from her lifeless hands as they rippled like electricity, sparking on his skin.
And he felt the opposite, a burning heat screaming from his oxygen starved lungs. He craved air. He was going to die. He was going to fail Carolina. Carolina, the thought of her wiped out the image of the fantasy blond and gave him the will for one last, desperate effort. He raised his right hand, opened it and slapped her face, shoving the hot pepper into her leathery skin.
She screamed. Her eyes bore into his, locking on as sure as a fighter plane’s radar. Twin doors dragging him into a world where no one gets out. Where dead is better than alive, but death is only a dream. But she couldn’t hold him, her pain was too great and she was used to dealing with innocents. It’s hard to capture a soul that’s already lost.
He tried to raise his hand to slap her again, but couldn’t. His lungs were about to burst, his brain about to shut down, when she surprised him by breaking eye contact and throwing him backwards with gorilla power and machine force.
He landed on his back, grabbing air like a man breaking the surface after being too long under water. Three great breaths and he was able to think. A fourth and he could see. She was clutching her face, clawing at the place where he’d slapped her. The light in her eyes was blazing, promising him that special place in her special hell. She raged at the night, sounding like a wounded animal. Her kinky hair caught fire and lit up her face. The black of her skin changed to a hot glowing white and shifted again to icy clearness, allowing him to see her burning brain and the glowing orbs of her eyes.
She hissed and steam rolled out of her mouth. Her lips turned into a pair of burning worms, struggling to crawl off her face. She caught him in a glowing gaze. For an instant he thought she was going to come at him again, and engulf him in the fire and heat of her, but her eyes burst into flame, taking away her sight, leaving her to rage aimlessly, while the fire consumed her, changing her into a mass of glowing oranges, whites and reds as she burned.
Crab-like, he scooted away from her, buttocks scraping the ground as the fireball blazed, radiating the heat of hellfire, singeing his eyebrows from over half a lawn away. He covered his face with his palms and lost the hair on the back of his hands. He tucked his head and rolled across the sidewalk, over the curb, and into the gutter, which afforded him some protection.
Beaten and battered, he raised his head from the protection of the cement curb and chanced a look. The night was losing oxygen to the flame, forcing him to fight for air. He thought again that he might die this night, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the spectacle of her. The ball of hot fire and death rose a few feet from the ground, hovering above the lawn, lighting up the block and casting long shadows.
Then, without warning, it shot into the night sky, pierced the clouds and was gone.
“ Time to move,” he said aloud. He pushed himself up from the gutter, took a quick breath and looked out into the dark. He wanted the gun, but it would take too long to get his night vision back. He had to give it up, which he regretted, because if Carolina found it, she’d know it was his.
Aching, with his hands on his knees, he jerked and staggered back to the car. He crossed himself with his right hand as he reached for the door with his left. He gasped when he saw the back of his hand on the handle and felt pain as his fingers closed around it. He hoped the burns weren’t as bad as they looked.
Fighting the pain and fighting to stay conscious, he managed to get the door open. The key was still in the ignition. He pulled himself inside and started the car. The engine burst to life and he shoved his foot to the floor. The car screeched down the block, leaving behind black skid marks, as porch lights came on and doors started to open.
He was still standing on the gas as took a corner six blocks away. She was angry now and that was good. It would keep her coming after him and he was putting as much distance between himself and his daughter as he could. He took another corner, but was going too fast now and lost control on the rain slicked street.
He tried to turn into the spin, but was too late. The wind was knocked out of him as the car charged over the curb and up onto a lawn. One of the front tires blew, ricocheting through the night like a gunshot. He grabbed a weak breath and stomped on the brakes. The car, still out of control, chewed up a row of hedges as it barreled toward a lone pine tree.
