45.

~ The Snake Root Motel was vastly different than the one Mother had run. Maybe it was just the Nevada dessert that made everything look so washout and dilapidated. Unlike Mother, the owner of The Snake Root did nothing to update to make his establishment tidy. He would begrudgingly fix things when they broke, but never seemed to even notice the worn and chipped paint or that the ice machine had long since stopped working.

"Room five is shit." Randy said gruffly handing Norman back his driver's license and paying no attention to the picture that looked nothing like him. All a man like this cared about was that Norman had a driver's license, a vaccination card and was an American. Randy hoisted his large body out of the desk chair and gave Norman a tour of the place. "Bathroom isn't working and I haven't had time to do anything with it. I just keep stuff in there now."

Norman looked around the front 'office' of the motel. It was littered with puzzle boxes, books and a healthy assortment of VHS tapes for every age. It was exactly the kind of clutter that Mother would have hated. A few decades of travelers no doubt having left things behind in their rooms and Randy keeping everything at the office like the pack rat he was.

"Let me show you around." Randy said looking a little light headed after standing up. "There's the dinner across the street, gas station. Larry does auto repairs when he's sober." Randy said absentmindedly. "Small grocery store and a bunch of trailer homes further out."

"How many rooms?" Norman asked putting Jullian's license and vaccine card back in his wallet.

"Uhh… twenty working rooms. Numbers nineteen and twenty are out back. An add on we did in the 90's. We rent them to… the long haulers." Randy explained carefully.

"Long haulers?" Norman asked.

Randy turned around and glared at Norman harshly.
"These truckers get lonely, kid." He said. "I don't mind renting two rooms out in back so long as no one calls the cops or there isn't a fight. The girls stay there and mind their own business."

Norman nodded. Another thing Mother wouldn't have tolerated at her motel.

"We're the only truck stop for about an hours drive, so turn over is high. I've got a lady that comes in every afternoon to do all the cleaning and laundry. You'll be behind the desk, doing repairs and booking. The pandemic hurt us pretty bad, but business is picking up again." Randy explained taking Norman out into the shabby parking lot.

"You have a pool." Norman nodded to the concrete poole enclosed by a chainlink fence that had seen better days. It looked just as run down as the rest of the motel. The outdoor tables were weathered and neglected and Norman could see that the pool was empty with massive rust rings around it.

"Pool was condemned a long time ago." Randy went on. "So what's your experience in running a motel again?"

"My mother owned a small motel in Oregon." Norman said.

"Well, so you know how it goes." Randy said indifferently. "You check the nice looking guests in rooms six through ten. The truckers ten through eighteen. Save rooms one through four for emergency."

"Why?" Norman asked. He looked around this desolate place. No one would want to stay here. Mother would have driven right past it. It was even worse than the motel she'd bought and had to spend almost everything she had on repairs.

Randy looked annoyed.
"The highway's too fucking close. The noise. You'll hear it in the office. Road didn't used to be this busy, but it's getting worse."

"Oh." Norman said.

"You'll see your first night here." Randy went on showing him the laundry room. The coin operated washers and dryers were gigantic and old. "I've got a twin sized bed and TV in the back room for you. There's a small bathroom to. It's tempting to stay in room one, I know. It connects right to the office, but I want that one kept only for emergencies."

He handed Norman the set of master keys.

"You take a fifty dollar deposit on the room key. When you get that key back and check the room, you can give them back their money. We want that deposit to be cash only. There's an ATM in the office. I got a sign up in there at says you don't have access to the safe, but Buddy was robbed a few too many times and that's why he left." Randy explained.

Norman nodded. Another thing he had to worry about that wouldn't have happened at Mother's motel.

"You'll see how fast the turn over is. Especially the hourly people. You take the deposit, and the hundred dollar room rental. Put the room rental cash with the receipt into the safe. No checks accepted. The fifty dollar deposit, you keep in the register. I got cameras in the front office. If you get robbed, just give it to them. Police will sort it out." Randy said.

With that, Norman finished his job training and was left alone to run The Snake Root Motel. An hour away from anything and the last place anyone would look for him. Besides, no one was looking for him. No one would find him. He'd taken all of Julian's ID cards and even his van. A wobbly old thing that didn't have AC and needed new brakes. But it had gotten him all the way from Oregon to Nevada without incident. Norman only stopping long enough to leave Julian's body in a lonely run off ditch. A place he might never be found.

It was just as depressing here as he thought it would be. The woman that came to do the cleaning never spoke to Norman except on the occasions she wanted more cleaning supplies. At those times, she would rudely slam an empty gallon of industrial cleaner on the office counter. Norman nodding quickly and trying, in clumsy Spanish, to say he would order it. She was a small, older Mexican woman who brought her two grown daughters with her to help clean everything as quickly as possible. Norman paid them the $100 in cash without asking about anything. They promptly walked across the street to the grocery store and bought food for the evenings meal. The same routine everyday.

