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He saw the second flashlight they’d bought the day before standing by Dave’s phone and his heart banged harder. Dave would have taken the flashlight with him.
“The moonlight was enough for him to see by,” Oliver assured himself. “He didn’t need the flashlight.”
Taking a deep breath, Oliver slid his phone in one back pocket and Dave’s in the other. He picked up the second flashlight and, closing the door behind him, headed toward the latrine, the twin beams of the flashlights spearing into the woods at different angles. There was no sign that Dave had visited the latrine recently, and Oliver stood in place and turned in a slow circle, shining the lights into the trees around him.
“Dave?” he called, then louder, “Dave Bower!”
He ventured as deep into the woods as he dared at night, stopping often to maintain his sense of direction. There was no path in this area, and he didn’t want to get lost. He hoped that wasn’t what had happened with Dave. He stopped calling Dave’s name long enough to take deep breaths and fight back tears of fear and frustration.
“David, where the fuck are you?” he shouted. He braced an arm against a tree and rested his forehead in his elbow as he cried softly and whispered, “Dave. Come back. Please.”
After some time, he returned to the motel, covered in bug bites and his whole body aching as tears burned in the back of his throat. The panic had dulled to a heavy exhaustion, but he knew he couldn’t just lay down because he had to find Dave. He needed help, though. This wasn’t something he could do on his own. While out for dinner, they’d both commented on the fact that Clyde’s diner was open all night, and Dave had wondered what kind of clientele paid such a remote place a visit late at night. Oliver fought back the tears that threatened at the realization their conversation had happened just a few hours ago, and now everything had changed.
He forced himself to put those thoughts aside and focus on making a plan. The diner. He would drive to Clyde’s and get information about the local sheriff. The sheriff would have officers available to help with the search. The locals would know the woods better; they would know where to look for Dave.
But what kind of reaction would he receive at the local sheriff’s office? A couple of guys—a couple of gay guys—more or less trespassing on privately owned property and spending the night in a place already trampled through by thrill seekers and ghost enthusiasts.
“First things first,” he told himself sternly. “You need help to find Dave. You’ll be able to convince them to help. You have to. Get in the car and drive.”
He returned to the room and looked all over for the keys with no luck. Fighting down the rising panic, he went back and searched a second time, moving slower, touching each item on all the surfaces, certain he’d simply overlooked them. A third, even slower search of the room produced the same result: the keys were missing.
“What the fuck?” Oliver said. He stood in place and once more did a slow circle, shining the flashlight beam over everything, hoping to find he’d overlooked the keys in his preoccupied state.
No sign of Dave’s key ring.
“Did he leave them in the ignition?” Oliver muttered and went outside.
The car doors were all locked, and when he cupped a hand to the window and shone the flashlight through the glass, he saw the ignition was empty.
“Fuck!” he shouted up at the clear night sky.
Around him, the bugs and frogs and nightbirds had resumed their chorus, moving on with their simple lives as Oliver’s heart pounded, each beat widening the cracks as it felt like it broke over and over again.
Dave was gone. The Vixen had claimed another victim at the Morelock Motel. He turned his back to the car and slid down to sit on the gravel. Pulling his feet in close to his butt, he rested his forehead on his knees and cried.
Dave was in trouble and needed his help. But Oliver had no idea how or where to begin to look. All he could think about was Dave being lured to his death by the ghost of the Vixen of the Morelock Motel.
But wait.
He lifted his head and, through glasses smeared with tears and sweat, looked at the moonlit woods as a trickle of memory brought a bit of insight. The victims were never found, not even their bodies. That had to be important. Maybe Ruby didn’t kill her victims outright. Maybe she bewitched them, convinced them to follow her, and kept them enchanted for days to feed her hunger for male attention.
There could still be time to save Dave, there had to be. But Oliver needed to act fast, and he would require help. Help from someone more open to these types of specialized situations. Someone he and Dave both knew and trusted.
He thumped his head against the car door and made a face. That type of help unfortunately came at a cost. He most definitely wouldn’t be able to avoid both of them showing up to provide assistance. And a lot of blame would absolutely be thrown Oliver’s way for getting Dave into this situation.
Oliver groaned and weighed his options. It was a quarter to a half day journey to the motel. If he spent another day searching for Dave on his own, he might be able to find him, but then what? If Dave was enchanted, how could Oliver break the spell? And if he wasn’t able to locate him, that meant Dave would spend another night out in the woods without food, water, or shelter.
Time to suck it up and make the call.
With a sigh, Oliver pulled his phone from his back pocket. It was four in the morning, and he hesitated. Should he make the call right now? Probably for the best. If they could hit the road in an hour, they’d arrive by mid-morning and have all day to search the woods.
He checked the signal and sighed. Not even one bar. He’d have to hike to the paved road to try and get a better connection. Perfect. And not at all frightening.
Oliver got to his feet. He closed the motel room door and, shining the flashlight beam ahead of him, set off along the dirt road for the two lane blacktop a quarter mile away.
Dave would be all right. He would come back to Oliver and be the same person he’d been before. This would all turn out okay in the end, it had to. Oliver couldn’t imagine his life without Dave. Just the slightest consideration of it made him feel empty inside.
When he reached the shoulder of the asphalt road, it looked spookier than ever as the moonlight washed out all details. Oliver’s phone finally caught onto a signal and he got two bars. He took a deep breath then let it out and went through his contacts list until he found the name he needed. After a moment’s hesitation, he tapped the mobile number and placed the call. This was for Dave.
