Highways to Hell by Smith Bryan

Author:Smith, Bryan [Smith, Bryan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Deadite Press
Published: 2011-08-29T05:00:00+00:00

He was still out.

Still quiet.

Ray realized how much he hoped he would never have to listen to the fucker again.

“Fuck it.”

He drove another eight miles, found the exit he was looking for, and left the interstate. He negotiated the familiar maze of rural back roads with a mounting sense of unease. Not many cops cruised back here, but the ones who did sometimes pulled you over for the pure hell of it. He didn’t begin to relax until he found the deserted boat dock he remembered from youthful excursions. He drove to the edge of the short, sloping pier, shut off the engine, and surveyed the area.

Nobody around.

As usual.

The unpopular dock was in a shallow cove accessible only to smaller boats. There was a boarded-up shack that had once been an unprofitable bait shop. He got out of the car and walked over to the decrepit structure. A rusted padlock dangled from an equally rusty latch. He gave the door a hard kick, and the latch popped out of the rotting wood. He took a good look inside. There wasn’t much to see.

Snatches of memory crowded Ray’s mind, images of drunk kids whose lives were filled with too much idle time and who were blissfully unaware of any better way to spend that time. The shack had been one of Rat’s favorite hangouts in the old days. It seemed appropriate that the guy who never wanted to grow up would spend his last moments in a place that remained one of the emotional touchstones of his short life.

“Raymond!”

Ray breathed a curse.

Rattlehead.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are, fuckhead!”

Ray relaxed a bit—no way would Rat be in any condition to mount a successful defense of his life.

Right?

Ray strode out of the shack in the grip of a sense of purpose as strong as anything he’d ever experienced. Old Ray would have avoided this confrontation.

Fuck that shit.

New Ray stepped into a blow from an aluminum baseball bat. The end of the bat clipped the tip of his chin, caused him to stagger back into the shack.

Rat followed him.

“You’re a stupid fucker, Raymond.”

Ray gave his head a hard shake.

Focus.

He back away from his slowly advancing adversary. The guy had surprised him, granted, and he was armed and relatively dangerous. Chalk up two minor points for the opposition. But Rat was still damaged goods. He had a weapon, but he didn’t have the strength to wield it effectively. The one blow he’d manage to deliver thus far had been no more painful than a bee sting.

“I can’t believe how unutterably dumb you are, Raymond.” Blood was still seeping from the gash above Rat’s eye. “You didn’t think this through. You wanna off somebody, never make the mistake of acting on impulse. That’s the downfall of a lot of would-be killers.”

“Yeah?”

Keep him talking.

“You’d know that shit if you read True Detective. You’d know not to let your emotions dictate your actions. You’ve already fucked up about a thousand different ways.”

Rattlehead still loved to talk.

Maybe for once he had something to say worth hearing.

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