The Last Motel (27 page)

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

With both men bound securely to the bed, Wayne could sit back, enjoy some rest and think about what to do.

He couldn’t stay in this motel for much longer, as it would be nearing daylight and there was the possibility of people arriving.

He had to decide on whether he wanted to take Eddy with him, or to leave him here. He had already decided on the man’s fate.

At least he didn’t have to worry about the police finding his car now that he had it back in his possession. He had nothing to worry about, now. Life was good.

He finished off the Coke he was drinking, then threw the can down to the floor. He let out a burp. “What am I going to do with you two?” he sighed.

The man was gazing at Wayne, while Eddy was staring up at the ceiling.

“Cheer up, Eddy. It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

Eddy closed his eyes and his chin began to tremble. His jeans were still bundled around his ankles.

“Did you steal Madge’s gun?” Wayne asked him. He pulled it out. “Very nice gun. So did ya?”

Eddy nodded.

“Poor Madge. I think she had a real fondness for this little puppy.” Wayne frowned. “Are there any more bullets?”

Eddy didn’t respond.

“Hey! I’m asking you a question.” He noticed a large, square-shaped bulge in Eddy’s front right pocket. “What’s in your pocket?”

Again Eddy refused to answer.

Wayne got up, strolled over and reached into his pocket. He yanked out a box, and when he looked at it, smiled. “Well, well. Seems nobody around here likes giving up their spare ammunition.”

He wandered over to the table and placed the box of cartridges down.

“Not that I really care,” Wayne said. “Personally, I prefer more hands on weapons. You know, knives, axes...these.” He held up his large hands. “Speaking of good feelings, I need to piss.”

He headed for the bathroom, but stopped. He turned around.

He smiled at the two men, but only the husband seemed to notice his evil, callous smirk.

Wayne placed the gun on the table, then approached the double bed. He stood at the foot of the bed and started pulling down his zipper. “Want a drink?” he said with an evil smirk.

The man screamed at him. His muffled cries were heartfelt enough for Eddy to open his eyes to see what was going on.

When he saw Wayne standing by the bed, zipper open, Eddy began to scream. “Get away! You sick fuck!”

“Ooopeeen wiiiide,” Wayne sung. “Time to take your meeediciiiine.”

Both men thrashed around on the bed, their mouths about as tightly closed as they could manage.

Holding his limp penis in his hand, Wayne let fly a stream of urine. It first splashed on Eddy, hitting him directly in the face – which was difficult, as he was flinging his head about furiously.

But he still managed to spray Eddy all over his face, hair, neck and chest.

The smell was pungent.

Swinging the stream to the right, Wayne began showering the urine over the husband. He tried desperately to avoid the flow, but no matter which way he flung his head, he couldn’t escape the constant rush of hot piss.

“That’s it, drink it all up,” Wayne said.

He couldn’t help but laugh throughout the whole ordeal.

The stream started to weaken, and Wayne had trouble reaching the two men. He finished the remainder of his urination on the floor, then tucked himself back in and zipped up.

“Was that tasty?”

The room now smelled of acrid urine. Even Wayne had to admit, the smell was particularly horrible.

“I really should drink more water,” Wayne said and laughed.

Both men were soaked. Their hair was matted down to their scalps and puddles had formed on their chests.

The sheets underneath were stained yellow, as was the pillowcase that was stuffed in the man’s mouth.

“I feel much better,” Wayne said. “But you know, I need to take a shit now.”

He saw the look on both men’s faces.

Wayne laughed. “Only kidding.”

“Motherfucker,” Eddy breathed. He spat out a thick glob of mucus.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think I’ll be taking you home with me,” Wayne said. “Matter of fact, I don’t want to even touch either of you.”

“It’s your piss,” Eddy said.

“So? I still don’t want to touch it. I think it’s about time to go. Stinks in here.”

There it was! The look on Eddy’s face.

Wayne smiled.

He walked over to where the hatchet lay on the cabin floor. He was about to pick it up when an explosion sent him flying onto his back.

The walls of the cabin shook. Smaller blasts popped and boomed.

“What the fuck was that?” Wayne yelped.

The explosion had come from outside. At first Wayne thought another storm, but no storm he had ever heard was as loud as that. No storm had ever knocked him flat on his backside.

“Holy shit,” he heard Eddy mutter from above.

Wayne stood up and dusted his clothes. He hurried to the door and stepped outside. The early morning sky was lit up with shimmering orange flames. Thick smoke wafted from the burning cabin.