He pushed harder on the brakes. The rear tires locked, ripping up the lawn even more. He yanked on the wheel, pulling it to the right to avoid a head on collision, but he wasn’t quick enough. The left headlight made a popping sound as the glass broke and the left fender screeched as it scraped against the tree. He felt a stinging sensation as a pine branch, bent back by the charging car, gained its freedom when it encountered the open window. Pine needles tore across his face, stinging him and leaving small trails of blood in their wake.
He kept the wheel cranked hard to the right as he pulled his foot from the brake and shoved it back onto the accelerator, and he gobbled more air as the rear wheels sought purchase, digging into the wet grass.
He started to ease off the gas when he saw the wolf, two houses away, in the middle of a another lawn, surrounded by a chain link fence. Staring at him. Daring him. He bit into his lip and tasted blood. Lightning cracked overhead, lighting up the cloud cover and bathing his world in a ghostly glow for a flash of a second. Then black reigned again, greeting the thunder blast that sent shock waves through the night, through the neighborhood, through his body, through his very soul.
He gripped the wheel with a white knuckled fury that set his arms shaking. He hunched over it, clenching his stomach muscles, and shivered, but with anticipation, not fear. He had done battle with her, and he had survived. He had looked into those eyes, and he had survived. He had tasted the stench of her, and he had survived. She was his destiny.
He put his foot to the floor, causing the rear wheels to spin, seeking traction as they dug into the lawn. He eased off on the accelerator a fraction and the tires grabbed into the earth as he slammed the pedal back to the floor. The car started to spin, but when the wheels caught, it shot forward, like a bull charging the cape, tearing through one yard, then the next.
The screeching metal chilled him and charged him as he blasted through the chain link fence. He screamed and locked on to the glaring red eyes of the wolf, glowing with the reflection of the single headlight, and once again he was staring into the pit of her, and once again he tasted her stench.
The beast charged the car, leaping onto the hood, snarling as it smashed into the window. A thousand spider web cracks sizzled through the glass as the wolf bounced off of it, and the car continued its journey across the lawn and through the fence at the other side.
He jerked the wheel to the right, tearing up a fourth lawn as the rear wheels spun on the grass and the car sought the street. He had to drive with his head out the window, with the wind whipping his face, because he couldn’t see through the cracked glass. He held his breath as the car thumped over the curb, fought for control, with only his right hand on the wheel, got it and guided the car down the block, and was around the corner before a single porch light came on.
Two blocks away, going slow with the right front tire thumping like a jack hammer, and his head lolling out the window, like a dog sniffing the breeze, he turned into the alley behind Fremont Avenue. He’d brought two different neighborhoods from sleep to noisy violence. The police were going to be involved. Questions were going to be asked. It was a small town. He was going to have to get rid of the car, but first he had to change the tire.
He stopped behind a restaurant, turned off the single headlight and shut off the engine, plunging his world into sweet, silent dark. It was cool and still foggy. He would have to be very fast. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car, groaning as he tried to stand. Already his body was sore. He gently touched his neck and winced at the pain. It would be black and blue in the morning.
He touched his left check and winced again. It was wet and sticky. He removed his hand and wiped the blood on his Levi’s. His face would be scabbed over soon. That along with his neck, would make him noticeable anywhere, but in this small town he would stand out like a man wearing a tuxedo in jail.
He stepped around a puddle of water and wished he was some place warm, but wishing wouldn’t change the tire. He opened the trunk and pulled out the jack and the tire iron. He set them on the ground and reached in for the spare. His hands screamed as he wrapped them around the tire and his arms and shoulders roared as he lifted it. He dropped it by the jack and hoped his body wouldn’t quit on him before the night was over.
He bent and picked up the tire iron and frowned. The right front tire was sitting in a puddle of muddy water. He had two choices, move the car and get only a little wet as he changed the tire, or kneel in the puddle and get a lot wet. He decided on the latter, mounted the jack and raised the car till most of the pressure was taken off the tire. Then, using the tire iron, he popped the hubcap and loosened and removed the lug nuts. The rental people
