Free Fallen Blood by Martin C. Sharlow Page B

second time. "That's okay, silly, once I clear this up, you're going to be a hero, and not a criminal." She leaned forward quickly and kissed his cheek. All argument went out of him at that moment. He remembered who he was traveling with. He had just been kissed by the most important girl in his life. The one he had thought about endlessly for the last couple of years. Here he was, practically alone with her, and she thought he was her hero, and kissed him.

    It was times like this that he remembered how young he really was, and not some impossibly old vampire from TV.

    The car pulled off the road and drove into a parking lot.

    "Bob?"

    "Here's a motel." The driver responded. Sure enough, there was one. It was one of those single level, beat up ones he'd seen on the side of highways all the time. The misty pine name was mostly burnt out, with only a few letters still lit, not to mention the vacancy sign.

    "Okay, Heather. First we get some sleep, and then when the sun comes up we'll try it your way."

    She smiled and clapped her hands excitedly. "You won’t regret it, Brian, I'm sure this is going to work.”

    He nodded and climbed out of the car, and waited for her to do the same.

    Bending down to talk face level with Bob, he told him to go home and forget.

    The driver just nodded and put the car in reverse, and began saying over and over as he pulled out of hearing. "I forget you. I forget you. I forg..."

    Brian sighed and scratched his head, and wondered if staying here was such a good idea.

    Well, if worst came to worst, he would just have to save them again. Right now he needed a room to put her to bed, and a chance to go eat. It only took a few minutes to suggest the motel clerk into giving them a room for the night, but by the time he sat down in it he felt exhausted and the pain behind his eyes was almost unbearable.

    He wondered if he had the strength for what he needed to do tonight. Only time would tell.

Chapter 8

    The white ice-cream truck was almost within Brian's reach. He had been wanting that ice cream all day, as he listened to the army of trucks that seemed to be covering the neighborhood. From the sounds of their music, they must have been one on every street but his. Now, finally, it was his turn. The truck had passed right by him as he stood in front of his mothers home, waiting for it. He thought for a moment that he wasn't going to get any, but 'lucky' Heather had been coming home from the park with her friends, and had waved the little truck down. That gave Brian all the chance he needed to run to it and present his fifty cents for his favorite flavored ice cream. The line in front of it had gotten unusually long by the time he had reached it, but thankfully he was finally going to get his ice cream. It seemed to take forever, but eventually he found himself looking at the creepiest looking clown he had ever seen.

    "There you are." The clown said. "I've got your favorite popsicle right here."

    "I don't want a popsicle." Little Brian cried, "I want ice cream."

    "Nonsense." The clown turned and reached in to the truck, pulling out a heart shaped red popsicle, dripping blood everywhere as he tried to hand it to Brian. "Here you go, nice and fresh."

    "Nooo...!" Brian cried.

    The hotel room was silent, except for the heavy breathing of Heather, who was asleep next to him. Sweat covered his entire body, and his clothes reeked of it. Brian wiped his eyes, then slid off the bed and headed for the bathroom. The room was a dull white in the light of the little room. He could barely shut the door behind him, and that still hit him in the hip as he tried to move out of its way. The water looked clean that came out of the faucet, and it felt comfortably cold against his face as he splashed some on it. His head didn't throb as much as it had earlier, but he felt as if he were burning up, and he most likely had a fever. He looked around the room to get his bearings, if you could call it a room. Brian