Wayne stood mesmerised by the crackling fire. It was at once beautiful, yet menacing. He could feel the immense heat wash over his body, even from the distance he was standing.

As the initial shock and amazement passed, Wayne now saw which cabin it was that was engulfed in flames. It was his.

And the explosion that had sent him onto his back must’ve been the Saab’s petrol tank. The car now sat in flames in front of the burning cabin.

How the hell did this happen?
Wayne wondered.
Of course…Simon!

Wayne shook his head. He had almost forgotten about that young man.

What a way to go
, he thought.
But how did it start...?

As he stood outside gazing in awe at the flames, it came to him.

The candles
.

They must have burned down and somehow caught onto the wood.

Wayne couldn’t believe how furious the fire was. The cabin must’ve been ablaze for at least ten minutes.

How could I not have heard anything
? he wondered.

As he thought that, flame was blown from his cabin and landed onto the cabin next to it.

“Jesus,” he gasped.

He knew it wouldn’t be long before that cabin was up in flames, too. In fact, with the gusty winds, it wouldn’t take long until the entire motel was one great big inferno.

“Time to split.”

Then, somewhere far away, yet close enough for Wayne to hear, he heard the wail of sirens.

“Oh no,” he growled.

He turned around and rushed back into the cabin.

“What is it?” Eddy asked. “A fire?”

“Oh yeah,” Wayne said as he grabbed the revolver and box of cartridges off the table.

“One of the cabins?”

“Mine and yours,” Wayne said. “Fucking fire trucks are coming. Probably police too.”

He saw Eddy’s eyes light up. The man continued to look on, desperate and hurting.

Wayne gazed down at the hatchet that lay on the floor. He decided to keep it, so he hurried over and picked it up.

“Are you going to leave us here to burn?” Eddy asked.

“I would love to,” Wayne panted. He rushed over to the open door and stuck his head out. The noise of the sirens seemed twice as loud now. “Fuck.” He turned around and faced the two men. “But I can’t take that chance,” he finished.

He aimed the gun at the man and fired once at his head.

Bits of brain and bone splattered onto the back wall. Blood sprayed over Eddy like a giant tomato had just exploded.

Eddy shook his head fast, over and over again, whimpering, “No oh God no please no oh please God no.”

“Sorry it has to end this way,” Wayne said. “It’s just so...impersonal.”

Wayne pointed the gun at Eddy. Tears streamed down his blood-specked face.

“It’s been a wild and interesting night,” Wayne said.

Eddy managed to choke out a “N...” before Wayne squeezed the trigger.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

The sirens were very close now.

Wayne rushed over to his car, glancing at the two bodies lying on the ground as he went past. They were sprawled near the front of the burning cabin that used to be Eddy and Al’s.

Their bodies glistened in the firelight. The blood on the ground looked a deep purple.

Wayne rushed over to the Bluebird. He opened the back passenger door and threw the hatchet and box of cartridges onto the floor. He slammed the door.

He could hear the fire crackling and popping behind him.

A sudden loud crash startled Wayne. He whirled around and saw that his cabin had collapsed. The roof had caved in and so had the right wall.

He started thinking about Simon, but quickly shook it away, and told himself he had to get moving.

But he didn’t move. It was too late.

The sirens were so close that his ears throbbed from the noise. If he was to leave now, he would probably meet the cavalry on the way down.

Wayne closed his eyes.

He thought about taking off on foot and hiking through the mountains, but guessed that the police would surely search the area.

No, too many hassles
, he thought.

He would eventually be found. He had to think of some other way...

Wayne opened his eyes.

He could see the glow of red and blue flashing through the sky. Another couple of minutes and they would be here.

Come on, Wayne, think of something. You’re fucked if you don’t. Make up a story, pretend that you had no part in any of this...

That was it.

Wayne smiled and nodded to himself.

It might not work, but it was worth a try.

It took him ten seconds to work out the story in his mind.

He opened the chamber of the revolver and studied the cartridges. He had one bullet left.

Well bullet, you might save my life
.

He closed the chamber, then aimed the gun at himself.

He made sure the barrel was positioned at the right place, then he shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

He prepared himself for the pain, and with the sirens wailing louder and louder behind him, pulled the trigger.

The gun jerked in his hand and the bullet smacked into his left shoulder. He let out a strained cry, then fell to the ground.

His shoulder burned. He could feel hot blood dribbling down his back and chest.

Sucking in the pain, Wayne stood up.

As fast as he could, he staggered over to where Judy and Madge lay, and placed the revolver near its rightful owner.

