Day 31 - Motel
The motel was nice enough— a Day’s Inn. Nothing spectacular. a two-story affair with brick siding, a pool, a small gym, and a good-sized dining area. The staff was long gone, but that hadn’t stopped weary travelers or the local homeless from calling this their new residence. The motel was near to capacity; something it hadn’t been for the past three years. Unfortunately, none of them were paying guests. The arrival of the truck garnered a lot of attention. The lieutenant explained what was happening, and that anyone there was welcome to join them, if they so desired. He also asked that they put do not disturb signs outside their doors, so his people could get the remaining rooms.
Most were compliant, but no matter where one travels in life, there will be ten percent that are just assholes. It’s a proven statistic, plain and simple.
“Seems the states have collapsed, and if that’s the case, so has the military. Since that’s what happened, why don’t you take your fascist selves and seek refuge somewhere else.” The voice belonged to a rumpled looking man with crazy hair and an even crazier wide-eyed stare.
“And you are, sir?” the lieutenant asked.
“Not that it’s any of your damned business, but I’m Professor Molan, whom, up until recently, had been teaching Socio-Economics at the University of Maryland.”
“Professor, we aren’t looking for any trouble. It’s been a long night, and we just want to get some rest. We’ll be leaving first thing in the morning.”
The man was donning so many clichés Mike thought that perhaps it was a costume. Suede patches adorned the elbows of his tweed jacket, he had a bowtie patterned with tiny terriers that matched the color of the maple hawkbill pipe he was speaking around. Mike couldn’t see his shoes from where he stood on the second-floor balcony, but he was positive they were Oxfords or tasseled loafers to match his brown wool pants.
“You know, if it weren’t for the military, other countries wouldn’t feel the need to have conflict with us, and I’d still be teaching!”
The lieutenant wanted to disagree; if not for the military, the country would have been run through long ago. Nations tended to be expansionistic and would gladly pick any low hanging fruit. The question is, who would have got to the country first. After the British, that is.
“Professor.” The lieutenant had his hands up. “I realize you’re scared, tired and stressed out; we all are. We are just stopping for the night and we’ll be on our way.”
“And if they come here? They’ll be looking for people like you, not me; I’m an academic!” he yelled. Most of the people in the motel watching knew that the man was most likely unhinged, but still, a few agreed that it was quite possible that the military being here might attract the enemy. The lieutenant could not afford for the crowd to turn on them.
“Lance Corporal Talbot, could you go and talk to him please,” the lieutenant asked.
“I can do it, sir.” Sergeant Yonts stepped up.
“Not this time, Sergeant. I think that man needs to hear the lance corporal’s…umm…unique way of expressing himself.”
“That’s like using a missile launch to open a can of beer, sir,” Tracy told him.
“Works though, right?” The lieutenant smiled at her.
“So would a can opener.” Tracy walked away.
“Leave the rifle.” BT grabbed it from Mike’s hands.
“I’m way more intimidating with it.”
“Just shut him up. I don’t get enough sleep, I get cranky.”
“Jesus, BT, I didn’t know you had chronic insomnia.”
“Fuck you, Mike.”
“Professor Mulan, is it?” Mike asked as he approached.
“Molan, you ignorant slave to the machine.”
“I feel like I had one of your classes once. Did you teach women’s studies at New York Community college? I failed that class. I’d hoped to learn something about women in that class…naw, that’s a lie. I was trying to take a class that I figured would be all women. Too much competition in the other classes. Problem was, they all saw through my bullshit. Never seen that kind of solidarity among that many women. On one side, it was pretty refreshing, on the other, I didn’t get a single date out of it, plus a failing grade. Talk about a double whammy. Know what I’m saying?”
“I…I don’t think anyone knows what you’re saying,” the professor said as Mike was now right next to him. “I suppose you’ve been sent to rough me up. What happened to you? Did the last person you tried to work over get the better of you?” The words came out as boastful, but his stance had gone on the defensive as he leaned back, expecting physical violence. “I will not go down without a fight.” He flinched as Mike tenderly touched the top of his head, which was beginning to ache.
“Look at me, professor. Do I look like the military type to you? I was pressed into service because this country is in dire need. The land that we all love is being attacked from every direction. If someone doesn’t stand up for her, then yeah, you’re right; she will fall. This isn’t over yet; we still have a chance. Just a few weeks ago, I was a petty criminal running numbers in New York City; the big guy down there is a pole dancer. Gay Strip club called Meaters. Can you imagine how many ones he could fit in his underwear? The fascist lieutenant down there was a daycare supervisor. The kids he was watching got a little rowdy and kicked his ass, and the man hasn’t been the same since. Still bears the wounds. The only career military down there is that little redhead. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s going to marry me. I’m figuring once this is over, we’ll have a couple of kids. Fairly sure she’ll be able to stand me for twelve, maybe fifteen years before she realizes she just can’t take any more. She’ll try to move on, but I’m like a virulent case of herpes, and I’ll keep coming back into her life…at the most inopportune times, I would imagine.” Mike had slowly but surely got the professor back into his room and quietly closed the door, so they could continue the conversation.
