“Dad, I can’t sleep.”
Anon scoffed and adjusted the pillow under his head. “Bullshit. You fell asleep in a crowded diner, and you didn’t wake up until I had to put you down in the lobby. You can definitely fall asleep in that bed.”
“But I can’t, I’m trying!”
“Well I don’t know if this has occurred to you or not, but I’m trying too. And neither of us are going to sleep if you keep whining about it.”
“But I caaaan’t!”
Anon glanced over at the bed from his spot on the couch. “You already have the bed, girl, what more do you want?”
Mistake sat in thought, thinking of some request. “Can I have a bedtime story?”
“No. When the fuck have I EVER given you a bedtime story?”
Mistake sighed. “Never. I just saw it happen on TV once and I thought it was cute.”
“Sleeping little girls are cute too. So roll over and shut up.”
Mistake stuck her tongue out and crossed her arms, but did as her father asked and remained silent. The pair sat in the dark motel room quietly as Mistake rolled around in the bed, trying to get comfortable. Anon scratched his leg uncomfortably as he shifted around on the couch, as well.
“Alright, fuck it, I can’t sleep either. What did you want to talk about?”
“I dunno.” Mistake sat up in her bed and turned to her father. “Want to know what I found in my sock yesterday?”
“... I think I’m going to provide the conversation starters, if that’s alright.”
Mistake grumbled and flopped back in the bed. “No one ever wants to hear about the sock.”
“Alright, here’s one I’ve been meaning to ask.” Anon swung his legs over the side of the couch and sat up. “Why the name ‘Mistake’? I mean, you probably weren’t old enough to know what it meant when you chose it, but why hold on to it?”
Mistake shrugged, and didn’t say anything for a few seconds. “I dunno. I like it.”
“Well, yeah, it got a chuckle out of me too when I first heard it. But you can’t really want to be called that for the rest of your life, right?
“Why not?”
“Well, I mean...” Anon scratched his head, looking for words to explain. “It’s not really a NAME.”
“What, and the rest of ours are? What about Star? And Jet? And Whistle? What kind of a silly name is WHISTLE?”
“Well, those are cute. They’re like those names that celebrities give their children after they drink one too many martinis the night before they go into labor.” Anon scratched his head again. “Mistake is more like... what a really poor woman with no job or husband names their child when she drinks one too many bottles of cheap wine the night before they go into labor.”
“Well, I chose it, and I like it.” Mistake huffed. “I think it adds character.”
Anon scoffed. “Yes, because you definitely need an extra dose of character.” He returned to his back, laying his head against the armrest. “Alright, here’s another one. This one will probably be harder to answer.”
“Go for it.”
“If you hadn’t been sleeping with me that night...” Anon turned and directed the end of the sentence towards her. “... would you have left with the other children?”
Mistake bit her bottom lip and pulled the covers up to her chin. She rolled the question around in her head before sighing and throwing the covers off, sitting up and embracing the cold desert air to answer.
“Right then, probably. You didn’t really seem to care about us all that much.” Mistake furrowed her brow. “And I’ve got a few choice words to say to mom.”
“You and me both, kid.” Anonymous nodded slowly. “But thanks for being honest. And you’re probably right. Maybe I don’t care.”
“Hold on, I wasn’t done yet.” Mistake scooted over to the edge of the bed. “I said THEN, I would’ve gone. Left you behind and fwoosh, off with everyone else. And I wouldn’t have cared. I didn’t think you loved us much anyways.”
“Is this supposed to make me feel good at any point or are you really just trying to give me a massive guilt trip right now?”
“Still not done, shut up.” Mistake smiled. “Anyways, that’s what I thought THEN. But now, I don’t think so. I think you loved us this whole time. From those stories you told me in the car, it sounds like you used to be more up-front with it.” Mistake’s smile began to fade. “But then over the years, you just kinda got tired. You forgot how to love people, because you spent it all on us. And deep inside, you still love us. You just forgot how to tell us. I don’t think you would be chasing the rest of them all this way if you didn’t care anymore.”
Anon stared at the ceiling in silence. Mistake couldn’t see his face in the dark room, even as she craned her neck in search of an expression. With a sudden cough, and a quick swipe with his hand underneath his eye, Anon seemed to return to the living world.
“Damn, girl, I haven’t heard something like that come from anyone but a therapist. Are you sure you’re seven?”
