My shoulder is still tingling as it heals. I shrug it to get comfortable, and the handcuffs slide open and off my wrists. They hit the floor with a clank. I stare at them blankly and then pick them up. I flip one side closed and it locks in place. I can't pull it open. I slap the cuff against my own wrist, and it flips around and locks in place. Then it just slides open and falls off. I fake putting the cuffs in my pocket and keep them in my Spatial Storage.
I look at the police car door. There is no handle on the inside. Obviously, it is made to keep people in. I give the door a ginger push and it clicks open about an inch. "Huh." I guess that must be my Class Feature: Free Movement. I'd been wondering what that did. Very useful. My rating is 10 out of 10. "Well, the door is open. I'm feeling much better so, I'll just be going now. Keep up the good work." I say a little bit just in case there is a camera working in here.
I crank Hyper-Perception to max and listen to the Red Lobster. Everyone is busy doing important things. I listen for the coming sirens. They are still a little way off. I push the door open with my elbow and wipe the spot I touched with my hand. Walking casually, I go to the other side of the restaurant and try to pull open the door of my loaner Datsun. It stays locked and doesn't work. I use the key and get in the car. I turn the ignition and it squeaks to life under me. "Pathetic." I pull out of the parking lot just as an ambulance and two marked police cars screech into the other entrance.
Honestly, not my worst trip to Red Lobster. I only had my crab leg appetizer, a few beers, and some cheese biscuits. On the other hand, they were free. I'll take this as a win. I pass a few more speeding police cars as I make my way towards the Holiday Inn. I try to store my coat in Spatial Storage. It works! I try to put it back on. Nope. It comes out in my hand. I try to store my sock. Nothing. The cuff of my coat was touching my hand when it stored. I swear, it's all hand stuff with this System. I bet I could store invisible gunshot residue, but only up to the wrist. Also, how would I check if it works?
Pulling into the motel, I walk to my door. I try to push it open without unlocking it. Nothing. "Hmm.." I unlock it and go inside. I bolt the door behind me and throw the key on the bed. I try to pull open the door and the bolt and handle lock flick open by themselves and the door swings in smoothly. Ok. Free Movement let me get out of things, not into them. Still very useful. I've experimented enough for the night. I pick up the phone, order one of every enchilada the delivery place makes, and settle in for the night. Tomorrow, I pick up Clementine and we hit the road.
I check my coat and shirt near the bullet hole. No blood at all. Once again, freaky. I grab the motel sewing kit from the bedside table and close up the holes in the clothes. A lot of extended stay hotels and motels used to put these in the rooms in the 80s. You could still get them from the front desk even in the 2040s. My body feels great. No scar on my shoulder and everything seems in good working order.
My Spirit on the other hand feels like it's been worked over by a bouncer. My torn rebirth memory holes haven't gotten larger, but it feels close. I played a little fast and loose with the truth during that fight. No technical lies but just saying that many things with the intent to mislead put some real strain on me. I sooth my soul with a cool shower and hot enchiladas. I decide to try a little meditation.
I settle into a comfortable cross-legged position. I chant, "Inner peace...Tomboys...Amitābha...Cold Beers..." I do this for a while until I get bored. I decide to sleep it off, put on some terrible 80s sitcoms, and drift off to sleep.
I awake to the roaring of an engine outside my motel door. I hear metal on metal and a terrible high-pitched screeching and the tinkling of broken glass on asphalt. "That can't be good!" I'm drowsy and not controlling myself very well. I stomp the floor as I stand up too fast, and my massive calf muscle cramps up. I fall over and start having the charley horse from hell. This hurts worse than being shot yesterday. I can hear my leg bone splintering from the force of the contraction.
"Fuckin! Rat bastard! AARRRRGGG!", I'm roaring at the top of my lungs while I try to massage away the cramp. Soon enough, it ends and I hobble my way to the door and fling it open with Mr. Mossberg in my hand. I'm pissed off and ready to make it someone else's problem. I stop and take in the vision before me. I store the shotgun.
The loner Datsun is on its side two parking spots over with a trail of burnt rubber leading up to it. Clementine is parked in her usual spot. I stumble around and peek in her windows. Noone inside, but her engine making cooling noise from recent shut off and the burnt rubber trail smells fresh too. I look back at the motel rooms around me and see lights coming on and faces peeking through curtains. Time to leave.
I get inside and put my clothes on. I grab my loot sack full of ill-gotten gains and keep the sewing kit in my Spatial Storage. I check the time. 3:17am. I make it out on my one good leg and hop in Clementine. No key. I don't have the key and it's not in the ignition. People are starting to open their doors to get a better look at what's happening. I look at her dials and gauges. "Well? Let's go already."
She rumbles to life under me and I grab the wheel. We take off at full speed and start to leave Amarillo behind. I'm thinking hard. About the time we see the last light of the city fade in the distance, my leg bone sets up and finishes healing. It's time to admit the truth. My car has gained sentience, and she's a big jealous bitch. The new whitewall tires look amazing though.
I'm feeling pretty good about the whole situation.