Willa Mansi

Hotel City

I had refused to stop until I made it to the city. People had to be here. I looked up at the empty buildings, people were somewhere here.

"Hello?" I called out in a loud voice.

"Who are you?" a man asked.

"I'd rather not say," I smiled, trying to find the source of the voice.

"We have enough guns on you to put you down like a rabid dog," the man said plainly, "Don't try anything."

I held my hands up, "Just looking around," I shook my head, "I don't want any trouble."

"Who the hell is that?" a woman asked, "Where did he come from?"

"Where did you come from, Mister?" a young man stepped out into the open, walking towards me slowly.

"I'd rather not say," I laughed nervously.

He put the butt of his rifle on his hip, pointing it at me, "I've shot people for pissin' me off before and you're pissin' me off; real quick."

"Don't shoot!" I raised my hands higher and shrugged, "I really don't know the answers to your questions."

He stopped eight feet from me and frowned, "So ya don't know who ya are OR where ya came from?"

"That's right," I nodded.

The girl walked up behind him and growled, "Just shoot him."

"You got amnesia, Son?" a man asked from behind me, making me jump around and take a step back. "Take it easy," he laughed, waving his hand. He hooked his thumbs in his jean pockets, "You just wake up after a long sleep?" He looked me up and down and twirled his hand.

"Yeah," I mumbled, slowly turning around for him.

The old man smiled at me broadly, "You seem harmless."

"Shoot him!" the woman snarled, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Pop?" the young man looked at him.

"Nah," he waved his hand, "He's harmless." He took a step from me, then smiled over his shoulder at me, "Come on." I followed him wordlessly, but watched the kid out of the corner of my eye. Pop led me down main street and we went into a hotel. "Hey Bert!" he called out.

An older woman came out of a back room. She looked kind and smiled at me. Her voice trembled,  "Staying the night or just passin' through?"

"I'm not sure," I frowned at her and she looked away quickly.

"You don't know a lot; do ya, Mister?" the young man shook his head at me.

"Not really," I laughed at myself.

"How long have you been asleep?" Pop put his hands on his hips.

"I...uh," I smiled sheepishly at the young man and he rolled his eyes.

"You feeling okay?" Pop shrugged.

"I feel fine," I nodded.

"No headache, dizziness, coughing or throwing up?" he took a step closer to me.

"You sound like a doctor," I smiled.

He touched my cheek, then the back of my neck. He nodded once and winked at me, "I was a long time ago."

"Is he....?" Bert pointed her hand at me.

"He's sick!" the young man leveled his shotgun at me again.

"Shoot him," the girl punched the young mans arm and pointed at me.

Pop waved his hand at them and laughed softly, slapping me once on the shoulder, "He's fine."

"Thanks but I'd like to know who the hell I am," I laughed.

"Well," he smiled slowly, "I called you Dr. Mansi."