Дебора Хоу - Howliday Inn

“But you said they were werewolves.”

“It is my belief,” Chester went on (and here he drew out his words to give the impression that what he was saying was of the most crucial importance), “that Howard and Heather are a cross between a wire-haired dachshund and … a werewolf.” He paused and looked at me to check out the impact of what he was saying. There was none. With a slight tremor in his voice, he added, “A most vile and dangerous combination.”

I yawned. I knew Chester well enough to know when to respond and when to yawn. This was definitely a time to yawn.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” Chester asked. “Well, it doesn’t matter, Harold. This isn’t the first time you’ve chosen to ignore my warnings, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Just let it be said that Howard and Heather are to be watched.”

“If you ask me,” I replied, “Lyle is the one to watch. Now, there ’s a basket case.”

Chester agreed that Lyle was worthy of observation, for he too had witnessed the scene earlier with Louise. “Indeed,” he concluded, “I’d say all of the guests in this establishment deserve our careful attention. There is an undercurrent of tension here, Harold.” He looked out at the pouring rain and the darkening sky. “An undercurrent that will one day erupt with a sudden and terrible force.”

There was a loud explosion of thunder. I jumped.

“The storm gathers,” Chester commented drily as I landed.

“What shall we do?” I asked.

“Nothing to do. Nothing to do but wait.” He lay down then and closed his eyes. “Meanwhile, I’m going to get some sleep—while I still can.”

“Mind if I join you?” I asked, not wanting to be alone.

“Not at all,” Chester said, making room for me next to him on the rug. I was thinking how hospitable he was being, when I realized that we were in my bungalow.

“Just one favor, Harold.”

“What’s that, Chester?”

“When you dream?”

“Yes?”

“Try not to smack your lips all the time, will you? It drives me crazy.”

So promising, I fell into a deep sleep.

THE NEXT THING I remember was the deafening crash of thunder that awakened us. Chester jumped up and ran to the door.

“It’s dark!” he cried.

Max and Taxi were in the center of the compound, barking loudly.

“What’s going on?” I called out.

“They’re late with dinner,” Max responded. He and Taxi began barking again, as Georgette ran out and joined them. I noticed how she cuddled up to Max’s side and immediately my heart ached for Louise. Since my attention went rather quickly to my stomach, however, my heart didn’t ache for long.

“What do you think has happened?” I asked Chester. “I can’t go without food. Dogs aren’t meant to be starved. Cats are different. Cats can live off their own fat, but dogs are—”

“Try living off the fat on your brain,” Chester said, cutting me off.

Just then, the door of the office swung open and Jill and Harrison rushed out. Jill was wearing an orange slicker, and Harrison carried an umbrella that quickly turned itself inside out, doing neither him nor our dinners any good. I made a mental note to complain about the service. But later. At the moment, all I cared about was that our food was here at last.

The storm was in full force, the wind lashing the rain against us. Harrison and Jill scurried about quickly, calling to each other across the compound. I couldn’t hear everything they said, but I did pick up snatches of conversation.

“… can’t understand how we let this happen,” Harrison was saying. “We’ve never been late before. It’s your fault, you know. I told you to keep your eye on the clock.”

“My fault?” Jill answered. “You were the one who insisted that we clean the office after we finished the shed. Push, push, push.”

“Okay, Jill,” Harrison said, with an exasperated tone in his voice, “give it a rest, huh?”

“Give it a rest, he says,” Jill muttered to herself. “He doesn’t know the meaning of the word.” Then turning her attention to us, she said, “Oh, you poor things, you must be starving. Sorry, sorry,” she kept saying to everyone. “Sorry,” as she put down the food dishes and scurried us back into our bungalows.

I was so relieved to get my dinner, I hardly noticed that I’d gotten soaked by the storm. I was glad, though, when Jill suddenly showed up at the door of my bungalow with a big white towel in her hands.

“Sorry to have to interrupt you, Harold,” she said sweetly, “but let me dry you off a little so you can enjoy the rest of your dinner.” Jill’s hands felt good as she rubbed me down, and I would have happily rolled over for a complete MTR (that’s “massage and tummy rub” to you laymen) had I not been so anxious to return to eating dinner. “I don’t know where my head is these days,” she said as she rubbed the hair along my back. “I completely forgot about feeding you guys tonight. And then we raced out here so fast, I left the towels inside and let the door slam shut behind me.” She laughed to herself and shook her head. “I guess I need a rest, too,” she said. “Dr. Greenbriar and I have been working so hard these past few weeks, I’m ready to drop. And Harrison—but I can’t blame him,” she said seriously. “That’s no excuse. It would be awful if something happened just because I let myself get a little tired and careless.”

“Jill,” Harrison called, “I’ve finished drying the rest of them. I’m going back in.”

“Okay,” Jill shouted back above the din of the rain. “I’ll be right there.”

She turned to me and scratched me behind the ears. “Okay, Harold, that’s it. Enjoy your dinner now. And get a good night’s sleep. Night-night.”

And she was gone.

I liked Jill, I thought, as I plunged back into my food. She was clumsy and forgetful it was true, but she seemed nice enough. As for Harrison, well, I wasn’t sure what to make of him. There was something about him that made me nervous. Besides, anybody who preferred reading comic books to chewing on them was a little suspect in my eyes.

Later that night, I tried to sleep. But the raging storm and the determined howling of Howard and Heather kept startling me awake. And then I started thinking about what Chester had said earlier. What were his exact words? Something about an undercurrent of tension that would one day erupt with a terrible force. What could he mean? I wondered.

Little did I imagine then, tossing and turning in my sleep, that the terrible eruption Chester had predicted had already occurred.

Chapter 5 - “She’s Gone!”

THE NEXT MORNING, I was startled out of my sleep by the sound of Harrison’s voice.

“Oh no!” he cried.

I moved quickly to the front of my bungalow to see what was going on. So did everyone else. Harrison stood in the center of the compound, shaking his head, as Jill flew out of the office door.

“What is it?” she shouted. “What’s happened?”

Harrison pointed at Louise’s bungalow. The door was wide open.

“She’s gone!” he proclaimed.

Immediately, I shifted my gaze to Max. Our eyes met. His jaw fell open, as a look of shock and bewilderment swept over him.

“But how?” Jill asked. “This has never happened before, has it?”

“Not in the three summers I’ve worked here,” Harrison replied. Slowly, he surveyed the entire compound, looking at each of us in turn. Then, suddenly, he called out, “Look!”

We all turned our heads sharply in the direction he was pointing. Unfortunately, I hit my nose on the wall of my bungalow and I couldn’t see a thing except stars. So it took Jill’s words to make clear what it was that had so astonished him.