The Inn Between (2 page)

“Check it out!” said Josh. “Dry as Desert Ribs. Cactus Quesadillas. Chuckwagon Chicken. And look, Dad! Norm's specialty—the Diablo Burger!”

“Doesn't
diablo
mean devil?” asked Quinn.

“Yeah! It's got pepper Jack cheese, jalapeño rings, and three kinds of hot sauce!”

“Wow,” said Quinn. “Eat
that
and you'll meet
el diablo
sooner than you think.”

“I'll have the Roadhouse Chili,” said Kara. “Er, you don't suppose it's made from roadkill, do you?”

Mr. Cawston waved and the man strolled over with a pad of paper and a pen.

“Two Diablo Burgers,” said Josh. As though to avoid confusion he added, “Both for me.”

The man shook his head. “No Diablo Burgers.”

Josh's face collapsed like an undercooked soufflé. He scrambled for his menu.

“Roadhouse Chili, please,” said Kara.

Norm shook his head again. “Outta chili, too.”

“Taco Salad?” said Quinn. She was met with the same slow shake of the man's head.

“What
do
you have?” asked Mrs. Cawston, frustration creeping into her tone.

“Grilled cheese,” said the man. Everyone waited for more options, but none came.

“That's it?” said Josh.

“'Fraid so,” said the man. “Take it or leave it.”

“I'll take two,” said Josh quickly.

“Make that six,” sighed Mr. Cawston.

“Six orders of grilled cheese,” the man said, scribbling on his pad of paper as though he might forget.

As they waited, Quinn glanced around. A collection of vintage baseball caps hanging on the wall at one end of the railcar caught her attention. On the opposite wall was a black pay phone. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen a pay phone.

The man brought the sandwiches. As he passed Quinn her plate, he glanced at her bracelet and scowled.

“Um, Norm?” said Quinn.

He shook his head. “Not Norm.”

“If you're not Norm, then who's the diner named after?” asked Kara.

“No one,” said the man. “People around here don't speak the names of the dead once they're gone. Not much point in calling a diner a name you eventually can't speak.”

“Why don't you?” asked Quinn. “Speak the names?”

“When we die, our spirits linger near the land for several days. Once the soul passes beyond, we give our names back to the desert.”

The man-previously-known-as-Norm glanced again at the tied hands, and then walked back toward the counter.

Quinn was curious. She had to know why he seemed so bothered. She waited until everyone had finished eating. Not-Norm returned with the bill and began gathering the plates. Mr. Cawston was busy fishing through his wallet, and Josh and Mrs. Cawston had gone to the bathroom. Quinn motioned at their tied hands. “I guess you think we're weird.”

Not-Norm averted his eyes. “Seen weirder.”

“We're best friends,” said Quinn.

Kara grinned. “Best friends forever.”

Not-Norm dropped his chin. “I once dreamed of a two-headed bird. Half the bird was trying to fly, while the other half was bound to the ground.”

Quinn looked at Kara, then at their bracelets. She wanted to ask the man more, when Josh interrupted.

“How are Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb gonna go to the bathroom?” He laughed like a drunken mule.
Eeyhah. Eeyhah.

“I guess we should try to figure it out,” said Kara, dragging Quinn out of the booth.

As they left the diner, Quinn glanced over her shoulder. Not-Norm watched from the counter, a shadow draped over his gaunt face.

The day had deepened. They'd stayed too long in the diner. Soon the snakes and scorpions would be slinking out from under their rocks.

As she got into the car, Quinn noticed a lump of mangled fur along the side of the road. Above, black birds circled. Turkey vultures. She recognized them by their ugly red heads. They swooped, digging their hooked beaks into the fleshy feast. One large vulture came up with something dangling from its beak—an eyeball. Grilled cheese churned in Quinn's stomach as she dove into the backseat. The van began to roll.

The hum was louder now, getting louder by the second. It was like the drone of a jet engine pressing against the walls of Quinn's mind.

An eerie twilight swept the landscape and all the browns shimmered gold. Even the air had a strange amber glow. And everything—the road, the hills, the mountains, and the horizon—melted together with no distinguishing lines to tell them apart.

That was probably why no one noticed the light. Light so powerful, so blinding. Heading straight for them.

 

3

Q
UINN MEETS
E
MMA
at their usual spot near the office doors. The November sun is already low on the horizon, setting Emma's auburn hair on fire. The buses are lined up and the parking lot's a zoo. A bitter wind shepherds stray clouds. The musky scent of fall is fading into the woolly-wet smell of winter.

Quinn hugs her arms to her chest. Her cheeks glow scarlet, camouflaging her brown freckles. “I have to stay late.”

Emma's forehead crinkles. She scrunches the pink knit cap she's holding in her hands. “What'd you do?”

“Doesn't matter,” says Quinn, dropping her chin. Her voice is as thin and wispy as the wind. “I just have to stay.”

Kids from Quinn's class rush past. They slow down, their gazes lingering on her. They whisper. They're always whispering.

Emma drops her backpack—the orange one with the huge smiley face. It thunks to the green-tiled floor scuffed with a thousand sneaker skids. “What happened?”

Tears burn at the back of Quinn's eyes. Soon she won't be able to keep them from falling. She shrugs. “It's nothing. Don't make a big deal.”

Cold seeps through Quinn's pale gray sweatshirt. It chills her skin, sinking deep into the hollow of her bones. She stares at Emma. Perfect Emma.

Kara approaches. She's hurrying to catch her bus.

“Sorry,” mutters Quinn.

Kara stops long enough to cast a withering glare. Then she's off—rushing to make her bus.

“I'll call you,” says Quinn.

