Death Lake Motel

By Rod Little

Every kill has a reason  
On their way to a secluded lake in a blustering rainstorm, three weekend fishermen pick up two girls stranded by the side of the road. In need of a landline and shelter from the storm, they take the girls to the nearest motel. When they arrive, the check-in clerk is already dead. They search the rooms and find more blood, with all the guests as dead as the phones. 
And one of the killers is still there. 
When their car is stolen by a stranger, stranding them at the corpse-filled motel with little chance of help in the storm, they must search for clues to avoid the killer and stay alive. But the biggest clue is about to come after them.  This was no robbery. These killings had a purpose.

Plenty of vacancies at the Death Lake Motel. A twisted thrill-ride from the #1 bestselling author of The Whisper Killer, The Scream Collector and On Gravedigger Road

 

Novella, 150 pages

A mystery / horror thriller with a dark twist.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rod Little
• Release date: Apr 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393987321

Book preview

Death Lake Motel

◄●►

Rod Little

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locations is entirely coincidental.

Death Lake Motel

ISBN 9781666265392

paperback and ebook available.

v2b

Copyright © 2021 Rod Little.

All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

Special thanks to my editor, Laura Hall.

For other books by Rod Little, visit:

www.rodlittleauthor.com

Every kill has a reason

On their way to a secluded lake in a blustering rainstorm, three weekend fishermen pick up two girls stranded by the side of the road. In need of a landline and shelter from the storm, they take  the girls to the nearest motel. When they arrive, the check-in clerk is already dead. They search the rooms and find more blood, with all the guests as dead as the phones.

And one of the killers is still there.

When their car is stolen by a stranger, stranding them at the corpse-filled motel with little chance of help in the storm, they must search for clues to avoid the killer and stay alive. But the biggest clue is about to come after them.  This was no robbery. These killings had a purpose.

Plenty of vacancies at the

Death Lake Motel

A twisted thrill-ride from the #1 bestselling author of The Whisper Killer and On Gravedigger Road

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Alfred Hitchcock said, A glimpse into the world proves that horror is nothing other than reality.

Real life may be scarier. And yet, scaremongers and storytellers are tasked to try their best to scare you anyway.

The following is a novella, an appetizer served on a short ride in a carnival of mysteries and thrills and, perhaps, a few nightmares.

Come inside, please.

And do watch your step.

Chapter 1

The headlights caught the glint of chrome and red flashers long before the wreckage came into view. When they reached the scene of the accident, Owen tapped the brakes and squinted past the sheet of rain. A small car had slid off the road and hit a tree head-on. The car was now stalled sideways in a ditch, one back wheel off the ground and spinning in the wind. He slowed his station wagon and pulled onto the shoulder of the road thirty yards behind the wreck.

Probably driving too fast, Gary said from the passenger seat. Too damn fast in weather like this. Some people never learn.

Rain sliced at the headlights, obscuring their vision. It was impossible to see if anyone remained inside the car, alive or dead. From the back seat, Bob put on his dark green fishing hat and shifted his belly to the edge of the seat. He reached for the door exhaled.

Looks like a corker, but there might be survivors. He popped the lock. Let’s see what’s what.

The three men were two hours late already, but that bothered them little. As it was a weekend fishing trip, and two of them were retired, schedules weren’t that important anymore. Bob still had a job pushing papers at the police department, but Owen was a retired cop, and Gary a retired accountant. Oddly, there seemed little time for these fishing weekends. This was only their second one this year, and it was already fall.

Their wives had stayed home, happy for the break. Except for Bob’s. Divorced, he didn’t really know or care where the missus was spending the weekend. He always said that marriage was a two-way street and his wife was in the wrong lane driving an eighteen-wheeler. To be fair, she often said the same about him.

Bob opened the door and ran for the wrecked car. Gary followed him with a hand above his face, shielding his eyes against the rain. Owen sighed and put the station wagon in park. He donned his baseball cap, put the car’s blinkers on, and ran out into the storm to help. He kept the car running, just in case.

Moving too fast on worn hiking boots with little tread left, he slid down the embankment over wet leaves, pinwheeling to keep his balance. Bob was already at the driver’s door to the wrecked compact VW. It was a little more compact now, having met the tree and lost the debate. He knocked on the driver side window.

There’s a girl in there. Two girls. Hey. Hey, you two okay in there? He knocked again. Can you hear me?

The car door popped opened, and a teenage girl wriggled her slender body out and spilled to the ground. In a pale blue dress that covered her knees, she looked barely old enough to drive. Next, another girl crawled across the seat and came out the driver’s side, as the passenger door was crumpled against a sinewy oak. Bob and Gary helped the girls to their feet.

You two ladies okay? Owen yelled against the storm. Anyone hurt?

We’re fine, the first girl shouted. She didn’t look hurt, except for a bruise on her cheek.

Anyone else in there?

No. It’s just us.

Come on. Let’s get out of this mess.

They clambered back up the slippery embankment, rain slashing at their faces, and took shelter in Owen’s station wagon. Inside, Owen pulled wet leaves off his boots, opened the door an inch and chucked them out. The girls scrunched into the back seat with Bob. When the back doors shut, they could hear each other again. All five of them were drenched from the short escapade; it felt good to be back in the car. Streams of water cascaded down the exterior of the windows.

Helluva night to be out on a joy ride, Bob scolded the girls. He assumed all teens were perpetually looking for trouble on a Friday night. Two girls alone out here? What were you thinking?

We’re meeting our family on Dark Lake, the Timber Lay cabins, one of the girls said, swiping a hand through her long red hair. My sister and I, we got lost. We were backtracking to find the way. But then the storm hit.

Her sister, a short-cropped blond, was wearing the same style of dress—simple, plain and long enough to cover her knees—and no makeup on her face. She nodded but stayed silent and avoided eye contact with the men. Watching the rain through the window, she shivered, and Owen wondered if she might be in shock from the accident.

There’s a blanket in the back there. Grab it for them, will ya, Bob? I think it’s on the ice chest.

Bob reached around with great effort—he was putting on ten pounds a year—and pulled a camo blanket from the station wagon’s back bed. He handed it to the girls. They dried their faces, then wrapped it around their shoulders, huddled together like a pair of scared mice.

I’m Bob. That’s Owen and Gary. We’re headed the same way. Dark Lake. But we’re staying at one of the Moosejaw cabins on the other side.

We’ll give you a lift, Owen added. It’s on the way. The Timber cabins are first on the lake, right?

I’m Annie, the redhead said. My sister is Megan. We appreciate your help. And I don’t know about the cabins. Maybe first or second group.

Owen didn’t think they looked like sisters. Except for the odd blue dresses, they were nothing alike.

Truth be told, he said, you shouldn’t get into cars with strange men. We might’ve been serial killers or worse. Ya never know. Best to be careful.

I know. Annie swiped water from her face. You looked okay to me. We didn’t have much choice anyway. We were stuck.

That you were. Lucky for you, we’re pretty harmless. Bob there has a flatulence problem, but other than that... you’re safe with us.

He’s not lying, Bob admitted and shifted to make more room for the girls. You young ladies aren’t exactly dressed for the outdoors, you know. Is that some kind of church choir outfit or school uniform?

Our father is conservative, Annie said as if proud of the fact. Our dresses are fine. Comfortable.

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