LaQuinta Motel

The rain poured down heavily upon his dark windshield. Blurry headlights blinded him as he desperately tried to stay on the wet, slick road. His flurried mind skirted off to a few hours ago. Hours ago, when his skin burned with the pure rush of power as he handed Jack Sutters his very last paycheck—and Mable Wiser while she cried for another chance to show how indispensable she indeed could be. Yes, there is a surge of empowerment over those less fortunate. And money—lots of it—to spend as he pleased. 

A devious grin spread across Jonas’s clean-shaven face. He glowed with shallow pride as he reminisced over those wonderful, fulfilling moments. How could power and money be so wrong? It wasn’t—not to Jonas Abers. Life was nothing without them.

All at once, the rain stopped. Jagged shards of light filled the dark clouds above. Jonas was alone. The long, winding road remained empty. He glanced in his rearview mirror, expecting cars trailing behind, nothing but darkness. 

Jonas shrugged it off. It would not be long before he could relax and have a stiff drink — something he truly deserved and looked forward to, time to pamper his ego. Suddenly, his brand-new Jaguar sputtered and choked. The red engine light silently blinked on and off.

“What the…?” he yelled.  He soon slammed his palm against the leather wheel. His foot held down the gas pedal. But the high-priced vehicle rolled to a stop. He immediately withdrew his cell phone from his shirt pocket. 

“Damn,” he mumbled. No service. Without hesitation, he unbuckled his seat belt and exited the car. The night air was cool. Twinkling stars filled the sky. No one was in sight. 

 Jonas loosened his tie. He grabbed the small suitcase from his trunk and glanced at the deserted road. Nothing but trees. Why didn’t he recognize this piece of the road? He’d taken this way to the spa hundreds of times before. But this time, it was different. He knew up ahead was a place to stay—or so he thought. He did not mind walking—one way to keep fit. He walked.

It was not long before he reached the LaQuinta Motel. A neon “vacancy” sign lit up the night. He let out a heavy sigh. All of a sudden, he felt tired. Nice, hot shower and clean bed. He would call for a tow truck in the morning. But for now, he just wanted a room.

The welcome bell jangled on the door. A tiny television sat in the corner, near the ceiling. Several cushioned chairs filled the small lobby. The red-stained desk was deserted. 

“Hello…anybody here?” He glanced up. The show on the black-and-white TV looked familiar. He remembered watching it as a young boy living on a farm in Idaho—a place he had long forgotten.

“May I help ya?”

 Jonas’s attention jumped to the old woman. The long, flowered dress hung down off her sagging shoulders.  Greasy black hair pulled back in a bun. Rows of wrinkled skin crossed her aged face. Wire-rimmed glasses sat at the end of her pointy nose.

“Good evening, I’d like a room,” 

 She eyed him suspiciously. “We’re full,” she said, then turned to leave.

 “Wait! The sign outside says ‘vacancy.’ Look, my car broke down, and there’s no other place for miles.” His pulse quickened. He was used to getting his way.

“Ya’ sure you want to stay here, sonny?” she asked, then said, “Ya’ might be more comfortable someplace else.” Her eyes narrowed.

“What kind of business do you run here? Nevertheless, yes, I want to stay here at…LaQuinta Motel. Now, may I have a room?” He set down his bag with a thump. He opened his wallet filled with cash. He soon fished out a credit card and slammed it on the smooth-top desk. 

 The aging clerk pushed it back towards him. “We don’t take credit…cash only. There’s a Holiday Inn a few miles down the road, a place that takes plastic.” 

“How much?”  Without waiting for a response, he pulled out a hundred-dollar bill. “Never mind, this should cover it. Which room?”  The old woman handed him a key.  “Do I have to register?”

“Nope—just did. Room Five, clean towels and linen. Ice and vending machines around back.” She disappeared through an open doorway.

“Real friendly in these parts,” he murmured. 

