Kim nodded. “At least I should. It seems I’m a marked man. In fact, let’s not even stay here tonight.”
“Where will we go?” Tracy asked.
“Hotel, motel, what does it matter?” Kim asked.
EIGHTEEN
Tuesday, January 27th
As soon as early-morning daylight began to creep around the edges of the cheap curtains, Kim gave up trying to fall back asleep. He eased out of bed to avoid disturbing Tracy, gathered up his clothes, and padded silently into the Sleeprite Motel’s bathroom. He closed the door as quietly as possible, then turned on the light.
Kim looked at himself in the mirror and cringed. Between his ridiculous blond hair and sutured laceration framing sunken, red eyes, he hardly recognized himself. Despite his exhaustion, he’d slept fitfully and had awakened for the final time just after five. All night he’d reviewed the previous days’ horrific events, agonizing over what to do. The idea of being pursued by hired killers was almost too much to comprehend.
Kim shaved and showered, thankful for simple tasks to divert his mind for a few moments. Brushing his hair down flat, he thought he appeared significantly more presentable.
After pulling on his clothes, Kim cracked the door. He was glad to see that Tracy had not budged. He knew she’d slept equally poorly and was pleased that she was now getting some real sleep. Kim was thankful for her presence but ambivalent about allowing her to share the current risk.
Kim went to the desk and used the pad by the phone to scribble a short note to tell Tracy that he’d gone to bring back some breakfast. He put the note on the blanket on his side of the bed. Then he picked up the car keys.
It was more difficult to get the entrance door open silently than it bad been with the bathroom door because the entrance door was metal, and it had a chain-lock and a throw-bolt in addition to its regular lock.
Once outside, Kim reminded himself that he was being pursued by hired killers. The thought made him acutely paranoid despite being relatively certain he was safe for the moment. He and Tracy had used assumed names when they had checked in at the motel and had paid in cash.
Kim went to the car and climbed in. He started the engine but didn’t pull out immediately. He watched the man who’d checked them in six hours earlier. He’d seen Kim come out of the room but had gone back to his chores. He was busy sweeping in front of the office. Kim wanted to make sure the man didn’t do anything suspicious before he left Tracy alone, like suddenly run back inside the office to use the phone.
Recognizing his paranoia, Kim chided himself. He knew he was going to have to pull himself together or risk making the wrong decisions. Putting the car in gear, he backed up before driving out of the parking lot.
A few miles down the road was a donut shop where Kim ordered two coffees, two orange juices, and an assortment of donuts. The place was nearly full of truckers and construction men. While Kim stood in line at the cash register, many of them eyed him skeptically. From their point of view, no doubt he was quite a sight.
Kim was happy to leave. As he stepped off the curb on his way to his car his eye saw the headlines of the paper placed behind the window of the dispenser. It said in bold, capital letters: “BERSERK DOCTOR SEEKS REVENGE BY MURDER!” Then along the bottom of the page in smaller print was: “THE ONCE RESPECTED PROFESSIONAL NOW A FUGITIVE FROM JUSTICE.”
A shiver of fear descended down Kim’s spine. He quickly went to the car and deposited the food and drink. Heading back to the dispenser he sought the proper coins from his pocket. With a trembling hand he got out one of the papers. The door to the dispenser clattered shut.
Any lingering hope the story did not concern him was dashed when Kim saw a photo of himself below the headlines. It was several years old with his normal shock of dark hair.