The Renfield Syndrome by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 57

It seemed only a minute until the hotel came into view. Unable to leave the car on the property, Caspian drove past it and looked for a place to abandon the vehicle. The night still played tricks on his mind, but in the distance was a mall, large enough to hide the car behind. This was not the place where he met Camilla but a smaller mall—someplace almost unnoticeable. Finding the access road in the dark was not easy, but seeing a trail of lights, he followed them to the modest shopping center. The parking lots in the front were well lit, but driving around to the back, he found the area almost black. It was the perfect place to leave the car and still walk back to the hotel before sunrise. With the thin night air, sound carries easily, and having the experience of moving through the woods at night, Caspian quietly drove the car into the back lot, shut off the engine, and opened the driver’s door. Standing outside the vehicle, he gazed in at its interior, knowing he would never see another car like it in his life, and wished he could continue driving it. But common sense prevailed, and after quietly shutting the door, he threw the keys into some nearby woods and started off to the hotel. After half an hour, the hotel came into view, and crossing the highway, Caspian walked through the main entrance. The clerk looked up at him while performing some clerical work and, as though he had barely seen him at all, looked back down at his nightly duties. Caspian considered leaving that night but decided that doing so might be too obvious, and seeing the need for rest, walked to his room and turned in for the night. The next morning found him alert but mentally weary, concerned about whether he could be connected to the stolen BMW. He was also worried about being identified by those he had been introduced to on the night he was with Camilla. However, his stomach was calling, and deciding against a shower, Caspian quickly walked to the hotel’s continental breakfast. Staying clear of other guests, he ate little but walked away with enough food to maintain himself after he got back on the road. No one seemed to notice him as they ate their food and read their newspapers.

Walking back to his room, he packed what few things he brought from his car. Paying the bill at the desk, he went to the parking lot, got into his car, and drove away. He didn’t take the time to study his maps. He just wanted to be as far from Toledo as possible. Turning onto Route 25, Caspian drove south and onto Route 24. From there, he made his way southeast and past Fort Wayne. Stopping along the way for gas and maps, he continued on to Peoria. He followed Route 24 like a trail of bread crumbs until it terminated at Route 61 just across the Mississippi River near Quincy. It felt like a drive through history with monuments and historic places scattered along the way. But soon Caspian noticed the sky begin to darken and the moon begin its nightly course near the western horizon. It was time to find a place to rest. The voice in his head had been quiet for much of the trip since stealing the BMW, but he felt it had not died. Unfortunately, it was still with him, and unless he took his medication, his illness would always be with him. Keeping his eyes on the sides of the highway, Caspian looked for a hotel. It didn’t matter what shape it was in—a hotel was a hotel. Finally, he saw a small group of lights in the distance, and as they got closer, they revealed themselves as a motor inn. It was nothing fancy and displayed an obvious lack of class, unlike the hotel he had hurried from in Toledo.

Crossing the highway, Caspian pulled into the parking lot of the Tic Toc Motel. It was a small, out-of-the-way hotel with a surprisingly clean appearance and well-kept lawn. In spite of the heat typical of the area, the lawn was cared for with a sprinkler system, maintaining its greenery throughout the warmer months. Pulling into the driveway, he noticed a sign that read ‘rooms available.’ Luck had smiled upon him, and he found himself fortunate that he was not forced to stop and sleep in the open. But giving it some thought, he considered the allure of sleeping beneath the stars scattered across a field of black. But the temptation to stand under the star-strewn sky was tempered by the need for sleep. Perhaps later, as he continued his journey, he would take the time to enjoy what the universe had prepared for him. But now, after a long drive and the stress of committing a felony, he required sleep, and stopping in the back parking lot, he got out and walked to the front entrance. Unlike the previous hotel, the clerk’s desk was nothing more than a booth with a tabletop built into the wall. Stopping at the desk, Caspian looked up and noticed a security camera pointed at him.

“Shit,” he whispered.

Should he be apprehended, the footage from the camera could be used against him in tracing his path through the country. Ducking his head slightly, he looked away from the camera, but his face had already been recorded.

“Can I help you?”

A young man walked out from an office behind the desk. He was dressed in jeans and a white shirt with a spotty, thin beard spread out across his face. “Uh, yeah,” Caspian replied. “I need a room—just for one night.” The clerk began filling out paperwork and, looking up at Caspian, asked if he would be paying by cash or card. “So,” he continued. “You here to see the sights?”

Caspian raised his head with a puzzled expression.

“What sights are those?” he replied. He wasn’t sure what the clerk was talking about. For all the distance he had been driving, he had seen nothing of interest—just a lot of nothing. “Exactly,” the clerk answered. He smiled slightly, understanding the clerk’s obvious attempt at humor. But he was right; there were no sights to be seen. Tourism did not exist in the Midwest. The clerk, however, couldn’t help but make one more joke of the place he had for so long felt trapped in. “And it’s really flat out here,” he said. “It’s so flat you could watch your dog run away for three weeks.” The joke usually worked, but Caspian was too concerned about more pressing matters, but he offered another grin anyway. However, this expression slightly exposed one of his fangs, prompting the clerk to comment.

“Dude,” he began. “Are those fangs? Fuckin’ awesome.”

Caspian quickly broke in and asked for his room key. As he walked down to his room, he could hear the clerk continuing to express his amazement. “That’s so fucking cool.”