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- Herausgeber: Wayne Kyle Spitzer
- Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
That’s when she sees the Shape again. Sees it through the shattered passenger window—silhouetted against a flash of lightning, approaching over the desert hills, maneuvering impossibly. "No …" she whimpers, as Frodo barks and howls. Then a horn sounds and she faces forward—in time to avoid a head-on collision by mere seconds. By the time she skids to a stop on the shoulder of the road, a man is running up to her, apologetic, out of breath, asking if she is okay. She gets out, shrieking and gesturing with her arms, completely hysterical. "Did you see it? Did you see it?" He catches her wrists in his hands and holds them—an overly intimate gesture she could be offended by, but isn’t. "I saw a jet," he says, staring into her eyes, continuing to hold her hands. "A jet—they’re everywhere out here today. They must be doing maneuvers or something. It’s okay, all right? You’re okay." She begins to calm down at last, however slightly. There’s something about him, something about his mild eyes and soft but firm hands, his shock of dark hair, his soothing voice. She senses something and looks up, sees a fighter jet flying right over the top of them—low enough that she can make out the rivets in its fuselage. It is there and gone before its sharp-edged whine even cuts the air. "See?" he says, releasing her hands. "Just a jet."
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THE MEN | 2
by
Wayne Kyle Spitzer
Table of Contents
Title Page
A Novella in Two Parts
A Novella in Two Parts
Copyright © 2018 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. All Rights Reserved. Published by Hobb’s End Books, a division of ACME Sprockets & Visions. Cover design Copyright © 2018 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. Please direct all inquiries to: [email protected]
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
She is sitting at what seems like the world's longest bar, her hand trembling on her drink, causing it to slosh and spill, her face pale as the dead. A handful of patrons—regulars, she thinks—are grouped at the end, talking amongst themselves, glancing at her from time to time, their gaze making her increasingly uncomfortable. At length the waitress reappears.
"Ambulance is tied up elsewhere, hon. Big accident out along 1-5. State Patrol are on their way, though. How do you feel?"
"Better, slightly." She stares at her drink. "How can there be so many accidents when there's no one on the road?"
The waitress stares at her sweetly. "That's exactly the perception that causes them out here, hon." She pats her hand. "You holler if you need anything."
At last Beth takes out her phone and dials Dr. Lairman—there is no answer. She hangs up and dials her mother. She gets the operator instead: "We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this message in error, please try again."
She hears the sound of helicopters in the distance, very faintly. And something else: military jets.
She tries the number again—gets the same message. Then again, dialing extra carefully. Same message. She glances at the newspaper on the counter as she listens. Its headline reads: AUTHORITIES LIED ABOUT RADIATION DANGER.
She looks down the bar at the others, a few of whom stare back. She quickly takes out a few bills and lays them on the counter, stands. The military jets fly exceedingly close as she moves toward the exit, the roar of their engines rattling the panes. "Ah, go ahead an' blow us up!" someone calls.
She exits the diner just as a jet passes over. Peering up at it against the gloomy sky, she has a brief flashback of the shape outside her windshield, and reasons that what she saw was indeed a jet. She moves toward her car ... and realizes that its hood is up. Concerned and a little angry, she continues walking toward it, finds a mechanic toiling away.
"What are you doing?"
The man looks up, startled, and wipes his hands on his pants. "After the way you careened in here? Giving you a safety check. Don’t worry, it’s all on the house.”
"A safety check," she says, mostly to herself. "But I ... no, I’m sure I don’t need one of those. Why would you—"
"No, no, I insist," says the mechanic, ignoring her. "Your own safety’s one thing, but you’ve got a baby to think about. Says so right there on your—"
