THE JOURNEY OF EVIL

Chapter 7

Cyrus feets bounced and tapped fast on the staircase as he ran down, jumping two steps at a terrifying speed. He could slip and break his legs, maybe tumble down and snap his neck. But, he wasn't concerned about that. He needed to get out of this hotel and as far away from the room as possible. 

He arrived at the hobby panting, but with a cleared mind. The reason he used the stairs in the first place. It gave him time to think. Taking a left turn he walked in the direction of the hotel's kitchen area and walked past the busy cooks. The heat from the meals swarmed around him and coated him with their aromas that promised delight.  It made his stomach grumble.

He ignored the man trying to question his presence in the kitchen and ducked under another that was turning with a tray filled with delicacies. He slowed down once he got to a large metal door, reaching out, he unlocked it. It led to an alley behind the hotel's building, Cyrus looked over his shoulder once and ran out. 

The man he had ignored, a fat man with chubby cheeks, ran to the door Cyrus left open and with a hard drawn breath and deep curses; he slammed it shut. 

The air outside was very cool on his skin, his body yearned to just stop and take in a very deep breath but Cyrus wouldn't have that. He ran down the alley and hailed a tab. Once he got in and slumped into the seat. He took a very deep breath. He left every item Anderson had given him in his room, including his ATM card. There was no telling if it was tracked. And he intended to disappear from their radar. Nothing would make him spend a night in that room. 

“Where to sir?” The driver, a man with a Mexican accent, asked. His question snapped Cyrus from his thoughts.

“Take me to a motel,” Cyrus said as he tapped the brown overall coat he had changed into. A few dollars graced its inner pockets and he was very determined to make it last until he saw an opportunity to get some more.  

His driver looked up into the rearview. “Mister, are you in any kind of trouble?” 

Cyrus sat up and leaned in. He spoke close to the driver's ears. “No, we're in no trouble at the moment and I'd very much appreciate, if you'll put your feet to the pedal and get to the nearest motel. Or would you rather we go back to Nirvana Delight's” 

That seemed to be enough explanation to the driver, he clicked the doors shut and floored the accelerator.

Forty-five minutes later, the yellow glow of the cab's headlight illuminated a mini motel with an open parking lot. Cyrus jumped out of the car and paid his fare. He looked around the block, expecting Anderson and his men but what greeted him was an empty parking lot. Cyrus shurgged his shoulders and made his way to the motel.

The receptionist at the desk was an old lady you'd only expect to find in a care center.  Cyrus dropped a thousand dollar bill on the counter and raised a single finger to indicate that he needed one room.

“There's only one room available but it's just by the door of those bad bad men. You don't want to stay there, you'd get into trouble.  Mind you they never pay me. But they got guns and you know the police are never here on time to catch them when I call. They mess up the place for my old bone,” she said as she shook a little plastic box with shaking hands. There was one single key in it that kept evading her attempt to fish it out. 

Cyrus rubbed his face down. “Let me take care of that,” he said and took the box from her. Once he retrieved the key he turned to go. 

“It's so cold outside… so please take this,” The old lady offered the bill he had dropped on the table. “Give this to those boys and they'd leave you alone for the night. Tell them it's this old lady’s little offering”  Cyrus looked toward the side counter that should hold money but it was empty. 

Something within him snapped. Cyrus walked back and folded her hands over the dollar. “I can take care of myself,” he said and pecked her hands. He left her smiling to herself. 

Finding the room was not a hard task. The room had the boom of music rocking the walls. Due to that the light in every other room was on. There was no way anyone could sleep under that. And his own room, the last on the block was right beside it. He groaned and ruffled his hair. 

Knocking was pointless, they wouldn't hear him over the music. Cyrus tried the doorknob and it unlocked. 

The door creeked open.

There were twelve shirtless men with a red bandana tied over their heads. In each of their arms was a lady. Seven of them were bent over a white powder.  All eyes were on him, and on instinct each man grabbed their revolvers. 

Cyrus raised his hands into the air and walked into the room. He closed the door to the room behind him. On the center table there was a pile of money, of various denominations with a few cents littered around it.

The leader, a man with a tattoo on his head pushed the lady on him away, she scrambled across the floor. He motioned with his hand and the music died. 

“Amigo, did you lose your way,” he asked, the rest of his men snickered. 

“No, I rented the room next door. I'm just here to retrieve that old lady's hard earned money. It isn't nice to see her so sad.” 

“Looks like we got ourselves an idiot,”the leader cheered and his men laughed. 

Cyrus sighed and picked up a glass cup, he pressed his thumb on its edge till it cracked and cut him. A drop of his blood entered the remnant drink. From a side- glance he saw that each of the men trained their guns on him. He raised glass into the air for all to see and drank the content. He drew what looked like an infinity symbol with his blooded tumb on the cup in rapid succession. 

“What's with this fool? Have you lost your mind!” The leader asked. He cocked his gun and raised it to shoot Cyrus but froze. His men gasped. Cyrus brought the cup to his mouth and bit a large piece off. 

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch. 

The cup vanished into his mouth. He chewed like he was eating gum. He smiled at the leader and the smile was bloody. The leader gulped and took a step back. 

Cyrus turned to the side and spat out little pieces of glass except one - it had the sign of the infinity symbol on it. He raised it into the air and left it. 

It did not drop to the floor. 

The ladies and the men stared at the glass piece that floated in the air. 

“Now, Thomas!” Cyrus called. The leader flinched and stared at him with a gaped mouth. His brows creased with confusion. “That's the name your grandma called you. No need for you to know how I know. I want you to imagine what It'd look like if a molecule started swinging around in that head of yours like our little glass up here. Do you see it?” 

men around him shivered with sweat drops on their faces because the glass was vibrating and spinning in a loop in the air. making a sound that's like an electric saw blade.

The leader nodded. He motioned for his men to drop the gun. “Drop the guns motherfu***e!” He screamed. Guns dropped to the floor. 

Cyrus snapped his fingers and it stopped spinning. 

“Would you give the old lady her money on my behalf?” Cyrus asked with his bloody smile.  The leader, the men and the ladies nodded in rapid succession. “And would you pay her for all the time you've spent here? Including a little room clean up?” 

They all nodded. He grinned and stared hard at Thomas whose legs wobbled. “Believe me I'd know if you don't,” he gifted them his bloody smile again and left the room, closing the door behind him. The glass dropped to the floor once the door closed.  He could hear Thomas slump to the floor. 

He cracked his neck and opened his room door. He believed he had earned a much needed sleep and tomorrow, he'd take a roadside lift and keep moving. 

But.  Anderson was relaxed on the bed he was to lay on. The man was clapping with a wide grin. Beside him Selene lay and played with her hair. There were four more men and each held an automatic rifle. 

Cyrus shook his head in disbelief and closed the door behind him.