"The Short Cut" Chpt 4: Bed Bugs

Tell me about a time when your character was scared to die. What happened and how did they get out of it?
If that is impossible because of your plot and character, give me a time when something either embarrassing or excessively funny happend.
Make me cringe with fear, blush, or laugh out loud for maximal points on this prompt.
Entry due by July 23, 2009; 11:59PM WDC time.

Since I expect this to be answered through narrative or dialog, you don't need to put anything in bold.
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But it couldn't be Ellie! Not with the dark hair and younger complexion...it just couldn't be! Not only that, but this girl had no "deep woods" accent! John ran his eyes all over the young lady as he bent down to grab his keys and wallet. The similarity between the two women was incredible.

"Of course I'm not Ellie, silly...Ellie's my sister...my older sister. My name's Elise. Most folks around here say I'm the prettiest one in the family. What do you think? By the way, you have such beautiful blue eyes."

At that point, Elise leaned forward on the counter, her breasts in an already revealing low-cut blouse becoming even more prominent. Just like her sister, Elise made eye contact with John and would not look away until she could gage his degree of interest. For John, it felt like a case of sexual deja vu. He wasn't - or couldn't afford to be - going down that road...again!

Jeez, what's with these people...Am I the only male - outside of Elwood - in this idiotic town? Even though Elise was hot - no doubt about that - John was determined to get a room, get some rest, and get on his way. As a result, he purposely ignored Elise's question about her beauty compared to her sister.

"It's nice to meet you Elise. You do look a lot like your sister. But, I'll tell ya...I am sooooo tired I can hardly stand up straight. If I could just get a room...."

Elise was clearly disappointed in the lack of a more enthusiastic response from John, but she apparently felt that now was not the time to belabor the issue.

"Sure, if you could just fill out this registration card real quick..."

John nodded in agreement, and quickly completed the registration, and returned the card to Elise, who quickly surveyed the card and spoke:

"Well, looks like you're pretty far from home, Mr. Phillips. What brings you out to this part of the country/"

"Fourteen....seven....one."

"What on earth does 14-7-1 mean?"

"Fourteen sales calls in seven cities means I save one job....mine! Our company - I'm a sales rep for an industrial coatings firm - has been hit pretty hard by the recession. For us, it's been more like a depression. My boss identified some regions where I might be able to drum up some new business. I have to be in Millersburg by tomorrow night to prepare for a sales presentation in Meadville on Monday morning. If we don't get some new business soon, more cuts will have to be made. Salesmen who aren't selling don't last too long."

"I'll bet your boss got mad when you told him you were taking this route."

"He doesn't know I took this route. In fact, nobody knows I took this route. I came this way because of an accident on the interstate. Trust me...I never planned on taking this route. This city isn't even on the crummy map."

John turned around slightly to look out the office door when he thought he heard a noise out near his car. He walked over to the door to look out around the parking lot. Suddenly, down at the motel unit furthest from the office, he saw the very same car he saw in the diner's parking lot earlier in the evening, which had later disappeared. While staring at the car, John didn't see Elise switch the cell phone, hidden down beneath the counter, from "speaker" to "off." Elise turned around and grabbed a key from a board that contained the room keys.

"I'm giving you the key to room number one - the first unit right next to the office here - so I'm close if you need me. In fact, blue eyes, if you 'need' me, just holler. I've got the 'graveyard shift' tonight so I'll be here until 6 in the morning. "

John looked at Elise and smiled.

"I hope I don't have to 'holler' for you."

"I'll bet you do. Sweet dreams."

John tried not to look at the seductive Elise as he took the key and headed toward his room, stopping briefly at his car to pick up his travel bag. He noticed that the other car was now missing again, but too exhausted to turn around and go back and question Elise about it, he placed the room key in the door lock and opened the door. Flipping the light switch, he quickly surveyed the little room which contained just the basics: phone, TV, small desk & chair, and double bed. The thing was, the room appeared very clean, as if it had just been cleaned recently. In fact, the rug appeared to have been just shampooed; it was still slightly damp in spots. The sink and bathroom checked out high in cleanliness, too. He was very impressed with his room; it was certainly more than he expected.

John stripped down to his shorts, washed up quickly and prepared for bed. As he washed his face in the sink, he noticed a purplish substance on the cold water handle come off on his hand as he turned the water off. Thinking it to most likely be some sort of cleaning solution, he rinsed it off of his hand and went over to his bed, falling straight backward onto the double. It wasn't the newest mattress in the world, but tonight it would do just fine, given his state of exhaustion.

It didn't take long for John to drift into a deep sleep, fantasizing about what might have been with Ellie and Elisa under more favorable circumstances. Maybe next time through town...

The screeching, static-laced sound of Lord-knows-what made John spring up in his bed like a shot. Immediately he realized that the television was on, but not on a channel that was receiving a signal, with the volume up at maximum level. The sound was "deafening." Half asleep - but heart racing a mile a minute - he scrambled in the
subdued light, created by the fuzzy screen on the TV, in search of the remote. Unable to locate the remote, he hopped out of bed and stumbled over to the TV and hit the power. That took care of the noise and the aggravating static sure enough, but it also plunged the room back into total darkness. Eyes still not yet re-accustomed to the dark, John tried to feel his way back to the night stand by his bed so he could locate the table lamp. He felt the back of the chair at the desk as he proceeded, and it was wet from something on it. As he sensed he was getting closer to the table light, his progress was interrupted by the most horrifying scream that John had ever heard in his life: a cry of unquestionable anguish that half-way through became somewhat muted, but still clearly audible and clearly un-holy. What do I DO? This was a level of fear that John had never experienced in all his life; for the first time ever, he was in a state of undeniable panic. Now thrashing wildly in an effort to locate the light, he knocked the table lamp over, breaking the bulb. he groped his way to the wall switch, which triggered the ceiling light. The sudden illumination revealed what John had already assumed: that someone had been in his room as he slept. That thought was interrupted by yet another tortured cry of desperation, which was cut short by a sickening thud that was followed by a eerie sense of eternal rest, a feeling John had never even realized existed within him.

John ran to the the phone on the desk to call the police. DEAD! No dial tone...nothing! His heart skipped a beat as another revelation came to pass: the wet stuff on the back of the chair he had touched in the darkness was the same purple goo that had been in Lester's eye sockets! John now was being overcome by an overwhelming urge to vomit. He was now trembling to a degree unknown before now. He staggered to the door to his unit to run outside for help. LOCKED! He pounded for a moment then ran to the window and drew the curtains to break out the window over the desk. There was now plywood over the window on the outside of the room. John picked up the desk chair and with all of his might, smashed it against the window. HIGH IMPACT PLASTIC! He continued another three or four times until the chair was but a web of splinters, some of which had caused cuts on John's hands and wrists.

Bleeding, fatigued, and terrified, John again went over to the door to the room. He began screaming for help. It was only a minute or so before he realized that the screaming was useless. He turned, slumped down, his back against the door; his tears now diluting the blood on his hands. John now looked skyward, blood dripping from his now-clasped hands. He mumbled under his breath, speaking words only audible to him and, he hoped, one other.

He was bargaining with God.

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Note to Octobersun: Just for grins, I wanted to work the name of the contest into the story as sort of a "signature" type of thing (I'm going to do something like this in any "larger"contest I enter as a way of leaving my mark). I hope my doing so doesn't bother you...
Thanks-
WordImperfect

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