A fire truck roared into the clearing, followed by two more, two police cars, two ambulances and lastly, trailing behind the rest of the group, one regular car.

Feeling dizzy and in extreme pain, Wayne waved his right hand, then shuffled over to greet the cavalry.

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Wayne was staggering towards the fire trucks when somebody shouted at him.

“Hey!”

He turned and saw a man running towards him. Wayne breathed in deep and waited for him to arrive.

“My name is Detective Sergeant Wilkes,” the man said, puffing slightly. He was wearing dark trousers and a bulky jacket that was zipped up to his neck. “What’s your...?”

“Harry!”

Both Wayne and the Sergeant turned. A man wearing jeans and an old jacket was jogging over.

The Sergeant frowned. “Jason? What the hell are you doing here? I thought...?”

“It’s okay,” Jason said. “I heard it over the radio. I came straight over. Do we know what the fuck happened yet?”

“Ah no. I was just about to speak with...” The Sergeant turned and faced Wayne.

“John. John Bundy.”

“Mr. Bundy here.”

“I assume you saw the whole thing?” Jason said to Wayne. He looked down at his shoulder. “How badly are you hurt, John?”

Wayne took his hand away from his shoulder to give the two men a look. “I’ll live,” he said.

“Look, Jason, I know why...”

“I can take it from here. You go and help with the searching.”

Jason looked at the Sergeant. It was a stare that Wayne guessed said a thousand words. The Sergeant nodded slowly. “Okay.” He turned and walked towards the office.

Wayne turned back to Jason. He had a hard gaze that Wayne didn’t like.

He stepped closer. “My name is Detective Inspector MacDonald. Follow me. I’ll get you to one of the ambulances. Can you walk okay?”

“Sure.”

Wayne could smell alcohol on the Inspector’s breath. He wondered if the Sergeant had noticed.

What the hell sort of cop is this guy? A fucking drunk?

He followed the Inspector past the fire trucks. On his left, all three had their hoses out and the firemen were getting ready to turn on the water. On his right, Wayne saw a couple of paramedics standing over Madge and Judy; they were talking and shaking their heads with two other police officers.

“Two more bodies in here!” a man cried.

Wayne turned around and saw a fireman standing by the door of Morrie’s cabin.

“One’s still breathing!”

“What!” Wayne gasped, a little too loudly.

The Inspector frowned at him, then said, “Come on, we’d better get you fixed up and to a hospital.”

Wayne couldn’t speak, nor could he move his legs.

He saw two white shapes run past him, followed by two darker shapes.

Alive!

Wayne blinked and tried to swallow. His mouth was too dry.

“Are you feeling all right, John?” the Inspector said.

Turning around, Wayne nodded. “I’m...okay.”

A sudden blast of water startled Wayne. Then another blast, quickly followed by another.

“Come on,” the Inspector shouted. “I’m sure the person will be okay. There’s nothing you can do now.”

Has to be Eddy
, Wayne thought.
It can’t be the man
.

Wayne noticed the Inspector walking away, so he started moving.

The cop’s right
, Wayne thought.
There’s nothing I can do about it now
.

They walked past the two cop cars and over to the two ambulances. The first one had its back door open and there was a paramedic waiting inside.

“Hey,” the paramedic, a rather attractive and busty woman, called down. “What have we got?”

“Shoulder wound. Gunshot. Looks pretty clean though. In and out.”

The woman smiled down at the Inspector. “I’ll be the judge, thank you.”

She held out her hand and lifted Wayne up into the back of the ambulance.

“My name is Marilyn,” the paramedic said. “Now let’s have a look, shall we?”

Wayne sat down on the long bench and took his hand away from his shoulder. His right hand was sticky with blood.

He hadn’t noticed until now, but the pain had died down. No longer did his shoulder burn with agonising fury. He guessed that the adrenaline had kicked in.

“You’re lucky,” Marilyn said. “The bullet went straight out. The bleeding has mostly stopped, too.”

“Told ya,” the Inspector said.

The paramedic smiled. “What happened to your hand?”

“Ah, cut it on some glass,” Wayne said. “A few days ago.”

“Do you want me to have a look at it? See how it’s healing?”

“No. It’s fine.”

The paramedic nodded, but she looked like her mind was off somewhere else. She took her eyes off Wayne’s hand and looked down at the Inspector. “What else is happening out there?”

“Not too sure. The two bodies on the ground over there are dead, I think. They found two more in one of the cabins. Apparently one’s still breathing.”

“Yeah, so I heard,” she said.