“Almost eight!” Mistake smiled and flopped back in her bed. “And I told you, I’m good with people. I know what to say to get them to feel how I want.”
“Wait.” Anon sat up slightly. “So was that all a lie? You don’t actually think any of that?”
“Night dad.~” Mistake rolled over and pulled up the covers.
“No, really, did you mean that?”
“Go to sleep.”
“Well I can’t go to bed if you leave me like that! Mistake? Mistake, I can’t sleep!”
~
“Hey, Misery. Misery. Misery! Look, I hate to wake you from your beauty sleep, but we have to get to work if you want to get out of here.”
Misery cracked open an eye. She had fallen asleep in a sitting position, holed legs dangling off the edge of the podium and her back hunched forward. Now awake, she was suddenly aware of the precarious stance, causing her to gasp and sit up straight. She regained her balance and turned to the source of the voice that had awoken her, Star, who stood on the floor below, looking up at her impatiently.
“Well? Come on. We have to find some way out of this town. The bus isn’t an option anymore.”
Misery rubbed her eyes and dropped the the floor with a quick burst from her wings, landing softly and without a sound. “I tried to stay awake for most of the night. Did anything happen while I was sleeping?”
“Yes. Our mom showed up, gave us all hugs, told us how to get to our home planet and flew off on a rocketship made of pure gold.” Star stared at her blankly. “Oh, wait, no, she’s still miles and miles away. And she’s not going to get any closer unless we find a way out of Barstow. So get up and come on, I’ve already got a group ready to scout with us.”
Misery blinked a few times and looked past him. A few of her brothers waved at her from the door, beckoning outside. Filling the pews, and the spaces between them, were a hundred-plus of her brothers and sisters, some wide awake, some waking up, and some still fast asleep. Whistle yawned from her spot on the floor next to the stage, raising her arms to the air and inviting the morning air into her lungs. Misery kicked her lightly to get her attention and jabbed her head in the direction of the exit.
“I’m heading out. No one leaves or enters the church. In fact, we should be taking a look around the place. Get everyone to gather anything useful they can find. If it’s light enough to carry and not nailed to the floor, I want it piled in the center of the room by the time I get back."
Whistle saluted lazily and rolled onto her side, trying to get out of the sunlight that was pouring in from the ceiling window. “I got it, Misery, I got it. Don’t worry about us.”
Misery nodded curtly and spun around on her heel, pushing past Star and towards the door. She motioned for the three children standing by the exit to fall in step behind her, and they did. Star caught up to her and joined her by her side as they left the church and stepped out into the dry, hot sun of Barstow’s streets.
“Alright, so here’s the deal, Misery. I figure we’re already on borrowed time and the longer we play this crazy game the higher the chances of everything falling apart. So we need to get to Vegas as soon as possible before that happens, yeah?”
Misery nodded. She knew that it was only a matter of time as well. Too many things could go wrong, and none of the cards were on their table. “I agree. But the question is, how do we get to Vegas?”
“I’ve been thinking about it.” Star gestured at the church behind him, just as they rounded a corner and put it out of sight. “If we plan on bringing all of them along, there aren’t many options. Unless we can get that bus up and running again, the only other way I see it happening is by train.”
“Train?”
“You’ll see in a second.” Star gestured ahead of him. “We took a slight detour on our way back to the bus last night, when we went to gather everyone else. Turns out Barstow has quite a few rails running through it, and a train station. Vegas is the only real settlement worth visiting to the East of here, and I can guarantee you one of these trains leads there.”
Just as Star finished his sentence, they turned the last corner. A wide stretch of train tracks sprawled out before Misery, with a few buildings on the other side marking the edge of the town. A bridge spanned out across it, apparently being the only way across. A few trains were already stopped beneath the bridge, either refueling or transferring cargo one way or the other. Misery stared at the scene before her in silent calculation before turning back to Star.
“So, the trains are an option. Though I suppose the hard part would be to tell which ones are going to Vegas, and then getting everyone on board without getting seen. It would be much easier to get the bus working again.” Misery turned to face him and raised a curious eyebrow. “You mentioned that before, actually. About getting the bus working again. Do you have an idea?”
Star nodded with a stoic expression. “Maybe. See, buses don’t run on normal gas like other cars. They refuel at special stations in bus garages, which you can only get into if your bus is from the same company. There’s a very slim chance, but a chance nonetheless, that there might be one of those stations here in Barstow. Like I said, slim, but enough of a chance to at the very least be considered.”
