Speed Demons by Jeff Beesler
CHAPTER 19
PEDDLE TO THE METAL
With a steady gait, Chase made good time heading to the gas station. It wasn’t until he got halfway between Simon’s house and the gas station that his throat’s demand for liquid of some sort had him rasping. The sunlight bore down on him without mercy, its heat placing a special emphasis on the back of his neck.
The empty road of Helensview’s Main Street went on for what seemed like forever. He’d been in such a rush to find Peddle that he hadn’t thought to borrow Brittany’s Jaguar XJ. Not that she’d have lent it out to him, given their shared hostility. It didn’t matter. He’d already gone this far without a car. It wouldn’t be long before he reached his destination.
Along the way, he saw nothing different from before. The same wrecks, bodies, and stains of blood splattered against everything from street signs to the sidewalk. Was there no one left to clean up after the demons?
A Charlie horse struck as he wandered through a crosswalk across from the Eat ’N’ Grease. He limped over to the other side and leaned against the traffic light, breathing deeply in order to draw strength for finishing his journey.
The gas station came into view right as a bank clock off to the right flashed the time of 11:30. Gushing with sweat, he felt the first tingles of heat exhaustion buzzing throughout his body. He kept one foot in front of the other, the fire of determination within him more powerful than his body’s desire to let the heat win. His ears welcomed the sound of pebbles crunching underneath his boot as he marched onto the property once more. What he wouldn’t give to make a similar noise grinding Peddle’s boots under the weight of his foot. A few seconds later, he reached the Mini-Mart side of the property. Finding the front door unlocked, he went in.
Peddle was nowhere to be found.
The store appeared untouched from before. Merchandise still lay strewn about the aisles, processed food packages torn to shreds, trails of spilt soda winding their way across the refrigeration section. Chase’s nose even detected the stench of a half-eaten egg salad sandwich fouling the air.
Thirst now becoming the more urgent matter, Chase helped himself to a bottle of water from a cooler that had survived yesterday’s melee. He then slipped some money on the counter so that Peddle couldn’t accuse him of stealing product. Emptying the bottle in five or six large gulps, he then went looking around for the man’s office. He was about to call out Peddle’s name when something crashed outside.
He bolted in that direction, listening for further commotion from anywhere in the vicinity of the Mini-Mart. So far, he only caught the sound of his own feet clomping on the arid ground. He backed against the store, inching closer to the corner, ready to be ambushed. Drawing his gun from his pocket, he stepped beyond the wall’s safety.
Something made a loud boom right before hot metal ripped apart the flesh in his left shoulder. He fell backwards and collided against the ground, sending a plume of dust up into the air.
As darkness clouded his vision, Chase saw recognizable loafers approaching him. His eyes shut, and in that last second before he fell unconscious, he heard the voice of his prey.
“Crap,” breathed Peddle.
PEDDLE TO THE METAL
With a steady gait, Chase made good time heading to the gas station. It wasn’t until he got halfway between Simon’s house and the gas station that his throat’s demand for liquid of some sort had him rasping. The sunlight bore down on him without mercy, its heat placing a special emphasis on the back of his neck.
The empty road of Helensview’s Main Street went on for what seemed like forever. He’d been in such a rush to find Peddle that he hadn’t thought to borrow Brittany’s Jaguar XJ. Not that she’d have lent it out to him, given their shared hostility. It didn’t matter. He’d already gone this far without a car. It wouldn’t be long before he reached his destination.
Along the way, he saw nothing different from before. The same wrecks, bodies, and stains of blood splattered against everything from street signs to the sidewalk. Was there no one left to clean up after the demons?
A Charlie horse struck as he wandered through a crosswalk across from the Eat ’N’ Grease. He limped over to the other side and leaned against the traffic light, breathing deeply in order to draw strength for finishing his journey.
The gas station came into view right as a bank clock off to the right flashed the time of 11:30. Gushing with sweat, he felt the first tingles of heat exhaustion buzzing throughout his body. He kept one foot in front of the other, the fire of determination within him more powerful than his body’s desire to let the heat win. His ears welcomed the sound of pebbles crunching underneath his boot as he marched onto the property once more. What he wouldn’t give to make a similar noise grinding Peddle’s boots under the weight of his foot. A few seconds later, he reached the Mini-Mart side of the property. Finding the front door unlocked, he went in.
Peddle was nowhere to be found.
The store appeared untouched from before. Merchandise still lay strewn about the aisles, processed food packages torn to shreds, trails of spilt soda winding their way across the refrigeration section. Chase’s nose even detected the stench of a half-eaten egg salad sandwich fouling the air.
Thirst now becoming the more urgent matter, Chase helped himself to a bottle of water from a cooler that had survived yesterday’s melee. He then slipped some money on the counter so that Peddle couldn’t accuse him of stealing product. Emptying the bottle in five or six large gulps, he then went looking around for the man’s office. He was about to call out Peddle’s name when something crashed outside.
He bolted in that direction, listening for further commotion from anywhere in the vicinity of the Mini-Mart. So far, he only caught the sound of his own feet clomping on the arid ground. He backed against the store, inching closer to the corner, ready to be ambushed. Drawing his gun from his pocket, he stepped beyond the wall’s safety.
Something made a loud boom right before hot metal ripped apart the flesh in his left shoulder. He fell backwards and collided against the ground, sending a plume of dust up into the air.
As darkness clouded his vision, Chase saw recognizable loafers approaching him. His eyes shut, and in that last second before he fell unconscious, he heard the voice of his prey.
“Crap,” breathed Peddle.