The Hunting Lodge

 

During one of our recent trips on an out-of-town job, my coworker (who I will call Dave) and I had trouble finding a place to stay overnight.  The company where we planned to work was located in a very secluded, backwoods area of South Carolina.  There was only one hotel located within 30 miles of this plant and it was completely over-booked with contractors because of a scheduled plant outage.  So we searched the internet for another location which could accommodate us for a few nights.

We lucked upon a nice looking hunting lodge built on several acres, with a lake, horses, pool tables, fire pits, and numerous other fancy amenities.  We felt lucky to have found it, booked it, and headed south. 

By the time we arrived, having spent most of the evening searching the back roads in the pitch black darkness, it was now about 10pm.  As we slowly traveled the long winding driveway in our truck and trailer, I got a sudden chill which I couldn’t explain.  We finally reached the lodge house and to our right we noticed a dimly lit covered patio.  There stood a hunter (I guess it was a hunter) just beginning to gut a deer that was hanging up by its hind legs.  Now, I’m not usually squeamish when it comes to blood and guts, but as he looked over at us and gave us a toothless grin, a pack of wild dogs immediately started devouring the guts and other innards coming out of that deer. 

Suddenly, a loud rapping sound on the driver’s window startled us and we turned to see another large man with a few teeth motioning for us to roll down the window.  This is the opening credits of every horror-slasher movie I have ever seen.  We are the prey in a bad movie.

Dave was driving, so he rolled the window down about 3 inches and asked if we were at the right place.  Unfortunately, we were. 

 We reluctantly left the seemingly safe confines of the truck and old-man-knife-killer showed us around.  He showed us to our rooms, the only two rooms remaining, in a stand-alone building where the pool table was.  Apparently the website photos were taken in the 70’s. 

We asked about keys and checking in and he said “Keys? Son we don’t have any locks on the rooms around here.  Don’t need em!”

Wait. Didn’t I hear that in a Texas Chainsaw movie once?

We put our bags in our room as the old man wandered off.  I noticed in my room these large scratches on the inside and outside of my door, which again had no lock.  I repeat. It had no lock.  I could only assume (actually hope and pray) that one or more of the many dogs around the lodge had made the scratches.  Dave retired to his room to check out what surprises awaited him. 

We settled in our rooms hoping to catch some sleep before the 5am wake up call. 

As I brushed my teeth in the awful, nasty bathroom, I saw a pool of blood in my shower!  Again, it is a hunting lodge, maybe it’s just deer blood.  Or maybe a zombie just had a hankering for a shower and lost some body parts.

I lay down on the bed, being sure to leave a light on, and all my clothes, when a knock came at my door.  I asked “who’s there?” Dave replied.  So I moved all 4 pieces of my furniture from out of in front of the door to see what he needed.  I don’t recall what he wanted, but he was laughing hysterically at me moving all the furniture from against the door.  Laugh it up, Scooby snacks. 

When I lay back down, I turned the light out this time.  I tried to close my eyes but people walked past my window, dogs barked, and howled, and growled, and ate guts. 

I finally relaxed a little, my eyes got heavy, and as I almost drifted off to sleep, I saw it.

Now maybe I’ve watched too many Jason, Freddy, Cabin-in-the-Woods, and Steve Buscemi movies that have all probably planted some unwanted things in my imagination, but  this time I am sure of what I saw.

The ceiling was moving.  Let me say that again.  THE CEILING WAS MOVING.

I blinked my eyes several times to make sure my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.
It was still moving.
I slowly reached over to the lamp and switched it on. 
As light filled the room, about a million, no, a trillion huge cockroaches scattered across the ceiling, some falling down on my bed and on ME.

I jumped up and screamed something in some foreign language and fled to the bathroom! So that's where the blood in the shower came from.  The Orkin man is now an Edgar suit.

Needless to say, I didn’t sleep a wink.

Around 4 am, I quietly crept over to Dave’s room and slowly ran my fingernails down his door several times.

I heard him scream and I heard furniture moving…