Karen awoke with a jerk. She strained her ears but could hear nothing, looking around the room only to see blinking reds and blues from the motel sign vainly trying to fill the darkness of the room. The she remembered. She had made it to Arizona. She was running, and she was scared.
She climbed out of the bed, put on her jacket for lack of a robe, and walked to the window. She wrapped her arms around her body as though shielding herself from some unseen force. Looking out at the flashing sign calmed her down somewhat, as it meant she was anonymous. This was a very small town full of people she did not care to meet and will never see again. Only the briefest of moments in her life would she spend here among this dry, lonely landscape.
She glanced at the clock. It read four twenty-one. Time enough to sleep longer, which she knew she ought to do. However, she was wide-awake and couldn't see the point. She removed her jacket and laid it over the back of the chair upholstered in a drab gray that suited her mood. Changing her mind, she grabbed the jacket and reached down into the hidden inside pocket to feel for the small package. It was still there. With a reassured sigh, she dropped it back onto the chair and went into the bathroom.
Finishing her shower and stepping from the tub, she grabbed a towel and dried off. Then she realized she had forgotten to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with her. With a sigh, she opened the door and took a step towards her duffel bag. She stopped short with a stifled squeak. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw the curtains twitch. She did not remember leaving the window open and, given her present situation, couldn't fathom wanting to open it in the first place. What then? Was it only her imagination? No, there it was again. The tiniest of twitches.
She stood still a few moments more, debating. Dare she go closer to the window and check it out or should she just grab her things and run? Finally, her good sense overcame her urge to flee, and she took a few steps more toward her bag. She knew she had to dress, and quickly. Keeping a wary eye on the curtains, she put on the first things she pulled out of the bag. It turned out to be a pair of well-worn jeans and an old, faded green tee-shirt with a picture of a frog on the front her brother had given her years before. The sadness of remembering him only enhanced the cold loneliness she felt.
The curtains had not moved again, but still she took a few steps nearer and gingerly reached out a hand. She pulled aside the well-worn calico prints and looked at the sill, the latch, lock and even outside, but saw nothing strange. She decided it must have been the wind through the window crack.
What was she scared of? Werewolves? She gave a derisive chuckle and let the curtain fall. She grabbed her duffel bag and went back into the bathroom, keeping the door open. She finished getting dressed, dried her hair and gathered her things. Shoving it all into the bag, she set the room key on the bedside table, turned the light off and slung the bag over her shoulder. She left the room without a backward glance.
Looking around furtively, cautiously she walked to the car. She had rented an old Ford under an alias, and again she felt grateful to men who walked around town with lots of cash on them. She had chosen her mark well.
Checking the interior for intruders, she climbed in, tossed her bag on the front passenger seat, and locked the door. She turned the key in the ignition and pulled out of the motel parking lot. Past a donut shop she found the entrance to the freeway south. Her stomach grumbled but she was not about to leave the relative safety of the car so soon after the scare she'd just had.
She drove southwest for a long time, in a daze. She was tired, so very tired. Tired of running, tired of fear, and tired of the reasons behind it all. For a moment, she was tempted to steer the car into the oncoming traffic but couldn't bring herself to do that. Mustn't punish the innocent.
That thought made her laugh. Innocence. Karen wasn't sure she knew what that really was anymore. The concept felt too far removed from her situation right now. All she had to do was reach Mexico, lose the rental car and find some small haven where maybe, maybe she would be able to feel safe once again.
She drove for half the day before she realized she had left her jacket in the motel room.