“I don’t see what any of this has to do with me. You need to remove yourself from these premises!”
“Listen, you fuck,” Mike said quietly as he wrapped his fist around the man’s jacket. “In the past week, I have watched too many good people die at the hands of the enemy. An enemy who, I’m telling you right now, doesn’t give one goddamned fuck if you’re an academic or not. Just today, I was in a caravan full of refugees heading west. An enemy warplane blew up every truck but ours. Women, kids, blue-collar, white-collar, military, black, white, brown, maybe a unicorn or two, shit I don’t know. I’m exhausted, professor, all of us are. We want one fucking night to rest before we’re thrust back into the middle of the shit show that this war is going to become and—”
Molan interrupted him. “I don’t care.”
Mike was reeling from that. “You don’t care? You self-centered narcissistic prick. Well, I bet you’ll care about this.” Mike pulled the knife free from his leg sheath.
“You plan on threatening me with violence? I’ll tell your superior.” The professor had a smug expression on.
“Threaten? No. I’m promising you, professor, if you don’t shut up for the next twelve hours or so, I’m going to insert this very sharp point into the hollow of your temple. Just enough to get your attention. A little piercing of the temporal lobe; it could mess up your hearing a bit, memory, some aspects of your language, but my real hope is that it will alter some of these fucked up opinions you’re voicing about us.”
“You know about the temporal lobes?” The professor gulped.
“Come to find out, professor, I am very adept at killing people. It wasn’t a craft I wanted to learn, that’s for sure, but lately, I’ve been honing that to about as fine an edge as this knife. And I’ve discovered that the best way to kill people is to understand everything about how they work. Makes sense, right?”
“I mean, of course.” The professor had backed up so far, he caught his legs on the bed and fell onto it.
“I’d like to feel like I’ve covered all my lessons for the day, professor. I realize that you can never practice too much, but I’m tired, maybe a little hangry.”
“I…I have some food.”
“No, you keep your food. That’s going to be something that will be difficult to come by in the near future, as will sleep. And if you deny me my chance at said sleep, I might see if I can shove this blade in one side and out the other. We clear?” Mike was leaning over the man, who was doing his best to melt into the mattress.
“I…I understand completely.”
“Fan-fucking-tastic.” Mike was wearing a genuine smile. “Then, you get a good night’s rest, Professor Mulan.”
“Molan.”
“Molé,” Mike said as he turned the light off and exited the room.
“Molan!”
“Excuse me?” Mike opened the door back up.
“N…nothing.”
“And I deserved a D in that class. You had to be a hardass, didn’t you?” Mike shut the door again and gave the thumbs up to the lieutenant below.
“You didn’t kill him, did you?”
“Fuck!” Mike jumped; BT was right next to the door. “You’re entirely too big to be a ninja. Hey, you’re not mad about the stripper thing, are you?”
“Meaters? Really?”
“I didn’t want to tell him you were a cop. Gonna go out on a limb and say he’s not a big fan of authority.”
BT handed over the rifle. “We’re on first shift,” he told him as the folks in the truck found rooms and began to settle down for the night.
Mike and BT were on opposite sides of the motel, doing slow laps around the perimeter. The two hours had been uneventful, only occasionally seeing someone standing outside their door smoking a cigarette or sometimes staring off into space, wondering what the future held. Mike might have done the same thing if he weren’t worried that he would immediately fall asleep if he stopped to ponder. The only disturbance had been the sound of multiple planes off in the distance. Mike had an idea of what it meant, but it wasn’t a threat yet, and, in any case, there was nothing he could do about it except pass the word. Even that was something he was not going to have to worry about doing, as, on his next lap, the lieutenant was outside his door, staring off into the distance. When Tracy tapped him on his shoulder that his shift was through and that he could go into room 212, he didn’t say a word, hardly noticed that the covers were ruffled, and somehow cared less. He stripped down, took a scalding shower and headed to bed, barely able to dry himself off before he crawled in. He was awakened a couple of hours later as the bed moved and he felt a hand slide first down his leg, then up. Exhaustion quickly burned away to desire as Tracy leaned over and kissed his lips. When the morning sun streaked across his face, he sat up. Tracy was not in the bed with him, and the bathroom door was open.