I BACKED OUT OF THE ROOM and pulled the door closed behind me. I gasped for fresh air.
It was right for the people inside room 47 to feel guilt for what they had done. They needed to suffer for the anxiety their “bombs” had caused.
But they did not need to be dead.
No.
No. That was wrong.
The threat to them, their lives, was not great enough for that.
The threat to them was me.
I leaned against the wall by the door. Then I slid down it and sat on the walk.
I heard a sound from the parking lot. Bobbie Lee had opened the door of her car.
She saw that I had seen her. She stopped.
I shook my head.
No. It was wrong.
She got back in the car. To wait. To see what I would do. I realized I should do something.
I rolled to my knees. I got to my feet.
What should I do? Ambulance? Police?
Go back in first, I supposed.
I turned to the door.
I took a breath.
I grasped the doorknob.
It turned as I touched it.
I jumped back. I couldn't speak.
The door opened and Charlotte Vivien stood in front of me.
“You,” she said sleepily. “I suppose I should have known that it had to be the bad penny.”