Room Five was just a few doors down. It was plain and simple: It occupied a double bed, two chairs, a small table, and a dial phone on the table. 

“No TV? It must be extra,” he mumbled. He opened his bag and pulled out the laptop. It was then he noticed there was no plug. Wireless place! He turned it on. Instantly, words flew across the screen — NO INTERNET CONNECTION.  Great! He closed the lid and rubbed his burning eyes.   

Several minutes later, he stood under a hot shower. Why did he feel so drained? He could remember many times when he partied all night at the club, yet the next day, he was refreshed and ready to rock ‘n roll for a business meeting. Maybe firing people and making their lives miserable was beginning to take its toll. Not a chance! He lived for those days—playing God, deciding who should stay and who should go. And that is why he made the big bucks. Jonas reached for the bath towel. He wiped himself dry, wrapped it around his waist, slid on his flip-flops, and shuffled to bed. He pulled back the bedspread and top sheet.  A faint smell of flowers lingered in the air. I can’t be too picky at this point—first thing in the morning, call a tow truck and be on my way out of Hicksville he thought.

 Jonas flipped off the switch near the bed. Darkness surrounded him, except for the slices of light peeking under the closed drapes from the neon sign outside. His heavy eyelids closed, whirling him into a mirage of horrible images, images of a horrific car crash—crumpled metal, smashed glass—and then a bloody, mangled body. Jonas lurched up in bed. Huge beads of sweat covered him. His heart raced, pounding in his ears. Instantly, he threw back the drenched sheet. Crossing the room, he yanked open the curtains.

The morning sky was filled with heavy gray clouds, and light raindrops tapped on the window. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Thank heavens, it was only a dream. Snatching the phone off the table and plopping down on the bed, he dialed the front desk.

“Desk,” said the old woman on the other end of the phone.

  “This is Abers in Room Five…” 

The aged clerk cut him off. “So, what do ya’ want from me, sonny?” Her direct rudeness took Jonas aback. 

“How do I make a call out of here? I need a tow truck,” he said.  The connection between them remained silent.  

“Hello?”

“Can’t dial out, lines are down.” And then there was silence. 

“Hello? Hello?” He jabbed at the tiny button on the phone. Shaking his head, he slammed down the receiver. Within minutes, he was showered and dressed. He folded his other clothes and placed them inside the suitcase. It seemed he might have to find a ride to the next town.

Jonas closed the door to leave. Then he noticed not a single car sat in the parking lot. The lobby was empty and quiet except for the television in the corner. The same program was playing on the screen. His face scrunched in confusion. 

“What can I do for ya’ now?” the clerk barked. Jonas flinched. 

“First, you don’t have to be so rude…” 

The old lady screeched a laugh. “Don’t I? Ya’ gonna tell me ya’ never been rude, cruel, or heartless?!” she yelled.  Redness rushed to his face. “Ya’ gonna tell me you never lied, cheated, or stole money from under a person’s nose during any of your fancy business deals?” 

Jonas took a step back. Wait a minute! How did this old woman know I was a businessman? Lucky guess?  “Now you listen here, you old coot! How dare you accuse me of anything? You don’t know me. And I sure don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone else!”

The aged lady grinned. Several teeth were missing. “Ya’ sure about that, sonny?” she chuckled. “What about yer maker?” Jonas thought for a second.

“My maker…what the hell are you talking about?” His stomach twisted and turned. Rage filled his veins and pushed through his body. 

“Maybe that’s what we’re talking about…hell,” she murmured. Jonas felt his heart pounding. He had just about enough.

“Aaah…to hell with you!” he shouted at her as he stormed out the lobby door. 

His pace was quick. Once again, the air was cool, and damp and the light rain had stopped. He headed down the deserted road and flipped open his mobile. No service. He shoved it deep into his pants pocket. Thoughts of the old woman filled out his head. He needed to clear his mind of everything she said he had done. Sure, he had profited from someone else’s loss, but that’s how empires are built; powerful men are born—walking on others and taking advantage when no one is looking. All under the auspices of the law—many of the dealings were legal.

