Isabella and Maryann did something quite similar.
"What are you doing?" Nora asked as Isabella wrote out Japanese kanji on a piece of paper.
The blonde stuck the piece of paper to the door. "I'm putting up some protection. I don't like this place. I don't like how we got here. Everything feels a bit wrong."
Nora silently said a prayer.
"What are you doing?" Leah asked as Maryann walked around the room muttering under her breath.
"I'm putting up some protection," she answered when she finished her spell. "This place is creepy. I want to leave as soon as we can tomorrow."
Leah silently said a prayer.
But despite their fears, they all survived the night and there was no sign they'd ever been in any danger. The storm had passed it the day looked like it was going to be bright and sunny. The only problem was that they had planned to wake up early and leave, but none of their phone alarms had gone off so it was late in the morning before they finally got up.
"So, everything okay?" Leah asked Maryann in the morning.
"I guess so. This place is still weird, but maybe it was just the storm making everything seem so scary, you know? I mean, we didn't really end up in a horror movie," she answered with a slight laugh.
The place had nothing resembling a continential breakfast, so they just met up and went to the front desk to check out. The very old man had been replaced by a young man just about their age. His blonde hair and blue eyes looked slightly washed out, somehow, and he wore '50s style retro glasses, a white collared polo shirt, and a pair of jeans.
"Hi!" Maryann said brightly.
"Hi there," he said. "Gosh, this really must be my lucky day!"
"Don't start, Maryann," Nora whispered to her.
"We'd like to check out, please," she said, ignoring Nora.
"No problem," he replied, taking the keys. "What's your name, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Maryann."
"What a nice name. I'm Albert." He finished checking them out. "I get an hour break at lunch. Can I take you to the malt shop? Bridgetown's finest lunch-time establishment."
"We're trying to head out early," Isabella interrupted before Maryann could say anything.
The redhead pouted.
"It's just lunch. I mean, you wouldn't stay forever. And anyway, it's not very early anymore," he said.
"Yeah, well, we know, so we really need to get on the road."
"Oh, well, um, if you change your mind, you know where to find me," he said. "Have a nice day, ladies."
The parking lot was still empty except for a red bicycle, which they assumed was probably Albert's.
"This place is so old-fashioned," Maryann said as Isabella started to work on the van to repair the flat tire. "I didn't really notice last night."
The gas station was now open but there weren't any customers. They could see trees lining the road, a brightly colored restaurant with a giant neon sign in the shape of a milkshake, a few anonymous store fronts, and a few blocks down what was probably a courthouse. They could also see a few houses tucked away from the road that appeared to have been built around the turn of the 20th century. The only traffic immediately visable was a person in a white uniform riding a bicycle towards past the motel and towards the courthouse.
"Leah, give me a hand," Isabella said.
The two set to work to change the blown-out tire. Nora and Maryann tried to amuse themselves with their phones but neither could get any reception.
"We really are in the middle of nowhere," Nora exclaimed with frustration. "Seriously, I have never not been able to get any data on this thing."
"I know, right? And we don't even have the same carrier," Maryann said.
It took nearly an hour for Isabella and Leah to get the tire changed. In that time, they saw two station wagons and one classic cruiser drive down the street. The person in white passed by them going the other way, and two old ladies emerged from a side street and went to the gas station, then went back to their quiet street.
"Okay, I thought this place was kind of pretty," Maryann said, "but it's so quiet. It's like no one's here. I mean, there are some people, but this really quiet. Is it a holiday we don't know about?"
"Well, the van's ready to go," replied Isabella.
"And so am I," Leah added.
"But our phones aren't working," Maryann said. "How do we know the way out?"
"We go that way," Nora said, pointing down the road. "Easy enough."
They piled into the van and set out the opposite direction they came in. The road curved through the woods and about five miles away from the motel Isabella screeched to a halt.
"Does anyone remember crossing a bridge last night?" Leah asked, staring at the flooded-over bridge. "Or seeing a river anywhere on our maps?"
