The Hotel California: is it heaven, or is it hell?
Date: 2022-04-03 04:00:00+00:00

THE HOTEL CALIFORNIA

A Friday the 13th Story

CALLIE HUTTON

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author.

Author’s website: http://calliehutton.com/

Cover design by Maria Connor, My Author Concierge

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition May 2022

Contents

Friday the 13th Stories

About the Book

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Epilogue

About the Author

Friday the 13th Stories

13 different authors each wrote a stand-alone, suspenseful story in the series. The stories release on Friday, May 13, 2022.

We hope you enjoy them all and that they bring a chill to your spine. We would love to hear from you. You can find us here: Friday the 13th Facebook Page:

https://www.facebook.com/Fri13thShortStories/

Get your Fright on…

Sincerely,

Friday the 13th Authors

About the Book

It had been planned perfectly. Then it all went to hell...

Lauren Adams hadn't intended to kill her ex-boss. She only wanted his money. Now, with a suitcase full of bills, she's on the run. But very strange things are happening at the hotel she stopped at along the highway.

Chapter 1

The Plan

Lauren Adams stared at the gun sitting on her bed, along with the satchel filled with a few of her clothes and grooming products. Next to it sat the empty suitcase she intended to fill with money.

A lot of money. An escape from her lousy life.

She took a deep breath, ready to do this. She’d dreamed, researched and planned this robbery, and she would be successful.

All her life she’d been behind the eight ball. Loser parents, snotty teachers, uppity schoolmates, POS boyfriends, and the absolute worse, her job at Murphy’s Trucking Company.

She huffed. She and about twenty disgusting men worked there. All of them making remarks, offering their ‘services’ and generally treating her like a whore. Mr. Murphy was no better. In fact, he encouraged their behavior, and did some groping himself. When she complained, he told her she could just go work somewhere else because she was easily replaced.

Then the bastard had the nerve to fire her when she threatened to file sexual harassment charges against him. Her life sucked and at twenty-three she was ready to turn the tide in her favor.

Mr. Murphy kept a lot of money in the safe in his office. A ton of money. So much, in fact, she wondered at times if he was running drugs or laundering money. Well, for whatever the reason he was full-up with cash, she planned to take her share of it and head to California.

The gun was only a precaution. No one should be at the company now. All the trucks would have been checked in hours ago, and Mr. Murphy was always gone by six o’clock.

She checked her watch. Seven minutes past ten. She grabbed her satchel and suitcase, tucked the gun into her jacket pocket and left her shit-hole apartment and hopefully her equally shit-hole life.

The drive to the building took only fifteen minutes. With a combination of nerves and excitement, she parked her car outside the locked gate and grabbed the suitcase. She fumbled with her keys and found the one that opened the gate.

The nitwit man had been so gleeful when he’d fired her that he'd forgotten to ask for the keys to the building back.

Everything was dark and silent as she walked through the warehouse to the office door, pushing it open. She pulled out the small flashlight from her pocket, her fingertips briefly touching the gun.

The quiet was eerie, and she planned to make this quick and be on her way. She pulled out the five-digit safe combination she’d copied from Mr. Murphy’s desk drawer weeks ago, somehow knowing in her mind that she would one day do this. And today was the day.

She knelt, laying the flashlight on the floor, illuminating the slip of paper with the numbers on it. Totally engrossed in her endeavor, she jumped when Mr. Murphy’s voice shattered the stillness. “Girl, what the hell are you doing?”

There was obviously no correct answer since it was quite obvious what she was doing. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she said, “Why are you here?”

He glared at her, his hands on his hips. “Don’t try to pull no shit with me, girl. I own the place; I can be here anytime I want to be here. And you were fired." He pointed his finger at her. "Just stay where you are while I call the police.”

Did he really think she was that stupid that she would allow him to get the best of her? He always did underestimate her intelligence. Lauren climbed to her feet and whipped out the gun from her pocket. “No. I don’t think so, Mr. Murphy.” She pointed the Glock .22 at him. “I’m going to finish what I started here. Then I’m getting out of this f'ing town and starting a better life.”

“With my money.” HIs voice was flat. “You don’t know what you’re doing, bitch. Not all that money is mine.”

She grinned. “Right. It’s mine now.”

He started to move forward.

“Stop.”

He had the nerve to grin. “Come on, girl, you ain’t gonna shoot me. You don’t have the balls.”

The last word was barely out when she pulled the trigger, and Mr. Murphy grabbed his middle. “What the fuck?” He fell to his knees.

She took a deep breath. This had not gone the way she’d planned, but she was this far into it now, so she turned back to the safe, pulled out as much money as she could fit into her suitcase and stood.

She took one look at Mr. Murphy lying on the floor, bleeding and moaning, his ugly meaty hands gripping his stomach. There was a phone on the desk behind him and chances were he would crawl there and call the police as soon as she walked out the door.

“Sorry, Mr. Murphy. I guess I should have put in my two weeks notice real proper-like before you fired me, but I decided one more visit to my favorite job was necessary. Now I must be on my way.” She raised the gun.

“No. Don’t do this, Lauren.”

A shot rang out and Mr. Murphy stilled, a hole in his forehead.

With a steady hand, she lowered the gun. It was done. No witnesses and now she would be on her way. She quickly slammed the suitcase closed and clicked the two latches.

Panting heavily, Lauren took one last look around the office of Murphy Trucking Company, her place of employment for the past three years. She barely gave a glance at Mr. Leonard Murphy, the bastard, curled up into a ball under his desk, the last of his life’s blood pooling on the floor from the two gunshot wounds.

She shoved the Glock .22 into her pocket. The suitcase, now heavy with probably thousands of ten and twenty dollar bills felt good in her hand. The money was her due. He’d been the worst man she’d ever worked for and never learned to keep his hands to himself.

She smirked when she looked at the calendar hanging on the wall. Friday, the 13th. She looked down at Murphy’s body. “Bad luck for you today, Mr. Murphy. Sorry about that. Hmm. Not really.”

Thankfully the trucking company was located on a deserted street and set back about a quarter mile from the pavement, surrounded by a high fence. Now all she had to do was get the hell out of there as fast as possible and head for California.

Chapter 2

The Hotel

She tossed the suitcase on the front seat of the shiny ‘previously owned’ Toyota 4Runner she’d bought that afternoon. The sleazy salesman was so anxious to sell her a car that he let her take it without checking her application or depositing the five thousand dollar check she gave him for the down payment.

On a bank account she closed two days before.

She climbed behind the wheel, her heart pounding. By the time the cops were notified when the men returned Monday morning, she would be far, far away. With a new identity. A quick look in her mirror reflected a woman with glasses, short curly black hair and brown eyes.

So different from Lauren Adams, the long straight blond hair, blue-eyed former clerk at Murphy’s Trucking Company. Plus it had been two weeks since she’d been fired. The truckers probably wouldn’t even remember her, since there was most likely another poor girl fielding their gropes and lewd comments.

But covering all her bases, she carried the driver’s license of Darlenee Marshall with Lauren’s new persona on it. Despite having to kill Mr. Murphy, she had no regrets. She’d hated the stupid job, hated her boss, hated the truckers with their constant gross remarks and gestures, and even hated her small, dull, apartment. She was meant for better things. And now she would have them.

Three hours later, her head snapped up when she found herself nodding off as she zipped down the deserted highway. Her headlights reflected the sign coming up. Winslow, 53 miles.

It had been her plan to stop in Winslow for the night before continuing on to California, but she would never make another fifty-three miles. It had taken her longer to kill Murphy and clean out the safe than she’d expected. Who knew the old man would even be there? His threats that the money wasn’t all his confirmed what she’d suspected. He was doing something illegal.

