Sirens

Content warning: Implied domestic violence

Marian lost track of the time as she sat peeking through the blinds of a motel window, her nose inches from he glass. She needed to be sure they were safe, but she couldn't say what sort of sign would give her that assurance. The motel wasn't quite in the middle of nowhere but it was close. The edge of nowhere, at least. For however long Marian had been staring not a single vehicle had passed.

The parking lot was nearly empty. As far as she could tell there was only one other guest, the owner of a beat-up Ford truck parked in front of a room near the office. Beyond the Ford was the caretaker's car. Marian didn't notice what make it was, and she'd never been good at distinguishing models. Hell, the only reason she recognized the Ford was that Nick used to drive one, too. She couldn't even remember what kind her rental was -- some nondescript mutt of a car. Hopefully no one else could identify it either.

The tinny sound of a toy siren jolted Marian back to the present. Jeff was awake. He had climbed out of the bed and settled himself on the floor with his toy ambulance. It was his favorite -- the one toy Marian made sure was in the car before they left the house for good. The siren sounded a second time. Marian smiled and waited for her pulse to stop racing. She knew this was coming. She'd asked for the motel room furthest from the office so no one would be disturbed by nonstop sirens, horns, and 911 chatter at all hours of the night.

The ambulance had six buttons on top, arranged in two rows, and each played a different sound. The first row of buttons were the siren, the horn, and the "blast", whatever that was. To Marian it just sounded like a different kind of siren. The rest of the buttons were simply labeled 9, 1 and 1, and they played phrases you might hear when calling emergency services. Jeff would curl up with his head close to the speaker and press the buttons over, and over, and over until Marian pulled him away to some other distraction. Marian felt sure that the sounds of this toy would still be ringing in her head decades from now. "911, what is your emergency? What is your name and address? Stay calm, help is on the way!"

Marian refocused her attention out the window and let the noises come and go. Siren. Siren. Blast. Siren. "911, what is your emergency?" Siren. Horn. Horn. "911 -- 911 -- 911 what-- 911 what is your emergency?" The noise didn't bother her much. Marian had been the same way when she was young. She'd curl up around a music box late at night and wind it over, and over, and over...

"911, are you sure you weren't followed?"

What? Marian spun around and looked at the toy. Jeff had returned to pressing a mix of buttons, which all made their usual sounds.

"Can you press the '9' again for me, honey?"

"911, are you sure you weren't followed?"

And again, Jeff went back to mashing buttons as if nothing had happened. Marian stared at the little ambulance. She must be hallucinating. Exhaustion can do that to you, she'd heard somewhere. It was a long, very long drive that had her adrenaline pumping for hours. Maybe she should get some sleep. That's what motels are for, after all.

"What is your name and address?" Blast. Blast. Siren. "What is your name -- What is -- 911 -- What -- He knows the name and address." Siren. "Marian. Marian. Marian. He knows the name and address."

She cast a panicked glance outside. Still dark, still quiet. Marian scooted to the other side of the bed to be closer to her son.

"Jeff, did you hear that? Did your toy say something weird?" The boy looked at her with furrowed brows, and Marian wasn't sure how to interpret that. Jeff sat a little straighter and pressed the buttons in order, one by one.

"Marian." Horn. Blast. "911, are you sure you weren't followed? He knows the name and address. Stay quiet; he is on the way."

Jeff seemed aware that something was different without understanding it. Marian didn't have time to think about it. She scrambled to her feet and began re-packing the few things she'd taken out of their bags.

"Marian. Marian. Marian. Marian," the speaker shrieked. Blast. Horn. Blast.

Outside, a car door slammed like a gunshot.

She dropped to the floor and grabbed Jeff, dragging the both of them out of sight of the window and the door.

"Stay -- Stay quiet --"

"No, no, no!" Marian grabbed the toy and pried up the plastic battery cover with her fingernails. She only needed to dislodge one of the four AA batteries.

-

The sky was just beginning to lighten when police cruisers pulled into the motel lot. The caretaker directed them to the room a mother and her young son had taken for the night. Sounds of a domestic disturbance roused another guest, who called the authorities, but all was quiet by the time they arrived.

The room appeared empty, except for an overturned suitcase. An officer announced his presence and stepped inside. Faintly, he heard the sound of a small siren. He stooped and shone his flashlight under the bed, where he found the boy, shaking, hugging a toy ambulance and fingering the buttons.

"Stay calm, help is on the way."