Just a Taste Part 12

Ch 12: Priorities

Dylan

December 20th, 2024- Montgomery Mansion- 8:40 PM 

As I reached for her, Isabella hit the concrete floor with a somber thud. Her chest rose faintly.

Dammit, the exertion from the confrontation, starvation, and frigid climate was too much for her!

"What now, Diablo?" Jerald questioned, vomiting up blood. "Will you save Issa? Or kill me? There isn't time for both!"

Releasing my anger, I kicked him in the kidneys. Then I got on my knees and took Isabella's pulse from her wrist. It's faint, but present.

Thank you God!

Jerald interjected, "Oh, if people could see you now! The great Diablo, brought to his knees over a teenage girl!"

"Shut the fuck up!" I retorted, pressing my ear to her chest.

Her lungs sounded heavy, as if they were struggling to process any oxygen.

Fuck, she's dying, we need to leave!

Dropping my trusty wood hunk, I scooped Isabella up into my arms and looked down at Jerald a final time.

"We're leaving. If you follow us, I'll kill you myself. No exceptions." I informed him confidently. Because it's true. Next time, Isabella won't be able to stop me.

As I turned to leave, he shouted, "She'll never love you! Not once she knows all the sins you've committed! Mark my words, Diablo!"

His words echoed through the basement; falling upon deaf ears as Isabella and I were already halfway to the car.

I stopped in my tracks before leaving the kitchen. The gate! I can't climb and carry Isabella at the same time!

Why do rich people have to be such a fucking pain?

Okay, think, where would I put the control panel if this were my home?

Pft, as if that would ever happen.

Hypothetically, I would want it near the middle or front of the house. That way I could lock it every night and unlock it every morning without hassle.

Well, it couldn't hurt to check the foyer or front door area, I guess.

Along the way, I found a linen cabinet. Perfect!

Quickly, I wrapped Isabella in two thick blankets. She looked like a cute caterpillar preparing to become a cocoon.

The foyer featured luxurious decorations, including black tile floors and cream-colored walls adorned with various paintings. The furniture was elaborate: carved mahogany chairs, a footstool, a coatrack, and a short staircase that led into an office.

By the front door was a panel of dark hardwood. It had a sticky note on it that read:

Security Disarm/Arm: 0127

Gate Disarm/Arm: 4511

Merry Christmas, Mr. Montgomery!

Douglas,

Groundskeeper

How convenient! Thank you, humble groundskeeper.

I slid the panel to the side and punched in both sets of codes. There's a loud beep, then a grinding, unlatching sound.

Tightening my hold on Isabella, I shoved the front door open and braved the brutal weather.

Don't worry, darling, I'll keep you safe.

9:00 PM

Possum's vehicle came in handy as police were everywhere! Every major highway, a few side streets, and flooding the woods. No doubt still looking for Isabella.

Passively, I wondered if Jerald had somehow called them after we left the mansion?

It didn't matter either way to me. Even if the police are sniffing around or chasing us.

I'm great at evading them. It's one of my many 'talents' acquired from a life on the streets.

Bobbing and weaving in and out of the woods and onto the country roads, I saw the siren lights fade into the distance. Good, I don't feel like eating bacon right now.

A few minutes on the country roads led us to a sketchy-looking motel literally in the middle of nowhere.

The place had a weather-worn exterior; a small porch with a rocking chair on it, and what looked to be four rooms available. An overhead neon sign said:

Vacancies open!

Leaning over, I opened the glove box. Sometimes, we 'hunters' keep a secret stash of money in the car in case we need to disappear.

Unfortunately, I spent mine chasing Mulberry around, and then 'The Man' didn't compensate me for my last job, so I'm in a bind.

Shuffling around the random junk, I found it: a black envelope stuffed with cash.

Oh, Possum, you stupid bastard, thank you for leaving this behind!

I gathered Isabella and my supplies together, then walked inside the humble vacancy office.

A senior woman, dressed in a red and black flannel shirt, greeted me.

“Oh, hello! Welcome to Woodside Motel. Would you like a room?"

"Yes, ma'am, two beds, if you got it." I said politely, pulling out some cash and placing it on the fake white marble counter. "We'll stay for a day or two. If this isn't enough, let me know."

Her faded blue eyes lit up as she eyed the amount. "Oh, it's more than enough!" She gathered the cash and presented me with a key. "If you need any food, give me a ring; we have lots in storage. We can't go to the store until morning though, sorry."

Flashing her a smile, I remarked, "That's fine. Thank you, Ms.?"

"Margaret. I used to run the adoption center up the road, but the state shut it down years ago, so here I am!" she beamed, gesturing to the door. "Want me to show you where it is?"

I shook my head. "Nah, I got it. Thank you, Margaret."

Our room, 101, looked better than the entire establishment did. The floors were beige shag carpeting with matching walls; a mounted rotary phone for guests to call, a Queen-sized bed with a blue floral comforter, a small table with two chairs, a partial kitchenette that had a sink and microwave, and the smallest bathroom known to mankind.

Thankfully, I'm resourceful, so it's not a big deal.

With a nod, I placed Isabella on the bed and got to work.

Isabella's freezing. She needs warmth immediately.

I adjusted the thermostat to increase the room's temperature, gathered every cloth and towel I could find, and ran the faucet in the miniscule tub.

The only thing left to do is... undress Isabella.

Her pajamas aren't sufficient for this harsh weather; plus, they're wet and filthy.

Fuck, I didn't grab any clothing from her home! If I take it off, she'll have to be nude until whenever, but if she stays in them, she'll freeze.

Margaret! Maybe she'll have a robe or something!

I dashed to the phone and pushed the 'front desk' button.

She answered on the first ring. "Front desk, this is Margaret. How may I help you?"

"Hi, it's me from a few minutes ago, um, you wouldn't happen to have any robes or anything like that, would you?" I inquired nervously.

"I might; did you not bring any?" She asked.

"Oh, it's not for me. My friend got caught in the weather." I mentioned it solemnly. Margaret gasped. "She's not deathly ill, but needs something warm to wear after she bathes."

Technically, I'm lying to her. I don't know if Isabella will recover or not, but I need all the help I can get at this point.

"The poor thing!" Margaret remarked, her voice full of concern. "Give me a few minutes. I'll find something."

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places, and incidents are fictitious and the product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, organizations, or events are entirely coincidental.

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