Within minutes a building seemed to rise from the desert on the north side of the highway. Hopefully it would be a hotel or motel so she could spend the night in comfort. The thought of sleeping in her car, no matter how comfortable it was, held no appeal.

She swung her vehicle into the parking lot and parked in front of the building. She grabbed her backpack and suitcase with the money in it, and slid out of the car, grinning as she looked up at the name of the hotel.

The Hotel California.

Since she was headed to her new life in California, she felt it was a good omen. Suddenly feeling more alert, she pulled open the door to the hotel.

An older woman stood right inside the door, holding a candle, almost as if she had been expecting Lauren. She got a strange feeling, but put it down to the stressful night she’d had so far.

“Good evening, ma’am. I would like a room for the night.”

A bell rang in the background which the woman who’d greeted her ignored. “Welcome, miss. If you will follow me, I will show you to your room.”

Lauren picked up her suitcase. “Don’t I have to sign in or something first?”

The woman shook her head. “No need, dear. You can sign in when you check out.”

If she hadn’t been so tired, Lauren would have walked out of the place. Maybe sleeping in her car was not such a bad idea after all. Then she chastised herself. This was a hotel sitting right on the main highway. When she'd driven up she saw flickering lights in several of the windows, so there were other people here. She had to rein in her thoughts and get the night over with.

California awaits.

She followed the woman holding the candle up the stairs to the next floor. Once they reached the landing, she turned to Lauren. “Are you hungry?”

Her appetite had vanished once she saw the hole she’d blown in Murphy’s head, but in the time since then she had grown hungry, but the uneasy feeling had not left her, so it was better to merely climb into bed, get a good night’s sleep and then move on tomorrow.

“No. Thank you, anyway. I just need a good night’s sleep.”

The woman holding the candle nodded and continued down the corridor. Sconces along the wall lit with candles cast the space into alternate dots of brightness, then dimness. This was certainly an odd place, and she would be grateful for the morning sun so she could leave.

Lauren shivered as an odd smell of flowers drifted to her as the woman holding the candle opened the door to the room. It was a glorious room, most unexpected given what she’d seen so far.

“This is very nice.” She moved farther into the room and placed her suitcase on the bed, then turned. “Well, good night, Mrs.?”

“Yes, good night miss. Have a nice slumber.”

“Um, excuse me.”

The woman turned toward her. “Yes?”

“Is there no other way to light the room than the candles?” She nodded toward the candelabra on the dresser across from the bed.

“I’m afraid not. Welcome to the hotel.” With those cryptic words, she left the room, closing the door softly.

Well, that was certainly surreal. Again Lauren was anxious for the night to pass. She pulled out her nightgown, toothbrush and toothpaste from the satchel. There was no bathroom, only a pitcher filled with warm water and a bowl under it sitting on the dresser.

Once she’d cleaned herself up and climbed into bed, she found sleep did not come immediately, despite her fatigue and the comfort of the bed. After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours, she finally fell asleep.

To be awoken by the sound of a very loud, terrifying scream of a woman’s voice.

Chapter 3

The Snow

Lauren bolted upright and gripped the blanket in her fists. Silence. Had she imagined the scream? Was it part of a nightmare she was having? After the little bit of sleep she’d had, she seriously considered not waiting for morning, but leaving now and just slapping some money on the front desk of the hotel.

She rubbed her palms up and down her arms. The air had grown quite cold which was normal for nighttime in the desert, but one would think inside the building shouldn’t be that cold.

Then she chided herself. She was being flat out dumb. Apparently, the scream was not real or she would have heard noises coming from the rest of the guests or at least the management as they headed to wherever the scream had come from.

She blew out a deep breath and collapsed back onto the mattress. She would keep her eye out for the rising sun and get the hell out as soon as it sneaked over the horizon. Although stressed, she fell into a deep slumber.

Her eyes flicked open. Had there been another scream? A quick glance to the window showed the sun more than sneaking over the horizon. It appeared to be mid-morning. She reached over and picked up her cell phone from the table alongside her. Dead.

If what the woman holding the candle from last night had told her was correct, there was no electricity in the building. She flicked the covers off and stood on the cold floor, grabbing whatever she reached from her satchel and dressed in jeans and a sweater. After pulling on warm socks and her tennis shoes, she glanced around the room to make sure she had everything, then left.

Several people sat in the dining room which was attached to the reception area. No one paid her any attention, which was fine with her. She walked up to the desk and dinged the small round bell sitting there.

After a few minutes, when she was just about ready to give it another slap the woman holding the candle from the night before walked up to her. She practically glided along. “Good morning.”

Lauren nodded. “Good morning. I would like to check out. What do I owe you?”

The woman looked at her with a puzzled expression. “You cannot leave, miss.”

Her heart began to pound. “Why not?”

The woman waved at the large plate glass window. “Because of the snow.”

“The snow?” What the hell was she talking about? “There can’t be any snow, this is the desert. And it’s June. Even in Alaska it doesn’t snow in June. Maybe. Not sure, really.” She shook her head as if to settle her brains since she was babbling like an idiot.

The woman shrugged and pointed again to the window. Lauren moved slowly across the room and looked out the window. There must have been six feet of snow piled up in front of the building. She blinked several times, sure she was seeing things.

She turned back to the woman holding the candle. “This is impossible. We’re in the desert. It doesn’t snow in the desert.”

“Would you care for some breakfast?” She walked past Lauren and glided into the dining room. “We have a special this morning.” She stopped and looked at her. “Pickled herring.”

The only logical explanation was she was still upstairs in her room sound asleep and this was all a dream. Actually, a nightmare. So maybe she should just go along with it until she woke up.

“I don’t like pickled herring.”

The woman holding the candle shrugged. “We have other things.” She waved in the direction of the area where about a dozen people ate breakfast, speaking to each other, everything looking perfectly normal. Couples starring happily at each other. An older couple who seemed to ignore everything except their food.

Lauren took a seat at a two-person table, next to the window. The window that reflected the sun off the snow. In the desert. In June. Yes, this was a dream

Or nightmare.

A young girl with freckles and her hair in pigtails–that she was much too old to be wearing–approached her. “Good morning, miss. What do you want for breakfast?”

“Do you have a menu?”

The girl looked puzzled. “A menu?”

“Yes. You know, a piece of paper that lists everything you serve.”

She waved her hand around. “We serve anything. What do you want?”

“Right now, just some coffee. You do have coffee?”

“We have everything.”

“How do you cook everything with no electricity?”

The young server with the pigtails shrugged. “I don’t know. I only serve the food. I will bring your coffee now.”

She attempted to listen to other conversations to prove to herself she was still asleep, but the other guests only mumbled. The young server with the pigtails came back with her coffee.  “It might taste a little different to you. We have a special blend we use.”

Bells went off in her head. A different blend? What did that mean? “Excuse me,” she said as the girl began to walk off.

She turned back. “Yes?”

Lauren pointed to the cup. “What is special about this blend? I mean is it real coffee?”

“Oh, yes. Absolutely real coffee. I’ll get your breakfast now.”

“Wait. I didn’t tell you what I want yet.” After looking at the tables around her, she’d decided on pancakes and sausage.

“We have excellent pancakes, miss. Our sausage is the best, too. I will be right back.”

Lauren pushed the coffee cup away. She wouldn’t eat breakfast, either. Something very strange was going on and it was growing very, very hard for her to believe she was dreaming.

But if not dreaming, where the hell was she?

Chapter 4

The Game

After spending the very strange day alternating between staring out the window at the–impossible–snow and pretending she was still dreaming, Lauren headed back up to bed. She’d struck up a few conversations with the other guests. Everyone seemed pleasant, not at all surprised by the snow or lack of electricity, and happy to share books and games to help keep her busy while they waited. For what she wasn’t quite sure. The snow to melt? Reality to return? Wake up from the weirdest dream she’d ever had?

