Peak Oil (8 page)

A pretty town. Opulent. It had all the familiar shops and buildings, but they all seemed somehow . . . she tried thinking of the correct word.
Over-the-top
. A fancy police station and an impressive university. How many students could there be in a town with a population of 658 people? She lay back in her chair and weaved her fingers together at the back of her head. They probably came from the surrounding towns.
 

Neil glanced at her. “You okay?”

She nodded and then closed her eyes. “Tired.”

A few minutes later, they arrived at the Ocelot Inn, and Alexa noticed a light go off in a room on the third floor. Dim, solar-powered walkway lights guided their way to the reception area, which was empty. Alexa glanced at Neil. She didn’t want to share a room with Voelkner.

They rang the bell, and footsteps pattered down the wooden stairs. Mary-Lou emerged from the doorway, pulled a chair from behind the counter, and scampered on top.

“Good day. My name is Mary-Lou, how may I be of assistance?” she recited in a monotone.

“Is Missy in?” Neil asked.

“Nah-ah. She’s got Bingo night.”
 

Neil scratched the back of his head and glanced at Alexa.
 

“May I interest you in a room?” Mary-Lou recited.

Neil nodded. “That would be nice, yes.”
 

Mary-Lou jumped off the chair and positioned it in front of a large wooden key rack to the side. “Number eleven, number eleven. Two down, three to the side, two down, three to the side,” she mumbled, sticking her tongue out between pursed lips as she concentrated on the task.

She counted two rows down, walking her fingers down the board. She counted three clips to the right and removed a key with a large wooden key holder. The number eleven had been burned into it, probably with a magnifying glass or a soldering iron, Alexa guessed.

Mary-Lou looked back toward them and pointed a finger, the other hand on her hip. “Grandma Pauline says you better pay up tomorrow, or she’ll hunt you down and kick her spurs into your ass and drive you all the way over to California.”

Alexa laughed. She walked over, took the key from Mary-Lou, and gave her a hug. Mary-Lou beamed at Alexa.

“What else did Grandma Pauline say?” she asked.

Mary-Lou popped her thumb into her mouth and mumbled. “Um, Grandma Pauline says that loose lips sink ships.”

“Okay then,” Neil said with a raised eyebrow. “Should we go to our rooms then?”

Alexa tossed the keys to Voelkner. “I’m going to stick around until Missy comes back. I want to ask her about the men at the bus stop.”

Neil smiled. “I’ll stay with you; I’m sure I’ll pick up some idioms that my family never taught me.”

Voelkner said good night and ruffled the girl’s hair.

“Tell us some more things that Grandma Pauline says. What does she say about us?” Neil said, lowering himself down into a chair.

Mary-Lou looked down and sucked her thumb. “Grandma Pauline says we’re not supposed to be flapping our jaws about paying guests.”
 

Neil tickled her ribs. “Ah, come on Mary-Lou. We promise we won’t pay,” he said and winked at Alexa.
 

Mary-Lou looked up with a hopeful smile. “You promise?”

Neil nodded and lifted his hand in the air. “Scout’s honor.”

She nodded, satisfied. She glanced shyly at Alexa. “Grandma Pauline says that a Texas rose don’t always be growing up in Texas, but they always end up here sooner or later.”

Alexa laughed and shook her head.

They looked up as Missy walked in and removed a shawl from her shoulders. She turned to them, a surprised look on her face. “Now why you keeping my grandchild up at this late hour?” she asked, combing her fingers through her hair.

Neil stood up. “We picked up one of our colleagues and needed an extra room.”
 

“You help these people?” Missy asked Mary-Lou.

The girl nodded. “The room from heaven, always right, number eleven.”

Missy patted Mary-Lou’s cheek affectionately. “That’s right, my child.” She looked up at Neil and Alexa. “Now, was there anything else that y’all needed me for?” She nodded toward her granddaughter. “I need to get this one to bed.”

