It was after three a.m. before Beckman found a cheap motel still open. He unloaded himself and Hoss into its cheerless interior. There were two beds, both sagging in the middle, but nothing mattered now but sleep. He dumped Hoss onto one of them, making sure that he was lying on his side. He could breathe easier this way and if he threw up, he would not choke on his own vomit. Beckman then took a shower, staying under the hot water for a long time to release the twisted cords of his nerves and muscles. The motel’s towel had a large hole in the center, and it was small, half the size of a regular towel, but he made do.
He felt exhausted and fell into bed with the expectation of instant sweet sleep. Sleep did not come, however; at least not for a long time, not until the light of the coming
