Alien Roadkill-Dealbreaker by Steve Zuckerman

Author:Steve Zuckerman [Zuckerman, Steve]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2017-10-22T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

War on the Road

LUANNE SEARCHED THROUGH the contacts on her aunt's phone and was easily able to find Harvey's home address. He lived about ten miles south of where CronLab used to be, about seventy miles from Douglass. Wary of both the local authorities and any white, late model SUVs, they carefully planned their route to keep to the more lightly traveled back roads.

They used the navigation app on the cellphone to select a series of rural highways that would get them close to where they needed to go, although there was one leg of their route that unavoidably would take them through a busy portion of the interstate. Since there was no alternative that wouldn't involve an extremely long detour, they decided it was worth the risk. By the time they had reached that section of the interstate, it was early evening.

"Okay, here goes," said JB, as he accelerated onto the four-lane highway. As the words left his lips, he was hoping they wouldn't run into any more trouble.

Rows of tall trees lined both sides of the busy highway, revealing little of the marshes just beyond them. The highway was as dark as their apprehensive mood, and JB found that he was holding his breath every time a new set of headlights appeared behind them.

They were more than halfway to the next leg of their route when a state trooper's sedan shot past them. JB was about to say something like, “That was close”, when the patrol car slowed to get behind them. Instead he said, “Get down in your seat and stay low.”

Less than a minute later, the trooper lit him up and herded him over onto the side of the road.

"Get out of your vehicle, please," ordered a female voice over the bullhorn on the roof of the trooper's car. The words echoed eerily through the otherwise still night.

JB’s mind was sorting through all of the possible scenarios and courses of action. Distracted by his own thoughts, he slowly stepped out of the truck without turning off the engine. He opened his hands, palms forward and made sure the trooper could clearly see that he was cooperating and unarmed. He closed the door of the truck behind him, and stood there waiting for several minutes more while the officer presumably ran his license plate. His registration was current, but there was a chance that a search on the Virginia DMV might bring up his outstanding criminal warrant in North Carolina. That concern only added to his unease.

Finally, the trooper, a tall, lean woman with short, black hair carefully exited her car. Keeping one hand on the butt of her weapon, she cautiously approached until she stood within arms length.

"Sir, driver's license and registration, please," she demanded impatiently. There was an asthmatic, wheezing quality to her voice when she spoke, as if she was short of breath.

"Yes, officer. Registration is in the truck," JB replied as respectfully as he could, pulling his wallet out of his jeans.

"The license will do for now," she replied, watching him closely.

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