Murder in a Warehouse; Chapter Two: a One Night Stand

writing: Stories

Everyone struggles at some point in time to figure out who they are, where they belong. Not everyone wakes up in a pool of blood by a pile of bodies with those questions pressing on their mind.  I needed to find a place to regroup, but I couldn’t exactly walk into any place looking like I did. A quick stop at a truck stop was in order so I made my way to the edge of town.  I made my way into the bathroom first before going into the main shop and cleaned off as much of the blood as I could. 

                Clean clothes, a first aid kit, a brush and travel toiletries. I would need to make myself presentable; eventually I would have to step out in public for more than a few minutes, and a wardrobe of torn bloody clothes would draw the wrong kind of attention, and plenty of it. I got the girl a new outfit too, but in order to not arouse suspicion I got her men’s clothes in my size.  I knew there was a chance someone would get suspicious anyway. I hoped to God I was a quick thinker. 

                The lady behind the counter eyed me for a moment.  “You O.K.? do you need a doctor?”

                “No, thank you,” I flashed what I could of a smile hoping to set her at ease, my own nerves were jumping around like caffeine addicted kangaroos “just had a little spill, looks worse than it is, messy, but not bad.”

                I paid for everything in cash and left. About ten minutes later I was pulling into a parking lot outside of town. One of those no-tell motels that gives you the option of renting by the night or by the hour. I planned on opting for the night, more time to get cleaned up, go through the evidence and run around that wasteland between my ears gathering my thoughts. It had been about forty five minutes since we left the warehouse and she was still asleep. No ID which meant no name, but it also meant a lot more. Whether it was her, me or the guys I had laid waste to, someone didn’t want her to be identified.

                Funny thing about amnesia, you forget almost everything, your body forgets nothing. Your lungs remember how to breathe. Your heart remembers how to beat. Your hands remember how to pull back the slide on a gun so you can be sure there’s one in the chamber. Your legs remember to walk quietly and keep you pressed against the wall making a smaller target when you enter a room. It’s strange the things that don’t leave you, even if you have no idea why you are checking every door, window and peephole in your room to determine every way you could exit quickly, quietly and unseen or anyone else could enter the same way.

                I laid the girl down on the bed and disrobed her. A quick check revealed only a few bruises and minor cuts so I cleaned them up and bandaged them then dressed her in the new outfit id gotten her. Hopefully she would awaken soon and could provide some answers. Till then I needed to get myself together and be ready to move as soon as possible.

                It didn’t take me long to get organized. My bloody clothes, the wallets, the gun and knife all went into the paper bag I’d gotten at the truck stop; everything in one place, easy to get to and go through. Next I took all the cash from the other wallets and put it into my own and laid out my new outfit. Then I tended to my own cuts and scrapes and got into the tub. I opted to sit and relax but used the shower feature so as to let the hot water wash over me while I went through the events of the day, at least the ones I could recall, and try to sort everything out.

                What did I know? What could I be certain of? I woke up in a room with four dead men. Assuming that it had been just me against them, I may just know how to fight. In less than an hour I had made it out of town, cleaned up and to the best of my knowledge avoided any unwanted attention. And here I sat, in a motel room with an unconscious woman I had carried through all of this, who may hold answers I need, and I was perfectly aware of every way in which this motel room could be invaded or escaped, from the front door to the bathroom window to that dog sized area behind the bed where the wall was slightly weaker and could be kicked through.  All of this without knowing so much as my own name.  As I pondered the implications of all of this the room grew dim or I guess my vision did, then nothing.

                Suddenly I awoke to a splash of cold water.  I snapped up, it seemed the hot water had run out some time ago and as I slept I finally slipped down where the liquid ice hit me in the face. I wasn’t sure how long I had been out, but looking out the window the sun was coming up. I got up and dried off as quickly as I could, dressed in a hurry and went through the door.  I cursed my carelessness and looked at the door which was closed but unlocked, the room key still on the end table where I had left it and the bed; the bed was empty. She was gone.

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