There was a creaking from the back, and a man in his 70s appeared—sweater over a T-shirt, unshaven, hair tousled, bifocals on a chain. He looked as if he’d just woken up.

“Welcome.”

“Hi,” Kevin said. “We’d like a room for tonight.”

The man looked at them, then craned his neck to the front window. They turned to see a vehicle passing by.

“One night, all right. That’s forty-two fifty. Fill this out.” He placed a registration card on the counter.

“You’re not too busy,” Sam said.

“No, we’ve been quiet. Where you folks from?”

“New York. Queens.”

“Where’re you headed?”

“Canada.”

“Well, you don’t have far to go.” The man gave Kevin a key. “Number 6 in the first block. Pay when you check out.”

“Are your sandwiches fresh?” Sam asked.

“Missus made them this morning. Ham and cheese, turkey. She makes a good sandwich.”

“We’ll take one of each and some chips. Where are your drinks?”

“Vending machine’s in the breezeway, around the corner from your unit.”

After paying for the food, they parked their truck in the slot for Number 6 and unlocked the room. It smelled of carpet cleaner and pine; it had twin beds, a six-drawer credenza with an old color TV, a coffee service, small fridge, desk, and bathroom. Neat, clean, basic.

“Nothing special for forty-two bucks,” Kevin said.

They unloaded the bags they needed from the truck, while Sam collected her urn, putting it aside in the corner of the room. Then she set the food on the small table.

“It’s warm in here.” She pulled off her sweatshirt, revealing her white, tight-fitting John Lennon T-shirt. “I’ll get us some drinks. Then we’ll eat.”

“I need a quick shower, okay?” Kevin said.

Before Sam left, she put their phones on the charger, happy they had service. She’d check messages later. She went through her wallet for money, took the room key, then left.

The chirp of crickets serenaded her, and the crisp air was nice on her skin. She felt safe here, back in the world and back on track. Tomorrow, they’d be in Canada. Although she was tired from all the stress, she felt much better. The soothing hum of the vending machine led her to the breezeway, which opened to the rear lot of the motel.

Sam stood before the machine, studying the flavor selection, inserted her money, pushed the button for Kevin’s drink. He loved anything grape. The machine thunked, and she retrieved the cold can. Then she selected a diet cola for herself. As the machine’s mechanism thudded and thunked, Sam turned her head.

Clank-clank.

Then a man said, “Oh cripes!”

Someone was in the back lot.

Sam collected her drink. Then, curious, she stepped through the breezeway to the back lot.