Emma stares. She waits a moment longer. Then she places her cap on her head and picks up her backpack. She slings it over her shoulder, tucks her hands into her pockets, and with one last look turns and walks away.

The sun is fiercely bright. Quinn squints as she watches Emma head through the chaos of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk.

Suddenly, she wants to call Emma back. She wants to yell,
Don't go!
but her throat is chalky—she has no voice. A pink cap moves farther and farther away, bobbing and weaving through the crowd, disappearing into the sunset.

Quinn lunges forward, but something holds her back. The light is too bright. It stings her eyes.

Then all color washes from the world. Emma is nothing but a dark silhouette melting into the bright sunset that wraps itself around her like a silken cloak.

Emma! Come back!

Quinn struggles wildly. Her feet break free, and she plunges face-first into the light. It jabs and scratches at her. She shields her eyes with her hands.

Then everything disappears—the school, the parking lot, the houses, the street—they're all gone now. There's nothing but light.

Piercing.

Blinding.

Light.

 

4

Q
UINN'S BODY THUMPED
to the left, then to the right. Her hand found Kara's just as the car screeched to a halt, tearing up the gravel on the shoulder of the road. Everyone talked at once.

“What
was
that?” yelled Josh.

“What's going on?” screamed Kara.

“Spencer?”

Mr. Cawston ripped off his seat belt and turned to face the back. “Is everyone okay? Kara? Quinn?”

“What happened?” said Mrs. Cawston.

“I-I don't know,” he stammered. “Did you see those lights, Min?”

“What was it?” asked Kara, still squeezing Quinn's hand.

“Aliens,” whispered Josh.

Quinn stared out the window. Beyond the reach of the headlights, shadows danced.

Mrs. Cawston let out a deep breath. She adjusted her glasses. “Don't be silly. It was a truck or transport. We've been driving over thirteen hours.” She touched her husband's hand. “You need a break, Spence. Let's stop for the night.”

Mr. Cawston rubbed his eyes. He sighed and nodded. “I think I saw a sign near Norm's. There's a hotel on the border between Nevada and California. It shouldn't be far.” He took another deep breath, slipped the car into gear, and eased back onto the road.

“My mom,” said Quinn suddenly. “I should call her.”

Mrs. Cawston got out her cell phone and turned it on. The interior of the car glowed blue in the darkness. “Darn. No service.”

“My battery died hours ago,” said Mr. Cawston. “And I forgot the car charger.”

“Great,” said Josh. “My tablet's dead, too.”

“Don't worry, Quinn,” said Mrs. Cawston reassuringly. “When we get to a hotel, we'll charge the phones. You can call then. And
you
,” she said, pointing an admonishing finger at Josh, “you can survive a night without aliens.”

Josh huffed and tossed the tablet onto the empty seat beside him.

In the back, Kara squeezed Quinn's hand. Quinn winced. A thin dark line circled her wrist. The bracelet had cut into her skin.

“What's wrong?” whispered Kara.

“It's nothing.”

Kara eyed the linked bracelets and sighed. “Sooner or later, we're going to have to untie them.”

Quinn knew Kara was right, but her words hurt more than the cut. No matter what Quinn did, no matter how hard she tried, she was going to lose Kara.

She began picking at the threads once again. The knot was tighter. She wasn't sure she'd be able to undo it.

They traveled in silence for some time before Quinn noticed something had changed. The hum had stopped. She jiggled a finger in one ear and listened hard, but it was like someone had hit the mute button.

She dug harder into the knotted threads until they came undone. Her hand fell free just as Mr. Cawston slowed the car. He pointed to a huge billboard caught in the headlights.

“That must be it—the hotel between states,” said Mr. Cawston.

“ZZZZZ? What kind of an exit is that?” said Quinn.

“Don't you get it?” said Kara. “
ZZZZZ.
As in sleep.”

“Clever,” said Mrs. Cawston.

Kara's dad hit the gas and the car lurched forward. “A few days before we left I was checking out the map and I saw a road around here called Z-Z-Y-Z-X. You pronounce it
Zizicks
. I looked it up and supposedly some crazy old man named it. Wanted it to be the last word in the dictionary. People still call it
the last place on earth
.” He paused to yawn deeply. “Didn't notice any road called Z-Z-Z-Z-Z, though. At least not on the map I was looking at.”

“Well,” said Kara, “maybe there was an even crazier guy who wanted his place to be the very very last place on earth, so he called it ZZZZZ, pronounced
ZZZZZ
.” She buzzed extra long and everyone laughed.

Just then a sign appeared in the distance. It was the blue
Welcome to California
sign with golden letters and matching golden poppies. Right before it was exit ZZZZZ. An arrow pointed to an off-ramp that led behind dark hills of desert gravel.

The minivan bumped and jostled for what seemed like forever. With nothing and no one else in sight, Quinn felt like they were driving on the dark side of the moon.

“I think I saw the same jagged hill three times already,” said Kara. “We're driving in circles.”

Josh swallowed. “Just like that episode of
Star Trek
where the
Enterprise
is stuck in a rift in the space-time continuum…”

“Look! I see it,” said Kara.

Quinn stared into the darkness. A tiny light shimmered in the distance.

“That must be the place,” said Mrs. Cawston.

As they drew nearer, the silhouette grew brighter and clearer. It was nothing like the boxy roadside motel Quinn had expected. Instead, the hotel, perched high on a hill, looked more like an enormous Victorian mansion, with long, lean windows all alit.

“Cool,” said Josh.

The building was a few stories tall. Quinn gazed up at the roof. It was steep, surrounded by what looked like a wrought-iron fence. In the center sat a separate, smaller structure with oval windows. It reminded Quinn of a jeweled crown sitting on top of a majestic head. All the protruding windows were like giant eyes.