Eventually, hunger drove her to eat both lunch and dinner. She’d sniffed everything before she put it into her mouth. She’d been pleasantly surprised to discover the food was truly delicious, although she was still confused on how food could be cooked without electricity.

When she didn’t drop dead over her plate after eating her ham and cheese sandwich, she assumed they weren’t out to kill her. Who ‘they’ were continued to be a puzzle.

The old man at the front desk, just like the woman holding the candle who’d greeted her at the door, the young server with the pigtails, and the few women dressed as maids that wandered the place doing their duties, all appeared perfectly normal. They held normal conversations with her, but each one shrugged when she questioned them on the odd goings-on.

Weary from the stress and strain of the day, and all that preceded her quick exit from Murphy’s Trucking Company, she washed her hands and face and climbed into the soft, comfortable, warm bed. Was it possible to sleep and dream while you were already sleeping and dreaming? She shrugged like everyone else in the place and closed her eyes.

And was awakened sometime later by a woman’s scream.

Her heart thumping loud enough to be heard downstairs, she slowly climbed from her bed and moved to the door. Pressing her ear against the wood, she held her breath.

Nothing. No noise except her heartbeat. No one scurrying about, no one opening doors and asking what happened. She returned to bed and pulled the covers over her head. Despite her unsettled feelings, once again she fell sound asleep.

She awoke to bright sunshine streaming through the window across from her bed. Gingerly, she swung her legs over and walked to the window. Snow still piled up. Despite the strong sunshine all day the day before, it appeared none of the stuff had melted.

For the first time she noticed a bell pull next to her door. Had it been there before? She would love a bath and since the toilet facilities were at least indoors and on her floor, she decided to see if the bell pull would bring a maid so she could request a couple of towels.

She gave it a yank and before she moved more than a foot away from the door, there was a light knock. “Miss? May I help you?”

What the hell? Had the maid been standing right outside? Lauren opened the door to see one of the maids she’d noticed the day before standing there, a bright smile on her face.

“Yes, please. I would like to take a bath. Can you bring me a couple of towels and soap? Oh, and shampoo and conditioner, too.”

The girl bent down and retrieved a basket that must have been sitting next to her in the hallway. “Here you are. Enjoy your bath.”

Lauren looked in the basket. Two towels, one bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo and conditioner. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She really needed to wake up soon, or she was going to lose her mind.

The bathing room was luxurious, as fine a room as one would see in a top hotel. She ran her hand around the edge of the tub which was as high as her waist. As long as she was stuck in this dream, she might as well enjoy herself.

After the bath, a fresh set of clothes and a delicious breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast and coffee, she waved down the young server with the pig-tails.

“Yes, miss.”

“Do you know how long it will be before the snow is cleared away from the hotel and the highway?” She felt absolutely ridiculous asking about snow in the Arizona desert.

“I’m sorry, miss. I don’t know the answer to that. However, in about ten minutes there will be a Bingo game in the parlor. I think you will like that.”

It was then she noticed the other diners moving from the dining room to the parlor. They were all chatting and smiling as if they were headed to a major event.

So she joined them.

Lauren took a seat with the older couple she’d noticed in the dining room before. She smiled at them, they smiled back. She asked about the lack of electricity and snow in the desert. They both shrugged and continued to smile.

They were each given one Bingo card and several red plastic chips. The woman holding the candle who initially greeted her, stood at the front of the room, and spoke to the group. “I will call out a number and you will cover it on your card. If you make a straight line either across, diagonal, or down, say “Bingo” and you will win.”

With a pleasant smile, she pulled out a small ping-pong ball from the basket next to her. “I-23.”

Lauren was happy to place her red plastic chip on the card.

“B-10.”

Again she had that number. She looked around the room. Everyone was concentrating on their cards.

“G-46.”

She might be in a horrible dream, but her luck was good. She covered another block. With the free space in the middle all she needed was…

“O-75.”

She laughed, never in her life having won Bingo so quickly. She raised her hand and shouted, “Bingo.”

As did all the other people in the room.

Chapter 5

The Room

Lauren’s mouth dropped open. How the hell could they all have won Bingo? Although she knew it appeared quite rude, she reached over and grabbed the older woman’s Bingo card, her red plastic discs scattering over the table. She put the two cards side by side with hers. Same numbers, just not in the same order.

In for a penny, in for a pound. She slid the older man’s card over and lined it up with the other two. Again, the same numbers, but different order.

“Are we ready for the next game?” The woman holding the candle asked. She really should ask her name instead of referring to her as ‘the woman holding the candle,' even if it was just in her mind.

“Yes!” Several gamers shouted from their seats. Excitement filled the air, which made no sense because they’d all won.

Lauren gave the cards back to the couple at her seat. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to be quite so rude.”

The woman smiled. “That’s all right, dear.”

The next game started. “N-39”

Lauren had that one and looked over at her companions to see they also placed red discs on their cards.

“I-27.”

A repeat of the first number.

“B-14”

One more time.

“O-66.”

Dare she even do it? She shrugged–which seemed to be the mannerisms of all at the hotel–and raised her hand. “Bingo.”

“Bingo!” Excited voices echoed hers throughout the room.

She stood and nodded at her two table companions. “If you will excuse me, I find a headache coming on.”

The woman patted her hand. “I’m sorry, dear. You might want to ask the old man at the front desk for some tablets.”

She quelled the urge to scream at the woman, and then the entire room. Did no one else see anything odd about this place? About snow in June? About everyone winning every game at Bingo? At cooking meals and running a hotel with no electricity?

Lauren took a deep breath to calm herself. She left the room just as B-8 was called out. She marched up to the front desk and slammed her palm on the bell. After a few minutes, the old man hobbled out and handed her two white tablets. “This is for your headache.”

She dropped them as though they would bite her and before she could say anything, he hobbled back to wherever it was he’d come from. She stared at the two pills on the counter. Obviously acetaphetamine. She lifted it and looked at the pills. L484. Now if everything here was normal, she would Google the code on her phone. But her phone was dead and there wasn’t an outlet in sight.

She slammed her palm on the bell again. One of the young maids she'd seen around the hotel walked out and handed her a glass of water. “Here you are, Miss.”

“How did you know I wanted water?”

The girl frowned, and of course, shrugged. “You have pills don’t you?”

Despite worrying that the pills were something more deadly than what she’d experienced so far, she swallowed them with a gulp of water. “Thank you.”

She wandered over to the window. Of course, no snow had melted. Why would snow melt in the desert? Why would snow fall in the desert? Why was she in a place that would soon have her raving mad?

Perhaps a quick nap and counting of her money would cheer her up. It would if she knew for certain she would be able to spend it one day. With a deep sigh, she climbed the stairs and trudged along the hallway to her room. She noticed something odd, but ignored it and slid the old fashioned key into the lock and turned, shoving the door open.

And came to an abrupt halt. She backed up and looked at the door number. Ten. Her room.

But it wasn’t her room.

Slowly, she walked into the space. All her things were there. But the entire room was the opposite of the room she’d been staying in. The bed was on the opposite wall, as were the wardrobe, dresser, desk and window.

Her stomach sank. Even the window? She twirled around and noticed the door knob was on the opposite side of the door. She shook her head, trying to clear it and make sense of what she was looking at.

Stumbling over to the bed she flopped down and jumped right back up again. Above the bed was a large mirror. It hadn’t been there all along. She raced to the door and pulled the bell cord. Within seconds there was a knock on the door.

She opened it and the young maid who had given her the glass of water stood there. “Yes, miss?”

“What happened to my room?”

“Miss?” She looked genuinely puzzled.

“My room. It’s not my room.”

The girl looked at the number on the door. “Ten. Your room.”

Lauren waved her arm around. “But everything is different. Opposite.”

“Miss?” She continued to study her as if she was the one who was crazy.

