Endurance

The hunter shrugged. “All kinda look the same. But if she was at the Rushmore, she probably got in some deep shit. I’ll come by later, we talk some more.”

If he did have information, Felix didn’t plan on leaving him out of his sight. He’d done that once before, and the guy wound up a thousand yard smear on Highway 39.

“I was planning on checking out tonight,” Felix lied. “If you have something to tell me, we could take a walk in the woods.”

The hunter shook his head. “Woods ain’t safe ‘round here.”

“How about we take a ride, then? Drive around for a bit?”

“Maybe. What’s your blood type?”

Felix blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Blood type. You know. Type A, type B, type O.”

What the hell kind of question is that?

Then he remembered the old drunk said something about blood types.

Was there a connection?

“I’m A. A positive.”

John sucked on his lower lip, then blew it out. “Okay. We can take a ride.”

The big man walked around the front of the truck, and Felix noted the large hunting knife strapped to his leg. When he climbed in, the cab bounced from his weight.

All of the sudden this seemed like a very bad idea.

“We drivin’ or what?”

Felix had to let go of the gun to turn the ignition. His initial feeling of hope was replaced by uneasiness. This guy was so big his head touched the ceiling.

“What’s your name?” Felix asked.

The hunter grunted. “I’m John.”

“Do you know where the Rushmore Inn is, John?”

“Not here. I’ll tell you when we’re moving.”

“Why? Are you afraid?”

John leaned over, his brown eyes slightly crossing. His breath was warm and smelled like decay. “Damn right I’m afraid. And you should be, too.” Then he smiled, revealing brown, crooked teeth and gums that looked like raw hamburger. “Y’all should be scared as hell.”

# # #

She has the dream. Again.

In it, the man has two heads and three arms. His second head is smaller, misshapen, with a mouth crammed full of crooked teeth.

He climbs on top of her, one head giggling, the other drooling.

Others watch.

Other monsters.

A man whose fingers are fused together, like flippers. The bushy unibrow dividing his oversized forehead makes him look Neanderthal. He has a tiny nose and tiny ears, out of proportion with his large face. He claps his flippers, applauding the show.

Another man with a pointed head, thin on the top and bulbous on the bottom, like an eggplant. He hops from foot to foot, anxiously awaiting his turn.

One man has a split down the middle of his face, as if someone hit him in the nose and mouth with an ax. He snorts through the combined nose/mouth opening, spit and snot spraying.

Another man, naked and disgustingly obese, is propped up in an old, rusty wheelchair. Instead of knees, he has tiny, baby feet attached to his thighs. His right arm is also no larger than a baby’s. It’s waving at her as he smiles.

There are others. Many others. Many that are even worse.

She doesn’t scream. They like it when she screams.

Instead, clenches her fists, her fingernails digging into her palms, her teeth biting her own tongue, willing herself to wake up.

Her eyes open wide.

The creatures are still there.

This isn’t a dream.

She’s been awake all along.

# # #

Letti Pillsbury glanced in the rearview mirror at her mother and daughter in the backseat, huddled over the videogame. It made her feel both happy and sad, and more than a little dishonest. But she and Florence had agreed not to tell Kelly until after the Iron Woman event.

One thing at a time.

She shifted her eyes back to the road, and then to the map. It wasn’t a real map. In fact, it looked like a photocopy of a hand drawing, and a poorly done one at that. Letti had called the inn yesterday and spoken to the female proprietor to get better directions.

“Ten point six miles southwest down 219 once you pass 55. The road isn’t marked, so use your odometer. It’s on the right. We’re so looking forward to having y’all.”

The odometer was creeping up on ten point five, but there was nothing out here but hills and forest, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to see as the sun went down. Letti questioned, not for the first time, her decision to stay this far away from the competition, instead of at the event hotel. But money was tight and would only get tighter, and when the Rushmore Inn brochure arrived in the mail, stating they’d won free rooms, she couldn’t pass it up. Letti didn’t even remember entering the contest, but apparently she’d checked some box while filling out the extensive paperwork for the competition. The inn was really out of the way, but even if it had the worst amenities in the history of bed and breakfasts, it was still a lifesaver.

Letti slowed down, squinting into the trees, looking for the road. At first, the endless forest and jutting mountains had taken her breath away with their beauty. But after hours of the spectacular view, she began to feel intimidated. Letti hoped the race course was clearly marked, because if one of them got lost in this wilderness, they’d be lost forever.

When the odometer hit the magic number, Letti rolled onto the narrow shoulder and coasted to a stop.

“Are we here?” Kelly said, poking her head up through the space in the front seats and giving JD a pat.

Letti checked the numbers again. Then she rechecked the map.

“According to this, yes. But there’s nothing here.”

“There.” Kelly pointed. “See the tire tracks?”

Letti followed her daughter’s finger, and saw two barely visible tracks, almost completely hidden by weeds, leading into the forest between a small gap in the trees.

“That’s not a road,” Florence said. “That’s not even a trail.”

“It matches up to the map. And look.”

Letti pointed to a tiny sign, hanging from a tree. It read RUSHMORE INN.

“Why would they paint the sign green?” Florence asked. “It blends into the trees. And it’s so small.”

Letti turned the wheel and pressed the gas.

“Letti, you can’t be serious. What if we get stuck?”

“We’re driving an Audi. It’s all-wheel drive.”

Florence clucked her tongue—something she did when she was displeased. “Let’s go back into town. I’m sure there are other rooms available. I’ll pay for it.”

Letti bristled at her mother’s words, and any doubts she had about this road vanished, replaced by anger. Pay for it? Now Letti was determined to see this through, even if they had to drive over a log jam to do it.