𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥

Chapter 8: Town

Branches lashed at her face and arms as she sprinted blindly in the dark. The moonlight just barely lit the way between trees, exposed roots, and the occasional rock. Around thirty yards to her right she could see where the tree line ended and the road leading away from the hotel began. She didn't know where she was going, but she knew if she just kept running straight ahead, alongside the road, that she'd eventually hit... something.

When was the last time we actually left the hotel?

The more her mind lingered on the thought, the more she realized that she had no idea what the world outside of the hotel looked like. Any of it. She couldn't recall what her childhood home looked like, the name of her high school, or if she even graduated. Did she get good grades? Did she play sports? If so what, what sports did she play? Was she popular? Did she have any have any friends?

Of course we had friends. There was Colette, and... No, wait she was our college roommate... or was she a childhood friend? What college did we go to again?

Wren saw something in the distance. A light. It wasn't that far from her. The closer she got to it the more she could see.

A town?

She picked up speed, her legs were on fire and her lungs burned, but she didn't care. She broke through the tree line and found herself at the edge of a well manicured lawn. She was just outside of the practice field of a local high school.

She sprinted full tilt until she reach fence to the practice field, hurdled it, ran across the field, vaulted the next fence, and didn't stop until she hit the school's well lit empty parking lot.

She eventually slowed to a jog, then to a walk, and then just stopped. She looked down at her coveralls. The front was completely stained with dried blood. Her gaze then shifted to the silver knife she still had gripped in a white knuckle embrace in her right hand.

Fuck, we look like Micheal Myers.

She was now far less confident in her ability to find someone to help her. At least while she was sill dressed the way she was.

Fuck.

Wren slid the knife into her pockets and began pacing back and fourth.

Okay. New plan: Find clothes that aren't caked in blood and THEN find help.

Wren stopped and looked out towards the street that ran along side the high school and began to walk towards it. Before she began walking down the sidewalk she turned back towards the high school. Though the sign that was emblazoned on the buildings face was just barely illuminated by the parking lot's lights, Wren could still make out the lettering. Colorado High School.

What?

Wren stopped and cocked her head as she stared at the sign.

Colorado High School?

No city name, no direction, no historical figure, just Colorado High School. She shook what ever suspicion she had, and continued down the sidewalk. She didn't have the time to critique the naming conventions of a local high school.

She looked down a the road. It was a well lit, tree lined, residential neighborhood. Each home was a quaint looking cottage house, each lawn was perfectly green and well maintained, and each driveway was empty. Every house was dark. Not even a porch light lit the facade of a single home. The deeper into town she got the quieter it seemed to get. No birds cawing in the night, no crickets chirping, only the sound of Wren's steady footfalls on pavement.

Wren sunk her hands into her own pockets, her right hand reflexively coiled around the silver handle of the knife on contact, she felt as though she was being watched. It was when she crossed through an intersection and looked both right and left it had donned on her that she hadn't seen a single vehicle. No cars, no trucks, not even a bicycle.