Plagued lives - part ? of ?

The reason I changed the part counter is simple: I'm not sure if what I'm posting here can be thought of as a whole chapter or part or not, that's why I won't keep count at all. Also I don't know how long the entire novel will be so let's keep it like this for now! Please enjoy.

He got up and started packing all the necessities: food, water, warm clothes, flashlight, a pair of boots so he can walk the narrow path with ease and finally a big hunting knife that he got as a gift from an old friend a while back. The area he was going to pay a visit has possibly been completely abandoned for decades, he didn’t know what to expect. Perhaps the plague was contagious enough to kill every living thing on its way, but there was a solid chance that some ferocious wild animals populated there in the absence of humans. After a significant amount of time which Hamond spent packing and reconsidering things he was finally determined and ready to get going. He showed all of his stuff in the backseat of his jeep and turned the key. The engine’s roar made him feel powerful, stronger and more focused and now there was a long road ahead of him and no turning back until he resolves the mystery of his deceased father’s ghost.

The first few hours of driving went by smoothly but rather slow and the final rays of the Sun were starting to disappear in the distance, one by one, letting the chilly November eve take over. Hamond progressed much slower than he expected to and now it was time to decide whether he should make a stop and spend the night somewhere or keep on going straight towards Faylake. In the end, the gas tank made the decision as it came to Hamond’s attention that there is no way he could travel all the way to the end without filling up once. He started looking for a decent place to get some gas and after skipping a few old and worn down stations, he finally decided for one that looked just a bit tidier, which also had a small motel next to it. Once Hamond finally had a chance to stop and stretch his legs, there was no going back. He wasn’t very fond of long drives, or driving in general. Loads of times when he travelled with Susie he would let her be in charge of the wheel, he preferred to rest and sleep as much as possible saving his energy for later. After paying for the gas he moved the jeep to a parking spot and walked over to the motel. The best way to describe that building would most likely be plain and boring. It looked nothing like those shady motels you get to see every day in horror movies nor did it look life one of the fancier ones. Upon entering through the big wooden doors Hamond found himself in a lobby, which didn’t differ much from the outside. It was painted exactly the same color both in and out, that dull shade of beige. Even the damn floorboards were almost the same color as the walls. The only thing that stood out in the entire room was the reception table. Not because of its color, that too was painted beige, but because of the man sitting behind the counter. He was… strange. But not strange in a creep way, just strange. It’s almost as if he didn’t notice or didn’t want to acknowledge Hamond’s presence even though the floor was making noise with each step Hamond took. No, the man behind the counter didn’t even turn to give a look, he was too busy staring at some notebook that looked a hundred years old. He just seemed absent, like his mind was wandering somewhere far from there. He had huge, round spectacles on his head and long, greasy black hair that seemed like it wasn’t washed for ages. Another thing that seemed off were the man’s fingernails, long and pointy, they probably weren’t cut in a long while.
Hamond felt a bit uneasy about this whole situation, but he gathered the courage to speak up.
“Excuse me.”
…
No answer. The man didn’t move a single muscle, not even his lips to say something. That’s when a sign on the counter caught Hamond’s eye: “Please ring for service”.
Next to it was a rusty silver bell, waiting to be pressed. Hamond pressed his hand against it.
“Ding.”
Not even a split second went by and the man behind the counter finally spoke, still not lifting his head up from whatever he was reading. He only uttered:
“Yes?”
His voice was harsh, and he sounded so uninterested and impolite. Being this close to him, Hamond could now feel that the man reeked of tobacco and alcohol. He almost gagged from the smell, but he managed to get it together and speak up.
“I need a room for the night. How mu..”
He was interrupted.
“40$ a night, the keys are hanging on your right, take which ever you want. You need to leave by 9AM.”
Everything the man said sounded like it was a recorded message, like the one you would receive on your answering machine. Hamond didn’t want to spend another second near this guy, he just placed the money on the counter, snatched the key from room number three and followed the corridor on his right. At the very end of it was his room, if you can call it that. A small space, colored beige of course, with absolutely nothing but an antique bed and a separate bathroom which contained a sink, shower and a toilette. And the bathroom was even smaller than the room, everything in it was so cramped that you could wash your teeth while taking a dump and a shower at the same time. There was so much mold on the walls that Hamond just decided to keep that door closed and not go anywhere near it. He felt much cleaner not showering for a day than entering there and risk getting several diseases at the same tame. On fact he didn’t even care to change clothes, all he wanted was to lie down, fall asleep and get the hell out of there as soon as the Sun comes up. He locked the door, laid down and covered himself with a blanked that was thick just a little bit more than a piece of paper. Needless to say, there was no heating and at this point Hamond was wandering if it was better that he just pulled over somewhere along the way and slept on the grass. But he felt too tired to do anything at this point so he just drifted away to sleep in a matter of minutes.

After what felt like ages, Hamond awoke, feeling well rested for a change. No nightmares, no creepy visions, nothing. It was only logical that it was because he listened to his father’s wishes and set out to reach Faylake. He felt relieved and ready to hit the road. It was already almost 9AM and he didn’t feel like waiting for that strange dude to come around and charge him for overstaying or something even worse. He picked up all of his stuff started walking towards the exit. As he approached the reception desk he could see that the man was still sitting in the exact same position as last night, still staring at the dusty old notebook. Hamond placed the key on the counter and mumbled:
“Goodbye.”
…
No answer. Not like he expected one, he wasn’t even sure why he said goodbye, probably force of habit. He finally reached his jeep and there was definitely something to see. On the side of his door, there was a huge pentagram carved in with some blade alongside with a couple of penises finger painted on his window. He took out some water from the backseat and washed away the “art” from his window but the satanic symbol was there to stay for some time, a paint job was definitely due as soon as he got home. Hamond was too focused on the road ahead of him that he didn’t have time to feel angry or give any of this too much thought. He started the engine and continued his route. One thing was certain though, he definitely wasn’t making any more stops before he reaches Faylake.

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