Kill Your Darlings

Chapter 3 - Hickory smells faintly of gas.

A/N: Okay guys, We're going to begin Spencer's game. You're playing Doc, a person who is willing to do anything to keep their family safe. Please, if you figure something out, keep it to yourself. Don't spoil the fun for everyone else. You're allowed to guess, but please consider the other players. Thanks.

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Florescent lighting hits your eyes once they’re open, the dull glow causing the ache at the back of your head to rise. Blinking many times, you attempt to look around and take in the surrounding area.

You’re lying on a bed, above the sheets, with a pale blue sweater covering your body. You recognise this sweater as Spencer’s—his scent of fresh rain and stale cigarettes is still tagged on it. Hazy memories assail your brain, flashes of Spencer’s smile moments before the blackout causing panic to rise at the pit of your stomach.

You rise from the bed with a start, throwing the sweater down on the floor angrily. In a fit of hysteria, your eyes try to take in everything at once. There is a brown nightstand beside you—a lamp and a phone sit parallel on top of it. You can see your reflection on the television in front of you, hair dishevelled and knotted. To your other side is the front door; there are no visible locks on it. The blinds of the window next to it are shut. The only other door you see is the bathroom, which is also closed.

Rising from the bed, your first instinct is to search the motel room for Spencer. What time was it, anyway? How long have you been out? By the pale glow of sunlight through the blinds, you can guess it’s around midmorning.

The sweater is the only sign of Spencer’s presence. Hesitantly, you open the bathroom door, but there’s no one in there. Recalling a scene from a thriller, you pull open the shower curtains, bracing yourself for impact.

But Spencer is not there. In his place is a note, written in red paint over the tiled wall.

Your first clue: I sleep with you every night and wake with you every morning.

Recoiling instantly at the shock, your back shoots with pain from hitting the corner of the countertop. But all you can stare at is the message painted in red, misshapen letters giving away Spencer’s handwriting. Reason begins to override the panic, and you finally run out of the bathroom towards the phone. However, taped on the inside of the receiver is another surprise.

It’s a picture of your family, your little boy looking poorer than the last time you saw him, worse than your past lover. Scrawled across their faces is another note: wrong answer. You try the phone anyway, but there is no dial tone. After checking the wires, you realise that they were cut.

You quickly put down the phone and try the door, but it’s shut tight. There are no locks to free you from the inside. He’s got you trapped like an animal.

You finally realise the gravity of the situation, sitting on the bed in stunned silence. He wasn’t kidding when he told you he was a smart kid—the kind of intelligence only dangerous people had. You should’ve seen it from all those meetings in your office, even if he made sure not to let his true colours show. You could’ve caught the signs. Now how are you going to get out of it?

You’ve got to play my game first.

You can practically hear his voice travelling the room, taunting your panic. How long will he keep you strung up in his false ideals? Will he ever let you out? Is the whole hostage thing a bluff to keep you tied up?

You stand from the bed. If there’s one thing you know about Spencer Crest, it’s that he doesn’t bluff. Ever. You go back to the bathroom and look at the message, trying to decipher it for a way out.

I sleep with you every night and wake with you every morning.

Was he referring to himself? Had he been here for the whole night? But if it were himself, wouldn’t he still be here?

Relief washes over you once you realise that’s not the answer. You check the pockets of your jeans for your cell phone—hoping that the room has Internet—but they’re empty. He patted you dry.

I sleep with you every night and wake with you every morning.

What else is there if it isn’t him or a lover? You check the entire room again, looking into every crease and corner. You lift up the mattress, hoping to find another clue but it’s bare, save for the few questionable stains that were once covered by the bed sheets. Putting the mattress back in place, you sigh in frustration.

I sleep with you every night and wake with you every morning.

Several minutes pass by as you sit at the foot of the bed; the crumpled sheets beside you are your only company. Your mind flips through every possible thing you go to sleep with every night. Pyjamas, a bed, pillows, blankets…

Standing, you turn to look at the bed once again. The pillows were moved while checking the mattress—there was nothing there. You look down and stare at the sheets. Everything finally clicks as you grab and shake them for a loose note to fall through, hoping for something that will lead to your family.

But once again, Spencer leaves you feeling hopeless. You lay the sheets out on the floor instead of giving into the disappointment, inspecting them closely.

On the corner of the outer bed sheet, there are small letters printed in red marker.

Check the sweater.

Anticipation returns as you run for the blue sweater at the side of the bed. Shaking it clean, a folded up piece of paper and a key falls out. You reach for the paper first, unfolding it to read Spencer’s note.

Great! You figured it out. Pat yourself on the back for me, won’t you? Now onto number two: hickory smells faintly of gas.

The impatience finally gets to you, causing you to rip up the letter out of frustration. What was the point of spending several minutes solving one riddle just to have another? Does he think of the lives of your family as a joke?

You lean your head back against the bed. Tears burn the back of your eyes, but they don’t shed. Hickory smells faintly of gas.

You’ve got to get out.

In the silence of the motel room, a small sound resonates; the soft click of a lock. As you turn your head towards the door, a shadow passes by the window. You can recognise that silhouette anywhere. You grab the key beside the ripped pieces of paper and run to the door, thankful when it finally opens.

The crisp morning air hits your face as you look around for any sign of help. There is only an old station wagon in the parking lot, and there isn’t another building you can see for miles. Intent on keeping hope, you walk through the motel, banging on doors and shouting for help.

But nobody is around to hear you.

Hickory smells faintly of gas.

You turn back to the station wagon and then to the key in your hands. After closing your eyes in silent prayer, you insert the key into the driver’s door and turn it. The lock pops open, allowing you entry.

“Thank God,” you breathe out the words all at once, slipping into the car and yearning to find your way home.

But another piece of paper taped on the dashboard. You consider ignoring it, but curiosity gets the best of you. It reads: Don’t abuse your car privilege, doc. If you do, you’re walking. I’m always watching you.

You slump back in defeat, the realisation that there’s no escape overwhelming your mind. The thought of ignoring the riddle and driving back home is a strong consideration, but by now you know that Spencer isn’t a fool. One wrong step and he’d make sure you’d never see your family again.

You want to see them. The thought of having them safely in your arms causes new courage to settle in your heart; you sit up, insert the key in the ignition, and start the car. If playing the game means saving them, then you’ll stick around until the end.

Hickory smells faintly of gas.

Besides, you have a good idea of where to start.