JACK KILBORN ~ ENDURANCE (16 page)

What if someone is in there?

JD barked. He didn’t sound very far.

“
JD!” she called again.

He barked once more.

Then he yelped.

The yelp was the deciding factor. Kelly had raised JD since he was a pup. Mom bought him right after Dad died, and Kelly had had quite enough of losing loved ones, thank you very much. If her dog was hurt, she had to go get him. No other way about it.

Kelly quickly put on her jogging pants and her gym shoes and stepped into the gap. It was just wide enough for her to walk normally, rather than sideways, though her shoulders did brush the walls. She moved quickly, her iPod bobbing up and down so she could alternate between watching her footing and looking ahead. The corridor smelled like mildew and dust, with notes of something else beneath it—something that reeked like really bad body odor.

The corridor ended at a right turn. Kelly paused. The iPod light wasn’t strong enough to illuminate more than a few feet.

“
JD?”

No answer.

I should go get Mom.

Then she heard another yelp. Closer this time.

“
I’m coming, JD!”

Kelly rounded the corner, picking up her pace. She held out her free hand and touched the wall, her fingers trailing along rough, unfinished wood, and stopped when she touched something that moved.

Kelly flashed the iPod light at the object. It was a small, square piece of plywood, swinging on a single nail like a picture frame. She touched the bottom and swivelled it upside down, revealing...

A
hole. It’s a hole in the wall.

The hole was perhaps the size of a quarter, and there was a faint light coming from it. Kelly’s finger probed the outside. She got ready to stick her finger in, then halted.

Bad idea. It could be a rat hole.

But what if it’s another secret door?

She poked the tip of her index finger inside, ready to pull it back if she felt anything sharp. Her finger went in to the first knuckle...

The second knuckle...

And then it touched something cold and flat.

Glass?

I guess I have to look.

The hole was high enough for Kelly to have to stand tippy-toed to see through it. She pressed her nose against the wall, the wood smelling really foul, and squinted into the opening.

Kelly saw a toilet. She gasped when she noticed the toilet seat had Lincoln’s face on it.

It’s the toilet in my room.

Kelly backed away from the peep hole, turning to run back to the room. This was bad. This was really bad. That creepy old lady was spying on them, and Kelly had to tell Mom and Grandma.

“
Help me.”

Kelly paused in mid-step. The voice belonged to a girl. A young girl, from the sound of it. Coming from the same direction she’d heard JD yelp.

“
Please help me. My name is Alice and I’m scared.”

Kelly peered over her shoulder, into the dark. She knew she couldn’t leave a little girl behind. Fighting panic, she managed to sound calm when she said, “Where are you, Alice?”

“
I’m here. There’s a doggy with me. He’s hurt.”

“
How is he hurt, Alice? What happened to my dog?”

“
He’s limping. His foot is all twisted up.”

JD cried out, a pitiful sound that made Kelly want to scream.

“
I’ll be right there, Alice,” she said, racing ahead, frantic with fear and adrenalin, coming to another turn, thinking about poor JD with his paw broken, and then coming to...

A dead end.

Kelly stared at the wall, wondering what to do next, and noticed another hanging square of plywood.

“
Alice?”

“
I’m stuck in here. Please help me.”

The voice was coming from directly behind the wall.

Kelly sidled up to the wall and stretched to look through the peep hole. She saw only darkness.

“
I can’t see you, Alice. Is my dog in there?”

JD yelped again.

Kelly pushed on the wall, but it didn’t budge.

“
You need to pull it,”
Alice said.

Kelly had no idea how to pull a flat wall forward, then decided to stick her finger in the hole and try tugging on that. She put it in carefully, gripped the side, and then...

“
Uhhhhn....”

The pain was so sudden, so shocking, that it literally took Kelly’s breath away. She tried to yell, but nothing came out, and at the same time she tried to free her finger from the hole and only succeeded in making the pain worse.

Something had her finger. Something sharp and tight that wouldn’t let go.

Kelly dropped her iPod. It landed face-up, its gel case working as advertised and absorbing the shock. In the dim light it emitted, Kelly could see that there was blood leaking down her hand. She pulled again, determined to rip her finger off if it would free her, but the agony made her cry out. Kelly beat against the wall with her fist, then kicked it, filling her lungs to unleash the mother of all screams.

Then she abruptly stopped when she heard something behind her in the corridor.

Is it JD? Please let it be my dog.

It wasn’t her dog.

“
I told a lie
,” Alice said, walking closer. “A bad lie.”

Kelly buried the scream, instead starting to cry. “You have to help me, Alice. My finger is stuck.”

“
My name isn’t Alice,” the approaching figure said. “It’s Grover.”

“
I don’t care what your name is,” Kelly said, anger joining up with her pain.

“
Alice was Theodore Roosevelt’s first daughter,” Grover said. “She had pretty hair.”

Then Grover stepped into the faint light of the iPod. He stood over six feet tall, and was wearing stained overalls and a faded plaid shirt. His eyes were tiny, too close together. His jaw was big, and it stuck out like Popeye’s, but his head got thinner toward the forehead, almost like a Halloween gourd. Perched crookedly on his head was a curly, blonde wig.

“
Do you think I have pretty hair?” the grown man said, still using the voice of a little girl. He touched one of the curls.

Then he yelped like a hurt dog.

Kelly began to scream, but Grover put a big, rough hand over her mouth and nose, holding it there and giggling
hehehehe
like a five-year old.

Kelly kicked and punched and struggled to take a breath.

But he wouldn’t let her.

# # #

Mal gripped Deb’s arm, first pushing her off balance, then steadying her. The darkness felt like a weight pressing down on Deb, threatening to push her into the earth.

