"Here it is," he announced and produced the device. He took the man's card and slapped it on. Then he wrote in the amount and gave the receipt to the man to sign, which he did quickly and handed it back.
After he ripped off the customer copy, he handed it to him.
"Oh, my card," the man said.
"What? Right, Mr. Samuels," he said reading off the card before he gave him that too.
"So I suppose there's a good place for us to have some dinner nearby?"
"Yeah, sure," he said.
"Any recommendations?"
"No, they're all about the same," he told him. "Just go east." Charles Samuels stared at him with some surprise and then nodded and smiled. He started out and stopped.
"Any of those advertisements, pamphlets about the area, something that would describe the nearby restaurants?" Charles asked. "My wife is very particular about what she eats. Is the place clean? That sort of thing, you know." He shifted his gaze and searched the lobby. There wasn't anything.
"No, I'm sorry."
"Maybe the phone book in the room then, or a newspaper. Thanks," Charles Samuels said and hurried out to the car. For a few moments, he sat there talking to his wife.
He could see Samuels raising and lowering his arms and shaking his head. Finally, he started his engine and drove slowly toward the units, pulling in at Unit 10. He could see the woman getting out slowly, reluctantly. In the dim light of the motel walkway, he could see she was wide in the hips and had her hair cut short, almost shorter than her husband's. She walked like someone pouting would walk, refusing to take anything out of the car. Charles Samuels opened their trunk and brought out two bags. She stood by the door, facing it like a woman on death row. Samuels fumbled with the key. She offered no assistance. Finally, he opened the door and they disappeared within. He sat back, hoping he wouldn't have any hunger tonight, or if he did, hoping he could find someone better than a woman like that from whom to draw what he needed. He was tired, and being tired this early in the evening was not something he was accustomed to experiencing. Rising with concern, he went into the bathroom and looked at his face. He didn't have as healthy a complexion, he decided. The fatigue he felt was showing itself in his eyes and the deepened lines in his face. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all, he thought. He had just fed, just renewed his bodily needs. Why was he still tired?
He went back to the lobby and sat thinking again. It wasn't until he heard a noise, the sound of a car door opening and closing, that he opened them just in time to see Charles Samuels and his wife. Samuels had returned to the office, apparently to get a newspaper to read the advertisements for a restaurant and then drove away.
He closed his eyes again. He was so sleepy, and this was so unusual. Maybe he would have to visit Unit 10 later, he reluctantly thought. He would wait for them to return. At least, he should be grateful it was all still coming to him, all still easy to acquire. Get rest. Get strong, he told himself and permitted himself to doze.
"Go on," Garret Stanley ordered Darlene Stone. He waved the pistol at her as well.
He had forced Terri to drive them toward Neversink and then pull into a side road that had once been the driveway for a moderate size tourist house, now deserted and left with a foreclosure poster on its front door. The poster was faded enough to suggest it had been closed down for some time. Windows were broken, shutters hung on a single hinge, grass and weeds grew wildly around the chipped and cracked cement front steps. The bannister was broken on the left side and had fallen to the ground.
"He said he was staying at a small tourist house and the old lady who ran it told him about the tavern," Darlene continued.
"Did he mention the Martins?" Terri interjected.
She shook her head.
"He didn't mention a name, just that."
"That's how he came to Kristin Martin," she muttered, "and the fire...." She looked at Garret. "He probably set that. He must have harmed the old lady too and was just covering his tracks."
Darlene's eyes brightened even more with fear as she looked from Terri to Garret Stanley and then back to Terri, who could see the confusion in the woman's face. Was Terri a conspirator or what?
"You didn't have to pull a gun on her to get her to tell you all that, Dr. Stanley," she chastised.
Doctor? He was a doctor, too, Darlene thought. What was going on?
"You're talking too much," he told Terri.
Terri tried staring him down, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw that Darlene Stone was losing it fast.
"Just finish and let me take her back," she said.
He turned to Darlene.
"You spoke with this Paula Gilbert, didn't you? I mean afterward, when she was found in the parking lot."
She looked at Terri and Terri saw that her eyes were full of questions, the first one being, how did he know?
"Yes," she said nodding. "For just a few minutes."
"I want to hear every word she said. Talk!" he ordered.
"I told it all to the police."
"Tell it again," he said waving the pistol.
She gasped and continued.
"She said he hurt her while they made love. She said it felt like he was sucking out her blood. When he was finished with her, he left her naked in the rear and drove back to the restaurant. She said he was very happy, singing. She thought it was all just a nightmare because she was going in and out of consciousness. She remembered waking up when he was transferring her back to her own car. He told her she should go home now, that he was going home now."
"Going home now?"
"Yes."
"What did he say about that? What did he say about home?" Darlene shook her head.
"That's ail I remember she said."
"You're lying," he said after a moment. "Someone told you not to say anything else, anything about home, right?"
"No," she said shaking her head. "No one." He sat back and thought a moment.
"Does that mean he's going back to where he was created?" Terri asked. Garret looked at her sharply.
"I told you you were talking too much."
"Created?" Darlene couldn't help saying. "Who are you? Aren't we talking about you?" she asked after a surge of some courage.
Garret nodded at Terri.
"Satisfied now, Doctor?" He looked down and thought aloud. "He was definitely replenished. It's just not lasting as long. Arrogant...."
"If he is as intelligent as you claim he is," Terri asked, "why doesn't he try to hide his victim? Why bring her back to her car? Why leave Kristin in her car?" He looked up at her and then at Darlene.
"She just told you."
"She just told me? I don't understand."
"He wants to go home. Don't you see? Home? I'm his home. He's deliberately leaving a trail for me now. Maybe he doesn't even realize it himself. It's part of the great mystery here," he said, his eyes lighting with excitement. "Cellular affinity, I'd call it, a driving, almost primeval need to reunite. Maybe," he added smiling, "that's the soul the critics are so worried we would eliminate. Very complicated, but very fascinating, wouldn't you agree, Doctor?"
"No," she said. "I'm not fascinated. I'm more disgusted."
"That's disappointing, Doctor, tragically disappointing.
"What is this all about?" Darlene Stone demanded. Her confusion and fear had merged and become frustration and indignation.
Garret smiled at her. The coldness and calmness in the man's eyes splintered her wall of bravado. She wrapped her arms about herself protectively, looking like she wished she could shrink and disappear.
"What's it all about? Just everything -- life, health, immortality, God, man, you name it. In the end I suppose it's about power. Everything eventually is," he said a little sadly.