Jonathan Hemsworth's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

Inside, the station smelled like dust and old coffee. Jonathan pushed the door shut. Jeb stood behind a counter, the same oil-stained man who had told them the town was cursed. Jonathan's hands shook. He did not want to think about the treeline or the hour Jeb had promised. "We need somewhere to sleep," he said. "A hotel. A room. Anything." Jeb laughed. It was a dry, cracked sound. "Hotel." He pointed a thumb at the window. Across the lot stood a long, broken building. Its sign read SUNSET MOTEL. Every window was smashed. Grass grew through the doorways. "That's your hotel. Nobody's slept there in forty years. You don't want to." Eva pulled her coat tight. "Then where do we go?" "Right here," Jeb said. "Doors locked. You wait it out." He reached under the counter and brought up a bottle of brown liquor. He filled two dirty glasses and slid one toward Jonathan. "Drink. Calms the nerves. You'll need them calm." Jonathan took the glass. He should have said no. He should have stayed by the door. Instead he drank, and the warmth spread, and Jeb poured again. The old man talked about the road and the cars that never came back. Jonathan nodded. His fear turned soft and far away. He forgot Eva was cold. He forgot to watch the clock. Eva watched him laugh at something Jeb said. Her mouth went flat. "Bathroom," she said. Neither man answered. Jeb tipped his head toward the back. "Out and around. Careful of the floor." She went out the side door alone. The bathroom sat apart, a squat concrete box with cracked walls and stains running down the stone. No lights. She used her phone's dim glow. On the floor by the sink lay a book. It was large and bound in dark leather, worn soft at the edges. Strange symbols covered the front, pressed deep into the hide. She did not know the word stamped on the cover, but the sight of it made her skin cold. Necronomicon. She crouched. The leather felt warm, like something living. She pulled her hand back. Eva walked back fast. She shoved the station door open. Jonathan sat slumped over the counter, cheeks red, glass half empty. Jeb grinned beside him. "Get up," Eva said. Her voice was flat and hard. "You're drunk. There's a book out there. It's wrong. All of this is wrong." Jonathan blinked at her. "Eva, sit. Jeb says we're fine." "We are not fine." She grabbed his arm and pulled. He barely moved. That was the moment she understood. He could not help her. He was gone, soft and useless, exactly when she needed him sharp. Then a sound came from the dark outside. Slow and heavy. A knock against the door. Jeb stopped grinning. His face went grey. "That's it," he whispered. "It's here. Don't open it."