Lauren pointed to the ceiling above the bed. “And the mirror.”

“The mirror, miss?”

“Stop this!” She screamed, the panic building in her chest. She was not crazy. She was not crazy. She was not crazy.

Perhaps she was crazy.

She drew herself up and took a deep breath. “When can I leave the hotel?”

“I don’t know miss, you see the snow…”

“Yes.” She gritted her teeth. “I know about the snow. When will it melt?”

The maid shrugged. “I’m not sure, miss. Can I get you a cup of tea?”

Lauren stepped back and slammed the door in the girl’s face, gaining a great deal of satisfaction in doing so. She turned and leaned against the door, the knob on the opposite side pushing into her lower back as she viewed the room once more, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Bingo!” Several loud shouts reached her ears from the parlor.

Chapter 6

The Kitchen

Lauren awoke the next morning tired from once again being startled in the middle of the night from the woman’s scream. Today she would do something positive about this situation. It could not continue. If the snow was still packed high–which it was she determined from a glance out the window--she would walk if she had to.

By now the highway would have been cleared and she might be able to hitch a ride with someone. Just anything to get away from this nightmare.

She washed her face and brushed her teeth with the water in the bowl on the dresser, then combed her hair, dressed in what she considered ‘battle clothes’ and left the room.

As usual all the guests were seated at tables in the dining room enjoying their breakfast. She sat at one of the tables and looked around, her heart coming to an abrupt stop.

Every single person in the dining room was unfamiliar. She frantically looked around. The older couple from Bingo yesterday were not there. The couple with children were missing. The older gentleman who always occupied the single table by the window was not there. In his place was a young, attractive woman.

“Good morning, miss, I have coffee for you.” The young server with the pig-tails beamed at her, almost jumping with joy.

“Where is everyone?” Lauren accepted the cup from the girl, no longer afraid to eat and drink since she hadn’t been poisoned.

Yet.

The young server with the pig-tails looked puzzled. She waved her arm around. “Right here, miss.”

She shook her head. “No. These are not the same people who have been here since I arrived. Where did they go? Were they able to leave?”

The girl frowned. “Hmm. I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” With another bright smile, she said, “But I will have your oatmeal for you in a minute.”

Before Lauren could ask for oatmeal for her breakfast, or demand the girl answer some questions, she was off and running back to the kitchen.

The kitchen.

She would make it her business to visit the kitchen some time that day. If they were preparing all these meals with no electricity, she had to see that for herself.

As usual, the oatmeal was excellent with just the right amount of sweetness. The coffee, nice and strong. She leaned her elbows on the table and considered her situation.

She was stuck in a hotel in the middle of the desert that had at least six feet of snow surrounding it and hadn’t melted in two days. Her room had been reversed, she’d played the strangest game of Bingo in her life, and everyone in the dining room was new. All the former guests gone.

Yet, she couldn’t leave. How the hell did they get out? Helicopter?

She watched the ‘new’ guests leave the dining room, strolling around as if everything was normal, like they knew where they were going. Since no one took their places at the dining room tables, she had to assume all the other people she’d seen since she’d arrived were gone.

Determination in every step, she walked up to the front desk and slammed her hand on the bell. The old man came wandering out. “Yes, miss?”

“Where are all the people who were here yesterday?”

He tilted his head and regarded her with a frown. “I’m sorry, miss, I’m not sure what you mean.”

She leaned forward on the desk and got almost nose to nose with the man. “Where. Are. The. Guests. Who. Were. Here. Yesterday?”

He started to move his shoulder and she yelled, “Stop! Don’t shrug your shoulders at me.”

The surprised look on his face only made her angrier. “And when can I leave the hotel? I need to be somewhere. This was supposed to be a one night stay.”

“But, miss, you’ve only been here one day.”

She reared back as if she’d been slapped. “No way. I’ve been here for three days. Maybe four. I’ve lost count.”

He just continued to stare at her.

“I’ve slept at least three times and each time I was awakened by a woman’s scream.”

He removed his eyeglasses and rubbed them with the tail of his shirt. “Perhaps you are worn out and required naps.”

She gritted her teeth so hard she swore they would shatter. “I do not take naps. It went from day to night three times since I’ve been here.”

They just stared at each other, her heart pounding with anger and although hard pressed to admit it, panic also. Somehow, she’d fallen into The Twilight Zone.

She drew herself up. “I want to see the kitchen.”

“Miss?”

“The kitchen. The place where the food is prepared. I want to see it.”

He hesitated, cupping his chin with his thumb and index finger. Thinking was most likely a chore for the man. “I will have to check with the cook, first.”

“Fine.” She waved her hand. “Check with her. I’ll wait.” As he walked off, she mumbled, “Not that I have anything else to do.”

A hand clap drew her attention from the desk. “Ladies and gentlemen, Bingo is about to start.” The lady holding the candle stood at the entrance to the parlor as all the guests hurried into the room like Black Friday at Walmart.

“Cook said she would be delighted to give you a tour,” the old man said as he returned to the desk.

“Excellent.” She waved at the old man. “Lead the way.”

She followed him down a long hallway and based on the strengthening smells they were headed to the kitchen. He opened a door and stepped back. “Here you are, Miss.”

“Thank you.” Before she’d gone one step the old man had disappeared. She gazed around the room which looked exactly as she would expect a modern hotel kitchen to look.

A red-cheeked, barrel shaped woman looked over at her. “Good morning, miss. It’s nice of you to visit. What would you like to know?”

Lauren cleared her throat, aware of the other employees all staring at her. “I guess what I really want to know is how you prepare all your food with no electricity?”

The cook wiped her plump fingers on the apron wrapped around her middle. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, miss.”

Lauren gave a frustrated grunt. “Well, there is no electricity in the hotel. How do you cook?”

The employees all looked at each other. “I’m afraid you are mistaken, miss,” the head cook said. “Of course we have electricity. How else would we keep our food cold?”

Chapter 7

The Phone

Lauren stared at the cook as she stared back at her. “You have electricity?”

“Yes, miss. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Breaking into a huge smile, Lauren said, “Yes. Yes. I am going upstairs to get my cell phone so I can charge it. That’s wonderful.” She raced from the room, up the stairs and into her opposite room.

As it had been days since she’d used the phone, it took her a while to find it. Finally she found it under her pillow. She raised it to her lips and kissed it. “We’re getting out of here,” she sang.

The cook looked up with surprise when Lauren dashed back into the kitchen. She waved her phone and charger. “Where is there an outlet? I want to charge my cell phone.”

“Miss?” The cook said.

“An outlet. I need an outlet so I can charge my phone.” She wiggled the phone in the cook’s face. “An outlet?”

When she received no answer, Lauren headed to the wall and began searching for an outlet. The only thing plugged in was the refrigerator. An old coal stove sat prominently on the south wall, which of course required no electricity, and which the cook now stood over, stirring something in a pot.

Lauren walked over to her. “Can someone move the refrigerator for me?”

“Miss?”

“The refrigerator. Can someone move it for me so I can plug in my cell phone charger?”

Without saying a word, the woman walked over to the large, double-door refrigerator and moved it like it weighed nothing. Continuing in silence, she returned to the stove and picked up her mixing spoon.

Lauren got down on her knees and attempted to plug the charger into the wall. It didn’t fit. She looked at the plug on her charger and looked at the socket on the wall, which had five holes. She banged her head against the refrigerator. Why did she think this would work?

Dusting off her jeans, she stood and attempted to move the refrigerator back. She couldn't budge it. Although the cook was well-rounded, she was still an older woman with almost all gray hair. How the hell had she moved it so easily?

Lauren tapped the woman on the shoulder and held up her charger cord. “This doesn’t fit in the outlet.”

The cook shrugged.

