Patient Twelve

Chapter Twenty-Eight

We were driving for hours, but it felt like we were not going anywhere. A series of trees passed us as Ben drove down a cracked street with weeds growing through the pavement. I shifted my weight in my seat to try and get more comfortable. Ben kept humming along to the music coming from the radio.

My mind was racing with thoughts as my stomach was twisting itself into a knot. I wondered if cops ever came to the house. I wondered if they found Oliver and Colin's dead bodies. Was there any evidence that Ben left behind? He was wearing gloves the entire time.

A wave of nausea hit me when I thought about Bethany. He must have killed her too. She probably would have never let him go to Oliver's after their fight.

I looked over at Ben. His one hand was still on my thigh and the other was on top of the steering wheel. He tapped his finger along to the beat of the music. I could not see his gun, but I knew that he must have it on him. The way he flipped from being happy to holding a gun against our temples made me realize how unstable he was. I knew that I had to keep him happy so that he didn't end both of our lives.

I lifted his hand off of my thigh. He looked over at me and raised his brows. I laced my fingers through his and cupped my other hand over ours. I rested our hands in my lap and he smiled.

"Do you know if anyone is looking for us?" I asked.

"I don't think so," he said. "Not yet at least."

"What happened to Bethany?"

His grip tightened on my hand.

"She had to go," he said. "Don't worry though. I made it painless."

He chewed on his bottom lip. His grip eased a bit on my hand, but it was still so tight that it was causing my knuckles to ache.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

If he stopped for us to get food that means we would be around people. I could sneak off to the bathroom and talk to someone they could call the cops. I wanted to start screaming in the middle of a restaurant, but I could only imagine that Ben would open fire and kill multiple people, including us.

"As soon as I find a motel we'll stop," he said.

"A motel?" I asked.

"It's getting late, and I need to come up with a plan," he said. "I have an idea, but I need to map it out."

"What is it?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to take care of us."

I wanted to pry and ask him about it, but I didn't want to get him mad. I stayed quiet as he pulled off of the country road and got onto a highway. He only drove for around thirty minutes before he spotted a motel sign and went off the off-ramp. He drove down a street that only had a gas station and a few fast-food restaurants.

"This must be one of those rest stop cities," Ben said. "It's perfect."

He pulled into the parking lot of a small two-story motel. The red paint was flaking off of the building. Only four other cars sat in the parking lot. An inground pool full of leaves was at the edge of the parking lot. A wire fence surrounded it. A few cracked plastic chairs were surrounding the pool. A sign saying Oasis Motel was on the other side of the parking lot. Under the name of the motel, the sign listed that there was free parking, a pool, and colour television. This place must have not been upgraded since the sixties.

"Let's go," Ben said after parking the car.

"You want me to go in with you?" I asked.

"Of course," he said. "It's better if I do the talking though."