Page 73 of Small Town Hunter

Freedom.

But as I face the road again, my happiness crashes into reality.

Crash.

He’s out there somewhere, hurt.

You can’t go back. You said you’d never go back.

I know what will happen if Crash stays in Tippalonga. The Reverend will kill him.

You can’t go back.

He’d do it for me.

NO!

Feeling my elation turn to horror is like leaping for joy to find the ground under you has disappeared. It’s a long fall I take all the way to the hard unyielding truth. In numb disappointment I turn West to California. The vast red distance where my freedom waits. Where Mamie waits. My whole life ahead of me.

God, please send another sign. Tell me what to do!

But there’s nothing but the flies and the dirt and the burning sun.

Nothing but me.

And the tumbleweed, too.

I turn myself towards Tippalonga.

The decision rises like bile in my throat. But I know what I’m choosing. It’s the right thing to do.

Crash is no dream, but flesh and blood. He saved me when I had nobody else, he fought for me and protected me. A life for a life.

“Nothing will be impossible with God,” I mutter. “Nothing…”

As I wait, a cloud in the distance grows. I put my thumb out, then drop it in a hurry.

Oh, no.

The motorcycle doesn’t follow my silent plea to turn in the other direction. It comes to a dusty stop in front of me. For a fairytale moment I imagine it’s Crash. But it’s not.

It’s the very same biker man Crash knocked out when he didn’t pay for his coffee.

“Well,” the man says. I’m in danger more than ever right now but this time I look him straight on. I see two chips of green ice where his eyes should be, a scarred but not bad looking face. Easy to describe to the police.

“Thought I recognized you, honeypot,” he says. “Where’s your man?”

Fear and panic bind me to the spot. There’s no one on this road but me.

“I don’t wish to speak to you right now,” I tell him firmly.

He cracks up, like Jada did when I saidmember. I hate him. He’s disgusting and unwashed. He leans forward, his evil eyes enjoying my fear. “Where’d you say he was?”

“He’s — he’s around.”

“Oh? Maybe I’ll keep you company until he gets back.”

“No thank you,” I snap.

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