Page 3

A sound makes me jump, and I step back, glancing towards the back of the truck where it had maybe come from. “Hello?” I call again, voice wavering now. “Is someone there?” The music makes it impossible for this to be the kind of creepy-quiet in horror movies, but my heart does a little double-time beat just to remind me that it’s midnight on a New Jersey interstate with nothing around except Bob’s gas station a mile down.

The license plate comes into view along with the lowered truck bed, and I glance at both with confusion rising in my throat. Just like Joel had said, there’s a tarp covering the bed, and clearly there’s something under the tarp, since it isn’t flat. The license plate, however, is paper. Like this truck was just driven off the lot of some dealership, though the windows and the rims have to be custom work.

“What the heck?” I mumble, unable to staunch my curiosity. My hand comes out, fingers plucking at the tarp, and I lift the edge of it just a little. Just to see, because curiosity has not killed me yet and I refuse to think it will do so in the near future.

Besides, whoever the driver is might need help. That’s what I’m telling myself, anyway, as I tug the edge of the tarp free from where it’s curled around a box that holds–

I jerk back a little in surprise at the garish, bright Halloween mask in the box. It, too, looks shiny and new, and I gaze at it like I’ve never seen one like it, though that isn’t the case. The pumpkin mask is the same kind I’d find at any dollar store. Cheap, with holes punched in either side for a piece of elastic to be tied onto. When I move the mask, I find another one, and another. The box is full of them, and more Halloween costume parts and pieces under it.

Is this the Halloween fairy come to bestow costumes on all the good little boys and girls?

Another sound, like something scraping against the parking lot, has me glancing up, and I meet the eyes of a man who looks a little familiar. “I know you,” I say, the words out before I can actually place where I know him from. “I’ve seen you at–”

Suddenly, another man grabs me from behind, and I thrash in horror as a rag is shoved against my face. I scream, fighting, and belatedly realize that I should be conserving energy and holding my breath, since the rag smells suspiciously like chemicals.

Fuck.

“Trick-r-treat, night manager,” a man snarls in my ear as I struggle. I slam my elbow back into him, my vision fading at the edges, and hear a satisfying grunt.

But he doesn’t let go. His hand stays clamped over my face, and as blackness starts to creep in, all I can wonder is what in the world I’ve ever done in my life to deserve being kidnapped twenty-four hours before Halloween officially begins.

2

Two weeks ago.

The bubble of gum pops just as Judge Judy goes to commercial on the tiny flat screen above the desk. The signature music sting fades out, and I sigh, reaching up to press my fingers to the bridge of my nose. My head hurts, but my bills don’t care about that. If they did, I would be working significantly fewer hours, at a significantly better job. One that doesn’t require me to shepherd around drunks and sad men in mid life crises after midnight.

Another charge from Joel’s room pops up on the computer, and I look over with a groan. “Oh come on, Joel.” This one is just ridiculous, and whatever respect for his taste I’d had before now immediately disintegrates as my eyes are forced to read the words When Hairy Fucked Sally in real time. But I suppose it’s better than yesterday’s Crocodile Done Me, which I still haven’t decided is questionable or something the cops are going to come knocking about.

Either way, I hope that resolution is settled during the daylight hours. When I am not here. As much as I’d like to hear about that kind of drama after the fact, being a part of it would be exhausting. And probably force me to work overtime, with my shitty luck.

The phone rings and I pick it up, already preparing myself for who’s on the other end of it. After all, room 14 hasn’t left me alone since check in. Why would they let me drink my coffee in peace now, when I’m just getting into the guest auditing work that I need to complete before my shift is done?

Silly me, for even thinking about doing other work.

“Hello! This is the front desk of–”

“Yeah, I know,” the woman says with a rude sneer, cutting me off. My lips twitch in displeasure. I hold in my irritation, though, and when the door of the office opens, I force a smile onto my face while holding up a finger to request a moment.

The man comes right up to me and drums his fingers on the desk, frowning. “I need a room,” he states without preamble. “For two. I need–”

“If you could give me one minute, sir, I am on the phone,” I reply sweetly. As you can abso-fucking-lutely see, I don’t add, but it’s a close call.

The woman in 14 starts winding up again, clearly pissed at being interrupted even though it isn’t my fault. She goes through her complaints of the cable, the window, the curtains…but mostly the cable, I realize, when she keeps circling back to it.

“Okay, ma’am, I am absolutely able to help you over the phone,” I tell her as the man in front of me rolls his eyes and scoffs loudly at the ceiling. He’s well dressed, I note, which is not a look we get here a lot, given our prices and our…room quality.

Most people with money go ten miles up the road to the Best Western. At least they have a continental breakfast that consists of more than stale cereal and a few donuts we get from Bob’s gas station. The door opens again and another man comes in, glancing around at the pamphlets before leafing through them.

“Yes, you have to hit the power button twice, Just like it says on the card. Mhmm. You see the blue light? Great. And the–yup.” I don’t want to be on this call any more than the man standing in front of me wants me to be, though he’s acting like I’m doing everything in my power to drag it out instead of the exact opposite. Finally I’m able to hang up, and I force another smile onto my face as I set the phone down into its cradle.

“Welcome to the Rest Easy Inn,” I greet, prompting both men to stop their whispered conversation and make their way back to the desk. The rain outside picks up and the so far quiet one looks up with a grimace.

“That’s fuckin’ great,” he grumbles. “We’re going to be surveying in the damn rain.”

“Can we get a room now?” The man who’d tried interrupting me gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t think much of me at all, and that only makes my grin widen until it’s painfully stretching my cheeks with false sincerity.

“Of course you may,” I correct, unable to help myself. “For two? How long?”