Murder-You-Vote

Chapter Four

Everyone was checked in, getting settled. Kenna stretched her arms above her head, enjoying the sounds of a lodge filled with people. Someone was having a conversation in the upstairs sitting area, and the floor creaked in the occupied rooms above.

Five guests. It was a shame the last hadn't shown up, but with the weather, five making it for her opening week was a success. Besides, her cancellation policy clearly stated he would only get half his refund.

I did it. She reached for the last of the heart cookies and took a bite. I really, really did it.

McKenna Cormick, twenty-nine-year-old community college dropout, had launched her own business, her own hotel, with nothing but her wits, her uncle's inheritance, and a lot of DIY blogs.

She felt like squealing, like twirling, like throwing her head back and shouting, but she didn't want to disturb the guests. She settled for a happy wiggle-dance in her chair.

Five guests staying for just this one week was enough to cover the costs of running the lodge for a month. She clicked the date option on the screen to show her future reservations. She had enough bookings for the rest of the month to be able to afford at least one of the pricier advertising options.

This is really happening. She took another bite of cookie. I've really done it.

Water sloshed through the pipes in the wall from a guest's toilet, and Kenna sat up straight. She couldn't sit at her computer beaming at her success all night. She had to start making dinner. And she needed the baking sheets she'd taken to the cabin the night before.

The wind was throwing snow against the window so hard the building shook. If I don't leave now, I'll have to shovel my way to the cabin.

Kenna stood, twirled on her wool peacoat and looped a cheery red scarf around her neck. She opened the maintenance closet – much tidier than the attic in the back cabin – and grabbed her bright orange snow shovel. As a last thought, she grabbed one of the heart-shaped candy boxes she had bought to put in each of the guest's rooms on Valentine's Day. If her sixth guest wasn't coming, she might as well eat his candy.

She unwrapped the cellophane and popped a piece in her mouth.

Success, she decided, tasted like a winter-chilled cherry cordial.

..........................

At first, she could nearly get the door open, pressing her full weight to open it against the blizzard, but once it caught the wind, it flew open and banged against the far wall. Snow and ice stung her cheeks and the gap at her wrist where her coat sleeves met her gloves. She struggled to get the door closed again, getting behind it and leaning against it until it finally latched.

She was breathing hard, her arms were tired, and she hadn't even left the porch.

Maybe I don't need those cookie sheets. But the thought of dinner with no rolls, and her delicious homemade garlic butter dough going unused in the freezer... No. I can do this. I've handled snowstorms my whole life.

The light was failing, the thick snowfall impenetrable save for a muffled halo of light from the lone street light above the entrance to the snow maze. Where the owner's cabin lay was almost completely dark.

Kenna held the box of candy under one arm and gripped the snow shovel with the other, holding the aluminum scoop close to the ground to keep it from flying off like a sail in the wind, using it like an anchor to keep her upright. She knew the way to the cabin by heart, but she hadn't expected the cars, which she couldn't see until she was nearly walking into them. Once she moved away from the lodge, she could barely see her hands in front of her. The snow whipped into her face and made her eyes water.

It howled, whistled through the branches of evergreen hedges, and roared between the cars in the gravel lot.

And there were footsteps.

Her own, of course, crunching through the snow, but when she paused... another set.

"Hello?" She shouted, but the snow muffled her voice. She couldn't see anyone when she turned around – just the storm. "Go back inside." What are they even doing out here? "Unlock your car from the porch and text me what you need. My number's on the desk. It's too dangerous out here." Especially if you're the one from Florida, she winced. That woman barely had a coat. "Stay inside," she shouted louder.

Kenna paused a moment, hand pressed against her pocket where her cell phone lay, but it didn't buzz, and she didn't hear a shouted response.

Maybe there's no one there.

She turned back toward her cabin, pushing forward, one foot after the other.

The slightest sound of a second footstep was her only warning before she was yanked off her feet, her scarf tightening around her neck, squeezing her airway shut and throwing her hard against the icy ground. Her vision clouded for a second, adrenaline clearing it as she swung wildly with the snow shovel, swiping it over her head at whoever had grabbed her scarf. She strained to see her attacker but all she saw was snow flying nearly horizontal before her face.

She was being dragged by the throat in fits and starts, small seconds between each lunge when she could breathe, and she swallowed air so cold it stung.

I'm going to die.

Kenna swung the shovel harder. It connected and she heard a crash, grains of shatterproof glass raining on her face, but her attacker didn't stop.

She dug her feet into the snow to try and gain traction but her boots were wet and the ground was slick, packed down from where her body had dragged against it. In the corner of her vision, she thought she saw one of the hedges that outlined the eastern edge of the parking lot, but it could just as easily have been a snowbank, or another car. Everything was covered in white, disorienting her.

But sodium yellow light warmed the snow, and she knew whoever had her was taking her to the snow maze. She and her friends had built it themselves. She knew the pattern by heart. If she could get on her feet, she might be able to get her attacker lost in the maze.

Wrapping her hands around the base of the shovel, Kenna thrust it hard over her head. It didn't connect, but the dragging stopped. She rolled onto her stomach, letting the shovel sink into the snow as she pulled at the scarf with one hand, loosening its grip and taking in lungfulls of air.

Her attacker yanked on the shovel next. No! Kenna scrabbled at it in the snow. She wrapped her arms around it and used her weight to keep it close, but she'd been dragged across the parking lot by this person... they were strong enough to easily pull her along, shovel and all.

Suddenly, the shovel released. Kenna flew forward, nearly losing her grip on the shovel. She rallied fast, swinging the shovel in a wide arc as hard as she could.

It hit hard.

The force of the blow made the metal shovel head ring like a bell. Her arms buzzed with the shockwave.

I hit him. She turned in the murky spotlight from the lamp above, squinting in the snow for a body. I hit him!

But she didn't hit him.

She had hit the light pole.

A splintering crack came from above her head. She spun around, searching for the sound, her damp sunset curls fanning behind her in the snow-thick air as the icicle detached from the lamp, fell through the air, and cracked open the crown of her head.

.........................

Murder-You-Vote continues Feb 10th. 

Check back next week for your chance to determine what happens next!

Check out the MYV website for character art and profiles, and to learn more about our authors. http://www.jayleejames.com/murder-you-vote