The Last Motel Page 13

  The trees were being thrown about like they were nothing but twigs. Thunder grumbled through the night.

  “Come on,” he whispered. He fogged up the glass, so he wiped it clean with his sleeve.

  All he wanted was to see another stroke of lightning.

  Ever since he was a boy, Wayne loved the look and sound of a storm. It excited him. Especially the lightning. He loved to lie in bed and listen to the storm. But whenever there was lightning, he just had to see it. No matter what time of night it was, he would jump out of bed and stare out at the wonder of nature.

  Even now he could feel his heart thumping.

  Any moment now...

  In a flash of brilliant white, forks of lightning blazed across the night sky.

  And that’s when he saw it.

  “What the...?” he muttered.

  The lightning had only lasted for a short time. It was finished now, but it had given Wayne enough time to see it clearly.

  He was astounded. Wayne shook his head in disbelief. He closed the curtains and stood in the dark bathroom, smiling.

  He had seen two men, out in the storm, standing at the rear of the car. They had a body on the ground, and were struggling to pick it up. In this weather, it would be difficult; Wayne knew from past attempts.

  When he had eventually recovered from the shock, he left the bathroom, shoving the knife into his right jacket pocket as he walked over to the boy.

  “I’m going to be gone for a while,” Wayne told him. “Something, well, quite unbelievable has come up.”

  The boy stared up at Wayne.

  “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make sure you’re not going to get loose. How are you going to walk, anyway?” Wayne laughed. “Now, we have to secure those restraints, and put a hold on the gag.” He grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back.”

  He walked off to find a tie for the gag.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “Be careful,” Madge called from the doorway.

  “I will,” Morrie called back, his voice lost in all the wind and rain.

  He watched Madge close the office door, then he turned around and headed for his cabin.

  He hurried along the muddy ground, the hood from his jacket covering his head, which occasionally dropped down over his eyes from the blustery winds.

  He glanced over at the other cabins, and noticed that the one next to theirs, where the two men were staying, was in darkness. The one farther along, the father and son, had a flicker of light that he could see through the gaps in the curtain.

  Must still be up, he thought.

  Being extra careful not to slip over, Morrie walked as fast as he could towards their cabin. The rain felt especially hard as it pelted down on his jacket.

  He made it to the cabin and rushed inside.

  Judy, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, jumped when he came in. “You scared me,” she said, standing up to greet him. She was holding a cigarette in her hand.

  “It’s terrible out there,” he said. He flipped the hood off and shook the rain from his jacket.

  “You were gone awhile,” Judy said.

  Morrie smiled, and shrugged. “We had another chat. She sure likes to talk that woman.”

  Judy nodded. “Most old women are like that. I bet she gets lonely out here all by herself.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” Morrie said. His face was burning, despite the storm outside.

  “So it’s all settled? You paid?”

  “Sure have. We’re ready to go.”

  He saw relief in Judy’s eyes. “I was starting to get worried. I thought she might have heard about us and called the police.”

  Morrie shook his head. “She doesn’t know. Besides, we’ll be out of here soon.”

  Judy went over to the sink and threw in the cigarette butt. “You know, that woman probably won’t even be able to hear our car at all in this storm.”

  “I never thought of that,” Morrie said.

  She walked over and put her arms around him. “That’s quite a storm out there. You will be okay driving, won’t you?”

  Morrie nodded. “I’ve driven plenty of times in this kind of weather. Don’t worry.”

  He kissed her sharply on the forehead.

  “How’s your migraine?”

  “It’s still there,” Morrie said. Which was true. It was, but only faintly.

  “I wish we had something. I don’t think we packed any aspirin, though.”

  Morrie shrugged. “I can handle it.”

  Judy let go and went over to her two bags. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

  Morrie nodded. “Can you give me a smoke?”

  Judy winced. “I just finished the last one. I smoked at least a dozen waiting for you to come back.”

  Morrie groaned. “I can’t live without my smokes. Never should’ve sold the other pack to those guys.”