Alexa stepped forward. “Yes, we were wondering if you heard or saw anything unusual at the bus stop a couple of evenings ago?”

Missy folded her arms. “Unusual?”

Alexa nodded. “One of our colleagues went missing. Deputy Harvey dropped him off at the bus stop, or so he says. We wanted to confirm that.”
 

“Was he drunk?” Missy asked. “The only reason he would be dropped at the bus stop would be to get himself a one-way ticket out of this fine town.”

Alexa sighed and nodded. “Yes. He was arrested.”

Missy placed her hand on her hip and pointed a finger at them. “Deputy Harvey would have made damn sure that your colleague understood the lay of the land when he dropped him at the stop.” She swayed her head from side to side as she talked. “And your colleague would have made damn sure that he got himself the next ticket out to anywhere but here.”
 

She took Mary-Lou’s hand and walked to the door behind the counter. She looked over her shoulder. “We don’t need no troublemaking folk down here. We’re a peaceful and gentle people. Now good night,” she said with finality and firmly shut the door behind her.
 

Alexa slept in the chair, her chin on her chest and her legs folded underneath her bottom. She looked serene, her hands cupping each other in her lap as if she was silently meditating, apparently an old habit she had learned from Bruce during her formative years when a gang of smugglers terrorized their area. They had to be ready for anything, instantly awake and ready to move. She never grew out of it. Even after some jibes from Neil, she simply closed her eyes and fell asleep on the chair.

The bed was neatly made up. Neil switched off the lights. He sauntered to another chair and flicked the switch on the table lamp beside it. He dug his wallet from his back pocket, flipped it open, and removed a photo from a hidden card slot. He looked at it and smiled as he sank into the chair.
 

Neil studied the creased image for a while. Alexa shifted her position slightly and Neil looked up in alarm. She settled down. He waited a minute until he was sure that she was asleep before lifting the photo up again. He was six years younger, sitting in the pool of the Ko Phi Phi Don hotel in Thailand. He held a toddler, his daughter, in his lap. Maddie was looking up at him, smiling, her ink-black hair shining in the bright sunlight.
 

Neil removed a lock of black hair from the card slot and twirled it between his fingers. Maddie had always loved it when he tickled her sides; she would giggle herself to tears. She had a habit of always wanting a hug whenever he was busy with something important. He wished he could have given her all the hugs that she had requested. You’re never too busy for a hug.

Six years was a long time, but Neil felt his throat constrict and he stifled a sob, swallowing hard. He hadn’t played a proper role in their lives, not like he could have.
Should
have.
 

His wife, Tamara, had worked the night shift at a local bar. He had been working as a dive master at the local scuba diving school. The job was demanding, and he had to be there by four every morning.
 

Sometimes he never saw Tamara for an entire week. Sometimes they bumped into each other on the stairwell as she stumbled up to their tiny apartment. He would peck her cheek, exchange a quick greeting, and rush toward the dive shop to be in time for the demanding tourists.
 

And they never had enough money. They could only afford shelter and meals and cheap clothes. No holidays.

He shook his head at the irony of it all. Working your ass off in tropical paradise, but never being allowed to enjoy it. He now had enough money to give them everything that their hearts had ever desired. But they were gone.

He carefully placed the photo and lock of hair back inside the wallet. He glanced toward Alexa. Her cheek rested on her hand, and her chest moved up and down silently.
 

Mary-Lou reminded him of Maddie. Reminded him of the smell of her hair, her pealing laughter. Such a long time ago, but it felt like yesterday. Neil switched off the lamp and settled back in his chair. On nights like these, he missed his family so much. He closed his eyes and prepared for another sleepless night.

Neil snapped awake from his restless sleep as two shots from a silenced pistol barked close by. He interpreted the dark blurry shape in the door. A hooded man, two hands clutching the weapon to his chest, scanning the room.
 

