Free The Legend of Kareem by Jim Heskett Page A

Goodbye, Mr. Candle.”
     
    ***
     
    Edgar, Glenning, and the other man left me in the room, and I spied them through the curtains until their car backed out of the parking lot. I raced outside to watch the car leave, and I was able to track the headlights all the way onto the highway. Would they actually leave me alone? Doubtful.
    How are you supposed to hide from an organization that can find you wherever you go? How was I going to get Omar across the state in secret?
    I checked the time on my phone. It had only been fifteen minutes, so hopefully Omar was still hiding out somewhere close.
    I ran back into the diner, passed all the booths and looked into the bathrooms. Wasn’t there. I checked the kitchen and behind the counter, found nothing.
    “Have you seen a little Middle Eastern guy?” I asked a waitress at the counter.
    “Can’t say that I have, sugar,” she said. “Was he supposed to meet you here or something?”
    I shook my head at her, and she shrugged. Don’t know why I bothered to say anything.
    Back outside, I took stock of the surroundings. I hadn’t given Omar a motel room key so he couldn’t be there. Besides the diner, there wasn’t anything else in sight for several blocks in every direction. Just the motel and the wilderness of empty parking lots.
    “Omar,” I shouted into the night air. Nothing came back.
    I went to the motel and checked the linen closets at both ends of the building. Locked. Went back to the motel office, checked inside the bathrooms there. Nothing. I considered ringing the bell for service and asking them but didn’t expect anything more helpful than what the waitress had told me.
    I looked back at the diner, then as I shuffled along the gravel parking lot, I noticed something poking out the back. I sprinted around the building, and two big green dumpsters next to each other stared back at me. Lifted the lid of the first one, and only the smell of rotten meat and dairy came back.
    I lifted the lid of the second one, and my pulse skyrocketed when I found my traveling companion inside. He was on his side, convulsing, with his hands like claws and his eyes rolling back in his head.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER TWELVE
     
     
    Seeing Omar in the dumpster in the middle of a seizure nearly sent me into a panic. Among the bits of discarded food, empty containers, and mounds of paper sludge, my traveling companion wriggled and writhed and grunted.
    I called his name a few times, but he was oblivious to my voice. He seemed like he was in some kind of trance, eyes open and unfocused.
    I grabbed him by the shirt and lifted him until I could get a hand under his armpit. He was semi-stiff and uncooperative. I had to throw my back and my aching stomach muscles into lifting his body out. I kept ignoring all the physical abuse I’d been through in the last couple weeks, and my body kept telling me to stop being a jerk to it.
    I dragged Omar’s vibrating body onto the ground, and his eyelids fluttered at me. I hadn’t ever seen this before, and had no idea what to do. I didn’t think taking him to a hospital was a good idea, because that would only confirm to IntelliCraft that he was with me, if they didn’t know already. Even though they probably did.
    But if I did nothing and he died out here, how could I let that sit on my conscience? Wasn’t the whole point to keep Omar alive and safe?
    I ran back into the diner and threw the door open. “Is there a doctor here?”
    A dozen customers and waitstaff turned their heads to me, blinking, not speaking. No one stood and answered my question.
    “What about a paramedic or EMT? A veterinarian, for fuck’s sake?”
    A couple of them shook their heads, but they mostly just stared. Some country music about Jesus and cattle blared from the speakers.
    “Is something wrong, dear?” a waitress said. “Do I need to call you an ambulance?”
    I dashed back out of the diner, but when I rounded the corner, Omar was