I awoke fully clothed and panting, my face pressed against a cold puddle of drool. Both pillows were strewn on the floor beside the tangled top sheet and quilt. The instant I realized I was in Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania, a flood of deep despair washed over me.
Nothing against Beaver Falls. I’m sure it’s a lovely place. But the mellifluous tones of Karla’s voice still resonated in my head. I could still feel the press of her cheek against my shoulder, smell the soft lanolin musk of her hair. I wanted to be back in Root with her.
My own stink rose up to smother any traces of Karla. I sat up on the edge of the bed and struggled to adjust my eyes to the light.
My undies clung like an unshed snake skin. I peeled them off and picked through the plastic shopping bag holding the last bunch of T-shirts and boxers that remained clean and relatively dry.
I dragged myself into the shower and let the flimsy spray scald and melt the crud that had accumulated on my skin. I lathered up twice, let steam fill the room and breathed in deep the essences of the floral soap.
I didn’t bother shaving, figuring whatever beard I managed to grow might help conceal my identity from my pursuers. Though, it might have been more effective if I could actually grow some stubble on my cheeks.
I pulled on a black and silver Oakland Raiders T-shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that had gotten baggy on me. I had to cinch up the belt an extra notch.
I needed food. Out the window, across the main road, I could see some golden arches next to a Holiday Inn. I trashed my dirty clothes, checked out of the hotel and crossed the street on foot, leaving the pickup hidden behind that big old Ryder rental.
I ordered two Egg McMuffins, one side of hash browns and an orange juice. I skipped the coffee. Some people seemed to like it, but I couldn’t stand the sour dishwater they served. Mom had spoiled me with her French Roast cappuccinos. Mostly, I had done without coffee since we lost the house. I was plenty alert and wary; my nerves jangled just fine on their own.
I started wolfing that crap down even before I was out the door, my body telling me in no uncertain terms how many calories I’d been depriving it. I was halfway across the Holiday Inn parking lot, gulping the last of the hash browns when I saw something that made me choke and nearly heave up my whole breakfast.
There was an Escalade parked in the lot—charcoal grey with tinted windows—just like the one that had pulled a u-ey and come after me the day before. To top it all, it had Ohio plates. What were the odds?
I stood there and scanned the lot, staring down some poor guy standing just inside the glassed-in lobby of the Holiday Inn, who was probably just waiting for a cab.
Was it just my paranoia rearing its nasty head yet again? Grey Escalades with tinted windows just might be popular around these parts. As for the plates, the Ohio border was only ten minutes away.
I went over and peeked into the window, seeking some clue that would either confirm a threat or ease my worries. A child seat or some tourist brochures would have done wonders to calm me down.
It was hard to see through all that tint, but the back seat was clearly empty. On the dash there was this black box with wires and antennas coming out of it. I didn’t know what to make of it. It didn’t look like any radar detector I’d ever seen.
I pressed my face up against the glass and there on the floor, peeking out from under a newspaper, was an empty shoulder holster. Chills took hold and I shook.
Some voices startled me. I dropped to the pavement. It was just some girls laughing as they passed through the lot behind me. I waited for them to go by.