If there was electricity in the kitchen, even if it was only behind the refrigerator, then there must be outlets somewhere else in the hotel. Without a word to the cook, Lauren left the room and headed upstairs.

She’d already given her room a thorough going-over, but she was desperate enough to do it again. Not expecting to see anything different, she glanced out the window as she entered her room at the six feet of snow.

And the room back to the way it had been before it had all changed the day before. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Yep. It was just the way it had been when she first entered it days ago.

She shrugged.

Getting down on her knees again, she crawled around the entire room, including the area under her bed. No outlets. She sat back on her heels, wiping the sweat from her forehead.

“Bingo!”

She gritted her teeth and left the room, flying down the stairs to the front desk, slamming her palm on the bell again.

The old man wandered out. “Miss?”

She tapped a cadence on the counter with her fingernail. “I need to use a phone.”

“Of course.”

She sputtered. “What?”

“Of course you may use the phone. Just follow me.”

Once again she trailed behind the man down a hallway, through several doors and finally into a small office. Sitting on the desk was what Lauren assumed was a phone. One like she’d never seen before. Well, maybe in one of those old-fashioned movies. Very old fashioned.

“Is that the phone?” She pointed to the object.

“Yes, miss.” He turned and left her staring at the thing. She approached the desk and picked up the handle. There was a loud noise coming from it. There was no place to punch in numbers, but a disc that she assumed was for her to put her finger in and ‘dial’.

Wonderful. Now that she had a phone she had no idea who to call. Like any other normal, sane person in the twenty-first century, all her phone numbers were in her dead cell phone.

She picked up a large paperback book that said, “Phone Book.” All right, maybe that would help, give her instructions on how to use the thing. She flipped to the first page. It was a listing of people’s names with their addresses and phone numbers.

How odd. She ran her finger down the row and realized the entire row, hell, the entire page, actually, as she flipped the pages, the entire book had the same name: Daniel Abbott.

Desperate measures were called for. Using the odd dial thing, she called the number listed for Daniel Abbott. There were several rings in her ear. Hopefully someone would answer and she could have them summon the police. Oh, maybe not the police.

Hell, at this point she didn’t care.

Eventually, the ringing stopped and there were a few clicks in her ear. Then a chipper, familiar voice said, “Hi, this is Lauren, I’m sorry I missed your call. Please leave your name and number and if I feel like it, lol, I’ll call you back.”

She sucked in her breath at the sound of her own voice.

Chapter 8

The Attic

Lauren bolted up from a sound sleep at the screech of a woman’s cry again. She placed her hand on her chest to quell her thundering heart. Were she a braver person she would take her flashlight and find that woman.

She was not a brave person. Especially at night. Especially in this very strange hotel.

She collapsed back onto her pillow as her heart rate returned to normal. Hah! Normal. Nothing about her life had been normal for days now. Just for fun she got up and walked to the window. Sure enough, six feet of snow covered the entire area as far as she could see.

With a heavy sigh, she returned to bed and tossed and turned for a while, then fell into a troubled sleep.

A couple of hours later, she once more slammed her palm on the bell sitting on the front desk. She tapped her foot, determined to get answers.

The old man shuffled out. “Miss?”

“Yes. I have some questions.”

He nodded and stared at her.

She cleared her throat. “I hear a woman scream every night since I’ve been here. It’s always in the middle of the night.”

He continued to stare.

“Who is she?”

“Miss?”

Her jaw tightened so much she swore she would break a few teeth. “The woman,” she growled. “The woman who screams every night.”

“Breakfast is being served. We have your favorite today.”

Lauren shook her head. Maybe it would rattle her brains enough that she could make sense out of this mess. “I will begin again. Every night since I’ve been here, I’ve been awoken by the sound of a woman screaming. You can’t tell me you don’t hear it.”

“No, Miss. I don’t sleep here.”

Now that was news that surprised her. “Where do you sleep?”

“In my bed.”

She took a deep breath. “Where is your bed?”

“In my home.”

All right, she would play the game. After all, she had nothing else to do. “Where is your home?”

“Not far from here.”

Soon she would be the woman screaming, but she had a feeling if she started she would never stop until they carried her away in a straightjacket. At present, not a really bad idea.

“How do you get home with all the snow?”

“Miss?”

“The snow!”

“Yes, Miss?”

If he hadn’t been an old man, she would have slapped him up the side of the head. But then again, if she did it would probably bring the police or EMSA or some such thing.

Nah. She couldn’t do it. Even though she could put bullets in nasty Mr. Murphy, she couldn’t slap this man silly. She drew herself up and took a deep breath. “I am going to breakfast.”

“Yes, Miss. We have your favorite today.”

She stomped to the dining room and took her place at the table she’d been occupying since her arrival. The young server with the pigtails arrived at her table. “Coffee, Miss?”

She nodded.

“Should I bring your breakfast? It’s your favorite.”

How the hell would they know what her favorite breakfast was? She smiled up at the girl. “Yes. You may bring my breakfast.”

Tapping her fingernail on the table while she awaited the young server with the pig-tail's return, she thought again about her situation. She had scads of money sitting in her room, a new car sitting somewhere in the snow, and documentation that proved her to be Darlene Marshall, not Lauren Adams who was probably wanted for robbery and murder about now.

Yet, here she was in a place so bizarre, in circumstances unbelievably crazy, awaiting her breakfast. She looked around at the crowd. They all looked so normal. Yet when she tried to talk to them, she’d gotten no further than when she attempted to question the staff.

Everyone was happy. Everyone went about their day, eating, smiling, playing the stupidest game of Bingo she’d ever played, accepting six feet of snow in the desert, and ignoring the screams of a woman every night.

“Here you are, miss.”

Lauren attempted surprise, but didn’t bother when a plate of cheesy grits and a fried egg was set in front of her.

Another of her favorite breakfasts.

Once her meal was finished, she made another useless stroll to the window to see the six feet of snow there. Then she returned to her room, flopped down on the bed and cursed a blue streak.

After about fifteen minutes of a pity party, she sat up and decided to do an investigation. Now that it was light out, she would find her way to the attic where she was certain the screaming came from every night.

She tucked her gun into her jeans pocket, covered it with the light jacket she’d worn when she’d arrived, and set out on her mission.

A walk up and down the hallway revealed a door that, unlike the other doors she tried, was unlocked. As soon as she saw the stairs she knew she’d found the entrance to the attic.

With a bit of trepidation, she took a deep breath and climbed the stairs, stopping every two or three steps to listen for anyone up there. She arrived at the top and waved her hand around at the dust motes dancing in the sunlight.

Deafening silence.

She crept around the area, the size of about half the hotel. Nothing of interest, and certainly no woman suffering that would cause the screaming. Old furniture, stacks of newspapers, and dusty travel luggage from probably a hundred years ago gave the place a 'hoarders' appearance.

One chest drew her attention. Different from the others, this one didn’t have any dust on it. In fact, it looked fairly new. Slowly, she made her way toward it. Feeling stupid, she knocked on the lid.

It didn’t sound hollow and most likely contained clothing that was stored away. Her curiosity got the best of her, however, and she eased up the lid.

And screamed her head off.

Chapter 9

The Mirror

Lauren clamped her hands over her mouth, fighting dizziness. The grotesque adult-sized toy clown had popped up from the chest and now swayed like a drunken sailor while it stared at her, its carved features almost as frightening as its sudden appearance.

“Holy hell.” It was all her dry mouth could utter while attempting to settle down her heart rate. It was lucky she hadn’t shot the thing.

With shaky hands she pushed the ugly horror down and closed the lid. She hopped up, finding no need to continue her search. Perhaps other guests had wandered up here at night and opened the chest and that was where the screams came from.

And pigs can fly.

She returned the gun to her room and wandered downstairs to hear the woman with the candle announce Bingo was about to start. Again, everyone hurried inside as if it was the most fascinating part of their day. She huffed. It probably was.

