The road looked like it had been carved out of the side of the cliff face. Not very wide, barely enough for one lane let alone two, it snaked along its path. On the one side, a near vertical stone wall rising up out of sight. On the other, the road gave way to open air and a sheer three hundred foot drop to the valley floor.
Even during the best of weather, the way would be treacherous, but with the wind whipping and the rain slashing through the dark night, it was nearly impossible to navigate.
END OF FIVE MINUTES
It wasn't by preference that the young man and his pregnant wife were out so late. Labor had started about an hour ago while they were headed west to start their new life. It was leave their friends and family behind with the baby due at any moment, or lose the opportunity of a lifetime with a six figure income and a big enough R & D budget to make millions more.
That in itself wasn't the only reasons. Money was important, but so was the freedom to create and the prospects of new friends and high adventure. The catalyst, though, had been much darker—her ex-boyfriend turned stalker had shown up at their apartment door three times in the last month, drunk and increasingly determined to fight him for her. The local police was overwhelmed with calls of greater crimes, so baby sitting the ex was not high on any priority list.
Thus, the mother-to-be had consented, if not virtually insisted, that they pack up and go, and see what this new life might bring.
They were fortunate in that there were no other drivers insane enough to be out so late in the middle of the sudden storm. It was also good luck that the storm began to abate nearly as quickly as it came after pounding their vehicle relentlessly for the better part of an hour.
It was about that time that the road curved in towards the mountain, still creeping upwards, but without the free fall. The dark clouds parted, revealing a full moon that looked close enough to touch. The heavenly body seemed to hover directly over some odd-shaped structure at the top of a hill.
"I think it might be a hotel," the husband said. "Should we at least stop to see if we can get a doctor out here?"
His wife, groaning, nodded. He turned off the main road onto the drive and presently they were in the courtyard of the large building.
Even close up, it resembled more like a 19th century school house than a place of lodging. As the husband stepped out, noting that the air was calm and dry, he saw someone open the one of two very ornate doors and begin descending several wide steps.
As the figure drew closer, the husband could tell it was a fairly young man. He seemed oddly familiar. When he realized who the man resemembled, a chill went down his spine. Turning back to his wife, he said, "Are you sure about this?"
"Why? What's wrong?" She was beginning to breathe sharply between the pain.
"Just that he looks like Anthony Perkins reincarnate." When his wife gave him a blank stare, he added, "You know. The guy from the original psycho movie?"
"You're too young to know that name," the man called, too far away to have heard the husband's whisper.
"Heeeyyyy! Uh, hello!" The husband stepped away from the car door, but left it ajar and the engine running.
"I don't get many visitors out here, especially at night," the man said, now closer. That didn't make the husband feel any better. "My guess is, you're looking for a place to stay?"
"And or a hospital," the husband said, "My wife's in labor."
"Oh, yes," the man said, The husband had gained enough of his senses from his initial shock to tell that the man was carrying what appeared to be a wine glass in his left hand, which he was brandishing around without spilling a single drop of the contents. Instead of being red or clear, the liquid was decidedly white, and somewhat thick.
Seeing the husband eyeing the glass, the man said nonchalantly, "It's Bison milk. Helps to settle the stomach." The husband noted queasily that the man's skin nearly matched what was in the glass, and that his eyes had a dreamy, filmy appearance to them. He also looked like he hadn't eaten in a while—his clothes hung from him as if he were four sizes too small for them.
"Do you happen to have a landline I could use?" The husband decided he didn't want to hear about the man's stomach problems, or anything else for that matter. "There's not cell reception out here."
"No towers," the man shrugged. "Not even for landlines."
"Oh."
"You're welcome to spend the night if you like," the man said, a creepy smile that made him look half dazed, half crazed forming on his lips.
"Um, well, we probably should keep going," the husband declined, "The baby's not going to keep."
"I suppose not," the man said, "I'm blessed to have quite a few children of my own. All of them pretty much insisted on leaving the womb at the earliest opportunity."
"Uh-hunh." Resisting the desire to ask how many children the man had, the husband retreated behind the car door. "Thank you. Have a good evening."
"Nine hundred sixty-one," the man said, before the husband could get in and shut the door.
"What?"
"Children," the man said, the awkward smile returning. "That's how many I have."
"Let's go," the wife said. Having witnessed everything from inside the car, her tone and expression both said she was much more worried about the man than she was her imminent delivery.
The husband got in and put his foot hard on the gas. The car shot forward. To get back to the road, the husband decided to loop around the man, who stood there waving at them, turning with them as they passed.
"About three miles down the road there's an actual hotel," he shouted over the revving engine and squealing tires. "Ask for Beatrice. She's the manager. And my eightieth wife."
As they put the man in the rearview mirror and sped back down the drive, the wife turned to the husband. "Honey," she said.
"I know," the husband said, "We're going back home."
"Please hurry," she said, "I think my water just broke."
Images source—Pixabay.
This post is part of the five-minute freewrite hosted by @mariannewest. Six of the daily prompts were used in making this story and can be found in italics. If you'd like to participate, simply follow this link for the latest prompt and instructions.