Anomaly Flats Read Online Free PDF Page A

course,” Mallory sighed, staring miserably at the seven keys in her hand. “Because why not?”
    She picked out the right key on the third try, an old-fashioned thing with rectangular teeth and a bow that was molded into a flourishing brass wreath. It fit snugly in the lock, and it took a bit of coaxing, but soon the key turned, and Mallory opened the door to her room. It was modest, but it appeared comfortable enough. It contained a four-poster bed that looked as if it should be draped with some sort of linen, but instead, the posts stood empty and naked. That was fine with Mallory; she was prone to claustrophobia anyway. There was also a nightstand, a dresser, and an armchair that looked stiff and uncomfortable. It sat next to a window with plain lace curtains overlooking the unremarkable side yard of the house.
    Mallory breathed a sigh of relief. After the day she’d had, she’d half-expected the room to be coated in moss or writhing with worms. Instead, it appeared recently cleaned and properly made up, and that was somehow refreshing.
    She set the keys on the dresser, tossed the backpack onto the bed, and did a quick search of the room, hoping to find a safe. “No such luck.” She picked up the backpack and tucked it under the bed. “You stay down there,” she warned, “or we’re going to have problems.”
    Exhaustion crept in on her, so she tested the bed. The springs creaked a bit when she sat down, but the mattress was firm, and it would serve for a decent night’s sleep. “One night,” she reminded the flower-patterned wallpaper. “I’ll be fine here for one night.”
    Even though she had no pajamas to change into, she decided to freshen up before bed. She grabbed the ring of keys and started for the door, heading for the washroom.
    That was when she saw them—the seven individual locks.
    Mallory frowned. “Now where did you come from?” she asked. She opened the door and inspected the other side. Seven separate locks now ran in a vertical line above the handle. Mallory shook her head and sighed. “I’m losing my mind.”
    It wasn’t really all that surprising, under the circumstances.
    She stepped into the hall and closed the door behind her. Then she locked just the one lock—the one nearest the handle, the one made to fit the old-fashioned key…and she wasn’t entirely sure even that one was necessary, considering that it was just her and Old Lady Roach in the house. If her bag went missing while she was out, there wouldn’t be any great mystery as to who was responsible.
    She swung the keys on the ring as she trod down the awful carpet, whistling a tuneless little nothing and making a mental list of the things she’d do when she finally reached Lenore’s place.
    A bath first, with bubbles. Fancy bubbles. The fanciest bubbles Canada’s got. And a bottle of something expensive. Champagne, probably. Or Scotch. Or Champagne and Scotch. A bottle in each hand. Yep. Then, a feast. Not a dinner; a fucking feast . The main course should be something endangered. Bluefin tuna or a Bengal tiger. A Bluefin tuna stuffed inside a Bengal tiger. And roasted over rain forest wood. After that—
    Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud WHUMP! from the door to her right.
    Mallory jumped and threw herself back against the wall. She gasped, clutching at her heart. “Hello?” she said, but her voice caught in her throat, and the word died as soon as it left her lips. She summoned her courage and said, louder, “Hello?”
    She crept closer to the door. She could hear nothing but the buzzing in her own ears. Must’ve been a tree or something. Outside. She eyed the door suspiciously. Room 210. “There’s no one else here,” she reminded herself. “Just Mrs. Cockroach and me.” She placed her palms against the door, leaned forward, and pressed her ear to the wood.
    WHUMP!
    Something slammed into the door from the inside, rattling the thing in its frame.
    Mallory screamed. She sprinted to the washroom