Jeffery Scott Sims is a degreed anthropologist currently residing in Arizona. A devotee of all kinds of weird literature, he most enjoys reading and writing of the spooky and the fantastic. He is the author of the “Professor Vorchek” series of mysterious tales. His previous sales include “Langley’s Painting”, “The House On the Hill of Stars”, “Peril In the Red Zone”, “The Return of Vanek”, and “The Seal of Jacob Bleek”. Website: http://jefferyscottsims.webs.com/index.html

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	Martin Cravitt thought it a fantastic deal: an all expenses paid vacation to a seaside resort, offered to him out of the blue. Fine accommodations, the best food, new companions; too good to be true? The resort was strange, oddly isolated, old and a bit run down. There were only two other guests in that big place, winners of the same offer Martin received, catered to by a small staff who certainly seemed eager to please. Or could it be, as Martin began to suspect, that they were keen to kill? Slowly he uncovers the truth, so incredible that he scarcely believes in the reality of the danger closing in on him.
	Excerpt Word Count: 31,800 Pages to Print: 96 File Format: PDF                  Price: $4.99

 

EXCERPTS

All Expenses Paid

SEASIDE VACATION                                                         ALL EXPENSES PAID Dear Mr. Cravitt: We are pleased to announce that you are a winner. Your entry has been selected as one of our grand prizes. You will receive an all expenses paid, five day vacation for one at the exclusive Caltel Ocean Resort. Enjoy your holiday in elegant, old-fashioned surroundings:      Relish the fine accommodations      Bask in the healthful sea air      Swim in the sparkling surf of a clean, white sand beach      Dine heartily on the masterworks of our acclaimed Old World chef      Mingle with others in an intimate setting      Enjoy peace and quiet, without maddening crowds. All this is yours, but you must call now! “All Expenses Paid” means no travel charges, no taxes, no surcharges or hidden fees of any kind. This amazing vacation is free to you, if you call now! In order that our staff may provide the very best service, we choose to limit the number of resort guests at any one time. Vacancies are few, demand is high, so if you are interested in this once in a lifetime opportunity, we urge you to make your reservations immediately. Our customer service representatives are standing by to take your call . . .      The page closed “Sincerely, COR Enterprises”, followed by an illegible penned signature. The flip side contained a telephone number and unusually strict conditions on when to call. The offer pleased Martin Cravitt, although he had numerous questions, and it surprised him as well. The statement seemed to imply he had entered some sort of contest. He remembered nothing of the kind. He never fooled with contests because, in times past, he had never won any of them, no matter how trivial. The brochure bore no return address. It contained no pictures. Other than the beach location, it gave no indication whatsoever as to geographical whereabouts. He had never heard of the Caltel Ocean Resort. The whole thing was an enticing, tantalizing mystery.      In a tentative, offhand fashion he asked around the office to find out if anyone knew anything about it. No one did. That night, alone in his small, spartan apartment, he phoned the provided number during one of the narrow windows of opportunity. A pleasant, vaguely mannered female voice answered. The conversation proved remarkably noncommittal. The representative, who failed to give her name, had no new information to impart, but did offer to arrange an appointment at the firm’s local travel office. Cravitt jotted down the unfamiliar street address and pertinent details, wondering all the while if he intended following up the contact.      He did so, at the set time, on the morning of his next off day. His destination, it transpired, was a decrepit strip mall on a run-down street on the cheap side of town. The look of the area—classic urban blight—didn’t fill him with great hopes. However, when he got off the public bus he spotted right away the bright, fresh “Travel Office” sign, over a refurbished store front which appeared much superior to the dingy shops around it. He asked himself if he had gotten the time wrong. The voice had been most specific, but everything in the vicinity seemed closed, much of it permanently. He tried the door; locked. He hesitated, observed the locale with a jaundiced eye, gave half a thought to fleeing, and then the door suddenly swung inward.      “May I help you?” asked a brisk, youngish man. Cravitt briefly explained himself. “Of course, Mr. Cravitt, I was expecting you. You’re my first customer of the day. Come right in and we’ll get started.”      