Jack Kilborn - Endurance

Either that, or someone is crouching on the window sill, blocking the light.

Maria swallowed, knowing she was psyching herself out, feeling the same kind of adrenaline tingles she got before a race.

Upstairs, the arguing abruptly ceased, mid-word. The room became deathly quiet, the only sound Maria's timid footfalls, creaking on the hardwood floor. The smell of rot in the room got stronger the closer she got to the window.

Could someone really be behind the curtains, ready to pounce?

Maria felt like she was nine-years-old again, playing hide and seek with her younger brother, Cameron. He loved to jump out and scream Boo! at her, making her scream. For an absurd moment, she could picture Cam behind that curtain, hands raised, ready to leap out and grab her. One of her few pleasant childhood memories of Cam.

Then she pictured something else grabbing her. A filthy, hairy, insane maniac with a rusty knife.

Maria shook her head, trying to dispel the thought.

The thought wouldn't leave.

“Get a grip,” she whispered. “There's nothing there.”

She was two feet away when the curtains moved again.

And again.

Like someone was poking them from the other side.

Maria flinched, jerking backward.

It’s just the wind.

It’s got to be.

Right?

“It’s the wind,” she said through her clenched jaw.

The wind. Nothing more. Certainly not some creep climbing into my room.

But, what if...?

She thought about the pepper spray in her suitcase. Then she thought about just getting the hell out of there. Maria wished Felix was here with her. He'd find this whole situation ridiculously funny.

You compete in triathlons and you're too chicken to check a window?

No. I'm not chicken. I'm not afraid of anything.

But she got the pepper spray anyway, holding it out ahead of her like a talisman to ward off evil. She paused in front of the window, the curtains still.

“Do it.”

Maria didn’t move.

“Just do it.”

Maria set her jaw and in one quick motion swept back the curtains—

—revealing bricks where the glass should have been.

She stared for a moment, confused, then felt a cool breeze on her arm.

There. In the corner. A hole in the mortar, letting the air in.

Maria let out an abrupt laugh. It sounded hollow in the tiny room. She gave the bricks a tentative push, just to make sure they were real and didn’t swing on hinges or anything. They were cold to the touch, as hard as stone could be.

Only a ghost could have gotten through that. And Maria didn’t believe in ghosts. Life had enough scary things in it without having to make stuff up.

She let the curtain fall, and thought of Cameron again. About the things he’d gone through. That was real horror. Not the wind blowing some curtains in a run-down, hillbilly bed and breakfast.

Maria hadn’t seen Cam in a few weeks, because of her training regimen. She promised herself she would visit the hospital, right after the event. Maybe Felix would come with, even though Cam seemed to creep him out.

He’ll do it anyway. Because he loves me.

Again, she wished Felix were here. He promised to be at the race on Saturday. Promised to rub her sore muscles afterward.

She glanced down at her left hand, at the pear-shaped diamond on her ring finger. Yellow, her favorite color. Sometimes hours would go by and she’d forget it was there, even though she’d only been wearing it for less than a week. Looking at it never failed to bring a smile.

Maria walked past the bed, glanced at the knob on the front door to make sure it was still locked, and mused about how she’d gotten herself all worked up over nothing.

She was heading back to the bathroom when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

The dust ruffle on the bed was fluttering.

Like something had disturbed it.

Something that had just crawled underneath.

Maria paused, standing stock-still. The fear kicked in again like an energy drink, and she could feel her heart in her neck as she tried to swallow.

There is NOT some man under my bed.

And yet...

Far-fetched as it may be, there was probably enough room for someone to fit under there. The bed was high up off the floor on its frame, with plenty of space for a man to slip underneath.

A filthy man with a rusty knife?

Maria gave her head a shake.

It’s the wind again.

No, it can’t be. This side of the bed isn’t facing the window.

A rat?

Could be a rat.

“I came in fourth in Iron Woman last year. I’m not afraid of a little rat.”

Maria got on her hands and knees and began to crawl over to the bed.

What if there’s a man under there?

There won’t be.

But what if there is? What if he grabs me when I lift the dust ruffle?

“Then I’ll squirt him in the eyes and kick his ass,” she said to herself.

Maria reached for the fabric, aiming her pepper spray with her other hand.

I’ll do it on three.

One...

Two...

Three!

Maria jerked up the dust ruffle.

No one grabbed her. The space under the bed was vacant, except for a small plume of dust that she waved away. Maria let the ruffle drop, and her shoulders drooped in a big sigh.

“I really need to get some rest.”

Maria got to her feet, wondering when she’d last slept. She quickly calculated she’d been awake for over twenty hours. That was probably enough to make anyone a little jumpy.

She padded back to the bathroom, reaching for her toothbrush on the sink, picturing her head on the pillow, the covers all around her.

Her toothbrush was gone.

Maria checked under the sink, and in her make-up bag.

It was nowhere to be found.

She stared at the Lincoln poster. He stared back, his expression grim.

This isn’t exhaustion. Someone is messing with me.

“Screw the free room,” she said, picking up the bag. “I’m out of here.”

Maria rushed to the bed, reaching for her cell phone on the nightstand.

Her phone wasn’t there.

In its place was something else. Something small and brownish.

Maria let out a squeal, jumping back.

This can’t actually be happening. It all has to be some sort of joke.

She stared at the brown thing like it would jump up and grab her.

I s it real? It looks shriveled and old.

Some stupid Halloween prop?

Then she smelled it. An odor of decay that invaded her nose and mouth and made her gag.

“It’s real. Oh my god... it’s real.”

Someone put a severed human ear in my room.

She ran to the door, and the knob twisted without her unlocking it. Maria tugged it inward, raising her pepper spray to dose anyone standing there.

The hallway was empty. Dark and quiet.

She hurried to the stairs, passing doors with the names Theodore Roosevelt, Harry S. Truman, and Millard Fillmore. Over the winding staircase was a gigantic poster of Mount Rushmore. Maria took the stairs two at a time, sprinting as soon as her feet hit the ground floor. She flew past the dining room, and the living room with its artificial fireplace, and ran up to the front door, turning the knob and throwing her weight against it.

Her shoulder bounced off, painfully. Maria twisted the knob the other way, giving it a second push.

No good. The door won’t budge.

She tried pulling, with equal results.

Swearing, Maria searched for a deadbolt, a latch, a door stop, or some other clue why it wasn’t opening. The only lock on the door was on the knob, and that spun freely. She ground her molars together and gave it another firm shoulder-butt.