It was after eight, the sun had gone down over an hour ago, and Amanda Storey had no idea where the hell she was. Her global positioning device bit the dust two hundred miles ago, thanks to the twelve volt plug for the adapter malfunctioning in her car. That left her with trying to find her way by using a regular old highway map she’d bought at the convenience store during her last pit stop. To say she was pissed would have been a major understatement.
Pulling off onto the side of the two-lane road, she reached for said map sitting in the passenger seat and squinted at it in the glare of the ceiling lamp. Her destination was no bigger than a pinprick in the middle of nowhere, with its name in print the size that would fit on the head of that pin.
“Who the fuck names a town ‘Itsy’?”
The ear worm was back, insinuating its god-awful tune of “Itsy Bitsy, Teeny Weenie, Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” into her tired brain. She was ready to give up. Throwing the map back into the seat, she pulled back onto the deserted road and kept heading in the direction she’d been going. According to the map, Itsy lay somewhere up ahead. She was bound to get there sooner or later.
Probably by next week.
“Damn you, Milton Dawles.”
It was his fault she was here in the first place because he was too chicken shit to face these people on his own. No, he’d rather dangle her over the pit, offering her up as a sacrifice to these inbred hillbillies.
The road stretched before her endlessly. Straight ahead, no curves, no small hills to break the monotony, and nothing but miles and miles of flat, open farmland on both sides of her as far as she could see. She hadn’t passed a single vehicle for the past hundred miles. But according to the main office, it was just the place to set up a RiteCost. Sometimes she wondered how the developers at headquarters chose the locations to build one of their mega stores. Did they throw a dart at a map? Did they have someone doing aerial reconnaissance? Because this place was as isolated as Dr. Livingstone in the Amazonian jungle.
A tiny green sign flashed by so fast, she didn’t get the chance to read it. Hitting the brakes, she put the car into reverse and backed up until she could see it again in her headlights.
Itsy 14 mi.
By God, there really was a place called Itsy. “My cup runneth over,” she drily murmured.
The fourteen miles seemed endless. At last, Amanda caught the faint glimmer of light on the horizon. As she drew nearer, the lights of the town became more focused. There weren’t many of them, she noted. “Probably trying to save on their electric bill.”
The city limits sign passed by.
“Oh, wow, Milton. You guys really had to scrounge to find this place, didn’t you?”
But she knew there was more to the stats than just this town. There were all the other little towns and burgs in this county, and within the surrounding counties, that the company considered. It wasn’t just the immediate population. It was the combined population that made the executives determine whether to build a RiteCost at that location or not.
Whether the locals wanted a RiteCost built in their back yards or not.
Reviewer: Claudia Rhyes
Amada Storey works for RiteCost, and has been sent to the little town of Itsy, Oklahoma to try and persuade the town’s people that having the mega-store built in their small community will benefit everyone. When her reservation at the town inn has been filled, she finds another room at a little bed and breakfast. The only problem is the B&B has more in store for her then just a bed to sleep in.
The Tub kept me interested the entire time. There was sex, albeit horrific toward the end, and horror that had me widening my eyes in shock. I don’t want to say too much and give the story away, but all I have to say is when Amanda pulled that head out of the water, I felt my stomach turn. The horror was definitely there, and despite this being a very short tale, it packed quite a punch!
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