Page 2 of My Revenant
I wanted to sag with relief and punch Hank in the mouth at the same time. Little did he know he was talking to one of “those” right now. But the risk of anyone here finding out wasn’t worth it. Places like this didn’t take kindly to differences, and I wasn’t about to paint a target on my back. I had to fit in, be as unnoticeable as possible.
Pulling back and slamming his beer on the counter, I tried to keep my expression blank as I stared at the old farmer with his stupid cowboy hat and ancient flannel. I doubted I was doing a very good job of it, though; my best friend Becca had always told me I was complete shit at keeping my thoughts and feelings off my face.
“Don’t reckon a sweater’s a crime, Hank.” My tone was flat, dismissive.
Hank was either too drunk to notice my thinly veiled bitterness, or he didn’t care. “Still. Don’t like him askin’ so many questions. He was pokin’ around, Jack, askin’ who’s who, where’s good for food an’ drinks, that kind of thing. Suspicious, if you ask me.”
I reached for the rag so I’d have something to do with my hands and something else to focus on other than Hank and his suspicions over some very normal-sounding questions. The need to run vibrated under my skin. The description Hank gave of the guy was so far from what I had feared he would say, it was almost comical. I didn’t know anyone who dressed “nice,” at least not pink-sweater kind of nice. No, what I feared was leather jackets and dusty combat boots.
“Right, well, thanks for the warning,” I muttered, reaching for an already clean glass that I started to polish just so I seemed busy.
Hank grunted. Now that he had his beer, he was significantly less interested in standing around gossiping, and he raised his glass in thanks before stumbling back to his usual booth.
At closing time, Marty, the owner of the Rusty Nail, showed up to lock up and put the cash in the safe in his small office out back. I’d told him I could do it so he didn’t have to come in, but he either didn’t trust me…fair, or he didn’t want me seeing what else he kept in that safe…also fair.
It meant I got to leave as soon as the place resembled something close to clean. With a nod to Marty, who responded with a dismissive wave of his hand, I left him to it.
The walk back to the motel wasn’t long, but it was starting to get real cold here at night, and it made my leg ache. At this hour, there were no cars in Hollow Creek. The drunken patrons of the Rusty Nail stumbled their way home, paths so well ingrained in their memories that they didn’t even need the streetlights to guide them. I preferred walking under the streetlights, though, and took a slightly longer route just to avoid the poorly lit areas with too many shadows to be cautious of.
When I was within view of the motel, I stopped. Occasionally, someone would book one of the other rooms, but never for more than a night. The cars that would dwell in the small parking lot were usually just as shitty as my old ’94 Ford Taurus, occasionally slightly nicer. There was never anything as nice as the sleek black Audi S7 currently parked next to me.
I scanned the area, the room windows facing the lot, but they were empty and all was dark and quiet.
Hank’s story of the pink-sweatered stranger came to mind. Did that car belong to him? If so, why the fuck was he in a place like this?
With another quick scan of the windows, I walked quietly over to the new car, trying not to seem too suspicious in case anyone really was looking at me, but also wanting to get a peek inside tosee if there was any indication of who it belonged to. Besides a few empty energy drink cans on the floor of the passenger’s side, there wasn’t anything noteworthy about it. I still didn’t like it.
I’m being paranoid. It’s probably nothing. I stepped back, giving my own piece-of-shit car a quick look over and checking it was still locked—not that there was anything worth stealing inside—before I headed up the concrete stairs to my room.
As I reached my door, I pulled the room key from my pocket but froze as my hand rested on the handle. The door was already unlocked.I’m sure I locked it.
Slowly, I put my keys back into my jacket pocket, fingers stiff from the cold yet tingly with panic as I grasped the handle of the switchblade there instead.
I had a moment to consider whether I should go in or head for the car, cutting my losses on whatever I left behind and the pay Marty owed me so I could get the fuck out of here.
I couldn’t. I didn’t have much, but everything I did have was in that room, and I wasn’t too eager to start all over again with nothing.
Instead, I took a deep breath in and burst through the door before I could think twice about it.
I was greeted by darkness and silence.
Switchblade in hand, I punched the light switch, expecting to see someone,somethingmaybe, that was here to get me.
There was nothing. No sound or movement, nothing that seemed out of place or different at all. Still, I did a sweep of the room and adjoining bathroom, expecting to find someone behind the door, in the closet, under the bed.
Nothing.
My heart was still thundering, my instincts refusing to believe that there wasn’t any danger here. I checked the bedside drawer, picking up the old faded Bible and checking between the last pageand the back cover. The money I had stashed there was still exactly where I’d left it. Untouched.
I checked everything again. Nothing had changed. Maybe I’d left the door unlocked when I went to work? I wassureI locked it, but now I was doubting myself, hoping I couldn’t have been that stupid but also preferring it to the alternative of someone else coming in here.
Fuck, I didn’t know what to think anymore. Maybe I really was losing it. Maybe no one was coming for me, and I was just running around in pointless fucking circles, stressing myself out over absolutely nothing.
It wasn’t like there was another option, though. If I gave up running and it turned out I’d been right all along and Dex was still out there—hunting me down like I knew he would be if he was alive—I honestly had no idea what he would do to me. All I knew was that I was better off not finding out.
I dragged the small, creaky desk from the corner of the room to in front of the door. It wasn’t sturdy enough to stop anyone who was determined to get in, but it would make a lot of noise and prevent them from sneaking in unnoticed while I slept.
Feeling a little better, I switched off the lights and made my way over to the bed. The mattress groaned as I sat down and unlaced my boots, kicking them off but keeping them close by. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I sighed and collapsed back onto the mattress.
