I pulled off the interstate at the first exit with a motel. It was a national chain and security lights shown around the landscaping at the edges of the lot. I parked in the shadow of a tractor-trailer rig, which advertised Jimmy Dean Sausage, at the edge of the parking lot. Gail was wiping at her face with a wet napkin. She had cleaned off around her mouth, nose, and eyes, but the rest of her head was still covered in tacky blood. I took one of the napkins and wiped at my face and hands.
After a minute, I asked, “Am I presentable?”
Gail studied me and then used a clean napkin to remove traces I’d missed. “You need to change your pants and shirt too, if you don’t want to scare the clerk.”
I climbed into the back beside the body bag and opened my overnight bag. I took out clean clothes and stripped out of my bloody garments. Five minutes after I’d parked, I went into the lobby to get us a room.
I got us one at the far end of the motel and backed the van into the space in front of it. No one was moving around in the lot, so I opened the door and held it while Gail jumped out with her overnight bag and the first aid kit and hurried into our room.
“You pour us a couple of drinks while I start the shower,” she said, disappearing into the bathroom.
After getting the bottle of bourbon from my overnight bag, I located glasses and poured two fingers of bourbon into each glass. I tapped twice on the bathroom door and then opened it. Gail was already behind the curtain. Setting the glasses down, I began to strip. The puncture wounds on my left forearm still seeped blood and hurt like hell, more damn bandages would be needed for those. My left shirtsleeve was stained red. I frowned, I had just put that shirt on clean. I dropped the bloody shirt into the sink and ran a little cold water on it before I finished undressing. I pulled the bandages from my arm and chest, removing more hair. A little more and I’d look like I’d been waxed.
Holding the glasses in my right hand, I slid the shower curtain to the left and stepped in behind Gail. She was still rinsing bloody lather from her hair.
I drank whiskey and watched appraisingly. After a minute, I said, “I think that’s about all of it in your hair.”
Gail turned, her wet hair hanging across her shoulders and smiled at me. She took a glass from me and tossed back the bourbon. I drank the rest of mine and we set the glasses on a built-in ledge beneath the small frosted window. She pulled me to her and kissed me long and deep, running her fingers up and down my body as she did. Her fingers touched the staples in my chest and she pulled back. She stared at them for a moment and nodded. “Healing nicely, we can take those out tomorrow. Let’s see your arm.”
I brought my left arm from behind her and held it up. She nodded at the staples and then noticed the blood seeping from the double row of puncture wounds.
“Oh, hell,” she said as she stared into my eyes.
I pulled her to me and kissed her before she could speak.
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Richard Bamberg was born in small town Alabama, to a great pair of middle-class working parents. After high school, he enlisted in the USAF. He earned a degree in engineering from Texas Tech and went on to work for Boeing and the Missile Defense Agency.
He sold his first novel, Emerald Eyes, to Books in Motion in 1994. Since then he's published nine novels. His novels range from modern action/adventure, to horror, to urban fantasy, and finally science fiction. He’s had numerous short stories published, including one in the award winning anthology Bending the Landscape: Science Fiction.
His hobbies, when not writing, have been fencing, shooting, fishing, RPGs, computer games, and reading. He's an avid fan of SpaceX and their long-term goal of occupying Mars.
Other Novels
by
Richard A. Bamberg
The Phoenix Egg
Strega
Emerald Eyes (with Joy Bamberg)
The Nazi Legacy (with Joy Bamberg)
Doors Without End
Wanderers 1: Ragnarök
Wanderers 2: Apprentice
Ancient Enemy
