Posted on November 6, 2007

Part 47

“Did we bring the guns in?”

“No,” Evajean said.

“We left them in the truck?”

“I think so.”

“God dammit!” He pulled open the little cabinet built into the nightstand, the doors smacking against the bed frames, and felt around inside. All he got was a bible and a plasticky folder, probably of local ads and emergency contact numbers. Elliot stood up.

“What are you looking for?” Evajean asked, still sitting with the blanket held held up by her neck.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Something.”

“What?”

“Something. Evajean, we’re going to have to fight. They’re not going to leave us alone.”

“I have the box,” she said.

He stopped, and turned back to look at her. He couldn’t see her face, not even in the crazies’ lights, but he knew if he could, she’d look sick and worried. It was in her voice.

“I could use it,” she said.

“Do you know how?”

There was a moment of silence and then she said, “No.”

“Then we can’t use it.”

“I didn’t know how before. Back in Nahom, I didn’t know how to use it then.”

“Can you do it again?”

She put down the blanket and twisted, dropping her feet to the ground. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” Elliot said. “Okay, then we can’t count on it. You can try, but we have to have another way, too. Is there a window back there? In the bathroom? We could climb out.”

He jogged around the foot of the bed and into the tiny bathroom. With his body in the doorway, however, the light from the crazies was blocked entirely and he couldn’t see any more than vague shapes. He ducked down, trying to let some of it in, trying to let it reflect off glass.

It did. Over the sink, to the left of the mirror and nearly six feet up the wall was a small window, a foot and a half square. He felt along it for bars and found none, just two wooden strips, perpendicular, dividing it into quarters.

“They’re not doing anything,” Evajean said, and he turned back to see her out of bed and crouched on the floor below the room’s front window. She had her arms out, elbows on the sill, chin on her hands.

“Evajean, get down,” he said, and she lowered herself to the carpet, letting the curtains fall closed. “There’s another window back here,” he continued.

“Can we get out?”

“I don’t know,” he said. Then, “I don’t think so. I think it’s too small.”

“For you? Or too small for me, too?”

“Both,” he said. “For me, definitely. For you, I don’t know. Maybe.”

She came to him, staying low and when she was in the bathroom he guided her to the window. She measured it with her hands and said, “I can try. I think I might fit.”

“And then what? When you get out?”

She stared at him. “I have no idea,” she said.

They heard the dog yawn from the bed and Elliot leaned against the sink. “We might have to use the box,” he said.

“But–”

“What else can we do, Evajean? I don’t think they’re going to leave.”

“They might.”

He left that unchallenged.

“They’re not coming in,” she said. “They’re just standing there. Maybe they’ll go away when it gets light out.”

Elliot didn’t think the chance of that were good. The crazies had been stubborn in their pursuit of him before and there wasn’t any reason for them to change now. Yes, the woman in red didn’t appear to be leading them this time, but crazies were crazies. Sitting around in the hotel room, hoping they’d get board and wander off, wasn’t a plan he was willing to risk.

“Try the box,” he said. “Go out near the window, hold it up like before, and, I guess, concentrate. You did it once. Concentrate on making them leave or killing them.”

Evajean went back into the main room. Elliot stayed in the bathroom, watching her from the doorway. She picked up her jacket from the floor and pulled the golden box out of the pocket. The box reflected the light from the crazies, glints flashing on Evajean’s face. She turned it over in her hands, staring at it. He wanted to tell her to do something now, to hold it up and just try, because that was all there was left for them to do. But he didn’t. He couldn’t force her.

Slowly, like it was a bowling ball and not a tiny metal box, Evajean brought the box up until it was over her head and her arms were straight. It seemed to absorb the light now and glowed with a faint yellow aura. Evajean stood like that for a minute before her hands and the box started to shake, then sway, and then fall to her sides, the artifact clutched in her left palm.

“I can’t,” she said, still looking toward the room’s front window. “There’s nothing there. It’s just a box.”

“It’s okay,” he said, but it wasn’t. Evajean could squirm through the window and, if she didn’t make enough doing it and if the crazies weren’t watching the back of the hotel, she’d manage to get away. But then where would she go? And what would he do?

Evajean was back at the window, standing this time, leaning through the split in the curtains. Elliot was taking a step toward her, ready to shout at her to get down, when she said, “I think we can make it.”

He stopped. “Make it where?”

“To the truck,” she said. “If we run. We didn’t lock it. We could jump in and lock the doors and then run them over if we need to.”

“Your serious.”

“I think we can. It’s not very far. I mean, it’s right there, Elliot. Seven feet away. Eight, maybe. And they’re–”

“Farther than that,” he said. It made sense. And it beat sitting in the room, waiting for the crazies to make the first move. “Okay. I’ll get the dog. We get dressed, put the box in your jacket, and we leave everything else. If we’re going to do it, we can’t be slowed down with our hands full of stuff.”

“I really think we can, Elliot.”

“I know,” he said. “Let’s do it, then.”

He pulled on his jeans, socks, and boots. Evajean had only her shoes to put back on. That done, Elliot picked up Hope. He kicked, but Elliot only adjusted his grip tighter until he quit.

They stood by the room’s door, Elliot with one hand on the knob, the other on the latch for the deadbolt. “Ready?” he said.

Evajean exhaled. “Yes.”

“Okay,” he said. “When I open this door, run. Go straight to the passenger side and get in. Lock your door.”

She nodded.

“Good,” Elliot said. “I’m going to open it now.” He turned the deadbolt. The lock slid easily, clicking open. He pulled in a large breath and let it out. This is it, he thought. You’re going to do this and it’s going to work. “Okay,” he whispered to himself. “Okay.”

And twisted the knob.