Misery nodded slowly. “I understand. Speaking of the bus, though... I want to go back, to check on the bus driver. We should have brought him with us last night. I want to make sure he’s not hurt, or worse, told someone about what happened.”
Star nodded and clapped his hands, getting the attention of their escorts. “Sounds good. We’ll keep an eye out for other options on our way, too. The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
The walk to the parking lot took a few minutes longer than either Star or Misery were expecting. The summer heat was unbearably sweltering, slowing down their progress significantly. When they finally arrived, Misery pointed out an area behind a nearby dentist’s office where they could spy upon the bus without being seen. A row of heads peaked from around the corner of the building, careful not to extend themselves too far in case of being spotted.
That early in the morning, business at the grocery store was rather slow. Almost no cars populated the parking lot, with only a few dotted across the asphalt sparsely. The charter bus sat in the middle of the lot, shimmering in the heat like a desert mirage. Misery spotted the bus driver immediately, standing off to the side of the bus and talking to a man. He seemed confused as he tried to explain the situation and why his bus was parked incorrectly, and why he couldn’t move it somewhere else. Misery felt relief as she noticed that he spoke with exaggerated arm movements, sighing happily as she heard his angry shouts drift across the parking lot to her ears. It meant that he was himself again, no longer burdened by the glowing green energy in his eyes.
Star noticed too. “He seems to be back to normal. If we can refuel the bus, can you take control again?”
Misery turned and glared at Star, who held up his hands as if accused of murder. “No. Not again. Not ever again.”
“Jeez, alright. I’m just saying.” He sighed. “Look, if you want to get to mother, you’re going to have to use everything at your disposal.” He poked at her forehead a few times. “Everything. Even the stuff that God would consider cheating.”
Misery grunted and took one last look at the bus driver before turning away. “Well, he’s alright. A bit shaken, probably confused, and stuck here like us, but alright. That’s good enough for me. Come on, let’s scout out the rest of the town before it gets too active.”
~
Whistle leaned back against the wall, picking at the peeling paint as she watched the pile of assorted items growing in the center of the assembly room. Children filed in and out of the room, dropping off pieces of clutter they found throughout the abandoned halls of the church. One of the boys, Pocket, entered, dragging an empty metal bucket behind him. With a grunt, he lobbed it on to the pile and spun around on his heel to find something else.
Whistle whistled. “Hey, Pocket. Over here.”
“What?” Pocket rolled his eyes and walked over, arms crossed impatiently.
“How close are you to finishing? How many rooms do you have to clear?”
“Well, we already emptied the kitchen and the foyer. The closet in the hall has a lot more stuff in it than we thought and we’re still trying to find people who’ll actually go in the bathroom.” He scrunched up his face in disgust as he recalled the stench. “None of that progress was made with help from you, I might add.”
“Hey, Misery put me in charge. I have to oversee everything.”
“Well, I still think you’re just being lazy.” He grunted and gestured towards the ever-growing pile of trinkets. “I don’t get why we’re doing this in the first place. All of this stuff is just junk.”
Whistle shrugged. “I don’t get it either. But, if Misery wants it, she gets it.”
Pocket furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to say something, but let the thought die in his throat. He shrugged. “I guess.”
“Someone is coming!” Pocket and Whistle were interrupted as Faith pointed out of the front window with urgency, he voice drifting in from the foyer.
“Who is it?” Whistle frowned worriedly.
“I dunno, some lady. She’s almost here!”
Whistle widened her eyes in panic and brought her fingers up to her mouth. Placing them between her lips and taking a deep breath, she delivered a whistle loud enough to wake the dead. Pocket covered his ears with a wince of pain as his sister smiled, proud of her best and loudest whistle yet. Now having the attention of every abomination in the church, she shouted at the top of her lungs.
“Alright, everyone, there’s a stranger coming! Crawl into whatever corner you can find and hide!”
Each child dropped what they were doing and dove into their respective hiding spots. The deteriorated pews filled quickly as the kids flung themselves behind them face-first, laying down on their stomachs and hoping that the mystery woman wouldn’t venture far into the building, and the backs were tall enough to keep them out of sight. As Whistle clambered behind the podium, Pocket realized that most if not all of the obvious hiding places were taken.