Norman would then check every room. Make sure nothing was broken or left behind. The back rooms, ten to eighteen were the shabbiest and were always an issue. Always something to fix. Then, there was the creeping smell of mold in every room, but Norman would often detect the odor of something else that was familiar to him. The smell coming from the two little bungalows behind the motel. The two women sitting out on the small porch in the late morning, only to vanish in their rooms as soon as it was dark. That was when a few cars or trucks would lazily sneak down to the small back part of the motel. They would drive off about thirty minutes later, their speeds much faster than when they came in. The men eager to leave and no doubt slightly embarrassed now.

These women hardly bothered Norman and he found it hard to believe they were working girls. One was old and fat, the other young and too skinny. They didn't dress provocatively either. Always big T-shorts and shorts. They always carried their big purses close to their bodies when they crossed the street to the dinner or small grocery store. But when they did come by the office, Norman could smell that smell on them. The smell that Mother and Romero made together.

"Any mail?" The young skinny one would ask. Her tan lines looking strange against the freckles that smattered across her face and shoulders. She'd almost be pretty if she dressed better. She wasn't beautiful like Mother was, or Bradley Martian had been. Norman knew that the younger one's name was Erika, with a K, from the mysterious envelopes she got every other week.

Norman shook his head, and Erika with a K would storm out of the room. Her female companion looking upset. They were always smoking. The two of them. Always carrying big fountain drinks from the small grocery store and always wearing flip flops.

Norman had been instructed to never bother them about paying for their rooms. Apparently other arrangements had been made for these women. Still, he found them fascinating to watch. Wondering about them and wishing he could watch them closer. Watch what they did with those men.

The days rolled away as though time had no meaning in this desert wasteland. When it was hot, the heat was unbearable and Norman would stay cloistered in his back office bedroom; the window AC unit blaring on him. When it was cold, the cold was a terribly lonely feeling. Not like the Oregon cold with it's lush evergreens and wetness. A place that had life to it even in the winter. The cold here was sharp and painful. The dry desert air held death and emptiness. The miles of sand and rocks held no landmarks other than this small, insignificant smattering of building and trailers. The feeling that they were truly isolated here was overwhelming. Norman could easily believe this place, this nothingness, was all that was left in the world.

When it rained, it flooded, and the motel filled up with vibrant people escaping the harsh weather. The rain hitting the rickety motel roof and making frightful sounds of near collapse. The people that rushed in were't like the ones who came to Mother's motel. They weren't well educated vacationers who wanted to hike and canoe in the beautiful forests. These were people who talked loudly and swore easily. They wore ugly, ill fitting, clothes in bright colors and were always angry about something.

It was upsetting to be around such people. People so different than him. People who smelled of cheap perfume, beer and always the smell of cigarettes.

Still, Norman went on like this. Day after day. He could almost believe White Pine Bay had been a dream. That he'd lived his whole life in this strange desert limbo. One where the nameless Mexican woman and her daughters cleaned from noon till three. Where Erika with a K and her friend made their daily pilgrimage to the store for cigarettes and fountain drinks around one. Where Norman made his rounds from room to room and dutifully checked in guests.

He could tell himself it had always been like this until he saw Mother appear in the office back room one day.

The only news that ever seemed to flow into this sad part of the desert was the Sunday paper from a nearby city. The delivery man angrily slapping it on Norman's desk, tied into a tight bundle at 7am. Norman having to put them into the machine himself. People must read it, because the old fashioned coin dispenser was always empty.

Norman would keep a copy for himself. He didn't bother with watching the news here. The TV reception was terrible and a storm made it worse. So, he only got his news now from print. A thing he liked more than watch TV anyway. From the paper he learned about the war, rioting and a lot of blame over who caused the virus that started the pandemic. Nothing seemed as serious as it had been before though. The paper picking up stories from bigger papers now. Mostly they were stories of lost loved ones. People who were destined to die anyway and who wouldn't be missed in Norman's mind. Then, on the next page, Mother looked out at him. Her lovely features captured in black and white. The 'Bates Motel' sign was behind her like a menacing crow.

"Mother?" Norman croaked and quickly read the headline.

~ In the middle of the historic pandemic a small county in Oregon quarantines.~

~ Norma Romero [pictured] stands in front of her family's motel just off the major highway. Here was where the White Pine Bay Sheriff's department placed its' quarantine blockade. A practice that helped to alleviate the spread of the novel virus and was done in many out of the way communities that were hit hard by high death tolls.