She shrugged and decided to join the group. Might as well since there wasn’t anything else to do until the snow melted. Damn, was she starting to reconcile herself to waiting for snow in the desert in June to melt? Or was she losing her mind?

Either answer fit.

She settled across the table from a middle-aged woman who was practically jumping up and down with excitement. Lauren leaned over. “How long have you been here?”

The woman looked surprised. “I’m not sure. A while, I think.”

“Do you plan to leave?”

“Eventually, I guess. But it’s so very nice here, isn’t it? Although it would be very nice to have some wine with my dinner.”

“Wine?” Had she known they had wine she could have occupied herself drinking. “They don't have wine?”

The woman shook her head. “No. They said they hadn’t served it since, oh I forget what she said. Maybe ninety-sixty nine.”

Lauren slumped in her chair. No escape there, then.

A young girl tapped her on the shoulder. “You dropped this, Miss.” She held out a small rectangular mirror that was cracked in the middle.”

“Thank you, but that’s not mine.” She turned back to the Bingo board in front of her. Another tap on her shoulder. “What?”

“It dropped from your pocket.”

A huge sigh. “No, sweetie, I’m afraid you’re mistaken. It did not drop from my pocket. I don’t own that.” She looked at it again. “In fact, if I did own it I would toss it in the trash. It’s cracked.”

The girl turned and walked away.

The Bingo game continued as it had the last time she’d played. Everyone called Bingo at the same time. Game after game. Finally bored, Lauren left the room and sat on a chair in front of the window, admiring the snow. She shifted at something underneath her and pulled out the cracked mirror. How the hell did the damn thing get out here?

She placed it on the table next to her and rested her head against the cushion of the chair. Maybe she would take a nap. Heavens knew she hadn’t slept very well since she’d checked into this madhouse.

“Miss, can I ask you to return to your room for a little bit? We are about to clean the lobby here, and I’m afraid the smell would be too much.” One of the maids stood in front of her, a cloth of some kind and a spray bottle of liquid in her hand.

“Oh, yes, that’s fine.” She stood and stretched and climbed the stairs to her room. She opened the door with her key, and the room had again switched to the opposite side. The doors, furniture and her personal items occupying different places.

Still feeling drowsy, maybe a nap in her bed would be a good idea. She strolled over and sat, trying very hard not to think about her life. Truthfully, she did suffer a bit of remorse over killing Mr. Murphy, if only because if she got caught it was lifetime prison or maybe even execution.

Her wonderful plan had not quite turned out the way she’d expected. She laid down. “Ouch.” She reached behind her head and pulled out the mirror with the crack.

The damn hotel must be riddled with broken mirrors, and it was her poor luck to see them everywhere. She studied the item that was following her. It was small, cracked in the middle, with the outside framed in gold. Or fake gold.

She tossed it aside, amazed that she accepted the fact that a mirror was stalking her.

After a short nap, she returned to the lobby, checking the window to see if the snow had melted. Why was she not surprised that not even one inch of the snow had disappeared?

She slammed her hand down on the bell on the front desk. The old man lumbered out. “Miss?”

“I want to know when I can get out of here, and if you can’t answer my question, I demand to speak with someone who can.” There, that should get some action.

“Miss, the snow–”

“I know all about the snow. I don’t care. I will shovel my way out. You have a shovel don’t you?”

He shook his head, regarding her with a puzzled expression. “No, Miss. It never snows in the desert.”

She waved toward the lobby. “I know it doesn’t snow in the desert, but there is at least six feet of snow out there now. Or don’t you see it?”

He smiled. “I believe dinner is being served.”

She leaned over the counter, coming very close to grabbing the old gent by his collar. “I want to get out of here.”

When he merely continued to stare at her, she took a deep breath, leaned back and turned on her heel. She took the short walk to the dining room and sat down at her usual place.

And glanced down at the cracked, gold-edged mirror sitting on top of her neatly folded napkin.

Chapter 10

The Basement

Another day passed with her favorite meals placed before her without ordering them, the Bingo game that everyone was ecstatically thrilled over, and the woman’s scream in the middle of the night.

It was truly amazing what the human mind could accept.

The snow was still there. She would try to leave anyway, even if she had to slog through it all to reach sanity, but it was piled so high in front of both the front and back doors that she couldn’t even open them.

No one else seemed concerned. She was beginning to believe she had wandered into a mental hospital instead of a hotel. She hadn’t seen one cell phone nor one computer. Of course, she chided herself, if they didn’t have electricity–except for the refrigerator–there wouldn’t be any of those things anyway.

With a sigh she pushed herself away from the breakfast table, ignoring the chattering going on among the people headed to the Bingo game.

Maybe she would soothe herself by counting all her money again in anticipation of the day she would see melted snow and her car parked out front. She would race out the door and scream with the freedom of it.

The room had reverse itself again which only caused her to shrug. She got down on her knees and flipped back the bedspread hanging over the edge of the bed and sucked in a breath.

The suitcase with all the money that had been underneath the bed since she’d arrived was no longer there. She scrambled to her feet and, her heart thumping, glanced quickly around the room.

No suitcase.

Frantic now, she searched every inch of the room, the wardrobe, the dresser drawers, behind the drapes. She moved furniture and examined every nook and cranny in the room.

No money.

In full panic mode, she raced down the stairs and pounded on the desk bell. The old man shuffled out. “Miss?”

She took a deep breath. “I had a suitcase in my room that is no longer there.”

He stared at her.

Licking her dry lips, she continued, “I need to speak with the maid who cleaned my room last.”

Without speaking a word, the old man turned and lumbered away from the desk to wherever it was he’d been before she rang the bell. Hoping he was doing as she asked, she tapped her fingernail on the counter.

“Bingo!”

Do not scream. Do not scream. You will get out of here.

After five or so long minutes, which seemed like hours, he returned with one of the maids walking behind him. She stopped at the counter and smiled at Lauren. “Miss?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. Taking another deep breath, she said, “There was a suitcase in my room that’s been there since I arrived. I kept it under the bed. It is no longer there.”

“Miss?”

“Did you see it? Move it?”

With a totally blank stare, she shook her head.

Lauren ran her palm down her face. “I don’t mean to be accusatory, but the suitcase has been there every day since I’ve been here. It’s not there, now. You were the last one in the room.”

The lady holding the candle walked up to her from somewhere behind, and touched her softly on the shoulder, causing her to jump.

“Did you check the basement?”

Lauren turned. “No. I must admit I missed the basement in my search,” she snarled. “Why would it be there?”

All three employees only stared at her. Why the hell her suitcase would be in the basement was as ludicrous as the rest of her experience here. So with another shrug, she stormed off. She stopped and turned back to them. “I’m assuming the basement is downstairs?”

“Yes, miss,” all three said.

Before she made the trek to the basement, she returned to her room to retrieve her flashlight and a pocketknife from her satchel. She decided the gun was not the best choice since she was liable to kill someone in her panic.

The three employees were no longer about as she hurried past the front desk and marched to the end of the corridor. Amazingly enough, or perhaps not, the old wooden door in front of her had a sign that said, “Basement.”

She pulled the door open and automatically looked for a switch on the wall to light her way. Cursing at her stupidity, she clicked the flashlight and made her way down the stairs.

The smell was rank and made her eyes water. She shivered. If she wasn’t desperate to find her money she would turn around. Forging ahead, she made it to the bottom of the stairs.

She shined the light around the stone walls that leaked water, with mold and mildew growing under the window. She took a few steps and stopped at the sound of a groan. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she took a calming breath.

It didn’t help.

As if drawn by an invisible cord, she took a few steps closer to the pitiful whine. With the light guiding her, she turned a corner and sucked in a breath. A giant cage placed against the wall held a hairy, very large–thing. It looked like some kind of beast.

