Mariette And The Cowboy (Western Night Series 2) (54 page)

Unwholesome,
she thought while forcing herself to chew through the pastry,
but beats having to make dinner.

Just about to grab the TV remote, something immediately caught her attention; and object that was not in the room when she left this evening. Slowly, the woman walked back to the door, just close enough to notice a flat, white piece of paper lying on the floor.

So this is what almost tripped me,
she noticed, grabbing and lifting the object up to her face with her left hand.
A letter, of all things.
It has been a while since Mary saw one of those, let alone had it delivered to her.

After shoving the slice of pizza down her throat in a single gulp, the woman grabbed the envelope with both hands, turning it around in order to discern who it was from. Curiously, there was no return address.

Creepy,
was the first thing she could think of. Regardless, she was most certainly intrigued.

Oh well, let’s see what our secret admirer has to say.
Carefully, the woman tore off a small piece of the envelope, exposing its contents: something that looked like a ticket to some sort of rest resort, and a neatly folded white piece of paper. Written on this paper were but two words:

PLEASE COME.

Oooooooook.
Perplexed by this development, Mary turned her attention back to the ticket. It was nicely decorated, with printed leaves imposed over a black base. A set of archaic looking, golden letters spelled out the name of the resort: Wild Things.

Apparently, due to the post office’s lack of diligence in delivering the letter, the ticket was only good if redeemed by tomorrow night. If she was to have any hope of making use of it, the stripper would have to call in sick for tomorrow.

“Yeah, like I have the luxury to let that happen,” she said, letting both pieces of paper fall to the floor.

It might be for the best,
Mary concluded, walking away from the letter’s contents and toward her filthy chair.
Who knows what this might be.It might be a maniac of some sort,
she considered, having slowed her pace down,
an especially obsessed old stalker…

Then, she stopped in her tracks.
Or, it might be the change of pace I so desperately hoped for.
Slowly, the woman turned around, letting both pieces of paper enter her vision radius again.
Hell, be it good or bad, it MUST be something new.

Now showing more interest than she did for anything else in the previous week, Mary practically jumped over half of her small apartment. As she grabbed the ticket and held it in her right hand, the woman quickly rose, turning her gaze toward the only window in the room.

It’s a brand new day,
she concluded, looking into the bright-blue sky outside.
Let’s see what it has to offer.

Contrary to what it said on the ticket, finding the resort turned out to have been quite the task. Hidden as it was, deep within the forests of Colorado, quite a few stones had to be turned for Mary to find even a hint of the place’s existence.

A full five hours into the trip, and a whole lot of wrong turns later, a raggedy-looking old man finally directed her toward a narrow, muddy old road that led into a seemingly untouched part of the wild. Slowly, the old car advanced toward the assumed “Wild Things”, while an angry Mary kept cursing her decision to even consider this trip.

For a full hour she went on like that, practically hoping for another car to come from the other way so she would actually have something to be irritated about. Unsurprisingly, nothing like that happened, and the drive through the forest was uneventful. Had she been less frustrated, Mary might have actually enjoyed it.

By the time she found her way to the worn-out hut hat proudly displayed the resort’s name, engraved on a rusty old plate that stuck out from its roof, it was already noon. The place’s parking lot, sizeable enough to hold up to three regular vehicles, now accommodated hers.

Careful so as not to step on anything venomous, the woman walked out of her automobile, closing the door and locking it immediately afterward. Then, all while habitually turning her head left and right every couple of seconds, she approached the hut and knocked three times.

No response.
Slowly, but with greater force, Mary produced three more thuds with the clenched fist of her right hand, again provoking no reaction whatsoever.

Freaky.
For a second, the woman considered turning the handle and stepping inside herself, but her better judgment quickly prevented that course of action. Disappointed, she turned around, taking the first in a series of steps that she planned on taking toward her car.

Almost immediately, the door behind her opened, creaking horribly, as an unpleasant aroma of stale air filled her nostrils. “May I help you?” a voice soon followed, belonging to something that could only have been an old woman.

Not unlike a startled cat, Mary turned around in an instant, thinking herself ready to face whatever was in store. What lay in front of her, however, barely required any alertness whatsoever: a wrinkled old crone of an indeterminate age, sat behind a barely-standing wooden table, right in the middle of an almost completely empty, dust-covered room.

“No need to be so highly strung, darling,” the old woman’s speech was not unlike a badly damaged violin. “There is nothing in here but little old me.”

“So I see,” Mary slowly replied after having checked behind her for good measure.

“Pretty little thing,” the crone spoke again, her milky pair of eyes relentlessly staring into the stripper’s own pair of green ones. “What in the world are you looking for here?”

Slowly, the stripper unzipped her hand bag, pulling out both the ticket and the paper message with one hand. After displaying them both for the old woman to see, she finally spoke.

“I got these.”

“Ah,” the old lady answered, barely a second after the papers were presented. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” Deliberately, she moved one hand over the table, revealing something small and made of metal that dangled beneath it.
A key.

Still on her guard, Mary entered the hut, approaching the table soon thereafter. Having checked her left and right for anyone hiding within, she put the ticket on the table, and took the key from beneath the old woman’s hand.

Residence seven,
it said on the keychain. Turning to her left, the stripper observed the large map drawn on that wall. Having noticed this, the crone spoke.