A perusal of the interior revealed the hallmarks of a bare-bones operation: a counter, a single large, plain table, scattered with generic literature, several metal folding chairs and a handful of colored posters promoting exotic locales on the walls. There was no one else present, not even a secretary. Nothing he saw connected to his postal offer.      “We’ve handled many bookings for the COR people,” said the agent, by way of explanation. He introduced himself as Bob. “They don’t go in for a lot of fancy advertising. They’re an exclusive outfit, and they want their customers to know it. Let me tell you a little something about their operation.” He did so, but nothing he had to say added materially to Cravitt’s pre-existing store of information. It all sounded, however, most impressive. The resort was down south, on a secluded, unspoiled stretch of coast. It had been a going concern for ages, but only in recent years had anyone been invited to vacation there. As part of their traditional, and rather unique policy, they didn’t allow many guests at one time. Bob didn’t have any photographs of the property—a lamentable lack—but he had seen it for himself, and waxed effusive on its quaint, rustic charm.      “Only certain dates are still available,” Bob pointed out. He listed certain week-long blocks extending over the next couple of months. “What period would be most suitable for you?” Cravitt chose one, far enough in the future he could confidently predict getting the time off. “Thank you, that is perfect. Now, would you be so kind as to fill in this form, please?” It required just name, address, telephone number, and a few statements of personal taste and, as it happened, that was it. Bob assured him the resort folks would be in touch to set up the final travel plans, all of which they would handle for him—a good thing too, since he didn’t own a car—and he need have no further worries. He was “in”.      When he returned to work Cravitt suffered a brief scare due to employer intransigence. His boss of many years, a fellow who had joined the firm after he did, was inclined to be troublesome. That hurt him. Cravitt had always been a stolid, dependable employee, never asked for any special favors, nor inclined to press issues. He took so little time off he seldom used up his annual vacation allotment (he couldn’t afford big plans, and sitting around a stale apartment didn’t suit him).This was the first occasion on which he’d requested a specific time frame. Others did as a matter of course, and routinely got away with it. For once Cravitt felt obstinate.      “I don’t know if I can work it out now,” said the office manager; ridiculous; now as ever. “It might conflict with scheduling.” Yes, vacations were prone to doing that; so what? “Give me time to think about it.” There was nothing to think about. Cravitt had done the thinking. Resistance fueled desire. He would take this trip. He took a hard line, at least in his own mind—he couldn’t assert himself too much—it didn’t come naturally to him, but stubbornness saw him through. He didn’t quite raise his voice, but he didn’t leave the manager’s office until he had obtained the jerk’s surly acquiescence. His boss shrugged and let it pass, as if the subject were of little consequence anyway. Cravitt got what he wanted. He was dismayed, though, to discover with such clarity, just how little respected he was in the workplace. He had always assumed, without testing the proposition, that he mattered more.      One week before the day arranged, he received a call from an unnamed COR representative, who informed him that on the awaited morning a chartered bus would come to his residence, at nine o’clock on the dot, to pick him up. He could bring as much luggage as he could carry. “There will be plenty of room for your effects,” said the pleasant, vaguely mannered female voice. Well, he would carry one large piece; that was all he owned, and surely no more would be necessary. The voice approved of his decision. “We at COR Enterprises promise you an entertaining and rewarding experience.”      Came the big day. Not knowing what was expected of him, but always desiring to look his best despite limited means, he dressed for the occasion: jacket and tie, and shined shoes. He was ready by eight, too nervous for breakfast, and spent the final hour peeking out the window every five minutes. Moments of doubt had arisen during the long wait. He wondered what he was getting himself into with this vacation. He never did anything like this. He had heard of theoretically free trips being offered to the unwary—all too often, as it turned out, sold to suckers—but had never put much faith in them. They usually seemed to end up at gambling casinos, which most likely justified the deal to corporate sponsors. What was the justification in this case? What was in it for the investors behind COR?      