announcer brought a rag with some
ice in it. Tom took it, thanked the man and began applying it to
his face.
The kid with the bloody nose led the charge
through a parking lot just past the street. Two others followed
behind, slowly losing speed.
“I think Nick got pinched,” one of the kids
called out.
“Screw ‘em, keep moving…I think we killed
that fuck on the boardwalk,” the kid with the bloody nose said.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t moving.”
At the end of the lot a shimmering ink-spot
of a car appeared with bright lights that seemed to hover just
above the ground. Its engine rattled with precision and when the
driver revved it, it roared like a cougar. It accelerated toward
the three kids as their run turned into a walk. It accelerated
faster than any car should’ve been able to. It struck all three of
the kids, knocking them down like bowling pins. The kid with the
bloody nose lie mangled on the street. His neck broken and his arm
twisted in an unnatural postmortem pose. The other two lie next to
each other, one unconscious but still breathing and the other on
his side clutching at his leg. The car slowly backed up, purring
like a cat that had just been fed. The kid that was still awake
tried to look into the window at the driver, but all he could see
was blackness, like the car was one big wet shadow. He couldn’t
make out what make or model it was. He wasn’t even sure if what he
saw was real. Then the car sped away, kicking up a trail of dust
and dirt. The kid coughed and then tried to wake up his friend, as
the dead one seemed to stare at them from the other side of the
strip.
“I’ll be fine,” Tom told the announcer,
“thanks for helping me out…and for the ice.”
“No problem. Just get that looked at and
take it easy, will ya?”
“I’ll make sure of that,” Sally said, as
they walked away.
“My dad won’t be here for a while still, so
let’s just sit okay,” Tom said.
“Yeah, sure,” Sally said, rubbing his
back.
His father wasn’t supposed to be there yet,
but as they left the boardwalk and headed to the street he was
parked by one of the meters and looked to be getting out.
“Dad, what’re you doing here already?” Tom
asked.
“Oh, yeah, I know I’m early—hey, what the
hell happened to you?”
“He stuck up for me,” Sally answered.
“Are you kids okay?”
“Yeah, just a bit banged up is all,” Tom
tried to act cool about it.
“My ass, we’re taking you to the
hospital.”
“Dad…”
“No arguments.”
“Fine.”
They walked to the car and Tom’s father
opened the door for both of them, but before getting into the car
Tom spotted a red mark on the hood.
“Looks like blood on the car, dad,” Tom
pointed out.
“That’s not blood, kiddo, had a couple of
troublemakers throwing food at the side of the road after I dropped
you two off. Strawberry syrup. Guess they didn’t care for the ice
cream here too much, I always liked it.”
“I liked the ice cream,” Sally said, “it's
the jerks I could do without.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Tom’s father said,
closing the door.
They drove off, heading to the hospital in a
car as black as the night itself.
About the author
Steve Wands lives in New Jersey with
his wife and son. He’s a comic book letterer for DC Comics by day, and an artist and writer by night. He drinks massive
amounts of coffee, and sleeps very little. He is the author of Stay Dead: The Stranger and Tunnel Rats, Words Like Daggers,
Modern Nightmares, Damaged, and plenty of short stories. He
also co-edited and contributed to Dark: A Horror Anthology .
Visit his blog here: http://www.stevewands.blogspot.com
Discover other titles (Stay Dead: The
Stranger & Tunnel Rats, Dark: A Horror Anthology) by Steve
Wands at https://www.smashwords.com
Check out the Stay Dead blog:
http://www.pleasestaydead.blogspot.com
Nice words from nice people about Stay
Dead: The Stranger
ice in it. Tom took it, thanked the man and began applying it to
his face.
The kid with the bloody nose led the charge
through a parking lot just past the street. Two others followed
behind, slowly losing speed.
“I think Nick got pinched,” one of the kids
called out.
“Screw ‘em, keep moving…I think we killed
that fuck on the boardwalk,” the kid with the bloody nose said.
“You think so?”
“Yeah, he wasn’t moving.”
At the end of the lot a shimmering ink-spot
of a car appeared with bright lights that seemed to hover just
above the ground. Its engine rattled with precision and when the
driver revved it, it roared like a cougar. It accelerated toward
the three kids as their run turned into a walk. It accelerated
faster than any car should’ve been able to. It struck all three of
the kids, knocking them down like bowling pins. The kid with the
bloody nose lie mangled on the street. His neck broken and his arm
twisted in an unnatural postmortem pose. The other two lie next to
each other, one unconscious but still breathing and the other on
his side clutching at his leg. The car slowly backed up, purring
like a cat that had just been fed. The kid that was still awake
tried to look into the window at the driver, but all he could see
was blackness, like the car was one big wet shadow. He couldn’t
make out what make or model it was. He wasn’t even sure if what he
saw was real. Then the car sped away, kicking up a trail of dust
and dirt. The kid coughed and then tried to wake up his friend, as
the dead one seemed to stare at them from the other side of the
strip.
“I’ll be fine,” Tom told the announcer,
“thanks for helping me out…and for the ice.”
“No problem. Just get that looked at and
take it easy, will ya?”
“I’ll make sure of that,” Sally said, as
they walked away.
“My dad won’t be here for a while still, so
let’s just sit okay,” Tom said.
“Yeah, sure,” Sally said, rubbing his
back.
His father wasn’t supposed to be there yet,
but as they left the boardwalk and headed to the street he was
parked by one of the meters and looked to be getting out.
“Dad, what’re you doing here already?” Tom
asked.
“Oh, yeah, I know I’m early—hey, what the
hell happened to you?”
“He stuck up for me,” Sally answered.
“Are you kids okay?”
“Yeah, just a bit banged up is all,” Tom
tried to act cool about it.
“My ass, we’re taking you to the
hospital.”
“Dad…”
“No arguments.”
“Fine.”
They walked to the car and Tom’s father
opened the door for both of them, but before getting into the car
Tom spotted a red mark on the hood.
“Looks like blood on the car, dad,” Tom
pointed out.
“That’s not blood, kiddo, had a couple of
troublemakers throwing food at the side of the road after I dropped
you two off. Strawberry syrup. Guess they didn’t care for the ice
cream here too much, I always liked it.”
“I liked the ice cream,” Sally said, “it's
the jerks I could do without.”
“Couldn’t agree more,” Tom’s father said,
closing the door.
They drove off, heading to the hospital in a
car as black as the night itself.
About the author
Steve Wands lives in New Jersey with
his wife and son. He’s a comic book letterer for DC Comics by day, and an artist and writer by night. He drinks massive
amounts of coffee, and sleeps very little. He is the author of Stay Dead: The Stranger and Tunnel Rats, Words Like Daggers,
Modern Nightmares, Damaged, and plenty of short stories. He
also co-edited and contributed to Dark: A Horror Anthology .
Visit his blog here: http://www.stevewands.blogspot.com
Discover other titles (Stay Dead: The
Stranger & Tunnel Rats, Dark: A Horror Anthology) by Steve
Wands at https://www.smashwords.com
Check out the Stay Dead blog:
http://www.pleasestaydead.blogspot.com
Nice words from nice people about Stay
Dead: The Stranger
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