  Judy picked up the bags. “We can buy some at a petrol station on the way. Come on, let’s go.”

  Morrie shook his head. “I’d rather not stop at any towns. I want to keep driving all night. Besides, I really need a cigarette. Now!”

  Judy rolled her eyes and placed down the bags. “If you need one that badly, go next door and see if they have any left.”

  “They’re asleep,” Morrie said.

  “Madge might have some.”

  “She doesn’t smoke,” Morrie said. He actually didn’t know if she did or not. He just didn’t want to see her again if he could help it. It would be too hard for the both of them.

  He suddenly remembered. “I saw a light on in the cabin second one down.”

  “The two fags?” Judy said.

  “They happen to be father and son,” Morrie corrected. “The father might be a smoker.”

  “Great,” Judy said. “Hurry up.” She sat back down on the bed.

  Morrie headed for the bathroom.

  “Where are you going?” Judy said.

  “Where does it look like? I have to take a leak first. I’m busting. It must be all that whisky I drank.”

  Judy sighed. “Are we ever gonna leave this place?” she muttered.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  “Christ he’s heavy,” Al hissed over the noise of the rain and thunder.

  Eddy, who was grappling at the body’s waist, nodded. “And fucking slippery. Told you this damn storm was gonna make carrying him near impossible.”

  “You’re a pain in the arse, Jeffrey,” Al said.

  “Hey, this ain’t his fault.”

  “I was only joking,” Al said.

  All of a sudden Eddy lost his footing, and slipped over on the muddy grass. He landed with a grunt on the wet ground, dropping his hold on Jeffrey.

  “Hey, you okay?” Al called. He quickly let Jeffery’s legs drop, then hurried around.

  Eddy was lying on his back, the rain pounding in his face. “Poor Jeff,” he said. “I bet that hurt.” He chuckled.

  “Get up,” Al said, extending his arm.

  Eddy took hold and was pulled up onto his feet. “Thanks,” he said.

  “Look at you. You’re covered in mud.”

  “No shit,” Eddy said. He wiped the mud from around his mouth and eyes. “It’ll be your turn next.”

  Al huffed. “I don’t think so.”

  “How’s your gut?” Eddy asked.

  “You know, I haven’t even noticed it. Been too preoccupied with old Jeffrey. But now you mention it, it still feels a bit queasy.”

  Eddy let out a long sigh, gazing down at the soggy corpse. “Let’s give it another go. We have to get him up there.”

  “What does it matter?” Al said with a shrug. “The lightning will probably kill us anyway.”

  “Yeah, wouldn’t that be a great piece of irony. After hauling our arses all the way up to the gorge, throwing the body into the chasm, finally free of any worries, we get hit by lightning.”

  The sky erupted in a blaze of light.

  “Speak of the devil,” Al said

  Grate
ful that they weren’t hit, they breathed sighs of relief.

  “You wanna swap ends?” Al asked.

  “Nah, won’t make much difference.”

  They walked over to the body and picked up their respective ends. Al grabbed the boy’s ankles and waited while Eddy placed his hands under the boy’s armpits. Al looked at Eddy and nodded.

  Eddy nodded back. “Lift,” he called. This time he didn’t fall over.

  With a lot of grunting, they managed to stand up straight, holding the body at waist height.

  “You boys need a hand?”

  Jeffrey fell to the ground with a thud.

  Al whirled around.

  Eddy fumbled with his jacket and jumper. He had a hard time taking a firm grasp on the handle of the gun. His hands were too slippery.

  “Stay where you are,” Al shouted. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Relax,” the man called out. “I’m here to help.”

  Eddy couldn’t see the man properly – he was merely a dim figure near the back wall of the cabin. He finally got a grip on the gun and pulled it out. He aimed it in the direction of the figure, his arms extended, just like he had practised in the room. “I’ve got a gun,” he spat out. He was annoyed, since his voice came out weaker than he had wanted.