"We had people staying in every cabin for two weeks at a time or more." Mrs. Romero recounted. "There were so many people trying to get out of the big cities then. They had a family member here in town or someone to live with; but they had to quarantine first."

White Pine Bay, like most of the country during the pandemic, had suffered food shortages at the start of the pandemic. The quarantine made it harder to bring supplies in and resulted in harsh rationing. A thing many people haven't forgotten about.

"If it hadn't been for the panic buying, everything would have been fine." One citizen told us. "They had to ration things out. Or some [expletive] would have bought and hoarded everything."

Others in town have a different opinion.

"The city should have prepared for this better. I didn't like being told what I couldn't buy or told I couldn't buy too much. It's my money. It's my right. I wasn't even allowed in the store at one point. This is America. If I wanted to be told not to be free, I'd live in China." A Mrs. Cynthia Martian said. "I'm glad we have a new mayor now that respects our freedom and we need to get rid of Sheriff Romero now to. Everyone that made us live like communists during this and expected us to believe that the virus was real."

Alex Romero, the husband of motel owner Norma Romero, is Sheriff of White Pine Bay, and oversaw the blockade that last almost a year. He has received harsh criticism from the new Mayor, Bob Paris, about overreacting to the virus.

"No one overreacted." Sheriff Romero insists. "The decision to quarantine was reached by the city council. It was an unanimous vote and it saved lives. The city council lifted the quarantine after the national guard came in to do vaccines. We still wore masks and still encouraged social distancing."

The town of White Pine Bay had taken a hard hit from the shut downs and quarantine. A tourist dependent economy, with no tourists, made it difficult to get businesses and jobs back. Not to mention the trauma that such an ordeal put its' people through.

"Getting the economy running smoothly again is our top priority." Mayor Bob Paris said. "The former mayor and Sheriff Romero reacted too harshly in cutting us off. It was unconstitutional and I would even venture to say, illegal. The pandemic, wasn't that bad. That's why I'm supporting a new candidate, J.R. Flint, for Sheriff in the election next fall. It's time we get someone reasonable in here who will put businesses first and not spook so easily."

J.R. Flint will be running against the incumbent Alex Romero in the November elections. Sheriff Romero admitted that many in town are critical about the quarantine, but he stands by it.

"We lost well over five hundred people during this virus." Sheriff Romero admitted. "That's very difficult for such a small county. Our funeral home was overburdened. We reacted appropriately and with careful consideration for the lives in this community."

In White Pine Bay, a year after the quarantine had been lifted, things are slowly getting back to normal. Schools and restaurants have fully reopened and tourists have come back for the spring and summer activities. Norma Romero has re-opened her motel to tourists.

"The virus was terrible and people were afraid. The city council did the right thing." Mrs. Romero said about her husband and the controversy. "Everyone can easily criticize now that it's over, but hard decisions had to be made to save lives."

~ Norman blinked and reread the story again. Somehow, somehow he already knew Mother had married Romero. It would have been obvious. The way she snuck down to his motel room all the time. How she treated him like he belonged there. That smell they made together.

He tossed the paper aside like it was acid on his skin. Mother's picture still blaring in his brain. She looked the same. Her face was a little wider, like she'd gained some weight. It was hard to tell with the coat she was wearing. Her hair was longer now to. Cast up in a massy pony tail. Her smile was the one she had when she was only trying to be happy. One where she didn't show any teeth and where her eyes still looked sad.

Norman wondered if she was sad because she was married to Romero or because he would undoubtedly lose his job as Sheriff.

'Good.' Norman thought bitterly. 'Romero will lose his job and mother will lose interest in him. Three marriages and three divorces.'

He felt a little guilty for such hard feeling about her. He missed her. All the times he had to eat the horrible food at the dinner. The vending machine chips and soda. He'd gained so much weight and felt bloated and disgusting now. He was honestly looking more and more like Julian's drivers license picture. Something that was expired now that new documentation laws were in place. Everyone had to have photo ID's with complete vaccination records and their fingerprints scanned. Norman wondered if he tried to update the license, if he would be found out. If Julian ever had his prints scanned before. He must have since he'd worked for the county at the morgue. That might not matter. The owner of the motel never came here except to empty the change in the washing and vending machines. He never talked to Norman except to take the cash from the safe every week to the bank.

Randy didn't notice that Norman kept the bills when guests paid in cash. Quickly turning over the room a few hours later. In the year that he'd been here, he'd managed to save over three thousand dollars in tens and twenties. He knew Randy didn't care because he also had his own illegal side hustles.

'I could go back.' Norman thought with mild amusement. 'Save Mother from Romero. All the terrible things he must make her do.'