Dangerous Dreams

Chapter Four Clean Slate

The humming of my car's engine in some way calmed me. It guaranteed that every second was being spent moving further and further from what will soon be known to me as my past. Another past I was eager to forget.

A sense of deja-vu shuddered over my mind. Two lost people. Two lost lives. Hundreds of cut ties to go with them.

I planned it all out in my mind; I'd drive until I found a new town, think of a new name, sleep in my car until I found somewhere else and be much, much more careful this time. I had more experience this time so I knew how to not screw it up.

A heavy fog was cast over my headlights in the dim night highway. It didn't seem like any town would appear for a few more miles and I needed sleep desperately. Each time I stopped in a traffic jam I dozed for a few minutes. That didn't surprise me; I hadn't slept in a long time due to the nerves rushing through my mind.

A shabby looking bed and breakfast presented itself to me through the mist. It didn't seem too glamorous but would have to do for the night. There was no way I wouldn't have some kind of accident, however minor, if I drove some more.

Cautiously rolling into the small car park, I couldn't help but notice the guidelines for each space had faded significantly. It seemed like many cars had eventually worn out the white paint although the place was emptier than a shopping center after an apocalypse. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end in the breeze.

There was something about every highway-side bed and breakfast that seemed shady. It was not somewhere I wanted to be except in times of desperation like it had been.

The front desk was coated with years of dust. A neglected old TV sat on a rotted oak stand flickering through channels uncontrollably. I rung the small gold bell that was placed just slightly in front of a pencil pot, assuming it was to get attention from who ever was supposed to be manning the desk.

A startled old woman appeared from a curtain of beads just behind the desk. Her alert face soon morphed into a grouchy one, presumably the more common of the two expressions.

"Oh, a customer. That's new," I heard her grumble under her breath before asking, "How many rooms, how many nights?" As if she'd grown bored of asking the same questions over and over to different people.

"One room, one night." I joined her in the tired muttering, just wanting the day to be over with.

"20$ for one night. Plus 6.50$ if you want food," She yawned and grabbed a key randomly from the bunch of hooks next to her. "if it's odd it's 'round the corner, if it's even it's just over there." she pointed to a row of doors with all even numbers on them outside.

I looked to the key she'd handed me and sighed, 5. I'd have to try to not get lost finding the row of houses with odd numbers. It didn't take much searching to eventually find the magic number five carved into the door of the room in which I would be sleeping that night.

I nearly felt like I was home, having to shove the door gently to force it open. Dust poured out of the room as if it was water that had be trapped in there.The room was simple enough; a single bed wedged into the far corner of the room and a small nightstand with a basic lamp placed in the center of it next to the bed.

Well, I guess this is home for the night.