The Beast from the Bay: A Michelle Taylor Short Story: Michelle Taylor Stories, #2

One

THE FIRST THING MICHELLE heard was screaming. The sound cut through the still night air, penetrated the closed windows of her rented room and jolted her awake. The second thing she heard were gunshots – wild and too close together for the shooter to have aimed with any precision. They were the snapshots of someone inexperienced with a firearm gripped by fear, and Michelle’s immediate reaction was to grab her own pistol from beneath her pillow. Turning on the lamp beside the bed, Michelle swung her legs out and stood. She was wearing only her undergarments but, nevertheless, she ran to the window with her weapon in hand. Still a little dazed and confused, Michelle was completely bemused as to why there was nothing beyond the glass of the window but a few obscured light sources. Yet, proximity to the window increased the sound of the carnage taking place in the street. Michelle craned this way and that trying to get a better look, rubbing furiously at the glass with her free hand in case the window was condensed, but all she succeeded in doing was dislodging her dark hair over her face.

More screams erupted followed by the sound of a car crashing and Michelle’s first thought was that whoever had been shooting had hit the driver, causing some kind of collision, but her mind was starting to catch up and she became aware that the gunshots had ceased a few seconds prior to the crash. It didn’t rule out the possibility that the gunshots had wounded or killed the driver, but as she struggled to understand what had happened in the brief moments since she’d woken up, putting the events in some kind of sequence in the hope it would bring a little clarity, she was eventually forced to conclude that by lacking any visuals it was all pure conjecture.

More screams rose up from the street below and, concernedly, more that might have been coming from inside the hotel she was staying in. Michelle darted over to the bedside table and grabbed her phone, roughly pulling the charging cable out. She tapped the call button and started to tap in the numbers to call the emergency services, but, in that same moment, saw she had no signal. With an exasperated snarl, she tossed the cell phone onto the bed and moved towards her clothes. Michelle set her gun down before she snatched up her jeans from where they lay at the end of the bed, roughly pulling them on before grabbing her boots. Michelle hurried as swiftly as she could, conscious that there were definitely screams coming from within the hotel. She hurt her ears pulling her t-shirt on too quickly, and heard a tearing sound as she ripped the neck in her haste. She had no sooner snapped it into place before she grabbed her leather duster coat, sliding it on not just for a little added protection from whatever might be happening outside, but because of the myriad pockets it contained holding a number of items which might prove useful if she was dealing with a supernatural threat.

As Michelle reached for her pistol, the light in her room flickered before cutting out altogether. She cursed softly as she retrieved her phone, pocketing it in case she was able get a signal later. From the same pocket, she pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on, aiming the beam at the door. Michelle approached it, her heart pounding but her grip steady on her weapon and her light source as she mentally prepared herself for whatever might be going on outside. Nearing the door, she considered the possibility that it might be some kind of local disturbance: a riot, a street gang making some kind of power play, or perhaps... what? Michelle couldn’t really fathom it being any of those things. She was in a small, sleepy town named Wicksbay in the state of Maine, which didn’t have a population larger than a few thousand. The easy going nature of the people she’d encountered since she drove into town, mixed with the general communal feeling she’d picked up on between the residents, led her to believe Wicksbay was unlikely to be a hub of criminal activity. The town itself wasn’t part of the fastest route back to her apartment in Chicago, but as she’d been working non-stop for several months and actually had money to spare rather than simply living from dollar to dollar, she’d decided to take a two day vacation. The police detective who had paid her for dealing with a vampire had recommended it as a nice place to relax and enjoy some incredible fresh seafood, and that had sealed the deal for Michelle. Now, as she reached the door, Michelle deeply regretted her decision.

After taking a deep breath Michelle leaned forward and unlocked it, then twisted the knob with the same hand that was holding the flashlight, while keeping her pistol held ready at her side. She cracked the door open a few inches and saw that the lights were out in the hall too, which sent a surge of adrenalin through her as her mind explored several possibilities based on her previous experiences, although she hoped none of them would develop into anything more than supposition.  She toed the door the rest of the way open while she scanned with her flashlight, seeing nothing but the same cheap, dark brown carpeting that was in her room and the similar, but stained with hand marks, off-white bare walls. She stepped out, extending her gun arm and laying it over the one holding the flashlight, looking left and right for any signs of life before moving fully into the corridor. To her right, the corridor ended a few paces up with another wall and window which seemed to be just as obscured as the one in her room had been. Across from her was another room, but if it had been rented out then the occupant was staying indoors - a more sensible idea Michelle fleetingly admitted before turning left and moving down the corridor towards the staircase that led down to the ground floor... and also up to the floor that served as the owner’s home. There were two more rooms on the current floor, one on either side, and she passed by them with quick, furtive glances to ensure the doors were still firmly closed. More screams radiated upstairs and Michelle quickened her pace, cautious but determined to stop whoever or whatever was harming the people downstairs. She reached the first step and started down, turning right to follow the bend in the staircase and hurriedly approaching ground level. As she descended, she became aware of wisps of white fog that were wafted away by her hurried leg movements. Michelle stepped into a short corridor that housed another pair of rooms on the right and looked straight ahead, shining her light into a thin cloud of fog which appeared to be seeping in through the gap in the pair of doors that separated the corridor from the reception area at the front of the hotel. There were sounds outside, distant screams, a screeching that was likely coming from car tyres being abused, and distant gunshots - much further away than those which had awakened her - but there were no sounds from within the hotel. Michelle felt as though there was terrible danger ahead: supernatural danger. Her senses, as those of all people like herself, were naturally tuned to feel the presence of supernatural evil, and at this moment her senses were screaming at her that there was something nearby. Michelle knew she had a few more magazines for her pistol in her pockets, with bullets that were effective against a wide variety of supernatural creatures. They were special iron bullets with holy water in their tips, which had enough power to punch through the hide of most supernatural entities. Most, but unfortunately, not all. As Michelle stepped forward into the fog, she hoped that whatever was ahead of her wasn’t one of the rare exceptions.

She passed by the ground floor rooms cautiously. The left side was devoted to the breakfast and kitchen area, where earlier in the day the owner’s wife had proudly promised Michelle a breakfast better than any she’d ever eaten the next morning. As she neared the door of the room