As Jonas hurried along, he saw an overturned car in a ditch at the side of the road. Dropping his suitcase, he ran to the driver’s door. Inside was a bloody man, listless, and mangled. For a brief moment, he thought he recognized the dead man’s face. His heart skipped a beat. The car looked just like his—but that was impossible! He scrambled to see if he could read the license plate. 

Suddenly, a worn-down tow truck pulled up and screeched to a halt. The thin, tattered man dropped out from the cab of the vehicle.  His frail body covered in filthy overalls. The stained baseball cap on his head was pulled down tight, hiding his eyes.

“Are ya’ comin’ or goin’?” yelled the strange man. 

Jonas moved away from the end of the crushed vehicle. “What did you say?”

The tow truck attendant spit a huge hunk of brown muck onto the road. “I said, are ya’ a-comin’ or a-goin’?” His wiry, dirty arms plopped on his hips. 

Slowly approaching the odd man, Jonas spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m trying to get to the next town because my car broke down farther back on the road. And then this…” He didn’t bother to finish and pointed to the accident.

“Oh, I get it…ya’ stuck in-between.” The bizarre fellow turned about.

“Wait! Wait a minute! Aren’t you going to do something…or call someone about…about this accident?” shouted Jonas. “The guy inside…looks dead!” 

The peculiar man crawled back into his truck. Jonas dashed around to the man’s open window.

“Nah.” The man started the engine—dark smoke pumped from the exhaust. Gears grinded, then shifted. The banged-up truck lurched forward. 

Jonas immediately moved aside. “Hold on a minute! What about towing my car? Or at least can you give me a lift?”  But the man ignored his pleas. Within seconds, the truck had rounded the curve and disappeared. 

Jonas could not believe his luck. With a wave of his hand towards the wreck, he picked up his suitcase and again began walking. His skin and clothes felt damp from the misty air. His mind jumped to the familiar fellow inside the smashed car. 

Nothing I can do for him now—he has to be dead.  

The road seemed endless, but somehow, the trees looked vaguely familiar. And then he saw it from a distance, a motel of some sort. Could that finally be the beginning of the next town? But as he drew closer and his vision cleared, a neon sign flashed the word “vacancy” below the name “LaQuinta Motel.”  Jonas dropped his bag to the ground. It couldn’t be. He had left that place over an hour ago. No way did he walk in a circle. 

He rushed through the lobby door. The welcome bell jangled. A tiny television sat in the corner near the ceiling. Several cushioned chairs filled the small lobby. The red-stained desk was deserted. It couldn’t be! He was back where he started—the miserable motel! 

Just then, the old woman walked in and stood behind the counter. The long, flowered dress hung from her sagging shoulders.  Her greasy black hair pulled back in a bun. Rows of wrinkled skin crossed her aged face. Wire-rimmed glasses sat at the end of her pointy nose.

“I told ya’ before y’all be more comfortable someplace else…but no, ya’ wouldn’t listen! Ya’ made your choice.” She tossed him a key. “Room Five.”

“No, I don’t want a room; I want to get out of here!” he cried. Beads of sweat lined his brow. His damp body trembled.

“Ya’ can check out anytime…anytime that suits ya’.” Her devious, toothless smile crept across his burning skin.

“But…I don’t understand…how did I get back here again? Nothing makes any sense…this place, you, the room, the tow truck guy, the accident…” His words trailed away into silence. He longed for answers, some kind of explanation for this continuous nightmare.

“Yep, ya’ can check out, sonny…but ya’ can never leave!”

The cackling of her voice pierced inside his ears.  Jonas grabbed the sides of his head. Terrifying images whirled inside his mind. Waves of electrical impulses streamed through his pulsating veins, unleashing agonizing spasms. And when Jonas could no longer stand the torturing of his infernal soul, darkness silently slipped in and snatched his spirit away.