Simon twisted the steering wheel hard and the SUV screeched around a corner, pointing him in a direction he wasn’t certain he’d been before. Dilapidated houses lined both sides of the street and he cursed as he pushed the SUV harder. He prayed that he’d find a landmark soon that would tell him where he was. He knew he wasn’t very far from the housing addition, but it felt like he was in a different world with the condition of the homes in this area. Yards were scattered with waist high weeds and abandoned cars lined most driveways as he shot through the residential area.
He finally slowed the car and shook his head as his vision began to blur. He had made such a point of guzzling booze to kill time and give him the chance to formulate a plan of escape, but now the effects were starting to hit him.
Hard.
He slowed the car and sat idle at the intersection. More worn down houses lined the streets and he had no earthly idea where he was. He reached into the rear seat and pulled another bottle of booze forward, more from habit than the desire to add to his buzz. He cracked the cap and took a sip rather than a long pull, taking a moment to enjoy the burn as it went down and leaning back in his seat. “Which way, Mr. Walker?” He sat the bottle of Black Label scotch in the passenger seat and stared down the lonely roads.
“We damned sure ain’t leaving town without my horse.” He belched again and felt the acid climb his throat. He turned in the seat and stared at the cargo area. “Hmm. Maybe I should have broken into a sandwich shop first and got some food.”
He turned back to face the front and grinned at his stupidity. “Who needs food when you got memory repellent?”
He pushed the car forward, easing through the “bad side” of town. He glanced at the numerous houses and shook his head. He’d definitely stayed in worse in his life. He stopped in front of a house that looked less run down. “Maybe there’s a bed that ain’t been shit on.” He pulled the car into the driveway and stepped out. A quick peek through the windows had him stepping back.
The place reminded him of a flop house. He could imagine the layer of used syringes scattered about and he cringed. “I think I’d rather sleep this off in the gutter than risk the Hepatitis Hotel.”
He staggered back to the car and pulled back onto the street. He cruised slowly and methodically through the housing addition, the car swaying between the lanes until he spotted a mini mall in the distance.
He mashed the pedal and hopped the curb, cutting through a vacant lot and bouncing back onto the paved parking area. He parked the car at an angle and shut off the engine. “This here’s as good a place as any.”
He leaned the seat back and closed his eyes for just a moment…he just needed to rest his head for a moment…and sleep took him quickly.
Chapter 18
Hatcher rolled to all fours and sucked hard, trying to pull air into his lungs. He coughed violently and fell back onto his ass, his arms flailing.
“You okay, Hatch?” Roger tried to pull him to his feet and Daniel waved him off. “Come on, man. Just breathe.”
Hatcher nodded as he continued to forcefully try to pull air into his lungs. “I’m…trying,” he croaked.
“The asshole got away, man. I’m sorry.”
Hatcher shook his head as he continued to pull air into his lungs. He slowly came to his feet and bent over, spitting onto the garage floor. “It’s okay man; my fault.” He forced himself to stand up straight and inhaled deeply. “I thought he was too sauced to make a move like that.” He glanced to Roger and shook his head. “Suckered me.”
Roger nodded and helped him to the driveway. Hatcher grimaced as he tried to walk. “May have broken a few ribs…really hurts to breathe.”
“If he didn’t crack them, he probably bruised a few.” Roger helped to steady him. “I don’t think we could catch him if I had wheels right here.”
Hatcher waved him off. “Just get the truck. We can go home.” He stared off toward the gates. “I’m sure we haven’t seen the last of him.”
Roger groaned. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll never show his ugly mug again.”
“That’s just it,” Hatcher sighed. “He’s too stupid to know what’s good for him.”
Roger trotted to the edge of the cul-de-sac and pulled the truck from the garage. He drove it to Hatcher and helped him into the cab. “We can go and search for him.” He drove slowly, allowing Hatcher a moment to consider their options. “If you really think he’ll try to cause more trouble, then I think we should at least drive around a bit and see if we can spot him.”
Hatcher shook his head. “Town’s too big. He could hide anywhere.” He pointed out the windshield. “Just take us back. We’ll deal with him when we have to.”
He leaned against the passenger door and held his ribs with his arm. Roger slowed the truck for a rough spot in the road and watched Hatcher grimace as the truck bounced over it. “You okay?”
Hatcher nodded slowly. “It only hurts when I breathe.”
“That can’t be good.” Roger picked up the pace, being careful to avoid rough patches.
“I’ve had broken ribs before. You just wrap them tight with a wide ACE bandage. It helps a lot with the pain.”
“Wrapping broken ribs helps with the pain?”
Hatcher shrugged. “I know, it doesn’t make sense, but it works.”
