Dr. NoSleep

nothing but white noise on the other end.

He slowly placed the receiver back onto its cradle and turned his attention to the ceiling.

78 and a half swirling white plaster tiles, each about 13 by 13, none of them looked out of place, all lined uniform from the day they were first put in.

He climbed onto the bed, feeling the bare mattress sigh and squeak beneath his feet.

The sheets, stained and reeking of sweat and grease, piled at the foot of the bed, the duvet discarded like a cheap rag.

His eyes scanned for the center and then moved, counting like a child on their fingers, three to the right.

Once he settled on the selected tile, he moved to gingerly push it up, feeling it pop from its fittings and slide away into the humid darkness behind it.

Reaching in, he removed a suitcase.

Ordinary, plain, and brown.

One of those types with a little padlock on the clasp, just beneath the handle.

Sealing it shut, he discovered.

He shook it, noting whatever laid inside was heavy and firmly packed.

Not a bomb, or else it would have exploded already.

A search on all sides revealed no markings or logos, save for a pattern in the leather that reminded him of a snarling pig face or a heavily deformed wax figure of Abraham Lincoln.

Maybe if he… Someone shrieked outside.

He stumbled, dropping the suitcase on the bed.

The wailing melted into the sound of cheerful laughter, as if mocking him for being so afraid.

He climbed off the bed end, lifting up the flap of the garbage bag, peeked through the window down into the courtyard below.

A family walked in through the doors, the source of the noise being a child no older than six, weaving between the parked cars, chasing a sibling, shrieking and hollering with childish glee, polluting the air.

The traffic had let up, and now it moved freely again, a coach bus pulling into the lot followed by a pickup.