Free The Extinct by Victor Methos Page B

to drizzle and a cold breeze was quickly turning into a gale as he ran to the bus stop.
     
    *****
     
    The hospital smelled like all hospitals; disease and floor polish. The emergency room was packed with people coughing, people crying, and people staring silently at nothing. Eric walked past them and made his way to the front desk. He asked a portly receptionist where Carol Steiner was and she said the third floor, room 305.
    He took the elevator to the third floor and looked down the hall before stepping out. The hallway was nearly empty but voices were coming from the various rooms. Room 302 had an older woman in it, crying. She had her arms around a younger boy and the boy was crying too. 304 had an enormously fat man with a round potbelly protruding from his hospital gown. An IV was in his bicep and he had crusted white saliva on the corners of his mouth. A bag of chips was on the nightstand and the television was blaring a daytime talk show. Room 305 was next door and Eric glanced in; it was only his mother.
    He went in and saw she was sleeping; an IV hooked up to her arm. She rustled and awoke at the sound of his footsteps and a smile crept to her face. The television was on; the volume turned low, the open window letting in the salty air of a rain brought in from the Atlantic.
“How ya doin’ mom?”
“I’m okay,” she said, reaching out and holding his hand. “The IV’s just antibiotics. The police were here.”
“Yeah, I talked to ‘em.”
    She looked out the window as the wind howled outside underneath the gray sky. Some pigeons were on the sill, trying to find shelter from the coming storm. “They said it’s going to rain all week.”
    “Mom,” Eric said softly, “I gotta go away for a while. I’m not sure when I’ll be comin’ back.”
    His mother didn’t look at him but he saw the slight quiver in her lower lip and the tears that glossed over her eyes. She was gripping his hand tightly, her knuckles turning white. “I don’t remember if I left any of the windows open,” she said. “The one in the living room will get the couch wet if I left it open.”
    Eric squeezed her hand, and let go. He kissed her cheek, wrapping his arms around her frail shoulders. “Bye, Mom.”
    His mother grabbed his sleeve, tears rolling down her cheeks and onto the bruises on her neck. “There’s ten thousand dollars in my savings account. Take my driver’s license and get the money. If they won’t give it to you they can call me here.”
    “I can’t take your—”
    “I couldn’t stand it if I thought you were on the street somewhere. Please.”
    He nodded. “All right.” Another kiss on the forehead and he pulled away from her, taking the driver’s license out of her purse. He looked back once when he was at the doorway and a deep sadness filled him and tightened his throat; he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again.
     
    *****
     
    Eric chose a female teller who appeared young enough to be in high school. She let him withdraw from his mother’s account and he took five thousand and left the driver’s license on the counter, knowing the teller would keep it for his mother.
    The drizzle had turned into a full drenching rain and he pulled up his collar as he walked across an intersection and toward the downtown city library. The city smelled like wet dirt and salt and it disgusted him.
    The library was a circular flat building across the street from a small public park. It was packed with the homeless, overflow from the only shelter in town. But the dusty book smell was pleasant as Eric waited patiently to get on a computer. It took nearly a half hour—that being the limit that each person was allowed on a computer—and he sat down and stared at the computer screen before starting to type. He Googled a world map and looked at it like it had some great secret to reveal to him if he just looked long enough. He spent nearly the entire half hour just examining maps of various countries and then