Tilting at Windmills by Geonn Cannon

Author:Geonn Cannon [Cannon, Geonn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Supposed Crimes LLC
Published: 2013-02-04T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Garth Pope's brand new truck could blow away any other vehicle in their unofficial fleet, but even it was powerless in the face of the weather. He and Kevin Keating, had gone on as hard as they could, pressing the needle against a hundred for most of the trip, but the storm had blinded him. He finally gave up and stopped at a motel outside of Oklahoma City, using a payphone to call Hadley back in Saxe to report the bad news. "There was a fucking tsunami here, Gar. I couldn't see ten feet in front of me, let alone find one particular truck. They're gone, man."

To his benefit, Hadley took the news well. "Me and Estevez are flying up there as soon as the weather permits. We'll meet up and try and figure out a way to corral these bitches. I don't think Lance is gonna fly anywhere, not if Gwen is a hostage. They're going to stay on the roads. I think the airport is a decoy. Sit tight until I get there."

"You're not mad at me for losin' the cops?"

"You're not a weatherman, Garth," Hadley said. "Besides, it was a long shot you'd have been able to catch up with them anyway. You did well. Hell, better than me. I lost track of 'em before they left the fucking county. We'll see you up there. Where are you staying?"

"The Blue Motel, off Meridian in Oklahoma City," Garth said. He had looked up the address beforehand and felt that he had finally done something right.

"Stay there. We'll call when we're on our way."

Garth hung up and checked the coin return for stray quarters. He came up empty, as usual, and turned to walk back to his room.

He didn't pay much attention to the beat up Pinto coupe parked a few doors away. He just noted, as a car guy, that the damn thing was on its last legs. There were dents all over it, and a crack that looked like the St. Louis arch running across the windshield. He turned his back on the piece of junk car and went into his motel room.

#

Lance took the bags from Gwen and dumped them on the floor so they wouldn't soak the sheets. Gwen had only been outside for a few seconds, but she had gotten drenched. Lance was worse off, due to her jog to the manager's office and back again. The white shirt underneath her blouse was plastered against her body and her nipples stood erect against the fabric. She pushed her limp hair up and away, sticking out her bottom lip to blow air over her face.

Her own hair hanging like a wet mop on her shoulders, Gwen hugged herself and turned away from Lance to scan the room. It was virtually indistinguishable from the room in which they had spent the previous night, just with different shades of fabric. Yellow-orange blankets instead of white, brown carpet and a painting of a wooded path that was actually pretty nice.

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