Her first thought was bigfoot. She edged closer and screamed when it reached out and grabbed her arm. No amount of tugging worked her arm free. Finally she pulled the knife out of her pocket and stabbed the thing.

Over and over.

It howled but released her. Her feet slipping on the moisture on the floor, she raced around the corner and up the stairs. She crashed through the door into the hotel corridor.

She raced around the corner and up the stairs,

She leaned against the door, sweat pouring down her back, her breathing erratic. The woman holding a candle approached her. “Did you find your suitcase, Miss?”

Chapter 11

The Prisoners

It took her a couple of hours in her room, door locked, window blinds drawn, and buried under the quilt to calm her heart down after her confrontation with the monster in the basement.

This place was hell. Or heaven. She hadn't decided yet. She was receiving excellent food of her favorite kind. She had a warm, comfortable, cheerful—albeit very odd, with the shifting back and forth—room. No one has presented her with a bill for the food or the room.

On the other hand, she was stuck in a hotel located in the desert with six feet of snow surrounding it. A woman screamed in the middle of the night. Every night. There was a beast caged in the basement. Her suitcase with the money was missing and everyone acted as though it was no matter.

The staff and other guests were pleasant but seemed like characters from The Stepford Wives. She sat up and hugged her knees. Maybe she needed to speak with the other guests. So far everyone just smiled at her and nodded. She had to find someone who would talk to her.

Determined to do something productive, she threw the quilt off and pushed her feet into her shoes. She would make it a combined search for her suitcase throughout the hotel and spending time talking to other, hopefully normal, people.

The lobby was filled with those who had finished breakfast and were no doubt awaiting the call for Bingo. She had to work fast if she was going to get anything done before the ridiculous game was announced.

She took a seat alongside an older couple. They looked fairly intelligent and bright-eyed.

Lauren offered a bright smile. "Good morning."

Both smiled back at her and nodded.

She cleared her throat and directed her comment to the woman. "I have seen you for a few days and I apologize for not introducing myself."

The woman smiled and nodded.

"My name is Darlene Marshall."

The woman smiled and nodded.

"And you are?"

"Mrs. Smith."

"It is very nice to meet you. And you as well, Mr. Smith." She looked over at the gentleman.

"My name is Mr. Jones."

"Oh. I'm sorry," she looked at Mrs. Smith, "I thought he was your husband."

"He is."

The three all sat silently staring at each other.

Lauren cleared her throat. "So, what brings you here? Are you traveling or just visiting the area?"

"We can't visit or travel. The snow, you know," Mrs. Smith said, her frown indicating she thought the question odd.

Not as odd as this freakin' place.

She tried again. "Don't you find it strange that there is six feet of snow surrounding the hotel in the middle of the desert in June that hasn't melted in days?"

They both shrugged.

Clearly, she was getting nowhere. She stood and smiled again. "It was nice talking to you."

They both nodded and Lauren moved on to a young man in distressed jeans and a t-shirt that said, 'Fuck You.' Well, maybe she'd get more information from a lesser respectable guest. She plopped down alongside him. "What's up?"

"He shrugged."

She stuck out her hand. "I'm Darlene Marshall."

He didn't return the shake, but merely nodded.

"What do you think of this place?" She waved her hand around.

He shrugged.

"How long have you been here?"

He shrugged.

"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"

He shrugged.

She fought the urge to grab him by his skinny shoulders and shake him. Instead, she knew whatever she intended to say or ask he would merely shrug. Uttering the rude curse on his t-shirt, she rose and stalked across the room at two men sitting next to each other.

It was obvious they were gay and in a relationship. She'd give this one more try and then search the hotel inch by inch for her money.

If she ever got out to spend it.

She took the soft, padded chair across from them. "Good morning. A pleasant day, isn't it?" She gestured to the window where the sun, again, shown brightly.

On the six feet of snow.

They smiled.

"My name is Darlene Marshall. What's yours?" God, she sounded like a six year old on the playground looking to make friends.

"David," the one man said.

"Michael," the other repeated right after him.

Well, this was promising. "How long have you been here?"

David looked at Michael and they grinned at each other. Then looked back at her as if waiting for her next question, even though they hadn't answered that one.

She tried a friendly smile. "I've been here about a week."

They grinned at each other.

She crossed her legs and slumped, trying to look relaxed thinking maybe she appeared too aggressive. "Do you think the snow will ever melt?"

They grinned at her.

F'ing hell, at least the older couple had spoken to her.

In for a penny, in for a pound. "Do you think we're prisoners?"

Before they could answer, or even grin at her, the lady holding the candle entered the room. "It's time for Bingo."

They all jumped up, showing more enthusiasm than she'd seen all morning. They group hurried past, crowding the entrance to the parlor. Lauren dropped her head in her hands and groaned.

Then in a fit of pique, she jumped up and shouted. "We're prisoners. Do you all understand that? We're prisoners! All the Bingo games in the world will never change that."

The group continued to shuffle forward, not paying her any attention. She stamped her foot like a two-year-old. "Prisoners, prisoners, prisoners. Do any of you hear me? We. Are. Prisoners."

The lady holding the candle walked up to her. "The game will soon begin, miss. Would you like to join us?"

Growling, Lauren turned and stomped from the room. Charging up the stairs, she was halfway up when she heard the familiar. "Bingo!"

Chapter 12

The Car

The minute she opened her eyes, Lauren knew something was different. She looked around her room.

All the furniture was still in the same place it had been when she'd gone to sleep. She glanced up. Mirror still above her. Small, broken mirror by her side. She winced. God, she looked awful.

But something in the air had changed.

With a combination of fear and excitement, she tossed the covers off and planted her feet on the floor. Slowly she rose and walked to the window and pulled the drape over.

Her jaw dropped. No snow.

The six feet of snow that had been there for a week was gone. As if it had never been there. No puddles of water, no lingering patches. Just the dry, acrid, desert as far as she could see.

Her heart thumped. She could leave!

Quickly, she washed her face, brushed her teeth and threw her clothes into her satchel. She had searched the hotel from top to bottom in the past couple of days and did not find the suitcase. Right now, she really, and truly did not care. If she could get out of this shit-show she'd go as far as the next town and get a job. Maybe find a position in a restaurant where they would feed her. She could save enough to get to California.

She stood at the door holding her purse and satchel and threw a big kiss to the room. "So long, sucker."

She'd expected the lobby to be full of people checking out. Just to be sure she didn't wish the snow to be gone so much that she imagined it, she dropped her belongings in front of the hotel desk and strode over to the window and pulled back the drapes.

No snow.

She grinned and marched back to the desk, pounding on the small bell. After a few minutes the old man came lumbering out. "Miss?"

"I'm checking out. I'm afraid I have no money to pay, however, since my suitcase with my money has gone missing."

"Miss?"

"No money. Do you understand? I want to check out, but my money was either stolen, or something, so I have no way to pay."

"But miss, you checked out when you checked in."

She hesitated. "What? I was told when I tried to check in that I would check in when I checked out." God, she sounded like a loon. Taking a deep breath, she said, "Then I assume it's all good. If you will give me my bill, I will send you payment when I get a job."

"There is no bill, Miss."

"Better yet. Then I will be on my way." She bent to retrieve her things.

"Wait, Miss. You haven't had your favorite breakfast."

As much as she wanted to get out as fast as possible, she might or might not get a job in a restaurant, so it was probably a good idea to eat before she left. She smiled. Maybe she could ask them to pack her a lunch. As it was, she would most likely have to sleep in her car until she found a job.

"Fine." She headed to the dining room and was amazed to see it full. One would think everyone had cleared out now that the snow was gone. But all the familiar faces—and bodies—sat at their respective chairs and ate and chatted with one another. She merely shook her head and took her designated seat.

