Searching for the Loch Ness Monster

III - Scary Scots

III - Scary Scots

“What is the hotel called again?” Lucy asks for the third time. Her face is bright red from all the walking after a cab dropped us here, in the town of Loch Ness from Inverness airport.

“Loch Ness Clansman Hotel,” I reply, taking a moment to glance at the map.

“How original,” Lucy sneers, throwing herself at a bench nearby and dropping her bag on the pavement.

The winds pick up, making me lose grip of the map in surprise. “No!” I scream, trying to reach out for the map, which slips in between my fingers. I try running after it but my heavy knapsack slows me down. “Don’t do this to me, you bloody map!”

The odds are certainly not in my favor as the the map has completely vanished. I ball my fists and stuff them into my mouth, stopping myself from screaming out in frustration.

“You should go and ask that fine-looking old lady there,” Lucy suggests, nodding towards an old lady who is struggling with her groceries.

I shoot my companion a glare. “By ‘you’, do you mean ‘we’?”

Lucy grins at me, making my insides shudder. She knows that her smile always creeps me out because it looks sadistic. “I will kill her with one smile. You don’t want to do that to a senior citizen, do you?”

Why is it that I have this urge to leave her here and now?

Ignoring Lucy and my thoughts, I make my way towards the old lady, strapping my knapsack to me again. She seems to be occupied by carrying her large brown bags of goods.

“Excuse me, ma’am. Do you need any help with that?” I ask politely once I’m at the back of her.

The lady drops her groceries in surprise.

“Whit dae ye want, ye rude sassenach lassie?” she practically screams at me before bending down to pick up an orange that rolled to the middle of the empty road.

I quickly kneel down next to her, helping her. “I just want to help…”

“Help! 'at lassie is a thief!” the old lady screams, slapping my hands away. Her Scottish accent is so thick that I can barely comprehend whatever she’s saying.

I notice a few passerbies immediately come to the lady’s rescue. In my case, that's not a good thing.

“Gang awa', thief!” A Scotsman who looks like a wrestler from WWE says. He shoots me a deadly look while pointing a thick finger at the opposite direction. The other two men, who look like wrestlers too, just huff out loud. They look like they are capable of crushing me with their pinkies.

“I just want to help her and get to the Loch Ness Clansman Hotel,” I whimper, taking a few steps back.

“Thief!” The old lady screams again with her strong Scottish accent.

This time, the wrestler-like man and his two wrestler mates chase after me.

“Run!” I warn Lucy as I dash past her.

“What the hell are you talking a – Holy shit!” I hear Lucy from a distance. “Kaya! Wait!”

Even if I heard her, I didn’t slow down at all. Never in a million years would I think that I will ever be accused of stealing and being chased by three giants in my favorite foreign country.

Well, you certainly thought wrong, my consciousness comments.

Let me tell you one thing, being chased by Scottish people who are the size of giants is not a walk in the park. 

“Stop!” I cry in the nick of time. If the driver didn’t stop his vehicle on time, I would have been a flattened cockroach by now. Without a second thought, I jump into the passenger seat.

“Drive! Drive! Drive!” I yell, bouncing up and down in the leathery seat. Adrenaline from all that running still runs in my veins.

The driver steps on the gas. My body lurch backwards as the vehicle speeds away. Something huge and red collides into me, cutting off my oxygen supply.

The driver takes a sharp turn, making my face come in contact with the window. Thankfully, the odd-looking thing is now on the floor of the car and I can finally breathe properly again.

The knock on my head still hurts though.

“Please don’t kill me! I’m too young to die. Just tell me what you want from me?” the driver asks, sounding like he’s going to cry soon. I look at him through the mirror.

It feels like time has stopped when both our eyes meet through the reflection. His woody brown eyes that held fear and panic are now replaced with curiosity. His red hair is tucked under his hat. He still has a little bit of boyish features although he looks older than he really looks.

“I just want to get to the bloody hotel when all this shit happen,” I moan.

The driver is about to say something when –

Crash!                                                                  

“Can my day get any worse?” I ask out loud in frustration.

The next thing I know, another huge Scotsman with thick white beard comes out of the pick-up truck which we rammed into. Boy, he does not look happy at all.

Did I mention that he’s carrying a rifle in his hands as well?