Chapter Twenty-Two

The feeling of a lover at his side was something Ronald never knew he needed to sleep until William wasn’t there anymore. The void was a reminder of what he’d lost, like waiting to find missing limbs. Ronald went through that for years, waking in the night to a cold, empty slab next to him.

It happened again in that dingy motel room. The absence of William in the bed gave him a start. Opening his eyes, he lay motionless, listening. From that part of the bed, he saw the whole room. William hadn’t gone far. He was squatting against the wall, watching through the sliver between the wall and the windowpane.

“What is it?” Ronald whispered.

“Get dressed,” William’s voice had an ominous tone. “I think they know we’re here.”

Ronald immediately sprang from the bed. The surge of adrenaline giving him clarity and strength, he slipped on the pants, socks, and shirt from the clothes in the chair. “How did they find us?”

“I’ve been trying to work that out. They might have facial recognition software. There are a lot of places anymore that have cameras.” He watched Ronald lace up his shoes. “Get your stuff. Put everything in the ‘go bag’ and your pack. Put your pack on your shoulder and don’t take it off.”

William moved from the cover of the wall and hurried into the bathroom.

“Was there anyone in the next room on this side? I don’t remember.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.” He yanked the towel rod from the wall. Plaster dust and strips of drywall came with it. Wrapping a towel around the end of it, William smashed out the high window above the toilet. It was a foot high and two feet wide. Since it was above eye level, closest to the ceiling, it had no window dressing.

“Give me the bag.” He took the heavy duffle bag from Ronald and William squeezed it through the window. The bag broke the bushes against the rear of the building. Since it was a street-level motel, they were on the main floor. The ground was a little more than ten foot down.

“Something is going on out front.”

“We’re going to be on foot,” William spoke and worked quickly. He dressed, laced his shoes, and checked the ammunition in the pistol. “How’s your endurance?”

Ronald’s guilty face told a story William didn’t want to hear.

“Remember when I said you should keep moving.”

“I do a lot of walking. That should count for something,” Ronald snapped. “How did I know I’d have to run for my life?”

“We got everything?” William asked, staying focused.

“I think so.”

They were near the back of the room, next to the bathroom door. “This is what we do.” And William explained the situation.

The three black SUVs parked along the roadway. Depending on how many were coming for them, would depend on how many were circling the back side of the motel. The underbrush and general pollution, including the motel dumpsters, made it difficult to reach the back of the motel in any organized fashion.

When the attack crew left the vehicles, simultaneously, two broke off from the main group. One sprinted to the far side of the motel parking lot, rounding the back side. Another figure jumped the roadside ditch and shouldered its way through the thick tree line.

They were trained professionals. William’s insistence that they weren’t going to shoot pedestrians randomly made Ronald feel better about their escape as they made their way away from the motel, fighting through the course underbrush pulling at the nylon and cotton of their clothes.

The audible fire alarm chirped noisily, even at the back of the motel. Confused guests tumbled out of the random rooms, clutching their belongings, wrapped in blankets. The assault team stopped in advancing by the shear panicked mayhem that flowed from the rooms. Smoked billowed from the lone motel room William and Ronald had occupied. There was the scream of distant sirens as sheriff deputies and the local fire trucks assembled and rushed to the motel.

The fire was localized. It was a small trash can fire on the wet mattress, enough focal point heat under the sprinkler head to burst the sensor. The alarm system sent management and motel guests spilling into the parking lot. Their bewilderment compounded by black-clad figures in full face masks with assault weapons watching them in the parking lot.

The arriving deputies only saw the military assault rifles. They had a standoff. People on both sides of the badge began demanding orders of the other.

Their shouts drowned by the approaching calls of the fire trucks. Even in the dark of the trees, running further from the motel, Ronald and William heard the chaos William caused as a diversion. The simplicity of a fire in a trash can caused a whole lot of mess for the ambushing group.

William stopped running, crouched, and Ronald bumped into him before doing the same.

“Wait,” he hissed.

Ronald saw the figure as the two of them heard the crunch of leaves as the black shadow slammed William. The slung weapon meant the character had a military knife. The same tool used during the hand to hand fight at Bautista’s house.

Ronald dove on the figure. His weight knocking the body off balance and William rolled away. Ronald flailed at the figure. He wasn’t trained in hand to hand combat, but he knew how to defend himself. He wasn’t backing down from a fight; especially if it meant William had an opportunity to recover.

There was a moment when Ronald felt the body tense then went slack under him. William tugged on his arm.

“Are you hurt?” he whispered.

“I don’t think so.” Ronald rolled off the masked figure. He watched William pulled at the face covering. He removed several items from the figure, including a radio, ammunition for the smaller assault rifle, utility belt, and the military knife. “Is he dead?”

“Let’s go.” William stood up, wobbled a little, clutching his stomach and Ronald slipped under his arm for support.

Ronald opened the duffle bag, dropped everything collected inside, and closed the bag. He swung it over his shoulder to bear the weight while William led the way deeper into the woods.

“I can hear your heartbeat,” William said after minutes of not talking.

“I thought it was yours.” He carried the burden of the load. William’s wound was angry again from the struggle. Surprisingly and with some dumb luck, neither of them was injured during the battle. It was William’s recovered quick thinking that saved both their lives.