Last One

In an old motel, on an old road, far from society and far from civility, sat a tired fool of a man. His weary eyes looked longingly out the window of his room to the one car that sat in the cracked lot outside. One car, a dented and faded blue pickup sat alone, awaiting a companion that the man hoped would never come.

In his hand held green he saw red. He flipped through bill by bill, counting, “Two-forty…, two-sixty…, two-eighty…, two-ninety…, two-ninety-five…, two-ninety-six– seven– eight.” With a final sigh he finished the count, “two-ninety-nine,” before tying up the bundle with a rubber band and tossing the money on the bed.

The toilet flushed, and dread filled the room as the sink started then ended. A woman, tall and comely, walked out of the bathroom with a full face of makeup, dolled hair, a red dress, and black gloves. She posed seductively, leaning upon the doorframe.

“You look great,” the man’s voice reluctantly said as his eyes reluctantly looked.

“I better,” she responded before wandering to the cash, picking up the bound stack and flipping through with her thumb. “How much more?”

“At least sixty.” He hesitated to continue, but knew there was no other option. “Might need a hundred. Maybe even more than that.”

“Don't worry,” the woman said as she rubbed her fingers through her boyfriend’s hair. “This guy is coming with much more than. He will be the last one, I promise.” She had said those exact words, in the same sincere tone, yet there was no sincerity in the meaning.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he began, watching as her face turned from soft to sharp in an instant. “I am so tired.”

“You don’t think I’m tired?” she aggressively snapped. “You think what I do is easy?”

“No,” was all he could say. He wanted to say more, he wanted to say, It is easy for you! Too easy for you! He wanted to say so much. But no was all he spoke.

“Exactly,” she whispered, relaxing, pulling her boyfriend into a kiss, holding on tight until she was ready, just enough for her to feel him give in. “Don’t forget who is making the real sacrifice here. I want you to stay protected from all this.”

Her kiss was numb, her voice static in his ears, and the man simply nodded if only to avoid any further confrontation.

A knock comes on the front door.

“Last one,” she reiterated, adjusting her dress. “I promise. Now hurry.”

The man stood as another knock came, put the money in his pocket, went to the bathroom, and started closing the door, leaving a crack to peer through.

A third knock. He watched through the sliver as the woman opened the door. “I was just finishing getting myself ready,” the woman said.

“And ready you are,” her victim admired, blissfully arrogant. 

Her victim’s hands reached for her, but her hand reached out. “Money first.”

“Of course.” There was no resistance. 

A large green roll was exchanged, and the spider’s hand grabbed the fly’s, leading it to the web it could not discern. She pushed him down on the bed. “Take off your clothes.”

As the poor fellow began the task given, the woman’s weapon was reached, a hammer, just laying on the nightstand. No one ever noticed. They were all too distracted, too caught in their own perverse thoughts to notice.

The man closed the bathroom door completely, silently, and sat on the toilet, putting his face in his hands.

Screams. Cries. “Help!”

Silence.

It was rare a word would be released. Those always came with the messy ones.

The door opened and the woman entered, still holding the hammer, the head now darkened. Her hands, face and clothes were all covered in blood. “That bastard ruined my dress.” She marched angrily to the shower. “Get out. I need to wash up. You know what you need to do.”

Shaking, the man stood and the woman handed him red stained cash.

“Only a hundred, cheap bastard,” she complained as she angrily threw her gloves down. “I thought surely he’d have more. But no, just a damn smoothie punch card.”

“But a hundred,” the man tried pleading, “that’s all we need.”

“No,” she snapped. “We need to do one more. We have nothing for insurance, in case the deal falls through. No get out! I did my job, now go do yours.”

The man slinked out of the bathroom, closing the door as he exited. A butchered mess lay on the bed, only faintly resembling a body. This was a sight his eyes had seen countless times.

His muscles had his duty implanted in permanent memory. The sheets and blankets wrapped around the mangled corpse, making a bloody sack. Emotionless, he carried the remains outside., closing the door to the room behind him. His feet felt lifeless as they wandered to a dumpster around the side of the building, his hands felt weightless as they opened the lid, and his heart slowed as what was once a person was tossed aside as common waste.

For a moment, he just stares into the dumpster. He was to be there one day. When all this was truly over, there would he rest.

His feet with wings carried him back to the room, stopping abruptly in front of the blue pickup, with a red brother now parked beside, much nicer and much cleaner.

He stared at the escape awaiting him. His hand pulled keys out of his pocket, new and beautiful keys that could unlock his cage. With a suspenseful heart, he looked back at the door to his motel room and did not waste a second entering the car.

As the shower ended, an engine started. The woman walked out of the bathroom, face and hands clean, body wrapped in a white towel, as her ears caught the sound of rubber on road. “Honey!?”

In an old motel, on an old road, far from society and far from civility, stood a furious devil of a woman. Her wrathful eyes looked searingly out the window of her room to the one car that sat in the cracked lot outside. One car, a dented and faded blue pickup sat alone, missing a companion that a man hoped the woman would never find.