Momentary blindness as Alexa flicked on the light. He would have preferred the cover of darkness, but she was closest to the assailant, and she was calling the shots. Neil flicked a subconscious switch and went into combat mode. The world dragged to a slow blur, and his senses peaked as the adrenaline surge took effect, like it did on a ninety-foot nitro dive.
 

Puffy snowflakes floated in front of his vision: down feathers, he guessed. A tendril of smoke drifted up from two tiny, black holes in the blanket, and the familiar smell of sulfur hung in the air.

The hooded figure snapped his head to his left, where Alexa had leaped from her chair. She attacked like a lithe cat, her graceful movements economical, yet lethal. She wasted not an iota of energy; each motion was precise, calculated, and controlled. She briefly turned to look at Neil, and he noticed the way her green eyes were now speckled with grey. The assailant spun the weapon toward her.
 

Much too slow.

Alexa grabbed the barrel and slammed a knee into the man’s side.
 
With trained efficiency, she ripped the gun upward, trying to dislodge it from his hand, keeping her head steady and focused on the target. Neil reacted a second later.

By the time the slug dislodged a chunk of wood from the ceiling, Neil was on top of the man. Neil aimed a kick at the man’s groin, but he deflected it with a stiff downward palm. The assailant aimed a knuckle punch at Alexa's throat, but she jerked her entire body sideways, her hair following a millisecond later like a stage curtain closing after the dramatic final scene.
 

The assailant’s fist went straight through the partitioning wall, missing her throat by an inch. Alexa sucked in a breath and swiveled her entire body in the opposite direction, two fluid movements without any perceptible pause in between. She drove the weight of her shoulder into a flat palm straight toward the bridge of the assailant’s nose. Neil was witnessing a beautiful yet deadly dance. He felt like he was simply in the way. Again her calm eyes looking at him. She blinked.

The assailant jerked his chin toward his chest and Alexa's palm connected on the hard part of his brow. He ripped his hand back, dislodging pieces of the drywall, and then spun behind Alexa, trying to get her into a choke hold.
 

She went down into a split, dragging the gun down by the barrel. The gun spat again, stitching holes in the floor in front of Alexa. She closed her eyes briefly, her lips pursed and her nostrils flaring. She was manipulating the weapon, always in control with her effortlessly fluid movements.
 

The main aimed a knee at her back, but she leaned forward, snapped her legs around his ankles, and then rolled to her side and twisted his feet from beneath him. She ripped the gun from his grip as he fell.

The man scrambled up and ran for the door. Alexa swiveled on her knees and fired, the bullet slamming him forward and spattering blood on the wall. She fired again, but he ducked out of the doorway.
 

Neil bounded behind the assailant, who had pulled another weapon from a shoulder holster. The man glanced over his shoulder and emptied his clip in their direction. Slugs exploded into the log walls and ceiling, forcing Alexa and Neil to dive for cover.

Alexa lay on the flat of her back, breathing deeply. Neil cautiously looked up and ran to the door. He heard the assailant’s soft footsteps on the stone walkway. A door slammed, tires squealed, and the engine roared and then faded into the distance.

“Are you okay?” Neil asked and knelt next to her. She nodded and lifted her hand. A red welt lined her palm from the heat scorch where she had gripped the gun.

“Stay there, don’t move.” Neil strode to his kit bag. He tore off the medical bag Velcroed to the side and ripped it open. He removed a needle and pulled some disinfectant into the syringe. He gently took Alexa’s hand and injected the blister with the liquid. “Benzoin, it will make it dry up quicker and help the skin heal.”

Alexa grimaced. “Ouch, shit.” She shook her hand and fetched her own medical bag. She removed a cotton swab and a small plastic bag from the bag, strode to the blood-spattered wall, and examined it closely. She wiped some of the blood off the wall with the swab and put it in the bag. “I’ll send this off for DNA testing; maybe they have someone in the database.”

Neil shook his head and smiled. “That was amazing, Alexa. Where did you learn to move like that?”