MIDNIGHT

hotel BROWNWOOD

It had been a while since I had caught Picard the pedophile. It had been even longer since I had been robbed of a stack from the prize money I cherished. My furthest memory that I could recollect from the week that passed was the crime scene photos of my murdered ex and how Bimbo had promised to find the killer for me. I wasn't so sure because Bimbo was a recalcitrant rookie and now I realise I should have made the Mexican swear to me instead.

The holes in the wall, I had patched up, looked like a sloppy job so I went and bought framed stock pictures of Texan scenery that hanged to cover up the off-colour cement paste. I especially liked one of the pictures which was of Guadalupe Peak, clouds wisping around the rugged mountain, its peak peaking above the fluffs of white. I stood back and was immersed in the seemingly brilliant collage of photos. I walked back to the truck to pick up another pack of cheap pictures to cover the holes made in the other wall.

My cowboy boots plodded into dog shit as I neared the back of my truck. The spurs on the boots jingled as I turned my boot over so I could see the sole. The faeces was dry so there was no attempt on my part to get rid of the smell that was faint or the crumbs that were brown. I turned back to the task at hand, but something else caught my eye. It was Yaegar stumbling down the stairs. I hadn't seen him at the motel a lot, but I never went out unless if it was to train Suparto and in that case, I would take him to a spot to set up his equipment. Yaegar caught himself of his own clumsiness and didn't do nothing to pry himself of it. Least he could have done was apologise to the stairs that were probably older than him or me or us combined.

But I found this suspicious because he was moving to circle the site of residency. His vehicle was probably back there because those who lived nearer to the ground had rights to the parking spot closer to them. Just like I did and no one would take it from me unless they wanted a complaint from the manager that they would have to comply with or they would be kicked from our small isolated community. I followed Yaegar, but not in a sneaky way because I didn't want him to be jumpy when he saw me.

When I caught up to him, he was loading his van with luggage.

"Where are you off to?" I asked. He hadn't been surprised, but that crack in his conscience that I remember in the light of the vending machine, now loomed in his expression. This expression was not intended to rub off and it belonged to him as an entity that he left to fester within his mind. It looked even more threatening in the dark because his eyes were concisely lit up.

He greeted, "Oh, hello Conall. I'm leaving."

"Yeah, where to?"

"Another motel - I think the manager here hates me or something." Then I looked over his shoulder at his luggage. There was a Rubik's cube in the front compartment for some reason and under that was the handle of a shotgun. It could've been any shotgun, but I had this gut feeling that it was a Featherlight. This gut feeling was merely my appendix acting up again, but I had a hunch that that was the same model the robbers had used without a doubt. He saw me staring at his luggage for too long, just like how he had glanced at my safe. And it connected too well for me to let go of this lead.

So I took action. I punched him in the face. He held his face in his hands for a little bit, but it returned to my gaze, his lip bleeding and the entity that festered becoming the Yaegar that had been hiding. Stretching my arm out to hit him had taken my breath away because my appendix had been shifted. Yaegar reached behind for the Featherlight. I grabbed him, trying not reach out again, and threw him to the ground. It was too late and he had the shotgun in his hand. I ran around his van, if it even was his. He was a criminal in my eyes now and a criminal did not deserve my understanding. But I did want to understand him and I considered making amends, but he was going off with the shotgun which was loud enough to attract the coyotes.

The night became claustrophobic because I could barely see the van, only feel it, and I couldn't see Yaegar with his shotgun, only hear it. The only source of light came from the window of room 14. And that was mood lighting because the lone girl inside had closed the curtains to her windows after realising the creep across the motel from her had been watching her. And it was all because I had caught him in the act. I had tried to do something good for once, and I am still punished as a consequence.