  “Whoa there, partner. Put the gun down.”

  “Tell us who you are,” Al said.

  “My name is Wayne Lanceford. I’m staying in the cabin next to yours.”

  “What the hell do you want? And how did you know we were out here?” This time Eddy’s voice came out strong.

  “Can you please put the gun away? It’s making me very nervous.”

  Eddy lowered his aim. “Okay, now talk.” He joined Al, who was marginally closer to the man.

  “I was watching the storm from the bathroom window when, during a flash of lightning, I saw you guys out here. You looked like you needed a hand.”

  “Bullshit,” Al said.

  “It’s the truth. Hey, I’ve done time in jail, I’m not exactly what you would call a model citizen.”

  “For what?” Eddy asked, feeling a bit more relaxed.

  “Assault. Armed robbery.”

  “No shit,” Al said. “So that’s supposed to make you our buddy? So you’ve done time, doesn’t mean you’re not gonna call the cops.”

  “As a matter of fact, it does. I’m supposed to be on parole, but I’ve skipped the state. I’m from Western Australia, and I’ve got my son with me. I’m not allowed to see him, you see, but I’ve, well, kidnapped him.” He gave a small chuckle. “Well, kidnapped isn’t exactly the right word; he wanted to come with me. Missed his old man, I guess.”

  “How do we know you’re telling us the truth?” Al said.

  “You don’t. You have my word, though.”

  “I don’t know,” Eddy said. “You could be a cop for all we know.”

  Wayne laughed. “You really think so? You think I wouldn’t have arrested you already, or had my gun out? Or even called for backup? Like I said, I saw you two out here, and I thought that I needed to help out. I’m not going to the cops. Hell, they’re probably looking for me.”

  “And you’re not even a bit concerned that we have a dead body lying on the ground?” Eddy still kept a firm grip on the revolver.

  “Yeah, what happened?”

  “Don’t tell him,” Al breathed.

  “Can I come closer?” Wayne asked. “I haven’t got a gun or any weapons.”

  Eddy raised the revolver. “Okay, but don’t make any sudden moves.”

  “Nice line,” Wayne laughed. “Just like in the movies.”

  Eddy watched as the figure moved forward. He came slowly, his hands up in the air. Away from the shadows of the cabin, Eddy could see Wayne more clearly.

  “What happened to your hand?” Al asked.

  Wayne looked up at his bandaged right hand. “Cut it. I was showing my son a few tricks with the Bowie knife that I learnt in jail.”

  “I thought you said you didn’t have any weapons?” Eddy said.

  “On me,” Wayne said. He stopped within metres of the two men. “Can I put my hands down?”

  “Sure,” Eddy said, still with the gun at stomach height. He could now see that Wayne was a large man. He reminded Eddy of that Morrie guy in the cabin next to theirs. Only this guy was slightly shorter, and more evenly weighted – he didn’t have the large beer gut that Morrie possessed.

  He stuck out his left hand. “You both know my name.”

  Eddy nodded and lowered the gun. “My name’s Eddy.” Wayne had a powerful grip

  After they had finished, Wayne extended his hand to Al.

  “You realise that if you are lying, we will shoot you.”

  “Jesus, Al,” Eddy said.

  “That’s okay. I understand. Trust me, though, Al. I’ve seen plenty of dead bodies in my time. Some were even caused by my two hands. It’s nothing I’m proud of, of course.”

  Al breathed in deeply, then shrugged. He shook Wayne’s hand.

  “Nice to meet you, Al.”

  Al let go first. He ran past the car and into the woods.

  “What’s the matter with him?”

  Eddy chuckled. “Got the runs. This whole situation is playing havoc with his gut.”

  “Don’t blame him,” Wayne said. “You guys could go to jail if you’re caught.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Eddy said.

  He saw Wayne look over his shoulder. “Nice car. What is it?”

  “Ah, Datsun Bluebird.”

  “Is it yours?”