“You don’t need that thing for navigation, dearie. It’s older than time itself,” apparently for her own pleasure, she interrupted her sentence with a brief cackle. “Leave this hut on foot and follow the road, ignoring three consecutive turns. Then, after you come across the fourth, take the winding path to your right. Your place will be at the end of that line.”

“Thank you,” Mary responded as she turned around, heading toward the cottage’s exit.

“Be careful out there, my sweet,” the crone spoke one more time, “if you find the wrong residence, I can’t guarantee… satisfaction.” Following the words, the door slammed shut almost immediately, snuffing out any sound that might have followed.

Standing outside of the old hut, a frustrated Mary weighed her options.
I can turn around and leave easily,
the thought cruised through her mind,
but then I won’t see what exactly this is all about.Furthermore, whoever mailed that invitation to me knows where I live, so it’s not like I’m exactly safe out there if the person has bad intentions…

For a brief moment, she considered knocking back on the door and giving the old woman a piece of her mind.
What the hell is her problem anyway? With all the horror movie routine and everything, it’s no wonder this place is in bad shape.

No problem,
Mary thought,
I’ll just head back to my crapmobile and –
Suddenly, she froze. The thought of going back to that apartment, that job, that way of life, without even checking this place out, frightened her more than anything else possibly could.

It’s noon,
the stripper reminded herself.
I can turn back at any time. Let’s make the most of this while I’m here.
With determination, she turned around, passing by the old but and following the only road that led deeper into the forest.

The way was long, but not entirely unpleasant. Between each possible turn, at least half an hour passed, if not more. Having been awake throughout the night, Mary was beginning to feel signs of fatigue. By the time she had found the fourth turn, the one that led to the right, all the woman could think about was a comfy bed.

Approximately two hours after she left the hut, Mary finally found what she was after: a small, but seemingly well-maintained outhouse, marked on the door with the number seven. Relieved, she practically ran toward the door, jamming the key into the mechanism and moving it aside like it was her worst enemy.

From what she could see, the place was clean but as plain as it could possibly be; aside from a bed for two, a small dining table, and a gas-powered light, there was nothing else.
Well, what can you do…
she thought, currently made happier with the sight of the bed than she would have been if the place had cable TV.

Having shut the door behind her and locked it tightly, the woman practically shed her clothes off her before jumping in-between the sheets. Exhausted as she was from both work and the trip, Mary fell asleep the moment her head touched the pillow.

Only marginally conscious of her surroundings, Mary forced herself to take on a seating position. Still groggy, she reached for her phone, only to learn that it was out of battery.

Brilliant,
the stripper thought, her hands fumbling through the darkness in search of the lamp.
Mary, old girl, you’ve done it again.
The charger was in her purse of course, but this place had no electricity to work with.
Why did I come here again?

Having found what she thought was the lamp, but with no knowledge on how to operate it, the woman tinkered with the thing for a bit before letting it drop onto the floor.
Useless as everything else in this dump, I see.

For several minutes she laid like that, hoping that the temporary high she experienced upon waking would pass and allow her to resume her slumber until it was bright enough to see. Expectedly, that didn’t happen.
Why did I have to sleep through the day?

Within an instant, however, Mary’s annoyance turned into outright terror, when the sound of something large and heavy scraping against the floor reached her ears. On the verge of panic, she prayed that she was merely hearing things.

That hope turned out to have been for naught though, for within less than ten seconds, she could hear the sound again. The blood almost froze in the woman’s veins when she realized that the presence seemed to be getting
closer.

Taking her next breath as slowly and silently as she was capable of, Mary closed her eyes, trying to remember the room’s layout.
A table, a bed and a lamp,
she formed the image within her mind, not exactly vividly, but clearly enough to work with.

I’ve let the key drop to the side of my bed,
she recalled.
If I could somehow get whoever is in here out of the picture for only a little while –
The source of the sound came closer again. This time, it couldn’t have been farther than three feet. Mary could feel herself about to break into a shiver.

No, no, you stupid old cow, don’t you dare chicken out now!
The lamp was there, right where she let it drop. Carefully, the woman let her left hand slide to the floor, feeling for it slowly while making as little noise as was possible.

Surprisingly, the first thing she stumbled upon was a small, metal object.
The key!

In response, the intruder moved again.  Most certainly, he was right next to her now.

Nothing to do but risk it all,
Mary concluded, her body numb from either fear or anticipation. Desperately, she swiped her left hand across the wooden floor, immediately grasping the first hard thing she could feel. Just as the attacker was about to go down on her, she grabbed the lamp with her other hand and immediately shoved it right where his head should have been.

To the woman’s shock, instead of skin, what she felt was fur.
What the hell is this!?

Regardless of what it was, the impact caused the thing to lumber backward a step or two. More on autopilot than relying on anything that resembled intent, the woman leapt over the base of her bed, grabbing the door’s handle as soon as it was within reach.

Just as she was about to shove the key inside, the door opened by itself, pulled as it was by her hand.
It was unlocked?
With no time or desire to dwell on the mystery, Mary immediately ran through, as a horrifying bellow echoed from the inside.

Nude and without any footwear, the first sensation the stripper could feel upon dashing out was that of pain, as numerous branches and thorns embedded themselves into her soft flesh.
Shrug it off,
she told herself, all while running through what little the moonlight let her see of the road.
If that bear catches me, this agony will be enjoyable by comparison.