"I must insist," Oliver said to the front desk clerk, his fingers drumming the front counter of the otherwise empty hotel lobby.
"Sir, I understand," the clerk said and nodded vigorously, "But, it's a liability issue, sir. The weather is not suitable for driving around for anyone, much less—"
"Much less for a tourist like me?"
The clerk looked down and tapped on his computer keyboard. "You must understand, sir."
Oliver sighed. "Listen, Jason," he said with a glance at the clerk's name badge, "I understand. I really do. But you know what happened. Armstrong called, then he wasn't there. I'm worried about him."
"Call the cops? Going out there in this, it's nuts, sir. I wouldn't do it myself."
"I know, I know."
"Maybe it's the phone lines. It happens all the time. If you have his number, I can try to call him back?"
Oliver agreed and watched as Jason dialed the number. The kind smile on his face faded as the seconds ticked by and no-one answered on the other end.
"See now?" Oliver said when Jason put down the receiver and ended the call. "Something's wrong."
"Allow me, I have a friend in the city where your friend lives. I will call him."
Moments later, Jason was chatting animatedly with his friend in a language Oliver didn't understand, a look of surprise on his face as he looked at Oliver.
"All right, sir," he said with a nod after he hung up the phone, "I will fetch the car. But, sir, I cannot allow you to go alone. I will take you there."
Oliver furrowed his brows. "What do you mean?"
"My shift ends momentarily. I will come with you."
"You will come with me? Why would you do that? You said you wouldn't go out in this yourself?"
"Sir, I cannot allow you to drive in this weather by yourself when you don't know the roads, all right? I would feel terrible if something happened, not to mention I would lose my job. You can drop me off with my friend I just spoke with."
Oliver sighed and glanced over his shoulder at the front doors. The rain was visible even from where he stood, and the sliding front doors vibrated with each gust that hit them. Was he crazy for trying to head out in this storm? Was he overreacting? As he looked back at Jason, he suspected that the clerk likely thought he was crazy. But could Jason be trusted? He looked honest enough, but were his motives purely benevolent? A chill ran down his spin as Oliver considered the possibility that Jason was secretly a killer that might leave him on a dark, rainy back road with a knife in his back.
He quickly dismissed the notion. It would be a risk, but considering who Armstrong was, it was a risk he had to take. With a nod, he reached across the counter and shook Jason's hand. "All right, Jason. And, thank you."
Jason grinned and nodded. "Great, sir, let me fetch my coat and the car and we'll be on our way. Meet me up front, ok?"
Oliver nodded and walked over to the front doors. He pulled his coat closer around him as the wind gust rattled the doors, whistling through the various cracks around the door. Instinctively, he checked his phone, regretting his choice to not pick up a SIM card at the airport. He turned it off and returned it to his pocket.
Ten minutes later, Jason pulled up under the overhang in front of the main entrance. Oliver left the warmth of the lobby and closed the distance to the Jeep with a few quick steps.
"I hope you don't mind if I drive," Jason said as Oliver shut the door behind him. For a fraction of a second, Oliver's mind urged him to reconsider the trip, but he promptly dismissed the concern.
"You know the way better than I do."
Jason grinned and handed Oliver a worn map.
"Here, I've highlighted the route we'll be taking. You'll need this for your trip back."
Oliver glanced at the map and sighed as Jason put the Jeep in drive and left the hotel parking lot behind. He unfolded the map and traced the route from the hotel to Armstrong's office. On a good day, it would be a forty-five minute drive. In the dark, in the middle of a storm, there was no telling. It would be a long ride, and he was instantly grateful that Jason had volunteered to take him there.
The first few miles through the central part of the city posed few problems. Paved roads, lit streets and intersections with functioning traffic signals made their progress quick despite the weather. Most residents had heeded the warnings of the news anchors and deserted the streets, abandoning them to the ferocity of the storm.
It wasn't until the high rises and streetlights disappeared behind them that Oliver felt uneasy, and he gripped the door handle tighter. Despite the extra light rack on the roof of the Jeep, the road was difficult to see and oncoming traffic almost blinded Oliver every time. It wasn't long before his fingers ached from holding on with an iron grip.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
As the distance to the city grew, the road conditions worsened. The immaculate asphalt gave way to cracks and potholes filled with water. Localized flooding pulled at the wheels of the Jeep as they plowed through, cascades of water spraying to the left and right. As the pavement gave way to dirt roads, the potholes increased in intensity and the washboards rattled his mind and body. With each puddle of water, he hoped that it would be a mere inch deep and not six.
With the wind driving rain directly towards the Jeep, the windshield wipers barely kept up even at the highest speed. As visibility decreased, Jason leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the road, forced to reduce speed to remain on the road.