Marilyn wandered around the back of the ambulance, then came back with some bandages, a roll of sticky gauze tape and a small bottle.

“I’ll fix you up as quickly as possible, then we’ll take you to the hospital,” she told Wayne.

Wayne gazed out the back and saw the flames still burning, though the fire seemed to have died down. He could hear shouts and the stream of water and the fire crackling. But he scarcely took any of it in.

How could he be alive? That’s impossible
.

Wayne felt angry. He told himself that he should have shot Eddy in the head like he did the man. Not in the chest. Why he hadn’t, Wayne wasn’t too sure.

“This will sting a little,” the paramedic said.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” Wayne said. “Whatever.”

As Marilyn dabbed the antiseptic cream onto the wound, the Inspector hopped into the ambulance and sat opposite Wayne. The ambulance wobbled.

“Are you up to some questions, John?”

Wayne nodded. “Is the person dead?” he asked.

The Inspector shook his head. “I’m not sure, John. I’ve been with you the whole time, remember? As soon as they’ve finished with him, I’ll find out, okay?”

Again Wayne nodded. Marilyn was still busy with the cream.

“Now, tell me exactly what happened. Take your time.”

“Well...um.” Wayne cleared his throat. He tried to remember the story he had thought up.

“Take your time,” the Inspector said again.

“Okay, let me think...can’t you find out if he’s dead or not?”

The Inspector sighed. “Okay. I’ll go and see what’s happening.”

He jumped out of the ambulance and walked away.

“Is it still hurting?” Marilyn asked.

“No,” Wayne said flatly. “It’s not too painful now.”

Marilyn tore off a strip of the gauze tape and plastered it onto the front of his shoulder. She then tore off another strip and stuck it onto his back, near the shoulder blade.

“I hope to God they can contain the fire,” Marilyn said, peering out at the blaze. “Otherwise it will turn into a bushfire.” She shook her head. “Thank God we came when we did.”

Wayne turned to the paramedic. “How did you find out about the fire?”

“Somebody called triple zero. A man driving along the highway saw a ball of light and thick clouds of smoke. He stopped off at the closest petrol station and rang emergency. He knew it had to be a fire; he didn’t think it was the Aurora Australis.” She laughed. But her laughter didn’t last too long. As if she was doing something wrong, she quickly stopped. “Sorry,” she said.

“What time did the man call?”

“Ah, about five-thirty. Why?”

“No reason. Just curious.”

She started winding the bandage around Wayne’s shoulder and chest. “Can you lift your left arm?”

When he tried, Wayne found that he couldn’t move it. It was like his arm had gone to sleep.

“No,” he said.

“That’s okay. It’s nothing to worry about. It’s perfectly normal.”

She busied wrapping the entire roll around his arm, nice and tight.

“So, what do you do, John? Are you marri...?”

“Please, no small talk,” Wayne said. “I’m not in the mood.”

“Sure,” Marilyn said. “Sorry.”

She finished tying off the bandage.

Wayne heard somebody coming, and turning to his right, saw the Inspector. He stopped at the back, then hoisted himself up into the ambulance.

“All done,” Marilyn pronounced.

“So...?” Wayne said.

“I’m sorry. He’s dead.”

Wayne sighed with relief. He felt like crying out with joy, but restrained himself. Instead, he shook his head and said, “That’s too bad.”

The Inspector looked at Marilyn, then back at Wayne. “How much do you know about what happened here tonight, John? Because something very strange went down.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Marilyn said. “But we need to get to the hospital as soon as we can.”

The Inspector nodded. “Okay.”

Marilyn went up to the front, spoke to the second paramedic, then came back and closed the door.

After the ambulance door was closed and locked, the ambulance started up and began speeding down the dirt road.

“Won’t they be needing more ambulances to carry the other bodies?” the Inspector said.

“More are on the way.”

Wayne jumped when the sirens came on. Then the flashing lights started.

“How many more are there?” Marilyn asked.

“Four that we know of. Two outside and two in the cabin.”

“What about my car?” Wayne said.

“Is yours the Bluebird?”

Wayne nodded.

“It’ll be okay. We’ll have somebody pick it up and bring it over to the hospital.”

Wayne fell back and rested his head against the side of the ambulance. He closed his eyes and breathed a deep sigh.

“How are you feeling?” the Inspector asked.

“Exhausted.”

“Maybe we can leave the questions until later, okay?”

“Okay.”

Wayne fell asleep listening to the whir of the sirens and feeling the rush of the ambulance.