Mountain Rough

“Mommy!” A young girl that appeared to be around six or seven years old came running up and grabbed Susan’s skirt. “Daddy says he wants some beer.”

“Sally, did your father really tell you to come ask me if he could have some beer?” She glared angrily in the direction of the beer aisle. “Tell him if he wants some beer, he can come ask me himself!”

“Okay!” Sally ran back in the direction Susan was looking.

“A daughter.” I felt my eyes open a little wider. “And a husband?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and smiled again—that damn smile. “A son too, but he’s staying with his grandparents for the weekend. Sally is a little too young for them to easily watch over on the farm. Are you married? Do you have any kids?”

“No.” I shook my head back and forth. “I never got married—and no kids that I’m aware of.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without my rug-rats. Anyway, I guess I better go check on my husband before he starts letting Sally try samples of stuff she’s allergic to.” She stepped closer and extended her arms.

“Good luck with that. Well, it was good to see you again. Damn, it’s been so long.” I leaned in for another hug.

“Yeah it has. Good to see you too, Red. I hope you found what you were looking for out there.” She pulled away from my embrace and started pushing her shopping cart in the direction of the beer aisle.

Her words stung. The last thing she said to me before I left was that she hoped I would find what I was looking for out there. She was crying back then. The look she gave me when she said the words for the second time was pity. It was like she could read my soul. It was hard to remember the eighteen year old kid that was willing to leave her behind. He broke her heart. It seemed to have mended. I was glad she was doing well, although it still hurt to think that I could have had that life if I would have known what I had from the beginning. Instead, I chased a dream that didn’t last very long. Stubbornness kept me away after that.

“Here’s to you, Susan.” I poured some whiskey in a glass and lifted it to my lips.

You and all those precious fucking memories.

Chapter 3: Mandy

It was pretty late when I finally got to the top of the mountain and saw an old battered sign for Blue Ridge Resort. It didn’t look anything like the website. The whole place looked like—for lack of a better expression—a shit hole. The fact it there were a couple of dirty mattresses stacked next to the sign didn’t exactly inspire confidence. I drove through an open gate that looked like it had too much rust to close and put my car in park. It didn’t just look like a shit hole, it looked like it was out of business completely. I could see the outline of a pool in the distance, but it didn’t appear to have any water in it. The main thing it lacked was people. There wasn’t anyone there at all except for me. Well, that wasn’t entirely true because a few seconds after I put my car in park, I saw a man walk out from a building near the entrance.

“Hi.” I stepped out of my car and waved. “I think I may be in the wrong place. Is this the only Blue Ridge Resort?”

“As far as I know.” He walked down the steps and tilted his head with what appeared to a very confused expression. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m not sure…” I walked around the front of my car. “I won a contest on the radio to stay here for a week, but maybe this is the off-season?”

I’m not sure there is an on-season for this place. It’s decrepit.

“Uh, no. This isn’t the off-season. We’re just not booking reservations right now. We’re….” He paused for a second and looked around. “We’re under renovation—and new management.”

“Well, this must be some mistake.” I shook my head in bewilderment. “I swear they said Blue Ridge Resort. Let me get the information from my car.”

I walked back to my car and dug around in my bag until I found the information that I printed from the email I received after I won the contest. The address did appear to be the exact one I put in my GPS, but I had no idea what was going on. I walked back around the car and handed the paperwork to the man that greeted me. He took in his hand, scanned it quickly, and then looked up at me with the same expression of confusion. Even with a confused stare on his face, I couldn’t ignore how unbelievably hot he was.

“This is definitely the right place.” The space between his eyebrows scrunched together and he shook his head. “Give me a second, let me make a phone call.”

Please don’t get a knife or something to gut me with. Please don’t be Jason Voorhees’ long lost, very attractive son. A serial killer shouldn’t make me drool, right?

The man didn’t appear to be dangerous, but he was enormous with broad shoulders and very large arms that were clearly visible, protruding from his sleeveless shirt like mountains. He looked fairly normal outside of his unkempt hair and beard, both of which could use a trim. I considered just getting in my car and driving away, but I was curious to find out how the radio station managed to give away a vacation that technically didn’t exist, especially if they weren’t taking reservations. After several minutes, he stuck his

head out the door and beckoned me with a wave.

“Why don’t you come inside. I’m on hold.” He held the door open and motioned again.

Well, here we go. Dead at nineteen—killed by a serial killer that takes one hell of a great mugshot—Amanda Greene. God rest her soul.

I walked past him into what appeared to be a front office for the resort, but it looked like it hadn’t seen an update in quite some time. There was a rack against the wall that had a lot of DVDs, but the newest one appeared to be at least ten years old. A small sign next to the rack suggested that there were racier titles available upon request behind the front desk. I assumed that meant porn. I wandered over to a table that had brochures and I recognized the photographs. They were the same ones that I saw on the website. It was definitely the right place, but the photos had been taken when it was in a lot better shape. The guy that greeted me appeared to have disappeared into the office, which meant he was either sharpening his knife, or actually on hold like he suggested.

“Okay, I think I got this figured out.” He opened the door and walked back into the office.

No knife. That’s a good sign.