Pitch

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The Renner Hotel used to be our small town’s one claim to fame. Back in the sixties or seventies (I never paid much attention in history) the land it currently sat on was purchased by a banker from New York City. With dreams of creating a world class hotel he dumped millions of dollars into building a state of the art two hundred room facility. Within fifteen years the hotel was bankrupt and had sat abandoned ever since. It seemed rich people liked their hotels in New York just fine and saw no reason to venture to a little hick town to spend their hard earned money, while people in the town had no reason to stay in a hotel when they lived five miles down the road.

“There are going to be rats and cockroaches and rats,” I predicted as we trudged across the enormous cornfield that separated the hotel from the town. “Great big rats with sharp teeth and long whiskers that will pounce on us in our sleep and rip our throats open.”

“If you’re trying to scare me it’s not working,” Travis said mildly.

I glared at him. “Why not? You hate rats.”

“I would rather face down a hundred rats than one of those things from last night.”

“A hundred rats?” My nose wrinkled. “That’s a lot of rats. That many rats would definitely kill you. They would crawl all over you and chew out your eyeballs and climb in your mouth -”

“Lola, that is enough,” Dad said sharply.

I stopped talking. Dad wasn’t doing so great and I didn’t want to raise his stress level any higher. Being forced to see his friends and neighbors dead in the street, their bodies flayed open and reddening in the sun like cooked lobsters, had done that for me.

We had stayed out of the houses as much as we could when we searched the town for supplies, but there had been no avoiding the bodies. They were everywhere.

I had still been carrying some flicker of hope that we weren’t the only ones who survived the night, but that had been quickly extinguished. If anyone was still alive besides the three of us they were long gone.

There was one more reason for Dad’s mounting stress. It was just past six o’clock. Under normal circumstances this was when he would come home, slump on the couch, and pop open his first of many beers. I knew the fine line of perspiration gleaming high on his forehead wasn’t just from walking. I should have saved a couple beers. It was stupid of me not too. Would I rather be with someone who was slightly drunk or someone who was going through the throes of withdrawal? I still remembered – vividly – the one time Dad had tried to stop drinking cold turkey. It was not something I ever wanted to witness again.

“I have to go back,” I said.

“What?” Dad and Travis said in unison.

“I, uh, forgot something.”

“Lola the sun is going to start going down in one hour,” said Travis. “We don’t know when they can come out. They might not have to wait for it to be completely dark.”

“And we have everything we could possibly need,” Dad added, gesturing to the small mountain of supplies we had piled into two wheelbarrows.

I met his gaze. “I forgot one thing. It won’t take long. I know exactly where it is.”

His eyes immediately cut to the ground and I knew that he knew what I was going back for. “Lola, I -”

“Don’t.” I held up my hand. “It’s fine Dad. I’ll be quick. I promise.”

I could tell he wanted to tell me not to go. To forget the beer. But he couldn’t force the words out.

“What is going on?” Travis wondered out loud.

“None of your beeswax,” I said, punching him on the shoulder.

“Ow that hurt. Why do you always do that?”

“I’ll be back before dark. Where will you be?” I asked.

Still not looking up, Dad mumbled, “Room two fifteen. Your, ah, mother and I stayed there. Once. It’s a nice room.”

Surprise lifted my eyebrows as high as they would go. “You did? When?”

“A long time ago. Before you and your sister were born.” When we were happy.

He didn’t say the words out loud. Of course not. But they lingered between us just the same, a silent reminder that my sister and I had wrecked our parent’s marriage.

“Room two fifteen.” I managed a tight smile. “Got it.”

Travis grabbed my arm right above the wrist. “Lola, this isn’t a good idea. Whatever you forgot we can get tomorrow.”

I shrugged him off. “I’ll be fine.” And then, in a quieter voice only he could hear I said, “Look after my dad, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered back.

Good old dependable Travis. Impulsively I leaned towards him and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek. His mouth dropped open and his eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything. Turning, I let the corn stalks swallow me up.

The only beer store in town was on the West side, opposite of the Renner Hotel. I walked briskly, splitting my attention between the sidewalk in front of me and the sun hovering just above the tree line.

I should have taken Travis’s watch to keep track of the time before I left. Another stupid mistake. How many mistakes did you get before you ran out? It couldn’t be many more. I was, as they say, skating on very thin ice.

I reached Main Street and automatically turned right. Only five more blocks and I would be at Bub’s Beer and Liquor. This wouldn’t be the first time I’d gotten beer for Dad. Some part of me desperately hoped it would be the last.

My shadow began to grow longer and longer, inching out across the street with every step I took. Goaded on by the setting set I went from a fast walk to a jog, dodging and leaping over bodies and broken glass like some kind of world class hurdler.

The beer store loomed in front of me. The sliding glass doors were bashed in and I ducked through them, already looking down the aisles for Dad’s drink of choice. I took a case off the shelf. The weight of the twenty four cans dragged my arm down and with a grimace I hooked the bulky box up under my arm and held it securely against my side. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do.

For a split second I considered one of the carts that have been overturned in the corner, then quickly changed my mind. A cart would make too much noise. Draw too much attention.

I hit the sidewalk at a dead run. The sun had sunk below the tree line, and although it wasn’t yet dark, there was a definite sense of impending doom and gloom.

My hair flew out behind me like a black cape and for the second time I cursed myself for not remembering to grab elastics. Tomorrow. I would come back and get them tomorrow. If I live that long.

When I reached Main Street and dashed across I allowed myself one gasp of relief. Not far now. Not far at all. Travis had been wrong. The Drinkers couldn’t come out until it was completely dark.

I was still thinking that when something grabbed my hair and yanked me off my feet.