COMING SOON
Excerpt:Jack had no idea where he
was. He had crossed a couple of state lines, driving like a maniac, only ever
stopping to pee and once to relieve himself in the woods, all the while
freaking out Trevor was right behind him. Then running back to the car, he saw
a truck in the distance the same color as Rick's, Trevor's old pool buddy. Was Trevor
sitting on the passenger side? Was he laughing and pointing at him, shouting
that Jack would see now what it felt like to die? Jack scrambled into the car
and tried to turn the key, but it stuck like it did all the fucking time. He
pulled the key out of the ignition and slammed it back in. Oh God, the truck
was nearly on him. He was out of fucking time. Yes! This time the piece
of shit car did turn over, but now he knew for sure the fucking car was
going to stall but thank you, Jesus, it didn't. Fuck, it didn’t
matter, because Rick's damn green truck was right there and so was
Trevor. He hadn’t escaped after all…
The truck simply flew
around him and kept going.
It wasn't Rick's truck.
Oh, sweet Jesus, it
wasn’t Rick’s truck.
Jack had to take a couple
of hits from his inhaler after that, recognizing the signs of a looming asthma
attack. Well, probably not. But he definitely had trouble breathing in that
moment.
It hadn't been Trevor after
all.
Jack only pulled back onto
the road once he'd stopped shaking.
And just like he packed no
food, he grabbed no money, so when the car choked to a stop outside of a tiny
town called Benson, Jack pushed it into a parking lot of a small, busy diner
and walked away. He had no idea how many miles he had walked since then. He
needed to get as far away from the abandoned car as he could, though, and in a
totally different direction, because they would find the car and they would
connect it to Trevor. Trevor would know Jack came through here. He would be
pissed as all hell he would have to come and get the car—furious Jack took it
in the first place. Somehow Jack needed to disappear.
And now he stood on some high bridge in the middle of nowhere.
The water rushed below him,
the sound lulling him into a trance. He could use a drink of that water. He
could use a bath. Stepping into the cold water would wake him up too.
But it was a long way down a steep bank. He wouldn't have any trouble going
down but coming back up might be an issue. However, even the prospect of little
resistance on the descent seemed too much an effort to make. Maybe he would
just climb over the rail and drop down from here. The fall would probably kill
him though.
He sighed. That was the
only real way to disappear. What did he have to live for anyway? He was so
fucked up—no job, no home, a backpack that held, at this point, all his worldly
possessions. And what the fuck was in it? Some old jeans and T-shirts.
Shockingly, he had grabbed underwear and a toothbrush, but he hadn't even
thought to take a coat. He was broke, hungry, freezing, and knew of no way to
change any of it.
A vehicle had stopped
behind him, the headlights were shining out of the corner of his one good eye.
He should be concerned as a door opened and closed and the crunch of footsteps
came closer. But he couldn't care enough to turn around. The rushing water held
him spellbound. Suddenly, a powerful light was on his back, casting his shadow
far down into the deep water.
"Sir? May I ask what
you're doing on the bridge in the middle of the night?"
The question was followed
by a radio-sounding voice saying something about a car broken down on some road
somewhere and someone needed to respond. Ah, it's a police officer. At
least it wasn’t Trevor. Not that it mattered anymore. Jack still didn't turn,
and he remained silent.
"Sir? I need to ask
you to step away from the railing, please."
The police officer thought
he was going to jump. Well, he had thought about it.
"Sir. I will ask only
one more time for you to step away from the rail."
The deep voice had come
closer, the light dancing a little. Jack finally tore himself away from the
lure of the water and turned to face the police officer. Of course, he couldn't
see a damn thing; the officer had aimed the flashlight directly into his face.
"Sorry, Officer, I
was…" What was he doing? "Sorry. I'm just passing through.
I'll get out of your way." Jack turned and walked out of the light, away
from the officer. He wanted to cry. He had nothing left inside.
"You didn't answer my
question, son. Don't make me ask it again."
Son? Jack turned back, holding
up his arm to block the light from his eye. "What question?" Had he
asked a question? Fuck. He was dizzy with exhaustion.
The officer huffed.
"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?"
"Noth-nothing. I… said
I was just passing through. I'm not going to cause any trouble."
"There's been a number
of break-ins in this area. They've been happening in the middle of the night.
You know anything about those?" The officer had taken a couple of steps
toward him again, holding the large flashlight steady on Jack's face.
"No! I-I only just got
here! I-I don't know anything about that!" Oh fuck. There came the adrenaline
again. His body had gone into fucking overdrive producing the shit over the
last couple of days. Didn't it ever run out?
"What's your
name?"
"Jack. Jack Demar.
I'm… like I said, I'm just passing through. I had nothing to do with any
break-ins."
"Well, Mr. Demar, I
would like to make sure. I'm going to ask you to take a seat in my cruiser
while I check you out."
"Check me out?"
What the fuck did that mean?
"Check out your story,
son. Come on." The officer lowered the flashlight and pointed it back
toward his police car. "I trust you have some ID on you?"
"Um… yeah. I have a
driver's license."
"Good. We'll start
with that." He held out the hand not holding the light.
Jack walked toward him as
he reached into his pocket for his billfold. Taking out his card, he handed it
to the officer who shined his light on it for a moment before reaching up and
taking a firm hold of Jack's arm. He guided him to the car. "You have any
weapons on you?"
Weapons? Good God, was he
serious? Nope. No more jars of pennies, Officer. "No… no,
sir."
"Mind if I
check?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned Jack around and gently pushed
him up against the vehicle, tapping with his foot on Jack’s legs until he
realized the officer wanted him to stand with them apart. Then he took away his
backpack.
Was this legal? Did a
police officer have the right to do this without a warrant? Well, if the person
didn’t protest maybe.
There was the sound of the
zipper. The officer had to be going through his things. Again, it wasn’t right.
But he just didn’t care. Suddenly those big hands were on him, running up and
down Jack's body. Jack now knew how tired he was. The pat-down was police
procedure, but the large firm hands felt incredibly good on him. They felt
sure; they felt safe.
Delirious. He had to be
delirious.
When he was done, the
officer opened the door to the back seat and indicated with his hand for Jack
to get in. Jack looked hard at the officer's hand, wondering what it would feel
like if he touched it. It looked work-rough, but for some reason, he also
thought it would be soft and gentle. He sighed as he climbed into the back seat
and the officer shut the door. Then the officer opened the driver's door and
maneuvered his large body in too, throwing Jack's backpack onto the front
passenger seat. Looking up into the rearview mirror, he said, "Just relax
while I check this out. I'll get you on your way soon."
Yeah, on his way. Where?
But he would relax because the first thing he realized was how warm it was in
the car. The second thing was how wonderful it was to sit down. Third was the
smell. It was a mix of leather and something else he couldn't identify, but
whatever it was, it smelled nice. Secure. This officer would not allow Trevor
to get to him. He sank into the seat and warmth and the wonderful feeling of
being protected. Fuck, he was tired. He didn't even realize he had shut his
eyes.