Perhaps his ride wouldn’t show. Just then a large unmarked van, or rather a small mobile home pulled into the parking lot. One of those super campers, he thought. It stopped, and a young man emerged wearing a cap and what could pass as a uniform. He took from his shirt pocket a note pad, flipped through it, looked up at the building. This wasn’t what Cravitt expected, but something told him this was it. He dashed out of the apartment with his suitcase and down the stairs, accosted the man.      The fellow grinned, said, “Hi, I’m John. You’re Mr. Cravitt? Good. Any time you’re ready—” John opened the back doors, revealing a roomy interior that could seat six. No one else was inside. “I’ll put your luggage here.” He ushered his charge inside. “Make yourself comfortable.” Cravitt chose a seat by the left window. “If it’s all right with you, I don’t plan to make any stops. It shouldn’t be necessary, as you’ll see. We’ll drive right through. It ought to take about two hours.” He shut the doors, returned to the cab, and they were soon underway.      Cravitt soon learned what the driver meant. A snack bar held fruit juice, soft drinks, and sandwiches. A narrow door in one corner opened upon a chemical toilet. So, no need to stop for necessities. He resumed his seat and relaxed to enjoy the drive.      Their route wound through town, then out onto the highway. He’d thought they might stop somewhere anyway, to pick up more passengers, but it didn’t happen. Having traveled west for a spell on the main highway, they turned onto a secondary road and headed northwest through farmland, which gave way to increasingly dense wooded territory. He still wasn’t so far from home, but Cravitt wasn’t familiar with the area. He had never explored a great deal, due to lack of time and funds. There were some fine country drives, he’d heard, in these parts.      Also, he couldn’t make much sense out of the direction they were going. Possibly he should have paid more attention, but he couldn’t understand how this route would take them to what he presumed to be the destination. Were they, after all, making a detour to collect others? His concern grew when they came to the intersection with another rural road, one which provided a distant view of the ocean, and took the turn due north. That didn’t seem right at all. He rose and rapped on the pane separating him from the cab. John reached back and opened the window a crack.      “I’m not scheduled to pick up anyone else this trip,” John said. “South? No, the resort is north, straight north from here. We aren’t too far away now. I’ll have you there in a jiffy. Somebody must have gotten your information confused.” Cravitt supposed he might have made the mistake, although the direction to the place was one of the few facts he thought he remembered clearly. It really didn’t matter. He ate a ham sandwich, drank some orange juice, and dismissed it as just one of those things.      The road wound through steep hills, then down into a broad valley, at the bottom of which lay a little village. Cravitt caught the name—Tellmee—but it meant nothing to him. Prosperity, development, and a good chunk of the previous century had passed this place by. The road became the main street, and kept running north, but they turned onto an asphalt-patched local lane which led off to the west, toward the sea. The village immediately vanished behind them, while the road degenerated into a dirt strip consisting mainly of potholes, these obstacles occasionally reinforced by protruding stones of threatening size.      The road—or path, as he deemed it, so bad did it become—dipped among wind rustled trees, then wound down through a kind of gully or ravine gouged into the earth. Dirt walls rose up like a gorge. At one point they passed through a dilapidated entrance, with the road gate hanging open. Cravitt noted the rusted black on white sign: “Private Property. Keep Out.” Onward and downward they bounced and jostled. Now another sign appeared on the right, a brand new one constructed of railroad ties and brightly painted red. “Welcome to the Caltel Ocean Resort” it read, and underneath, in smaller letters, the words “Established 1922”. Beyond that they came to another fence and open gate, a padlock hanging loosely. Then the trees and the heaped banks fell away, and he saw the lovely blue ocean and the wide beach of gorgeously white sand. The van turned sharply to the left onto a smooth gravel drive, just at the edge of the sand, and there before him lay the resort.                                     Back to All Expenses Paid