the back of the complex, to the north, going up to the second level on
this wing. He followed the hauntingly hollow thump-thump-thump which
was barely audible above the rain sounds.
The stairwell was deserted when he got to it, a straight flight of wet
and mottled graybrown risers.
He stood at the bottom for a minute, looking up, thinking. He was quite
aware of the easy target that he would make when he came out at the top,
all too vulnerable to a gun or knife or even to a quick shove that would
carry him back down the way he had come.
Nevertheless, he started up, more than a little bit exhilarated and
surprised at his own daring in having come even this far. Tonight he
had begun to discover a new Alex Doyle inside the old one. There was a
Doyle who could overcome the cowardliness when faced with a
responsibility for the well-being of those he loved, when more than his
own pride was affected.
He was not set upon when he came off the last step and into the
northwest corner of the courtyard overlook. There was no one waiting
for him. He was greeted by lightless windows, concrete, and red doors.
Again he experienced the strange feeling that he was the last man alive
in the motel indeed, that he was the last man in the world. He did not
know if the fantasy was based on megalomania or paranoia, but the sense
of isolation was complete.
Then Alex saw the stranger again. Shapeless, shadow-swathed,
mist-draped, the man stood at the extreme north end of the promenade, at
the head of the stairs which went down to the parking lot behind the
motel Complex. Another blue safety bulb behind ,another wire cage did
nothing to illuminate the phantom. He took the first step, seemed to
turn and look back at Doyle, took the second step, then the third,
disappeared once ,pore.
it’s almost as if he wants me to follow him, Alex thought.
He went north along the promenade and down the rain-washed steps.
Twelve Four mercury-vapor arc lamps towered over the parking area behind
the Rockies Motor Hotel, making the night above them twice as dark as it
was elsewhere, but somewhat illuminating the rows of cars beneath. The
irritating, fuzzy purple light glinted dully in the falling raindrops
and in the water that flushed across the black macadam. It made stark
shadows. it leeched the color out of everything it touched,
transforming the once-bright cars into depressing, greenbrown
look-alikes.
Doyle, tinted a light purple himself, stood on the walk at the bottom of
the stairwell and looked left and right along the lot.
The stranger was nowhere in sight.
Of course, the man might be hidden between two of the cars, crouched
expectantly . . . But if the chase were to degenerate into a game of
hide-and-seek in a playground of two or three hundred automobiles, they
could waste all night darting around the silent machines and in and out
of the shadows between them.
He supposed he had come to the end of it now; there was nothing to be
gained by this expedition, after all. He was not going to get a look at
the man or at the rented Automover. He would have no description or
license number to work with or to give to the police-if it came to that.
Therefore, he might as well go back to the room, get out of these wet
clothes, towel off, and . . .
But he could not walk away from the challenge quite as easily as that.
if he were not exactly drunk with courage, he was at least somewhat
inebriated with his own appreciation for his new-found bravery. This
brand-new Alex Doyle, this suddenly responsible Doyle, this Doyle who
was capable of coping with and perhaps even overcoming his long-held
fear, fascinated and pleased him immensely. He wanted to see just how
far this previously unknown, even unsuspected, but certainly welcome
strength iso would carry him, how deep this vein which he had tapped.
He went looking for the stranger.
The vending-machine room at the back of the motel complex did not have