For The Least Of These Read Online Free

enough to stay at their cheesy hotel. They did point me to a courtesy phone and a phonebook, so I called around until I found us a room. Looks like you need one, too. Have you been asleep the whole time or did you pump some gas?”
    I had to check the gauge to be sure. “Yeah. I’ve already pumped the gas and paid for it.” Thank God for pay-at-the-pump gas stations. “So where are we staying? The Grand? Beau Rivage?”
    “The Rest Inn.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding…”
    “Look on the bright side, Brand. It only costs thirty dollars per night. And we get a view of the Gulf.”
    “My bedroom window back home has an extraordinary view of Perdido Bay. I doubt they can outdo that for thirty dollars. Oh, well. I’m terribly sleepy, so I guess it will do. Where is it?”
    “Anxious to get back to that dream, eh? Maybe you should look at a picture of Rick before you go back to sleep. He really doesn’t look like me at all.”
    Alicia pointed me west on Beach Boulevard. We drove several miles – past the Coliseum and far away from the bright lights of Biloxi. In fact, it became darker and darker as we drove along – a fact I pointed out to Alicia.
    “I noticed that too,” she commented. “But you know we are going west. We’re getting farther and farther away from the sun…”
    “The sun doesn’t even come up for another two hours,” I reminded her.
    At a street named “Pembroke”, we turned right. Right. The opposite side of the road from the Gulf. Less than a block into Pembroke, we saw a half burned out sign that said “Rest Inn”. The words were twisted so that they resembled a smile. The sign had a familiar look to it. “Isn’t there one of these in Pensacola?” I asked.
    “See, see,” Alicia said. “You were getting upset and it’s a chain…”
    “I don’t think two motels constitute a chain. One of them probably copied the other one – although I can’t imagine who would think the name ‘Rest Inn’ would attract customers.”
    “I think the name is sort of cute. Rest Inn – restin’, get it?” Alicia’s comment didn’t even deserve a response.
    The parking lot was tiny. There were only ten or so parking spots, and all but one was filled. I stopped near the office and went up to register. The door to the office was locked, but there was a bell, so I rang it. I could see inside the office and the décor did not impress me: two black Naugahyde sofas attached together by a cast aluminum Formica-topped table. Even in the dim light I could make out the coffee stains on the table. Suddenly, the door to a back room opened, and a man clothed in only his red-heart-covered boxer shorts appeared. I was startled, and I began plotting my escape as he approached the door. Instead of opening the door, he opened the window on the door and stared out at me through bloodshot eyes. I noticed that he was of Indian descent even before he spoke with his thick accent.
    “May I help you?” he inquired. He scratched at his beard stubble and yawned.
    “I need a room. We called earlier.”
    “Oh, yes Mum. We have one room available. Number 10 at the end. Thirty dollars. Cash only.”
    I signed in and paid him, and he handed me the key. “Check out is 11:00 in the morning. After that, another thirty dollars.” I nodded and turned to go. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pick up a phone and start dialing.
    “Okay, Alicia,” I said as I got back into the car, “We’re in number 10.”
    As we pulled up in front of our room, I noticed the door of number 9 opening just a crack. As we got out, the door opened even farther and I got a good look at the room’s occupant. He was a man of about thirty-five with shoulder length brown hair and a bushy mustache. He was wearing a yellow shirt unbuttoned to the waist, gray slacks, and flip-flops. He moved out of his room so that he was blocking the door to our room. He had a huge, depraved smile plastered on his face. Since I had the key to our room, I was