Anomaly Flats Read Online Free PDF Page B

peering down into the water. “A tentacle.”
    And even severed from its host, the slimy little thing was still alive.
    Mallory threw open the door and half-ran, half-stumbled back to her room. She plied the lock with shaking hands, threw herself inside, slammed the door shut, and managed to lock all seven locks in what was probably record time, under the circumstances. Then she gripped the doorknob and gave it a good twist. Thankfully, it held fast, as if cemented in place. She pulled and shook and heaved at the door, but it staunchly refused to budge. There were seven large, metal bolts holding the thing in place. It would take a hell of a lot more than a thump of a tentacle to burst through the damn thing. Even so, she decided not to take any chances. She rummaged through the dresser until she found the piece of white chalk resting atop a handwritten note on Roach Motel stationery. The small, tight scrawl at the top of the page read, “Elder Futhark Protection Symbols.” Mallory didn’t typically go in for the occult…but she didn’t typically go in for tentacles slithering out of sink drains, either. She sketched the provided runes onto the door, three concentric circles of esoteric nonsense just below the peephole.
    She backed away, chalk in hand, and considered her work. “Just one night,” she reminded herself, her voice trembling. “You can survive anything for one night.”
    She closed the curtains and was about to climb into bed when she noticed something she hadn’t before: a bottle of wine stood innocently on the nightstand, though Mallory was certain it hadn’t been there when she’d arrived. She picked it up and inspected the label. It boasted an illustration of a silver flying saucer sucking up an oversized bunch of grapes in its tractor beam. “Neptune Norton,” Mallory read. “U.F.O. Vineyards.” According to the fine print, U.F.O. stood for Unidentified Fermented Object. The bottle was tied off around the neck with a small tag that read, Welcome to Anomaly Flats. Enjoy a little local flavor . It claimed to have a surprisingly high alcohol content—18%, which Mallory decided might be just enough. She peeked beneath the bed to make sure the backpack was still safe and sound, then she climbed into bed, fully clothed, and screwed off the cap. She propped herself up on the pillows, clutched the blanket to her chest, and took a few slugs of Neptune Norton straight from the bottle. It tasted like cherries and plums and oak and tar, and it made the tips of her ears tingle with warmth. That’ll do , she thought .
    Between the exhaustion of the day and the wine in her hand, it wasn’t long before a bone-weary sleepiness crept in on her. She scooted down into the sheets and lay back against the pillows. She tried her best to block out the last 24 hours and to focus on the next: waking up, checking out, getting her car fixed, leaving Anomaly Flats, and chalking it all up to a particularly lucid fever dream.
    Yes, she decided, tomorrow will definitely be better.

Chapter 5

    Mallory awoke with a start.
    Watery sunlight filtered in through the curtains, and despite the extremely convincing nightmare she’d just woken up from, when she looked under the sheets, all her various parts and pieces were accounted for, and she was one whole Mallory.
    She glanced over at the nightstand and, with no surprise at all, saw that only a few inches of Neptune Norton remained in the bottle. She yawned, and she stretched, and she said, “Ah, what the hell,” as she picked up the bottle and finished it off.
    She groaned her way out of bed and rubbed some life into her cheeks. Between the wine and the sleep, her breath was a horror. But she hadn’t packed a toothbrush (“Because who has time for necessities, dummy?” she chided herself), and even if she had packed one, returning to the washroom was completely out of the question. The world would just have to deal.
    She grabbed her backpack from under the bed and