Page 8

I rush into the lobby of the motel and get a room for one person.

“It's kind of late,” the woman at the desk says. I ignore her, giving her my credit card. Honestly, nothing has really settled in until now. Once we get inside this motel room, what happens then? Did Zach tell someone about Fitz? How long can I hide a seven-foot monster in a seedy motel?

I just need to focus on getting through tonight. That's the most important thing.

“Can I have a room around the back?” I ask the woman.

She raises an eyebrow at me.

“So the truckers don't see me coming and going.” It's not even a lie. That's exactly the reason why I want a room in the back, but I'm sure she thinks it's to protect myself, and not the creature I have with me.

“Sure thing, hon,” she says, and hands me a key card. Surprisingly modern.

“Thank you.”

Once I'm outside, I'm not entirely sure what to do. The motel is L-shaped, facing the truck stop. The back half faces the woods on this side of the highway. I walk around the building, happy to see that we've got the room on the very end. The faster I can get him in here, the better.

I unlock the door, trying to make it easy for myself, and then quickly rush back across the highway, hoping that nobody notices. There are a few trucks parked at the truck stop, but I don't see anyone walking around outside.

Once I'm in the trees, I head back towards where I left Fitz.

“Fitz,” I hiss. I don't know how far I've gone, can't remember exactly where he was, but I hear branches crunch underneath heavy footfalls.

I spin around and find his hulking mass standing right behind me, eyes watching me without expression. “Come on,” I tell him.

I grab his hand and lead him back through the woods so that we're right across the highway from our hotel room.

“We have to move quick.”

His expression doesn't change. Of course it doesn’t. He can't understand me.

With my fingers, I mimic running across the street quickly. His expression doesn't change, but I get the feeling he knows what I mean. I turn toward the highway, poised to sprint across.

But then his big arms wrap around me from behind. In one quick leap, we're out of the woods and landing behind the building.

“Fuck,” I say.

I wasn't prepared for it to happen that quickly. I throw open the door to our motel room and shove him inside, trying to be careful of his wounded wing.

I put my hands up again. “Stay,” I tell him, slamming the door shut between us.

I rush over to the truck stop. No one seems to pay any attention to me as I scour the shelves for a first aid kit. I find one on a bottom shelf in the back by the bathrooms. While I'm here, I grab a few hot dogs and some water as well. I don't know if he's still hungry or dehydrated. I don't know how his body works at all.

By the counter, there are snack cakes and I throw a couple of those on there as well. Maybe he has a sweet tooth.

“Doing all right?” the guy behind the counter asks.

“Yep,” I say, putting on my best fake smile.

While I pay, he tosses everything into a plastic bag and hands it to me. “Have a good night.”

I give him a mock salute and rush back out.

Fitz is sitting on the edge of the bed when I get back to the motel. The first thing I notice is the way that Fitz’s size seems to dwarf everything. The second thing I notice is that there’s only one bed. It didn't even occur to me in all of my hurry to ask for more than one and since it was just me, the woman at the desk had no reason to think I needed two.

Oh well, we'll figure it out.

“I got a few things,” I tell him. I'm really speaking to myself more than him now, I guess. I open up the bag on the table that holds the television and pull out the first aid kit. His head tilts up, the slits in his flat nose wiggling as he sniffs.