In a mad dash, Pocket ran out into the foyer. Faith hissed at him from underneath a nearby table, pointing away and frantically whispering at him to hide. He looked about, trying to find even the most basic place to conceal himself. A light fixture dangled from the ceiling above, presenting one of the only hiding spots left in the whole building.
With newfound determination, Pocket lept forward. Faith hissed louder as he jumped on top of her table. Using his wings to propel him and keep him balanced, he clambered up against the wall, climbing all the way to the ceiling with gusts from his wings. Pushing off with his legs in a risky leap, he launched himself across the room, ending his pseudo-flight by grabbing hold of the light in the center of the room. He swung from it for a few seconds before finally settling down, hanging in the air. Faith let out a relieved sigh just as the front door opened.
A woman, looking to be somewhere about 20 years of age, entered the room. She peeked her head through the doorway, her bright red hair glowing with the sunlight pouring in from behind her. She put her foot forward and came into full view. Pocket watched her carefully as she tiptoed around, glancing around the dark room with interest. She stopped directly underneath Pocket’s hiding place, eyes scanning her surroundings. As he stared down at her suspiciously, he didn’t notice the cracks forming in the ceiling, warnings of what was to come.
Running out of the little strength that it had left, the ceiling gave out. The light shuddered and dropped a few inches, only kept in the air by the wires that supported it. Pocket yelped and lost his grip in surprise, just as the woman looked up to investigate the commotion. She gasped and quickly brought her arms up to catch him. Pocket fell into her open arms, apparently as surprised to be caught as the woman was to catch him. Her blue eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked the boy over, checking to make sure he was alright. Pocket stared up at her awkwardly, his eyes unblinking.
“... hey.”
“Hello.” The woman raised an eyebrow.
“... can you put me down?” Out of the corner of his eye, Pocket could see his brothers and sisters leaving their hiding spots, skulking out of their dark corners and creeping up on the intruders. The woman was still unaware.
“Oh, yeah. Sure.” The woman swung Pocket around and dropped him on his feet. “What are you doing in here, all alone? How did you even get up there...?” She glanced up towards the ceiling in confusion.
Pocket continued to stare at her with suspicion. He backed away from her without saying any words. The woman began to repeat her question, but stopped dead in the middle of her thoughts when she finally noticed the horde beginning to form around her. She slowly spun around, finding that she was now completely surrounded by the strange looking children. The door where she had came in was blocked.
“I’m not alone.” Pocket stepped backward into the crowd, disappearing from sight.
The woman chuckled nervously, pointing a thumb at the door behind her. “I can... just leave, if I’m interrupting something. It’s no trouble at all, really. I’ll just get going.”
The children glared at her and continued to stand around her, blocking any exits. An awkward silence ensued as neither human nor abomination knew what to say next. Finally, Whistle spoke from the back of the crowd.
“Get her. Misery doesn’t want any witnesses.”
~
Anon grunted as the sunlight poured through the window into his eyes. As he rolled over to try and get comfortable, he found himself falling out of the couch and on to the floor. Mistake was awoken by the thud and the following string of swears. She rubbed her eyes and yawned, sitting up in her bed. She smiled as she spotted her father, rubbing his forehead and kicking the couch before heading into the bathroom to get ready.
A few minutes later, Anonymous grabbed his room key and the pair headed out the door. They descended the stairs down to the lobby, Mistake trudging along slowly as she remained in the process of waking up. The motel owner, Mrs. Vasquez, stood behind the check-in counter, browsing through a magazine. She waved happily as she saw them come down the stairs.
“Oh, hello, you two! Good morning, Lauren, you look like you slept well.”
“Yeah, waking up’s the hard part.” Mistake yawned. “Dad, can I give the motel lady a hug?”
Anon sighed. “Yeah, make it quick. We have to hit the road soon.”
“Oh, well I’d be happy to give a hug to a sweet little girl like you!” The older woman stepped out from behind the counter and kneeled down, opening her arms. Mistake scurried forward and embraced her in a hug as Anon tapped his foot impatiently.
“Alright, that’s enough of that. Come on. I’m pretty sure if we don’t get our car now the mechanics are going to turn it into scrap.”
Mistake waved goodbye to Mrs. Vasquez as they left the motel behind, heading to the street. Anon glared at the tacky signs and early rising pedestrians around him as he strolled down the street, daughter beside him.
