Hunted by Simon Maltman

Author:Simon Maltman [Maltman, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sharpe Books
Published: 2023-11-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

“You can pull over whenever you want,” I said after a few miles. “I can take over.”

Brandon looked okay. He still hadn’t cracked. The kid had grit, I’d give him that. I thought that last episode might have pushed him over the edge. But he seemed fine. He might even have been amused at my concern for the car. I think I even saw a smirk when I winced as he ground the gears into fifth while we hared along the freeway.

We needed gas. So, we stopped a few miles later and swapped over, thank God.

“You alright?” I asked, once we were back on the freeway.

“Yeah, I guess.” Brandon rolled up a fresh J. It hadn’t taken long for his buzz to get well and truly killed from the last one. He was set on regaining it. He looked at me, “You think they all made it?”

“Those three? You mean survived?” I fumbled out one for myself.

“Yeah.”

“I suppose so.” I shrugged and sparked up. “They’ll all be a little messed up, like.” I blew out fresh, beautiful pale blue smoke. I cracked the window.

“They had it coming anyways, I guess,” he said absently.

“Flippin’ right they did.” I reached into the door canal. I found the quarter bottle of Bush I’d left there, spun the lid and took a pull.

I changed CD and fired on Headhunters by Herbie Hancock. I flicked to track two: Watermelon Man. Brandon looked bemused as the weird synth and whistles intro began. Once the drums and bass kicked in, he was grooving a little in his seat, sucking hard on that fat spliff. I cranked it up and we sat like that for the full track, cruising onwards.

“That’s a track,” Brandon said with a wide smile.

“It really is. Here give us one wee draw of that.” I motioned for the J.

“Really?”

“Aye, just a wee bit.”

He passed it and I slowed down the car a little and focused on the upcoming road signs. I took a couple of draws, coughed and handed it back. I got a nice little hit off it. The buzz bouncing off the whiskey was outstanding. But I didn’t want to get back in the habit of it. All good things in moderation.

He passed me it again and I took another pull off it. It was tasty stuff, I had to admit.

“What time is it?” I asked, checking out my reflection in the rear-view, tilting it down for a moment. I looked a wee bit high around my eyes, not that you could really tell with the bloody big crow’s feet and blotchy face. I needed a good night’s sleep. You wouldn’t have called me fresh-faced.

“Couple hours to go ’til we call her yet,” he said.

“Okay,” I moved into the outside lane and turned off at the next intersect.

“Where we headed?”

“Just wait and see.”

***

We passed through a town by the name of Newtonlig. I hadn’t been there before, but it was big enough, and I was hopeful to find what I wanted. I circled the town centre a couple of times.

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