  Eddy wasn’t sure whether or not to tell him the truth. He decided to wait until Al came back. “It’s mine,” he said. “Did that hurt?” Eddy pointed to Wayne’s bandaged hand.

  “Like hell. I was lucky I didn’t slice off my middle and ring fingers altogether.”

  “Really? Jesus, must’ve been deep.”

  “About as deep as you can get without them falling off.”

  “And you bandaged it yourself?”

  Wayne nodded. “Couldn’t go to the doctors. But I know how to do basic stitching. My son helped out as well.”

  “How old is your son?”

  “Eighteen. Name’s Simon. Handsome lad. Takes after his old man.”

  Eddy heard footsteps behind him. He turned around and saw Al. “Feel better?” he asked.

  Al looked at Wayne then at Eddy. “I suppose you told him?”

  “Don’t worry, I understand,” Wayne said.

  “Great. Now everyone knows.”

  “It’s no big deal,” Eddy told him.

  “Whatever. Let’s get on with this. Are we going to trust him?”

  Eddy was surprised with Al’s frankness.

  “You can trust me,” Wayne said. “You two might be interested to know that I’ve actually helped bury a few bodies over the years. Much like you two are doing. That’s why I came out to help.”

  “And were they ever found?” Al asked.

  “Some were. But no one was ever arrested for the murders.”

  “As you can see, we need all the help we can get,” Eddy said.

  “So I see,” Wayne said.

  “We didn’t kill him,” Al said abruptly.

  “That’s good to hear,” Wayne said. “But I already knew that. You two don’t look like murderers. Do you mind telling me how you came to have him, then?”

  Al looked over at Eddy. In the scarce light, with the rain beating against their faces, he nodded.

  “This isn’t our car,” Al began. “We stole it.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Morrie closed the cabin door, and with his head down, hurried over to the cabin that the father and son were staying in. He passed the darkened cabin of Eddy and his friend, wondered again why they had parked around the back, then was soon at the next cabin.

  He could still see a faint glimmer of light through the curtain.

  Please be a smoker, he thought.

  He stood by the door and knocked
on the hard wood panel. He waited for about ten seconds, and when there was no answer, knocked again, this time a little louder.

  Probably can’t hear me through all this wind and rain.

  He waited again, then rapped even harder.

  “Hurry up,” he muttered. He could only imagine what Judy would be mumbling to herself about him.

  What are they, both deaf?

  “Fuck,” he growled.

  He knocked again, slow and hard, ten times.

  Still no answer.

  He frowned.

  That’s strange.

  He had definitely seen a light on inside. He moved from the door and went over to the left window. He leaned in close, and through a small gap in the curtain, gazed into the room.

  Morrie felt his body and face go cold, and his stomach tightened.

  He needed to swallow, but his throat was too dry.

  The room was dark except for a two candle flames. The candles sat on the bedside table, and what Morrie saw in the flickering candlelight made his head spin. The boy was tied to the bed; his arms stretched above his head, with what looked like pillowcases. He was fully naked, and covered in blood.

  “Oh my God,” Morrie whined when he saw the bandages wrapped around the boy’s knees and feet.

  Morrie wasn’t sure if the boy was dead, since he had his head flat on the bed, and Morrie couldn’t tell from where he was standing if the boy was breathing.

  From the narrow gap, Morrie couldn’t see very much of the room. He moved his head a little to the left, and could just make out the other bed.

  Where’s the father? he wondered as he moved over to the right side window. There he peered into the room, where he could see the other bed and the bathroom. The door was open, and no light was on.

  Where is he?

  Morrie waited for about ten seconds before he was convinced that the father was not coming out of the bathroom. He didn’t seem to be in the cabin at all.

  Then it dawned on him. He was in too much shock to think with a clear head, so the realisation took longer to kick in. He wasn’t the boy’s father at all. How could a father do that to his own son?

  He hurried over to the left window again and looked in on the boy.

  Should I get Madge? Should I break down the door?

  He knew that every moment he wasted, the father, or whoever he was, was closer to returning.