“I’ve seen too much of this damn town. The sooner we leave, the better.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad.” Mistake marched along the sidewalk with exaggerated strides, stomping along the concrete and swaying her arms with newfound energy. “The Mrs. Vasquez is really nice. She gives really tasty hugs.”
“Tasty hugs? What, some hugs taste better than others?”
“Mhm! I think it depends on how the person means it. You know, sometimes when you give a hug you’re doing it just because you know you’re supposed to, but sometimes you give a hug because you really love someone. Sometimes you give a hug because you know they need it. Sometimes you give a hug because you need it.” She shrugged. “And usually, everyone’s hugs just taste a little different no matter what.”
Anon raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What do my hugs taste like?”
Mistake rolled her eyes. “What does the color blue look like?”
“It looks... blue?”
“And your hugs taste like hugs.” Mistake smirked. “I can’t really explain it to you if you have no experience with it. It’s like trying to tell a blind person what it’s like to see. It isn’t like eating normal food.”
“Fair enough. Let’s talk about something else, then.”
“Ok! Wanna know what I found in my sock-”
Anon cut her off. “On second thought, the repair shop isn’t fair off. Let’s enjoy the morning silence.”
Mistake huffed, but let it go. The pair rounded the corner, bringing the mechanic’s shop into view. One of the sliding garage doors was open, letting the two of them watch as several men scurried around the cars inside. One of the cars, the broken down Neon that they had driven into the town, had several people working on it. Within a few moments, the mechanic they had spoken to in the office pushed himself out from underneath the car and immediately noticed the spectators. He waved with a smile, which Mistake returned, and made his way over to them.
“As you can see, the repairs are well underway.” He wiped oil from his hands on his pants with a proud beam.
“The only thing I can see is that the car isn’t fixed yet.” Anon scowled. “Our deal was tomorrow morning. It’s tomorrow morning.”
The mechanic’s smile didn’t even waver. “We had to call in for a part. But we have it now, and it’ll be installed in no time. The end of the hour, tops.”
Anon scowled deeper and leaned forward. “Make sure that’s right. Because if it’s not done by then you don’t get your bonus.”
The mechanic glanced behind him and nudged Anon with his elbow. “Let’s not talk about the bonus in front of the boys, eh?”
“You have an hour.” Anonymous took Mistake by the hand and led her away. “No longer than that. Get it done.”
Mistake groaned as they left the mechanic fade behind them. “Ugh, what are we going to do for an hour?”
“No idea. There’s really not anything to do in Tehachapi. But I just realized I left my wallet in the motel room. We’ll have to go get that back.”
As they walked back down the street to the motel, Mistake posed a question that had been on her mind. “How do you think they’re doing?”
“Your brothers and sisters?” Anon scoffed. “Probably better than we are. They’re a resourceful bunch, and there’s always been a couple of smart kids in the bunch that are probably keeping the group together.”
Mistake could tell her father was actually very worried by the way he bit the inside of his cheek as he finished his sentence, but she accepted the answer anyways, not wanting to keep pressing him and causing him stress. As they rounded the corner once more, the motel came in sight. Anon pushed open the door and stepped inside, daughter in tow. Mrs. Vasquez was still positioned behind the counter, smiling as ever.
“Oh, welcome back! I had a hunch you’d be here soon.”
“Well, it’s not by choice.” Anon rolled his eyes. “Mechanics being mechanics.”
“Oh, I know that story.” Mrs. Vasquez pointed up the stairs. “By the way, there was a visitor here looking for you. Like I said, I had a feeling you’d be back, so I sent him up to your room and told him you’d be here shortly. He should be waiting for you inside.”
“A visitor?” Anon frowned. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors.”
“Well, he said he knew you. He knew your name and he knew how you looked.”
“What about him? The man, what was his name?”
“Ummm... I believe he said he was a Jacob. Jacob Longfellow.”
“Oh, why didn’t you say so?” Anon smiled and headed for the stairs. “I’ll go up and see him. Mistake, you wait here with the nice lady, alright? I’ll be right back down.”
Mistake raised an eyebrow with confusion, but nodded and sat down on one of the waiting benches. Anon gave her a quick nod and started up the stairs. “I’ll be back in a second.”
Anon crept up the stairs as silently as possible, keeping close to the side of the stairwell to avoid creaking the old wooden steps. Carefully, he peeked around the top of the stairwell. The hallway was empty, and silent, with no sign of the mysterious visitor to be seen. The door to his room was closed shut, supposedly with the man inside of it.
