In These Hallowed Halls by Paul Kane

Author:Paul Kane
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags:  
Publisher: Titan

* * *

The motel room smells musty.

Highway 32 runs right out front, and passing trucks rattle the windows and the light fixtures. I don’t feel like eating, so I drink a lot of water and call Angie once I’m settled.

It takes her a long time to answer, and when she does, she asks me where I am.

“A motel. In Manchester.”

She sighs as loud as the passing trucks. “So, you’re sticking to your itinerary.”

“I think so. Where are you?”

“Home. Why?”

“I thought maybe you’d go to your dad’s like we said.” The TV starts playing loudly in the room next door. “I saw this woman at the funeral today. She was hanging around the edge of the crowd. And then… she might have been following me. Or maybe she’s a reporter. I’m not sure.”

“Did she threaten you?”

“No, she didn’t even speak to me.”

“Well, there’ve been no more bricks. No more dog shit smeared on the car. And I disconnected the landline so no one can call and threaten us. Maybe you’re projecting guilt onto this person. Maybe you think you deserve to be stalked and attacked.”

“I saw Harold here.” I don’t tell Angie what Harold told me. About the stairs. About my suggestion aiding the shooter with his plan. “For what it’s worth, he’s on your side.”

“I always liked Harold. For an administrator he’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” A sipping noise comes through the line. Angie’s having wine. I can’t blame her for that. “I’m sorry for what I said about your running away. And the baby. I know – I know things are more complicated than that.”

“It’s okay. You’re not entirely wrong.”

The TV gets even louder. The walls must be made of cardboard. Then it happens – bang bang bang.

I yelp. And jump.

The phone flies out of my hand and hits the thin carpet with a thud.

I’m three steps across the room and almost to the door when I figure it out.

The gunshots. Next door. The TV. Not real shots, just on TV.

I’m heaving again, trying to catch my breath. Every cell in my body shakes.

Angie’s voice comes through the phone, tinny and distant. “Mike? Mike?”

“Fuck.”

I go over and bend down. Pick up the phone.

“Mike? What the hell happened?”

“I’m okay. It’s just— I heard a noise. Several noises. Through the wall.”

“Did something happen? Are you safe?”

“No, it’s…” I go over, slam the side of my fist against the wall. “Turn it down, asshole. Turn it down!”

“Mike?”

The volume doesn’t change, but the shooting stops. I slump to the edge of the bed, bounce on the sagging mattress.

“Mike?”

“I’m okay. The TV’s so loud next door. Some movie where everybody is trying to kill everybody else. Bullshit like that.”

“Mike, take some deep breaths.”

I do. I gulp more water, empty the shitty glass. My thundering heartbeat starts to slow. I can breathe a little.

“Mike, you’ve had a trauma too. You were in that room. You almost got killed. This is PTSD. Come home and call Dr. Franklin again.”

“I didn’t almost get killed. I didn’t.”

“You did.

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