"It was dark; we might have missed it," Isabella said. "Are any of our GPS options working?" They all answered in the negative. "Fine. I have a back-up," she said, and reached under the seat for a giant road atlas of the United States.
"That's old-school," Maryann said.
"No, it's only a few years old," she retorted. She flipped open a page. "He said we were in Bridgetown, right? Okay, let me see. We came in this way..." she said, tracing the route with her finger. Then she frowned.
"I know that look," Leah said. "That's the look that says things just got weird. What's wrong?"
"There's no Bridgetown on this map," she replied. "And there's no river. And the road doesn't branch here." She looked up at them with worry in her gray eyes. "Guys, we've gone off the map and I'm going to bet if we can't get out of here there are going to be some serious consequences."
"Great," Leah sighed.
"Let's go talk to Albert. Maybe he can help," Maryann said brightly.
"Why would you think that?" Nora retorted.
"Well, okay, maybe he can't, but at least he's someone to talk to. Maybe there's another way out of town and the map's just wrong. It never hurts to ask."
"That's not true," Leah replied.
"Ladies. We'll go ask. Maybe I am overreacting. Not everything has to be some kind of supernatural misadventure, right?"
"Right," Nora answered promptly.
In the back seat, Maryann and Leah exchanged skeptical looks and did not agree. They turned around and went back to the motel, which still had no cars in the parking lot.
"Hey, you decided you had time for lunch after all," Albert said as they walked in. "Great! I'm just clocking out."
"Actually, the bridge west on Main Street here is out," Isabella said. "Can you tell us how to get back to the interstate?"
Some of the color drained from Albert's face. "How's the bridge out?" he asked, going into the office in the back momentarily to presumably clock out.
"What do you mean?" Nora asked.
"I mean," he said carefully, "is it broken or is it just flooded over?"
"Oh, flooded over," Maryann said.
"What does that matter?" Nora said impatiently. "If you don't know another way out of town, just say so."
Albert put a sign out on the desk that read, 'Out to Lunch.' He faced the band and pushed his glasses up his nose. "There isn't another way out. Just the bridge. That's why this place is called Bridgetown."
"Not overreacting," Isabella sighed. "Fine, lead the way."
He got on a bicycle and they slowly followed him down the street to the restaurant with the milkshake sign. If the rest of the town appeared nearly asleep, the Malt Shop was doing swift business. There was no drive-through window, but there were rows for cars to drive into as well as a main seating area.
"This looks really old-fashioned," Maryann said. "Is this retro, or is it actually old?"
"I'm not sure what you mean by 'retro,''' Albert said. "And it's not really old, or old-fashioned, at least not for Bridgetown."
But the place seemed to be some kind of idealized 1950s diner/drive-in. What they had taken for a
classic cruiser actually seemed to be the standard period car based on what they could see in the drive-in section. Carhops on rollerskates were bringing out food. For the diner itself, the decor was chrome and faux-leather with waitresses in neat little red uniforms and white aprons. Teenage girls were wearing big, poofy skirts and darted blouses while grown women were wearing neat suits with pencil skirts and wrist-length gloves. Business men were wearing full suits. A group of old people gathered in the corner away from the big-band music that was blaring from the jukebox. There was even an authentic soda fountain with a soda jerk. The scene was so surreal the band was fully convinced that everyone would stop and look at them as they entered, but no one did. Albert led them to an open table and gestured for them to sit down.
"This is weird," Leah murmured. "Maryann is actually wearing clothes that might not look out of place," she said, "but the rest of us don't fit in at all."
There were menus on the table, so out of curiosity they picked them up and read through them.
"Hamburger or hot dog or chicken strips," Maryann said. "Well, I guess we shouldn't expect vegetarian or gluten-free or anything like that."
"I suggest you just order the special," Albert said.
When a waitress stopped by to take their order, they did as he suggested.
"So what's going on here?" Isabella asked.
"You're going to have to learn some town history," he answered. "Bridgetown was founded around 1880 or so. The historical records aren't very good until the '20s. Anyway, this never was a really happenin' place, if you know what I mean. Bridgetown was always going to be a small town. But it was still a nice place. There was good fishing in Rock