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Next(91)
Author: Michael Crichton

Then Alex had used her credit card, and within minutes, the bounty hunter had known about it and fixed her position at a motel in San Juan Capistrano. Realizing that she'd need supplies, the hunter had probably called every convenience store within a five-mile radius of the motel, and gave a story to the security people. Be on the lookout for a white Toyota, license so-and-so.

And this guy found her.

Right away.

Unless she missed her bet, the bounty hunter was on his way to Capistrano right now. If he was driving, he would be there in three hours. But if he had access to a helicopter, he might be here already.

Already.

"Mom, can I watch TV when we go back to the motel?"

"Sure, honey."

But, of course, they weren't going back to the motel.

She parkedaround the corner from the motel. From her position, she could see the lobby, and the kid inside. He was talking on the phone, looking around as he did so.

She turned on her regular cell phone, and dialed the motel.

The kid put the other line on hold, and picked up.

"Best Western."

"Yes, this is Mrs. Colson. I checked in earlier."

"Yes, Mrs. Colson."

It seemed to excite him. He looked around in all directions now, frantic.

"You put me in room 204."

"Yes..."

"I think there's someone in my room."

"Mrs. Colson, I can't imagine - "

"I want you to come here and open the door for me."

"If it's anybody, it's probably the maid - "

"I think it's a man."

"Oh no, it couldn't be - "

"Come here and open the door. Or do I have to call the police?"

"No, I'm sure...I'll be right there."

"Thank you."

He switched to the other line, spoke quickly, and then left the lobby, running down toward the rooms at the back.

Alex got out of her car and sprinted across the street to the lobby. She moved in quickly, stepped behind the counter, picked up the shotgun, and walked out again. It was a sawed-off twelve-gauge Remington. Not her first choice, but it would do for now. She'd get shells later.

She got back in the car. "What's the gun for?" Jamie said.

"Just in case," she said. She drove off, turning onto Camino Real. Through her rearview mirror, she saw the kid coming back into the lobby, looking puzzled.

"I want to watch TV," Jamie said.

"Not tonight," she said. "Tonight we are going to have an adventure."

"What kind of adventure?"

"You'll see."

She drove east, away from the lights, and into the darkness of the mountains.

Chapter 71-76

CHapter 071

Stan Milgramwas lost in endless darkness. The road ahead was a strip of light, but on each side he could see no signs of life at all, nothing except pitch-black desert landscape stretching away into the distance. To the north he could just detect the ridge of the mountains, a faint line of black against black. But nothing else - no lights, no towns, no houses, nothing.

It had been that way for an hour.

Where the hell was he?

From the backseat, the bird gave a piercing shriek. Stan jumped; the sound made his eardrums ache. If you ever plan to motor west, he thought, don't take a damn bird on the highway, that's the best. He'd put cloth over the cage hours ago, but the cloth didn't shut the bird up anymore. From St. Louis down through Missouri, and on to Gallup, New Mexico. All the way the bird would not shut up. Stan checked into a Gallup motel, and at around midnight the bird began to scream, earsplitting shrieks.

There was nothing to do but check out - with all the other motel guests yelling at him - and start driving again. The bird was silent, once they were driving. But he pulled off the road for a few hours during the day to sleep, and later, when he stopped at Flagstaff, Arizona, the bird began to scream again. It started before he even checked into the motel.

He kept driving. Winona, Kingman, Barstow, heading for San Bernardino - San Berdoo, his aunt called it - and all he could think was this trip would be over soon. Please, God. Let it be over before he killed the bird.

But Stan was exhausted, and after driving more than two thousand miles, he had become strangely disoriented. Either he had missed the San Berdoo turnoff or...or he wasn't sure.

He was lost.

And the bird still shrieked. "Your heart sweats, your body shakes, another kiss is what it takes..."

He pulled the car over. He opened the door to the backseat. He took the cloth off. "Gerard," he said. "Why are you doing this?"

"You can't sleep, you can't eat - "

"Gerard, stop it. Why?"

"I'm afraid."

"Why?"

"It's too far from home." The bird blinked, looked at the darkness outside. "What fresh hell is this?"

"This is the desert."

"It's freezing."

"The desert is cold at night."

"Why are we here?"

"I'm taking you to your new home." Stan stared at the bird. "If I leave your cloth off, will you be quiet?"

"Yes."

"No talking at all?"

"Yes."

"You promise?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I need it quiet so I can find out where we are."

"I don't know why, I love you like I do, after all the changes - "

"Try and help me, Gerard. Please." Stan went around and got in the driver's seat. He pulled out onto the road and started driving. The bird was quiet. The miles rolled by. Then he saw a sign for a town called Earp, three miles ahead.

"Mellow greetings, ukie dukie," Gerard said.

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