Chapter - 283
The Harley Davidson coughed its way into the parking lot of The Crimson Sparrow Motel, the angry growl of its engine dying with a pathetic sputter, as if the bike itself were offended by the destination.
The place was a festering sore on the armpit of Portstown's industrial district. The neon sign, a gaudy red bird that might have once looked majestic, was now a flickering, sputtering mess, the "M" in "Motel" completely dark, leaving the sign to proudly advertise the services of a "OTEL."
The air, thick with the nearby stench of a rendering plant, tasted of bleach, stale beer, and the quiet desperation of last resorts.
Sharon killed the engine and sat for a moment, her entire body rigid with disgust. "Charming," she said, her voice a low growl that was barely audible. "I think I just caught hepatitis from the parking lot. You're absolutely sure this is the right place?"
