The Last Starfighter by Alan Dean Foster

Author:Alan Dean Foster [Foster, Alan Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 042507255X
Publisher: Berkley Books
Published: 1984-06-04T07:00:00+00:00

The truck ground to a halt outside the general store, the driver muttering to himself as dust rose from beneath the rear wheels.

“Damn brakes. Got to get the bastards some new pads. This okay for you, buddy?”

The hitchhiker he’d picked up down the highway nodded, opened the door on his side and jumped lightly to the ground. The driver eyed him one last time. Scruffy-looking type, the kind you might encounter on any road hoping for a lift. Looked out of place, somehow. Maybe a foreigner trying to see the good ol’ U.S. of A.

Because he’d felt sorry for him, the driver had picked him up. It was against company rules to pick up hitchhikers. He did it as often as possible.

It was unusual to run into somebody standing thumb-out this late at night, though. He shrugged. None of his business what the guy was up to. Just somebody else in a hurry to get somewhere. Nobody took their time anymore.

A boxy wooden console on the porch nearby began winking its lights while emitting a series of regular, urgent beeps. The driver squinted at it.

“Video whatzit. Hate them suckers. My oldest kid, he pumps his lunch money into ’em all week long. Thinks we don’t know. Crazy.” He gestured at the subject of his ire. “That one must be on the fritz.”

The hitchhiker nodded in agreement as he stared at the flashing, humming game.

“Yeah, well, take it easy, mac,” the driver said. “I hope you know someone here. It’s a long hike to the next place to sleep.”

The hitchhiker turned. For the first time since he’d been given a lift, he smiled at the driver. It made the driver suddenly uncomfortable. He got the feeling that one more comment, one more question, might be one too many.

Naw, that was silly. This guy was quiet, but hardly threatening. “Don’t talk much, do ya?”

The hitchhiker shook his head and the driver shrugged indifferently. “Suits me. I like a quiet rider now and then. Take it easy, mac.”

He revved the engine, backed the truck up in the broad, dirt-paved parking lot in front of the motel, and headed out toward the highway. The hitchhiker watched and waited until the lights of the truck had been swallowed by distance. Then he turned to study the trailer park. After several minutes of motionless examination, he headed for the first fence.

Behind him, the videogame continued its inexplicable electronic antics.

Moving in a preplanned arc through the trailer park, the hitchhiker passed the first lightless mobile without incident. The second still had lights showing and he bent low to make certain he passed well beneath the line of sight of anyone inside.

As he ducked below the last window a voice inside suddenly blared, “Drop it or you’re dead!”

The hitchhiker froze, momentarily frightened as well as confused by the unexpected challenge. More words followed upon the first, but they were unrelated to the challenge. In fact, they made next to no sense at all. Another loud voice followed clicking noises.

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