The Last Motel by Brett McBean Page B

blew out a cloud of smoke. Her eyes darted back and forth between the front door and the bags on the floor. She wanted to leave. After what the news broadcast had said, she did not want to stick around. Why Morrie wanted to go over there...
    Where is he?
    She glanced at the clock radio. He had been gone for almost half an hour.
    “Come on,” she muttered, her legs jittering from anxiety. She stood up fast and hurried over to the sink, where she threw in the cigarette butt. She opened the fridge door and gazed into the whiteness. She wasn’t even thirsty. She had just opened the door out of habit.
    What was that?
    She slammed the fridge door and cocked her ear, not daring to breathe. She thought she had heard the whir of police sirens. She stood by the refrigerator, holding her breath for thirty seconds, before she was positive that the police weren’t on their way. She let out her breath and paced up and down the cabin.
    “Hurry up,” she said. Her voice made her nervous. It sounded scared and high.
    No matter what the old woman knew, she would tell Morrie, as soon as he came back, that they were leaving. No arguments, no discussions, just take the bags and leave.
    Oh shit! Did Morrie sign in under our real name and address?
    Knowing her husband, he would have. The thought of using aliases and a wrong address was not in his nature. She should’ve told him before he went in to register. It was her fault as much as his.
    Not that it matters, I suppose , Judy thought. The police already know our names and where we live. It’s where we are now that counts .
    She stopped pacing and looked over at the large gym bag. It was lying amongst the other bags and suitcases. The black Adidas bag, the one that held the rifle.
    The fact that she could even think of it made her ill. She shook the thought away.
    No! No more innocent people hurt .
    But she couldn’t help but wonder if it might come down to that
    There are four other guests staying. What, kill them all?
    She could feel tears begin to well up, another onslaught of uncontrollable weeping. She was about to sit back down on the bed and cry, when the door opened and in walked Morrie.
    “About time,” she snapped as he closed the cabin door. “Well, tell me. What happened?”
    He went over to her, took her by the hand and told her to sit down. Morrie sat down beside her. “She didn’t know anything. She hasn’t been listening to the radio all night.”
    “Are you sure?” Judy asked. “What the hell took you so long?”
    “I couldn’t just go in there for five minutes and find out if she knew. I had to pretend to be over there for the reasons we talked about. And it worked. I had some whisky, we sat by the open fire and talked about a lot of things. Trust me, if she had known something, I would’ve picked it up.”
    That made Judy a little more relaxed. She closed her eyes and sighed. Morrie put his hand around her neck and gently rubbed. “It’ll be okay, Judy.”
    “Did you sign in under our real name and address?” She spoke quietly and slowly.
    “Ah, yeah. Why?”
    She huffed. “I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s just if the police come through here after we’re gone, or worse, while we’re still here, she’ll tell them where we are. She knows our names.”
    “The police won’t find us here. They’re probably not even searching for us at the moment.”
    “You think so?” Judy said.
    “Yeah, you remember what the news report said; we’re not even suspects at this time. They have no proof that we were there at the time of the shooting. All they want at this stage is for us to get in contact with them. Hell, for all they know, we could be out of the country on a holiday.”
    “And you think we should call them? It’s just a trap, Morrie. For us to turn ourselves in.”
    Morrie shook his head and grimaced. “I don’t think we should call them, but I don’t think it’s a trap, either. Look, if we can get to another state, hide out somewhere