Jack Kilborn - Endurance

“I’ve got one in my room. I need to go back upstairs to look for my friend, Mal.”

“I’m looking for my daughter and her daughter. Letti and Kelly. I’ll start on this floor, you start upstairs. If you find anything, yell.”

Deb nodded. “You do the same.”

Florence stood up. “Both of these men were big, strong. I’m guessing there are others. But a deep cut ought to stop them, even kill them.”

“Shouldn’t we call someone?”

Florence pointed at the Sheriff. “Who? The police?”

Deb had no answer for that. “Do you have a car?”

“No. Flat tire. But now I’m thinking they shot the tire out. It sounded like a gunshot.”

“Us too. That’s what Mal said. A gunshot.”

“When you find him, get out to the road, see if you can flag down a car for help. But be careful. We don’t know how many of them there are. Talking to Eleanor, I get the feeling there might be a lot. And she obviously has outside help, if she was able to see our triathlon applications.”

Deb nodded. “I know one of them. An asshole desk clerk back at the event hotel. He’s the one who sent me here.”

Florence frowned. “Maybe we should stick together.”

“We can cover more ground by splitting up. And we may not have a lot of time.”

Florence seemed to consider it, then held out her hand. “Good luck.”

Deb shook it. “You too.”

They held their grip for a moment, and Deb sensed a finality there. She wondered if she’d ever see the older woman again.

Then Deb walked out of Florence’s room. The hallway was empty, silent. She took the stairs slowly, holding the handrail. Previously, the inn had seemed kitschy and somewhat amusing. Now it was downright ominous. The floors, the walls, the ceilings—Deb could imagine secret passages and trap doors everywhere she looked. This entire building was a funhouse straight out of hell. Mal’s words of the many disappearances over the years kept echoing in Deb’s mind. Five hundred people had gone missing in this area, and this place was no doubt the reason why.

Eleanor and her family have been operating with impunity for decades.

How big has her clan become?

“So big it needed the blood of five hundred people,” Deb whispered to herself.

She made it down the stairs without any freaks popping out at her, and approached the Theodore Roosevelt room.

Will it be locked? I left my key inside.

The knob turned. She hesitated.

Is someone in my room?

Deb considered going back upstairs, asking Florence for help.

Just run in, grab the knife. It will only take three seconds.

Deb braced herself, bending her knees, leaning slightly forward.

I’ll go on three.

One...

Two...

Three!

She shoved open the door—the room looked empty—took four quick steps and ran to the bathroom—also empty—reached for her fanny pack on the sink—dug out her knife—flicked open the blade.

So far so good.

Next stop, the closet. Deb wasn’t going to leave her prosthetics in there. It would take weeks to get replacements made, and she needed to have spares on her in case something happened to the Cheetahs.

The closet door was closed. She approached it slowly, tightening her grip on the folding knife. Placing her ear against the door, she held her breath, listening for any sounds.

There was only silence.

She shifted from one leg to the other. Without her gel socks, the sockets on the prosthetics were starting to chafe, because they no longer had a perfect fit.

I’ll snag them after I grab my legs.

Deb opened the closet door.

Two naked men were sitting on the closet floor, going through her suitcase, throwing her clothes everywhere. They had bulbous, bald heads, and crooked mouths. One had three nostrils. The other had an empty hole where his nose should be. The whites of their eyes were stop-light red.

Before Deb was even able to gasp, three hands reached out at her, grabbing her Cheetahs, pulling them out from under her so she fell onto her ass.

Deb kicked out, trying to pull away, but the two men were already crawling on her, pawing at her thighs, her hips, her chest.

And that’s when Deb realized, to her horror, that it wasn’t two bodies on top of her.

It’s one body with two different heads.

# # #

Kelly felt sick. Sick and scared and hurt and overwhelmed and most of all, young. She felt more like a first-grader than a teenager.

She looked at Mom, who was in a heated conversation with Maria about which way to go. The pregnant woman, Sue, stood there like a zombie, completely zoned out. JD was sniffing around, waiting for someone to tell him what to do. The only one who seemed to be okay was Cam. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, looking vaguely bored.

I wish I could act more like him.

Kelly was wracked with worry. Even though she was out of that horrible cell, they were still trapped in these tunnels. And according to Maria, there were a lot of bad people who lived here. Kelly knew that even if they got away, they wouldn’t have anywhere to go. They were in the middle of the woods. The car didn’t work. Maria and Sue and Larry had been here for a long time, and hadn’t been able to escape.

What if we’re trapped here forever?

“Mom?” Kelly said.

“In a second, Kelly.”

Kelly wished Grandma was with them. Mom was strong, but Grandma was strong in a different kind of way. She was calmer, more rational. Though Kelly didn’t know her grandmother very well, she knew that if anyone could get them out of this situation, Grandma could.

“You okay?”

Kelly glanced up at Cam, who had moved next to her.

“Yeah,” she managed.

“You’re very brave,” Cam said.

“You think so?” Kelly hugged herself. “I’m scared out of my freakin’ mind.”

“We’re all scared, Kelly.”

“Even you?”

Cam nodded.

“Even when you... broke that man’s neck?”

Cam glanced away. “Yeah. That was scary. But he was hurting bad and wanted to die, so I did him a favor. Besides, death isn’t so bad.”

“How do you know?”

Cam took off one of his leather gloves and showed Kelly his wrist. It was covered with scars.

“After my friend died, I killed myself.”

“You mean you tried to kill yourself,” Kelly corrected.

“No. I succeeded. I was actually dead for two and a half minutes before they revived me.”

Cam held out his arm, so Kelly could touch it. They scars were creepy, but kind of cool, too. She ran a finger across one, surprised by how bumpy it was.

“What did it feel like?” she asked. “To die?”

Cam shrugged, tugging his glove back on. “It was like going to sleep.”

“It wasn’t scary?”

“There are a lot scarier things than dying, Kelly.”

“Like what?”

Cam stared at her. “Like living.”

Kelly decided she liked Cam. She liked his straight talk, and how open he was.

He’s also kind of cute.

“We’re going this way,” Mom said. “C’mon, Kelly.”

Kelly began to follow.

Cam thinks I’m brave. How do brave girls act around cute guys?

Without second-guessing herself, she reached out and took Cam’s hand.

When she felt him squeeze it back, Kelly wasn’t as scared as she was before.

# # #

As expected, Letti’s room was empty. Florence found the secret entrance in the back of Letti’s closet, and considered going in.

Not yet. I should check all the other rooms first.

Florence was still shaken up by what she’d done to the Sheriff. After witnessing suffering, misery, and man’s inhumanity to man on six continents, Florence would have bet her life she’d never do something so atrocious.