The Coaster by Erich Wurster

Author:Erich Wurster
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Poisoned Pen Press
Published: 2016-05-02T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Max and I got in the truck and we bounced down the long gravel road that leads to the main entrance to the farm. Max loves the truck. He slides around like he’s on skates but he never loses his footing.

I was scanning the fields out both sides of the truck, keeping an eye out for Rex. Nothing but darkness. When I turned back to the road, it took me a second in my flustered, adrenaline-sapped state to realize my headlights were reflecting off some creature’s eyeballs right back at me. My reflexes were slow and shaky, but there are a ton of animals roaming the farm and they generally get out of the way. Not this time. I slammed on the brakes and Max flew snout-first into the dashboard. We skidded to a stop about ten feet short of what I realized was a doe. She stood there staring and then sprinted away.

“I know how she feels, boy,” I said to Max, as he clambered groggily back onto the seat.

I planned to drive down and shut the main gate so we wouldn’t have any more unwanted visitors tonight. We were about halfway there when, to my horror, I saw a pair of headlights turning into our drive. Whoever it was, it was bad news. In my neighborhood, nobody drives over in the middle of the night to borrow a cup of sugar. There were really only two possibilities. It was either the cops or Corny’s ride, and whoever it was, I couldn’t just turn and run because they’d seen my headlights. If it was the cops, I didn’t want them to think I had anything to hide. If it was Corny’s friends, I didn’t want to lead them back to the house where my kids were sleeping. The gun was in the glove compartment and if it came to it, I could probably reach across to get it just in time to get shot in the back of the head. I decided my only choice was to continue on down the road like a confident man driving on his own property. As long as nobody got out of the car, I might be okay.

As the lights got closer, I could see the car was a police cruiser. It wasn’t the old black-and-white Crown Victoria sedan we all grew up with. It was an all white Dodge Charger or Camaro or something. It looked like the cop’s police car was in the shop so he had to borrow his sixteen-year-old daughter’s car. It probably had a unicorn hanging from the rearview mirror and was full of lip gloss, tampons, and empty Diet Coke cans. Still, a police car was definitely better news than the alternative. At least the cop most likely wouldn’t try to kill me. That would have to wait for my first day in prison.

I popped a mint to cover my vomit-breath, stopped the truck, and rolled down the window. I was hoping he’d pull up alongside me, driver’s side to driver’s side, so we could talk while he was still in the car.

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