The issue was, Anonymous didn’t know anyone named Jacob Longfellow. Which means he didn’t know the person who met Mrs. Vasquez, and he didn’t know the person now in his room. Any stranger that had his name and description was not someone that Anon trusted. Taking extra care not to make any noise, Anon walked down the hall and leaned up against his room door, pressing his ear against it to try and listen inside.
From within the room, Anon could hear someone moving around. He heard the sounds of drawers sliding open and shut, as if the stranger was looking around the room for something. Suddenly, the noises stopped, and Anon couldn’t hear anything no matter how hard he strained his ears. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Anon braced himself against the door. He counted to three in his head, and at the coming of the third number, he pushed the door open and barreled into the room with a charge.
The sudden attack startled and stunned the intruder, causing him to jump in surprise and stumble with the wallet he held in his hands: Anon’s wallet. His face was hidden by his wide-brimmed hat and high-collared trenchcoat. The only parts of his head that were visible were his brown eyes, which locked with Anon’s as they stared each other down. Anon cracked his neck and cleared his throat.
“I don’t know who you are, or what you want, so-”
The man recovered from his shock quickly, dropping the wallet and pulling a revolver out of his coat. The iridescent white handle of the weapon shimmered as he raised it from his pocket and pointed it at Anon in one smooth motion, his hand steady.
“Woah, there, Dirty Harry, no need for that.” Anon widened his eyes and slowly raised his arms in the air, taking a few steps back by instinct. “There’s some cash in the wallet. Don’t bother looking around the room for valuables, I scoped the place out and the most expensive thing here is probably the soap in the bathroom.”
“Where’s the creature?” The man spoke with a raspy voice, in some thick accent Anon didn’t recognize.
“Creature? What creature?”
“The little girl.” The mysterious man cocked the hammer on his revolver. “Tell me. Now.”
“Calm down.” Anon stepped to the side, by the nightstand, and jerked a thumb at the door. “She’s out there. In the hallway. What do you want with her?”
“Stand there and be silent.” The man kept his weapon pointed in Anon’s direction as he strode silently towards the door. As the man’s head peeked out into the hallway, Anon moved his hands behind his back. One of them clenched tightly around the neck of the lamp that sat on the bedstand.
“You’re lying. The girl isn’t there.” The man returned and stood a few feet away from Anon, gun pointed at his chest. “You will lead me to her. No games. If you lie to me again, or try and trick me, you get shot.”
“Look, I’m sure we can talk about this. Maybe we ca-” Anon interrupted his own sentence as he swung the lamp from behind him, yanking its cord out of the socket and slamming it against the man’s hand. The lamp shattered from the force, sending the gun flying out of the man’s grip and onto the bed. With an angry grunt, he followed it with a shove, pushing the man to the ground.
Anon followed the man to the ground and pinned him there, wrapping his hands around his throat. “Who are you? What do you want with us?”
Refusing to reply, the man shifted his weight and slammed Anon’s head against the wall. With a powerful knee to the gut, he escaped from Anon’s grasp, gasping for air. Anon desperately grabbed for a leg to bring the fight back down to the ground, only to gain a heavy kick to the face from the man’s boot. He swore and reeled back, giving the man time to make his escape. Anon heard the window shatter from the other side of the room, and he could see the man climbing out as he recovered from the blow. The room was empty by the time he pushed himself up.
Anon staggered to his feet and wiped the blood from his face, glancing around the room. His wallet, nothing missing from it, sat on the floor. Whoever it was hadn’t broken in to do an average robbery, if that wasn’t already blatantly obvious. The pearl-handled revolver still sat on the bed, glimmering. Anon grabbed it and ran for the window, looking for his target. As he was expecting, he saw nothing: the man was already long gone. He sighed and lifted up his shirt, sliding the revolver into his pants. Once lowered back down, the shirt obscured the revolver from view once more.
Anon ran down the stairs, speed now more important to him than caution. Walking into the lobby with a brisk pace, he took a very confused Mistake by the hand and led her towards the door. Mrs. Vasquez gasped as she saw the wound on his forehead.
“Is everything alright, Mr.-”
“We’re checking out, Mrs. Vasquez.”
“Oh, well, I need your signat-” The sound of the room key hitting her desk lifted her eyes from her paperwork. She glanced up to realize that she was speaking to an empty room.