Season of Waiting by Jim Christopher

Author:Jim Christopher [Christopher, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781735536200
Published: 2020-11-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 36

Caleb

The officer crossed the mirror as he approached the car. Static flared through Caleb’s chest, his body tightening into a fist. Why did his pain have to strike now, when they were so close? Why couldn’t Wes have just held it a little longer?

No, he couldn’t think that way. This officer was on this road with them, coming from or heading to Utopia. There was no avoiding this.

The officer’s voice stopped the world, the baritone resonating through the window as if it weren’t there. “Are you okay, sir?” His tone was cautious. He knew about the stolen car.

Caleb strained in his seat to see the officer. He was rounding the car in a wide arc now, his posture wary, his movements deliberate.

Caleb turned forward. What the hell should he do? Movement caught his eye. The patrolman was outside his window now. Neither Caleb nor the world around him breathed as the man raised something from his belt. Was it a gun? Too big.

A radio. The patrolman was announcing their location. Caleb sucked in an agonizing breath. They were done for.

Was Wes hiding? Did he know what was happening? The thought pulled Caleb’s gaze away from the officer, to the line of trees behind him. Wes skulked by the largest tree, watching them. His face soured with fright. He looked like his father felt.

Caleb pressed a hand to the window. His son’s attention turned to the cop. Caleb’s eyes followed.

The officer locked on Wes. His hand fell to his gun, his stance widening. Shit. Shit! How could they have gotten this close only to blow it?

The voice. Would it help? “What do I do?” Caleb heaved, his breath locked tight in his chest.

Nothing.

The officer issued a command to Wes. “Move. Move to the car.” His tone wasn’t pleasant anymore. He knew. He would stop them here.

“What do I do!” Caleb spit, watching his son step over the thick roots, his arms over his head, raising his shirt and exposing his belly.

His deaf ear remained silent.

The officer tracked Wes, turning his body to try to put both men into his field of view. Wes padded out from the trees, glancing at his father. His son mouthed the words, “I’m sorry, Pop.”

And that was it. All of Caleb’s pain, his good intentions, his forethought to plan a Final Release. It was ruined. The officer would arrest them. Caleb would die today, tomorrow, or the next day, away from home, in a strange place, with no one he loved around him. His heart ached knowing it.

And poor Irene. Instead of a quiet passing, she would need to deal with this mess now. Twenty-four hours of panic they’d caused her. What in hell had he done to his daughter? She would never have accepted what they were trying to do. His chest clenched when he thought of her remembering him this way. The man who ran from death like a damned coward, only to die alone on a dirty Texas road.

His breath stunted, his vision blurred, his son becoming a blob rolling to the back of the car.

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