Thirty minutes into his drive, a speeding vehicle appeared out of nowhere at a turn in the road. To his horror, Oliver realized the oncoming vehicle had crossed over to their side of the road. Instinctively, he braced for what was certain to be a head on collision. At the last moment, Jason flung the steering wheel to the right as a string of curses directed at the other vehicle escaped his mouth. The Jeep went halfway down the ditch, barely avoiding the oncoming car as it passed by with mere inches to spare. Jason fought to control the vehicle as twisted back and forth. As the engine stalled, they found themselves in the middle of the road, somehow facing the wrong direction. Jason, hands tightly on the wheel, glanced over at Oliver.
"Are you all right, sir?"
Oliver nodded. "What happened?" he said with a croak.
"We're lucky to be alive, my friend. Welcome to the island." Jason smiled and turned the ignition key. The engine hesitated as it turned over. It fired on the second try, and sputtered back to life. "Let's get out of here, ok?"
As Jason turned the Jeep around and continued their journey, Oliver shook in his seat, his hand still gripping the door handle so tightly that his knuckles were white. There was no doubt in his mind that if he had tried to drive this stretch of road on his own, he would be dead right now.
They continued through the darkness and arrived in the village of Sunset Hut twenty minutes later. Jason pulled over in front of a ranch-style home and showed the map to Oliver.
"We're right here, all right?" he said and pointed. "Just take a right at the next street, follow that out to 5th Street and you'll see Mr. Armstrong's office about a half a mile down on your left."
Oliver took the map and shook Jason's hand. "I appreciate it, Jason. You saved my life."
"Be careful, all right, sir? Don't want to waste the trip, right?" he said with a smile and exited the car. By the time Oliver rushed around the car through the pouring rain to take his spot in the driver's seat, Jason had already disappeared inside the house.
With a sigh, he put the Jeep in gear and pulled out on the otherwise empty street and pulled up to the first stop sign. As he turned right, it surprised him to see that most windows in the homes that lined the street were dark. Only the occasional window was lit up by the warm glow of what Oliver assumed was a lamp or fire. Cars were parked on the street, but no-one appeared brave enough to venture outside in the current conditions. For the first time since they arrived in the village, he realized that the roads were empty. The traffic light at the 5th avenue intersection flashed a lonely yellow as he approached.
Based on what little research Oliver had done before departing for the island, the village seemed like an idyllic vacation spot. It featured wide and sandy beaches, a comfortable breeze, and plenty of shops and entertainment to relax after a busy day. Yet, as Oliver crept through the village, it felt more like a ghost town than a vacation spot.
Oliver passed the police station and a restaurant with a flashing open sign but deserted parking lot before he found the two story building at the address Armstrong had provided to him. A sign pointed towards the beach just down the road. He knew from the map that the coastline was a mere block from Armstrong's office.
The building itself was non-descript. Plain gray wall panels covered the outside while floor to ceiling windows were evenly spaced around the facade. A solitary lit lamp post stood in the parking lot, its light dimming intermittently as it swayed back and forth in the wind.
Oliver parked as close to the front door as possible. With the flick of the wrist, he shut down the engine and pulled his hood over his head. He grabbed his suitcase from the back seat and pushed on the door.
It wouldn't open.
With more force, he overcame the force of the wind pressing against the door and squeezed out. The wind hit him with full force, instantly soaking him to the bone. Shivering, he ran to the front door of the office building and slammed it shut behind him, breathing heavily as he rested against the wall in the foyer.
After catching his breath and straightening his wet clothes to the extent possible, he noticed how quiet the building was. Except for the roar of the wind on the other side of the door, the lobby was empty. A light was lit above the front desk, but the chair in front of the computer was empty. A small coffee shop looked as if it had been abandoned just moments earlier, the shop itself still lit with a warm, inviting glow. A steaming cup of coffee still waiting on the pickup counter.
"Hello?" he called out as he waited by the front desk. "Anyone here?"
When there was no answer, he walked around the front desk and glanced at the computer screen. A word processing program was open, a letter in the process of being written. The last sentences was incomplete, cut off mid-sentence.
"Where is everybody?" Oliver said to no-one in particular as he looked around the lobby once more. On a side wall, he spotted the building directory and Armstrong's name listed on the second floor, suite 202. That was his destination.
Oliver was tempted to salvage the coffee but decided against it. He would hate for someone to take his coffee just because he had to run to the restroom. Instead, he approached the elevators and clicked the up button. The button lit up but there was no movement from the elevator. Oliver tapped the button again. Nothing. With a sigh, he headed for the stairs and climbed them two steps at a time.
The landing on the second floor was dimly lit and deserted. One light in the hallway leading away from the elevator to the various offices was dark, another one flashed on and off at random intervals, in rhythm the light post in the parking lot visible through the window.
Half a dozen doors lined the corridor that stretched out ahead of him, all of them closed except. It only took Oliver a few moments to find suite 202. He knocked deliberately, waited and listened. When there was no response, he knocked again and felt the door handle.
It was open.
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