Free Sealed In by Jacqueline Druga Page B

blood on her hand. “Oh God,” she panicked.
    Roman sat up on the other bed. Every cover wrapped around him and his body visually shivered. “Heather, I’m so sick.”
    “Me, too. Something is wrong. My skin is burning. It feels like it’s on fire, and it itches.”
    Roman removed his arm from the cover and extended it to Heather. “I was scratching in my sleep.”
    Heather looked at the purple splotches on his arm. It was swollen, and scratches covered every inch of his forearm. “Call your dad. We need help.”
     
    <><><><>
     
    Val grew tired of waiting and was already on his way to Billings when he received the phone call from Roman.
    They were sick, so sick they wanted to go to the hospital. Val told them to hang tight, he was on the way. He explained on the phone that someone from another town brought in a very bad case of a stomach flu, but all would be fine. He was certain that Roman understood.
    He made it to the hotel within a half hour of the call. It was a single story, truck stop motel just off the freeway.
    Three of the rooms were lit, and there were only a couple of cars in the lot. That was a good sign.
    Val was ready; he arrived prepared and knew what he had to do. He parked next to Roman’s car. Before he went to their room, he walked into the motel office.
    No one was there. He hit the bell, waited, and then a younger man came from the back room. He looked Middle Eastern and smiled at Val. “You need a room.”
    “I’m looking for my son. I spoke to a man earlier who said he arrived here safely. My son’s name is Roman Paltrov.”
    “Oh, yes. That was me. You spoke to me,” the man said then stopped to sneeze.
    “Bless you.”
    “Thank you.”
    “And you have been here all day since they checked in?”
    “Yeah. Listen, Mister, policy won’t let me tell you the room number. I can call for you, though. Ring him.” He asked.
    “That won’t be necessary. You’ve been very helpful.”
    “Anything else I can do for you?”
    “No, you’ve told me all I need to know.” Cold, without thought, without emotion, Val reached into his coat. He pulled out a revolver with a silencer already attached, aimed the weapon, and before the motel man could react, Val fired.
    A single shot to the man’s head.
    Quickly, Val left the office, walked down eight doors to Roman’s room and knocked. There wasn’t an answer and the door was unlocked.
    The stench was ungodly when Val walked in and he huffed an exhalation from his nostrils. Roman reached out his hand to Val, and Heather lay on her side. She struggled to lift her head.
    He said nothing. Approaching Heather first, he wrapped her in the bed’s blanket and lifted her into his arms.
    “My mom. I want my mom.”
    “Let’s get you out of here first,” Val said.
    Heather’s head fell to his chest. “I’m so sick.”
    “I know.”
    He carried her out and placed her in the back of his car, then returned for Roman. He was too heavy to carry, so he had to help his son out.
    It broke Val’s heart to see his son so sick and nothing that he could do for him. As he placed him in the back next to Heather, Val leaned close to his only child. “I am very sorry. I am so sorry.” He kissed his son on the forehead. The heat of Roman’s skin stung his lips.
    He closed the door, walked around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. From it he pulled two small gas cans and walked back to the room. He visually scanned it, grabbed Roman’s wallet from the table and Heather’s purse. He then took the first gas can and doused the entire contents about the room.
    The second gas can was reserved for Roman’s car.
    After he emptied, connecting a trail of gas into a puddle just outside the room, he placed the containers, Heather’s purse, and the wallet in the trunk, got in the car and pulled twenty feet from the spot.
    Leaving it running, he placed it in park, lit a cigarette, stepped out of the car, walked closer to the motel, and hit the smoke