The young server with the pig-tails placed a serving of cheesy grits and eggs in front of her, along with a cup of coffee. Lauren nodded her thanks and dug in, her appetite hardy now that she knew she was getting out of this place.

She ate every bit of the food, wiped her mouth with a napkin, stood and grabbed her satchel and purse. With a great deal of enthusiasm, she walked out of the hotel and looked at the empty spot where all the cars that had been there when she'd arrived the week before were gone.

Including hers.

What the f'ing hell!

She marched back into the hotel, pounded on the bell and waited, her foot tapping. After a few minutes the old man came out. "Miss?"

"Where is my car?"

"Miss?"

"My car. The car I arrived in. It's not outside. At least not in the front. Were the cars all moved when the snow started?" God she felt stupid talking to the man about snow in the desert, but she would say just about anything to get the hell out of Dodge.

He just stood there with a stupid look on his face and stared at her. Very well, she hadn't gone around the outside of the entire building yet, so she would do her own search.

She snatched up her things and stormed out the door. She walked the perimeter of the building. Three times. She stopped, sweat pouring down her face, her heart pounding, and blocking the sun from her eyes with her hand, looked as far as she could see in all directions.

No cars.

None.

Not one.

Yet all those people were still inside.

Back again to the front desk, she pounded on the bell. This time it took a full five minutes for the old man to appear. "Miss?"

"Look, I am trying to remain calm here, but everything about this hotel, my room, my meals," she waved her arm around, "and everyone here—guests as well as staff—have been weird. Snow. In the desert. In June. The furniture in my room changed around a few times, my well-hidden suitcase went missing, and a search of the hotel didn't produce it. A very large, very hairy 'whatever you call it' resides in a cage in the basement.

"A woman screams every night, and no one seems to notice. I get my favorite meals without asking for them." She leaned in closer. "Yet it appears I'm the only person in the place who finds it all odd." She pounded the desk with each word. "Where. The. Hell. Is. My. Car?"

"Bingo!"

Chapter 13

The Window

Frustration had turned to anger, anger had turned to rage, and rage had turned to tears.

She had nothing.

Hours later, after a very successful pity party that ended in a long nap, Lauren climbed off her bed and put a cold cloth on her eyes. They would not succeed. Whoever these people were and for whatever reason they'd come into her life, they would not succeed. They would not keep her down.

There was the main highway right in front of the hotel. She would hitch-hike to the next town. Hell, despite the heat, she'd walk if she had to.

Once again, she gathered her things, wished the room a good riddance, hopefully for the last time, and headed downstairs. She glanced out the window across the lobby as she hit the bottom stair. Still no snow. The dining room was still lively, and no one was at the front desk. Taking a deep breath, she made her way to the front door and pulled.

Nothing.

The door didn't open. She tried again.

Nothing.

She rested her forehead on the door and refused to dissolve into tears again. Straightening her shoulders, she walked to the front desk and gave the little bell a few taps. She would remain calm.

The old man came shuffling out. "Miss?"

"I need the key to the front door."

"Miss?"

"The front door. It's locked. I need the key to get out."

He frowned. "There is no key."

Okay, so maybe calm wouldn't work. She gritted her teeth. "It's locked."

He just stared at her.

"Fine. There's other doors. I'll use one of them."

He shrugged and lumbered back to wherever it was he stayed when he wasn't frustrating her.

The hotel had a total of seven doors. Not one of them opened. She pounded on the last one like a mad woman, screaming at the top of her voice.

Back to the front desk.

Pounding on the bell.

The old man returned. "Miss?"

"Where is the manager of the hotel?"

"Miss?"

"The manager. The person in charge." She waved at him. "Your boss."

He stared at her. She smacked her palm on the counter. "I want to see the manager. The owner. The boss."

He shrugged and wandered away. Just about the time she was ready to jump over the counter and drag the old man back, he returned with the woman holding the candle.

"Yes, Miss?" She spoke softly.

Lauren leaned in. "All the doors are locked."

"I don't think so."

Lauren tightened her jaw. "They are locked. I tried all of them. All seven. Not one of them opened, even though I left through the front door a few hours ago"

"Oh, they don't open much. But they're not locked."

She took a deep breath. "Then how do I get out?"

The woman holding the candle shrugged. "You can't." With those words, she turned and walked toward the room behind the counter.

Stunned, Lauren just stared at the woman holding the candle's back as she left. She then turned her attention to the old man.

He shrugged.

This wasn't possible. She raced back up the stairs to her room and flung the door open. She ran across the room and yanked off the drapes on the window next to the small desk. The dark blue brocade tumbled to the floor in a heap. She tried to open the window.

Stuck.

She pounded on the glass, then tried again.

Still stuck.

She took off her shoe and slammed it against the window.

It didn't break.

In rapid succession, she slammed everything not nailed to the floor against the window.

It didn't break.

As she rested her forehead on the glass, trying to catch her breath, she watched a car coming down the highway. It slowed as it reached the hotel and turned into the parking lot.

Lauren pounded on the window as a young woman got out. "Turn around! Get back into your car!" She screamed, "Don't come in here!"

The woman must have heard her because she looked up.

With horror, Lauren looked down into her own face staring back at her

She tugged on her hair, screaming like the woman she'd heard so many times in the middle of the night. "Punishment! This is my punishment!"

Leaning against the wall, she slid down, crossing her arms, hugging her knees to her chest.

This was her punishment for killing Mr. Murphy.

"Bingo!"

Epilogue

Six months later

Lauren took the last sip of coffee and wiped her mouth with her napkin, folding it carefully and laying it next to her empty plate which had held one of her favorite breakfasts. Slowly she rose from her seat and walked to the lobby.

She nodded at the young server with the pig-tails, the old man behind the counter, and the woman holding the candle. She took a seat in the lobby and glanced out the window.

More snow again. There must be someone new in the hotel.

"It's time for our Bingo game," the woman holding the candle said. Excited, Lauren hopped up and followed the crowd into the parlor. Maybe she would win today!

As she took her seat across from the older couple, she nodded at them and rubbed the area under her chin.

Her throat was so sore from screaming in the middle of the night every night.

Thanks for reading this Friday the 13th Story!

If you enjoyed it, considering leaving a short review so other readers can enjoy the thrill.

Check out the Rest of the Friday the 13th Stories!

Last Train Out by DJ FitzSimons

Deadly Illusions by Anna Kittrell

The New Guy by Dex Rivers

A Gentleman from the Darkness by Mark Edward Jones

Thirteen Past Midnight by Stephen B. King

How to Trap a Soul by Tamrie Foxtail

End of the Road by Peggy McKenzie

The Last Wife by Kyrsta Scott

Little Darlings by Alicia Dean

13 Sessions by Christopher Farris

Skadegamutc by Diane L. Kowalyshyn

Witch Ever Way You Go by Robert Herold

For more mysteries and thrills,
check out In the Still of the Night.

It was supposed to be just another overnight shift at the zoo where Holly McCabe worked…until she discovered something more dangerous than lions and tigers lurked in the darkness.

Holly McCabe works the overnight shift at the local zoo. She likes the peace and quiet but never forgets that the only thing separating her from the dangerous animals surrounding her is a fence, a moat, or a sheet of unbreakable glass.

What Holly doesn’t know is that on this night, a greater threat lurks in the darkness at the zoo. Someone who has revenge in mind. Someone who wants to kill her. But first, like the great cats on display at the zoo, he will play with her.

Available on Amazon/Kindle Unlimited

About the Author

USA Today bestselling author, Callie Hutton, has penned more than 55 historical romance and cozy mystery books. She lives in Oklahoma with her very close and lively family, which includes her twin grandsons, affectionately known as “The Twinadoes.”

Callie loves to hear from readers. Contact her directly at calliehutton11@gmail.com or find her online at www.calliehutton.com.

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