Page 15 of The Stranger
“Just passing through on our way to St. Louis,” Walker answers before I can. “They have the interstate closed down on the way to Marion, so we had to pull off. We weren’t sure there was anything out here, honestly.”
“That’s what happened to the others,” he says, pointing at nothing. “Storm’s turning out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Ain’t seen business like this in a decade or more.”
Walker stares around the room, his eyes traveling over the mounted deer heads and a framed photograph of the man and a woman in front of the motel. “Yeah, I imagine it’s slow around here.”
“Wasn’t always this way. We used to be fully booked most nights. But now, well, everything’s moved to the city. The mines are shutting down left and right. People can’t afford to stay here, and they’re taking their businesses with ’em. The people who run this town are more worried about padding their pockets than helping the people who elected them.” The man stops talking and taps his mouse, waiting for the computer to wake. “You said one room or two?”
Walker looks at me. “Are you planning on staying or…?”
“No,” I say quickly. “My friend will come.” I have no idea if that’s true, but I hope so. I need to get out of here.
I’m not sure if it’s just my imagination, but I could swear his face falls as I say it. Without missing a beat, though, he turns to the man, holding up a finger. “Just one for now. That may change depending on how things go.”
The man nods, typing something into the computer. “I’ll put you in room six, then. Room five is open next to it if you end up needing it. It’s a hundred and nine a night.” When Walker holds out a credit card, the man waves it away with a grim look. “Cash only, I’m afraid. The storm has wiped our whole system out.”
“Oh, okay. No problem.” Walker pulls out his wallet and hands him two hundred-dollar bills. I can’t help noticing he has a lot of cash on him.
The man collects his change from the drawer, counting it back to him, then grabs an actual metal key from the wall behind him and hands it over. “If you lose this, it’s fifty bucks to replace it, so don’t lose it.”
Walker takes the key, tapping it to his forehead with a salute. “You got it.”
“Coffee’s in the rooms, but you may want to grab some extra if you’re a big drinker.” He points to a small table with packs of coffee, cream, and sugar to the right of the desk. “Should be plenty of towels, but let me know if you need more.” He sighs, scratching his head. “What am I forgetting here? Ah, right. Um, TVs are hit or miss tonight with the storm, so don’t come tellin’ me. You ain’t tellin’ me nothin’ I don’t know. There’s an extra blanket in the closet. Might be musty. Hasn’t been washed since the room was last used, which was a while ago. But it’s clean. No delivery around here, especially not in this. There’s a Dollar General up the road, but no guarantees they haven’t closed. Twenty minutes to a restaurant, so I hope ya ain’t hungry. Hm…I think that’s it. If you need anything else, just ring the bell. My name’s Ernest. Ernie. Sometimes I’m asleep, so you might have to ring it a few times.”
“Is it just you here?” Walker asks. “Running the place, I mean.”
The man looks shocked by the question, as if he’s never been asked before. Then, his expression warms slightly, and he leans forward on the counter. “My wife and I bought this place in the late seventies. Different time. Different world. She got sick around a decade ago. She’s still here, still fighting, but the motel’s on me now. You’ll see her out here in the morning for breakfast if you come in. We have cereal, nothing special, but she likes seeing the guests. Always has. We live in the back.” He juts a thumb over his shoulder. “I always think about shutting it down, getting us a little apartment in town or something, but she loves it here. So, I figure, as long as she’s with me, I’ll keep this place going for nights like this. But most days, it’s just the two of us around here.”
“Wow,” Walker says. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It must be hard.”
“Shit happens, kid,” the man says with a shrug. “Have a nice night. Checkout’s around noon. I’ll have cereal and milk out on the table around six. Might make up a pot of coffee, too, if you’d like.” He pauses long enough for Walker to nod. “Coffee it is, then. Let me know if you need anything or decide to stay longer. This area out here will be one of the last to get plowed. City ain’t worried about us.”
“That’s it? Do you need my ID or something?” Walker’s brows draw down. “Or a credit card to put on file? Shouldn’t I sign something?”
The man smirks as if it’s a funny concept. “Like I said, the storm knocked our system out, and our copier’s been out for a few months, so I guess we’re working on the honor system tonight, kids. That okay?”
Walker nods. “Yeah, of course.”
“Just don’t leave me hanging, okay? And don’t lose that key.” He wags a finger at us.
“No, sir,” Walker says, waving at the man as he turns to walk away and putting a hand out to let me lead us out the door. At the car, he goes to the back seat and pulls out a suitcase before leading us toward room six.
The room is bigger than I expected it to be, with two beds against the wall to our right and an old box television on the dresser to our left. The room smells stale, and when Walker places his suitcase on the bed, dust particles fly through the air.
“I’m going to take a shower,” he says, running a hand over his eyes sleepily. “Give you some space to call your friend. Do you need anything?”
“I’m good,” I say, crossing the room to approach the tan phone on the nightstand between the beds. Jess’s phone number is one of the only ones I have memorized, and I already know she’s not going to answer an unknown number. I just have to hope she sees the voicemail I’ll leave and calls back soon.
Walker disappears into the bathroom, and seconds later, I hear the shower. Then, with a breath, I lift the phone to my ear and wait for the dial tone.
Nothing.
I look at the phone, then press it to my ear again. Come on. Come on. Come on.
Nothing happens.
I press the switchhook twice, staring at the phone in horror.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.