Nick rushed to the door and threw it open. The neon light from the motel sign shone across the parking lot. He was just in time to catch sight of the deer as it awkwardly tip-tapped across the rear corner of the lot on its graceful deer legs. It paused and looked around at him, one hoof raised like a question mark.
It glared. Nick hastily slammed the door shut.
Now he heard angry muttering from the room next door. He ignored it as he twisted the lock and leaned his back against the door. His heartbeat hammered in his ears.
Well. It had taken a day, but the deer had found him. All the way from Windsor, it had followed him. So that was a thing that had happened. Unless this was a whole other deer. Yeah. There were thousands of deer up here in cottage country. Yeah. They trotted through backyards and ate at county dumps. No, wait. Maybe that was bears.
Why hadn’t his phone warned him about this, like it had warned him about the car? Cheeky god-damned deer friendly Apple motherfucker.
A desperate thought raced through his mind. His shaving kit was with him. It was in the bathroom next to the sink. But no, by the time he ran and grabbed it and armed himself, the deer would be long gone. Pranced off on mysterious deer business.
So Nick went to bed.
Actually, he dragged a floral-print armchair in front of the door first and wedged it under the handle. Then he slammed shut all of the curtains in his room and turned on the bathroom light.
And then he went to bed.
He slept poorly, his shaving kit crammed under his pillow.