Page 55 - The Woven Tale Press Vol. V #3

scenic lookout, with a picnic table and a single rusted trash barrel.
“I’d pull over there, if I was you,” the kid said, “Let some of them malcontents go by.”
side, poin ng “H
But the old man ignored him or didn’t hear, the kid couldn’t be sure which, and went right on by the turnaround.
downward, forgo en. His arms and legs were trembling.”
“He thought a strangling her, or chopping her up with his chainsaw, running her over with his pick- up, or finding some pretext to push her off a cliff. In the end, though, he jest went for the simple approach, ay-uh. Drugged her with some sleeping powder, then smothered her with a pillow. Then he rolled her up in a Persian rug and burned the house down to the ground. Caught him, though. Like I said, he din’t express no remorse so they sent him to the pen for ninety-nine years. Only he never made it out of County. Read about it in the papers. Got a hold of a Coke bottle, broke it off in his cell, then slit his throat ear to ear.”
figured you was wanted. A wanted man! What they gitcha for, anyway, fella? Something real bad, I betcha!” His tone was savage.
It was then that Benson noticed the green and yellow state trooper car with the blue bubble light going, slowly leap-frogging up the line of cars in back of them.
“Hell no, they ain’t! I’m just running away from my ol man. Shitfire! Fuckfire! I’m in for it now! They’ll send me to jail this time for sure. Plus my Dad said he’d hide me wicked if I ever run off again. He will, too.” He looked around wildly. “Pull over. Pull over there. Maybe he’ll go on by with the others.”
“Shitfire! Fuckfire!” he shouted. “Get a move on. There’s a cop back there!”
The old man obeyed, eased the pickup onto the tiny dirt shoulder. The line of cars began to pass them. But the green and yellow cruiser did not;
it pulled up behind the pickup and stopped, the blue light revolving around and around, its beams casting over them like the wings of a huge bird of prey.
The old man appeared unconcerned. “I can’t ac- celerate on this upgrade, fella. See? My foot’s all the way to the floor as it tis.”
“Shitfire!” The kid twisted around in his seat. The cruiser was a mere half-dozen cars behind them.
The kid took out his gun, gripped it in his right hand. His hands were shaking violently. The old man looked at him, licked his lips.
“Besides, he ain’t likely to ticket me fer going too slow,” Farnham said.
“You ain’t gonna pull that on him, are ya fella?”
“Who cares about that? He’ll see me and then I’m a gone goose!”
“Maybe I’ll shoot you instead,” the kid replied in a hoarse and trembling voice; his throat had swol-
The old man swiveled his face toward Benson. “I
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is gun was at his
“I ain’t so wanted! Not yet, I ain’t!”
“Don’t tell me the cops ain’t after you, fella!”
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