Her Eyes

Chapter 32: REST

Alex woke up in his motel room. The sound of the shower kicking on brought his attention to the cracked door. The light was on—there was someone in there. He could hear a faint humming beneath the rushing water. It was a woman humming. He sat up from the bed and made his way to the door. "Norma?" he called out.

He heard her laugh softly. "Alex." He could tell she was smiling even though he wasn't looking at her. "Can I help you with something?"

"What are you doing in my shower?" He didn't enter the room; he stood behind the door. He needed the distance.

"Your shower? It's my motel," she mocked lovingly.

"You don't have a shower at your house?" he shot back, rolling his eyes at her.

She paused for a moment, in thought. "Are you asking me to leave?" There was a sadness to her voice. He didn't reply—he couldn't. "Alex?" she called after him sadly. He heard the water shut off and moved away from the door. Soon she came out, a towel wrapped around her. His eyes drifted to the floor as she approached him. "Alex." She placed her hand on his chest. Her eyes were searching his. His muscles tightened as she bit her lip. He knew what was coming—he saw it in her eyes. The thought of it scared him, though he found himself leaning in with her.

The constant sound of beeping filled Alex's ears as he woke. He opened his eyes to find he wasn't at home—or the motel. He looked around to see a nurse standing at his bedside changing his IV. "What happened?" he mumbled; his voice was hoarse.

"You got shot," she stated routinely. "You're not gonna die, but you're also not going anywhere for a while." The hell he wasn't—he needed to find Norma.

His chest strained as he attempted to sit up. He grabbed his heart impulsively, looking down at the bed and about the room. "Where's my phone? It was in my jacket."

"Your phone, your wallet, and your clothes are in a drawer. You don't need those right now." She stared down at him nearly scolding him. As if Sheriff Romero would listen to anyone.

He sat up a bit more, desperately trying to ignore the pain. "No, I need my phone." He needed to call Norma. He needed to know she was all right.

"You need to lie still." She placed her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to push him back down. "Do you need me to make a call for you?"

"No," he answered too quickly. "No, I want my damn phone and I want you to go away. Give me my phone." He waited as the nurse shot him a dirty look and went to grab his phone, opening the drawer and retrieving it for him. She placed the phone in his hand and left without another word. He clenched the phone tightly in his hand before flipping it open and dialing the number.

His heart dropped when the voicemail rang: "Hello, it's Norma Bates. Leave a message and I'll call you back." The sound of her voice pained him—he needed to see her.

He waited for the beep, nearly breaking down as he spoke. "It's Alex, Norma." He leaned back deeper into the bed. "I was...I was shot. You gotta be very careful. You could be in a lot of danger. So call me." The pain spread when he thought about her—about something happening to her. He couldn't protect her lying practically dead on a hospital bed. He felt he'd failed her in some way. He needed to know that she was all right. If he lost her—he'd have nothing left. "Call me." He hung up the phone and tried to relax as the medication began to kick in, drifting him off to sleep.

He woke up in what seemed to be a jungle. He felt hysterical—like he'd lost somebody. His thoughts immediately fell to Norma. He ran frantically until he reached the beach. He was on an island. It looked as if there had been a horrible plane crash, but there were survivors. They didn't notice Alex as he walked down to the shoreline. "What happened?" he asked, gazing down wreck along the beach. But no one answered him. "Where am I?" The sound of the waves reaching the shore filled him as he stood observing the people. They weren't dazed at all—they seemed used to it. He searched through them for Norma, but he didn't see her. He didn't see anyone familiar—but for some reason he'd felt he'd known these people.

"How you doing, Sheriff?" A man with a scar down his right eye approached him. Alex stared back at him. Who were these people? And where was Norma? He needed to find her. He felt himself becoming hazy as he heard the voice again.

"How you doing, Sheriff?" Marcus repeated, pouring himself a cup of water.

Alex opened his eyes—his vision was a little hazy. He sighed at the sight of him. He was the last person he wanted to see standing at his bedside. "What are you doing?"

"Relax. I'm not here to finish the job." He gulped down the water and placed the cup on the counter. "They've been talking about you at the club. Bob's done with you." An arrogant smile crept across his face. "Says you're no good to him anymore. They're gonna kill you. Should've gotten the flash drive back from that woman." Alex felt his body tensing, worsening the pain in his chest. "For my money—it's a waste in killing you." If Alex had the strength he would have had him on the floor by now. Marcus shot him a smug look. "I am gonna be the sheriff here...that's a done deal." Alex was already thinking of ways he could kill him, though a part of him knew he'd never actually do it. "But you know this place. I could use a guy like you. I could keep you alive. I could handle Bob; he just needs to know you're working for me."

Alex works for no one, but himself—that's the way it has always been. "I'll think about it," he lied.

"Excuse me, visiting hours are over," a nurse shouted from outside the room.

Marcus looked over at her, smiling politely. "I'm on my way out." Alex pulled back as he leaned in closer to him. "I'll be back tomorrow for an answer, then we'll proceed one way...or another."

The sheriff waited for Marcus and the nurse to disappear before leaping out of the bed and going over to the drawer to throw on some pants and shoes. He followed Marcus to the parking lot, dragging the IV stand along with him. He wasn't even really sure what he was going to do—he was acting on complete impulse. He ripped IV out of his arm and at the sound of the engine starting, he swung the IV stand full force at the window, watching it shatter and quickly retrieving the stand. He punched Marcus as he came forward. The sight of his gun caused him to lean through the window and fight for it. He felt the man's hands wriggle along his face and he tugged on the gun, shoving the man back into the vehicle. He stood for a moment with the gun in his hand. His mind was racing so much, he couldn't think clearly, but he made his decision. It had to be done. The sound of the gun blast through the air as he pulled the trigger. He ran over to the other side of the vehicle quickly pulling the dead man over to the passenger seat before climbing in on the driver's side and wiping the blood from the windshield with his bare forearm. He sped off, looking behind to make sure no one was coming or that no one saw him. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he was going somewhere. Bob's house soon appeared in the distance—he had a plan all along. Alex parked the car at the end of the driveway and as he got out, he noticed a notepad sitting on the back seat. He reached into Marcus's pocket for a pen. He thought he'd leave a little note to Bob from Marcus. He quickly scribbled: I OFFICICALLY WITHDREW MY CANDIDACY FOR SHERIFF, leaving the note behind for Bob to find.

He chuckled a bit as he walked off down the street. He knew he had to get back to the hospital—he'd left his stuff there and they'd notice he'd left. So he called a cab and rode back to the hospital, sneaking back inside. "Um, sir, why aren't you in your room?" a nurse asked approaching him.

He had made it inside...he just forgot where he room was. "I left to go to the bathroom, but I guess I got lost on the way back," he laughed.

The woman nodded and led him back to his room. "Now you say here...we don't need you getting lost again."

He smiled and climbed back in the bed, glad to be back.