of the bed. The door to my room swung open. Light flooded in blinding me.
A shadow moved to block the light and I suffered a moment of disoriented panic thinking it was the man from the front desk. By my third squinted blink, I saw Sam standing silhouetted by light. Behind him, I spotted his foldout bed.
“You okay?” he asked.
I turned, looking at my familiar room at the compound, confused. “What am I doing here?”
“Dunno,” he mumbled. “He brought you back before dawn. Didn’t say a word, just knocked on the door carrying you. I let him in. He set you on your bed then left.” Sam’s hair stuck up in places, and he absently scratched the hair on his chest, wobbling a bit as he stood in his flannel house pants. He needed his coffee.
I looked down at myself. Dirt clung to my clothes as if he’d dragged all the way back here from the motel... by my feet... through mud. I reached up to comb my fingers through my hair and a leaf fluttered to the floor. I stared at it in disbelief and let my hands drop back to my sides. He’d left me looking like a wreck. What was going on with this guy?
“What happened after I left? Did he follow me?” I watched Sam closely. If he didn’t respond with complete honest, I wouldn’t be responsible for what I said next.
“Not right away. When you started walking, he looked up from the truck and watched down the road for a while.” He paused and added, “Long after you passed from sight anyway. Then, he just took to the woods leaving my truck in a heap.”
That meant he’d left after I’d walked far enough that I could no longer see his spark. He’d probably tracked me by scent, keeping his distance. Clever. But why?
“Where is he?”