Lonely on the Road

He had been driving for hours. His hands wet on the wheel, while the radio played forgotten songs. Miles of an endless and empty desert have passed his eyes, the sun burning on his car.

But now the sun had disappeared completely and a single star started to shine it's light, he felt his tiredness. It had been such a heavy day.

If the road signs were correct, there should be a motel within fifteen miles. He rubbed his face with his hands to stay awake, what was hard in this boring and warm environment. He stared at the stripes on the middle of the road, flashing away under his car and listened to the raw men's voice on the radio. They even didn't had a good radio station in this abandoned state.

After a few minutes, the neon light of the motel raised from the horizon like it was a green with blue sun.

He drove his big car in an empty spot and got out. First he loosed his stiffened muscles a little. Then he looked around. It was as quite as in the whole damn desert in this dull place, he thought.

The Malibu Motel, just a dusty old building with rooms like little houses next to each other with a parking in front of it. Just a few cars occupied the parking. Just a motel with bad coffee, bad beds, no hot water in the showers and screaming neighbours.

But for this moment, he was glad that he had a place to stay except in his car. He looked at the back seat of his car and saw that the little kid was still asleep. He locked the doors and headed to the reception to check in.

The receptionist was a regular girl, about twenty-two years old, friendly, not ugly, not pretty and a nice body. Nothing special, but he was glad to see her face. The only faces he had seen today were from fat, tough truckers at the gas stations.

He paid for a room for two persons. He was together with his kid, he told her and would leave tomorrow morning. She told him one and another about the motel and the restaurant and gave him the key.

She didn’t seem to be surprised that a guy like him was travelling alone with a child through this hot desert. Luckily she didn’t asked him about it. That was his business and he would tell no-one about that.

He parked the car in front of his room, took the sleeping kid from the back seat and carried it in his arms to the room where he put the kid on the bed. It didn’t noticed anything at all.

He brought the luggage inside the room after he locked the car and then locked the door. He was too tired to take a shower. With his clothes on, he laid on the bed, put the TV on and felt asleep.

He slept for two hours when one loud knock on the door woke him up. He grabbed for his gun and walked towards the door. His heart beaded loudly and he breathed fast, but controlled. Could it be that everything was going to end here? No, he would fight for it, because it just couldn’t end here, not in a shitty and cheap room in a place called the Malibu Motel.