“
Where is it?” he whispered.

“
Bushes,” Deb said.

She’d seen the deadly, gold eyes of the cougar a second ago, but they’d retreated into the black.

“
You sure?” Mal asked. “I don’t see anything.”

“
Smell that?”

Mal sniffed the air. “Rank.”

It was an
odor
Deb would never forget. “Big cat smell. Back up slowly. And let go of my arm—you’re gonna knock me over.”

Mal released her. Deb had no problem walking backwards in the Cheetah prosthetics on flat land, but the wooded terrain proved difficult. All she could think of was being batted around like a ball of yarn, each swipe of the cat’s hooked claws digging into her skin and sending her rolling across the ground. She had scars all over her body from such an experience. In a way, it was even worse than shattering her legs.

Deb was so worried about the mountain lion springing on her, she wasn’t paying close enough attention to her footing. Two steps later she was tipping backward, her arms pinwheeling to regain balance.

Mal caught her shoulders, held her steady until she could get her feet under her.

“
Thanks,” she managed.

“
You sure there’s a cougar?”

“
I’m sure.”

“
How sure?”

Deb didn’t like his doubt. She’d seen the lion’s eyes. Seen them as clearly as she was looking into Mal’s.

But then, Mal had been pretty sure their tire had been shot out, and he’d apparently been wrong there. So his questioning was no more than...

“
You must be Deborah Novachek, and that reporter fellow.”

The voice came from the same bushes Deb had seen the cat. It was a female voice, friendly enough.

“
You don’t happen to see a mountain lion around, do you?” Mal asked.

Deb frowned at him. Mal shrugged.

“
A mountain lion?” the woman said. “Heavens, no. Though they are known to hunt in these parts. Y’all had better come inside. I’m Eleanor Roosevelt, the owner of the inn.”

Eleanor stepped through the bushes, and Deb played the pen light across her. She was a large woman, and carried herself in a strong, sturdy way that belied her advanced age.

“
Nice to meet you, Eleanor,” Deb began. “Are you sure you—”

“
My goodness, young lady. What happened to your legs?”

Mal squeezed her shoulders a bit tighter, as if in reassurance. Deb shrugged him off.

“
I lost them in a climbing accident,” Deb said. “And I saw a mountain lion just a—”

“
Are you sick?” Eleanor interrupted. “We can’t allow you inside the Inn if you’re diseased.”

“
Rude much?” Mal asked.

Being impolite didn’t matter to Deb, especially with a cougar nearby. But now she began to question if she’d seen the cat at all. She took pride in her inner strength, but being in these mountains again brought back some pretty terrible memories. And since no cats seemed to be pouncing on them, perhaps she’d imagined those eyes. The smell might have been something else. A badger, maybe.

“
I compete in triathlons,” Deb said, her eyes darting around the woods, looking for movement. “And I haven’t had so much as a cold in over five years.”

The large woman cocked her head to the side, as if considering her. Then her face split into a big-toothed smile. “Well, then, let’s get you people inside. Welcome to the Rushmore Inn.”

Mal picked up the bags he’d dropped, and Deb followed him through the bushes, one eye on her footing and the other on the forest. The animal smell was gone.

Once past the bushes, a clearing opened up in the woods, revealing a massive, three story log house. There weren’t any lights on the outside, and no light coming through any of the shuttered windows. It was as dark and quiet as the mountains surrounding them.

“
Welcome to the Rushmore Inn,” Eleanor said again, pulling open the door and holding it while they entered.

The smell inside wasn’t bad, exactly, but it wasn’t pleasant. Sort of a sour, antiseptic odor mingled with sandalwood incense. But unique as that was, it paled compared to the decor.

“
As you can plainly see,” Eleanor Roosevelt said, closing and locking the door behind them, “I greatly admire our nation’s leaders. They’re such important men. You might say I’m a bit obsessed with the subject.”

“
Yes,” Mal nodded, looking around. “You might say that.”

He gave Deb a sideways glance, his smirk barely concealed.

“
My grandfather was second cousin to Theodore Roosevelt. There’s presidential blood in my family. It’s a fact I’m particularly proud of, though it isn’t without its…
challenges
.”

Like turning your house into a flea market,
Deb thought. But instead of speaking it aloud, she said, “Mrs. Roosevelt, my car is out on the road. It seems we’ve gotten a flat tire.”

Eleanor clucked her tongue. “You’d be surprised how often that happens around here. In the morning we can call the auto repair shop.”

“
I need to be at the hotel early to...”

“
My son will take you,” Eleanor interrupted. “He has a truck for your bike.”

“
Already shipped the bike ahead. But the ride would be terrific.”

“
He’ll be leaving early, so be sure to get some rest tonight. Might not be a bad idea to go straight to bed.”

“
An excellent suggestion,” Mal said, raising his eyebrows at Deb.

She ignored him. “Is there any chance we could get something to eat?” Deb asked. “We missed dinner on the ride up.”

“
The kitchen is back there, down the hall. The icebox is stocked, and you’re welcome to help yourselves. I made cupcakes earlier today, and there are a few left. But let me show you to your rooms, first.”

Eleanor plodded up the wooden staircase. Deb wasn’t a big fan of stairs, but the iron railing looked solid. She followed Mal up, stopping only to admire his trim backside as they ascended. Deb found it amusing that he continued to flirt despite several rebuffs. For a millisecond she entertained what it might be like to date Mal. The fantasy disintegrated when she caught the toe of her Cheetah prosthetic on the top stair. Luckily, she managed to make it to the second floor without a face-plant.