on me, and after a second it dropped away. “Look, Carl,” I said in a much more sober tone,“let’s be straight here. I don’t know what you’re up to, but I know you’re up to something. As such, I’m not very likely to accept your invitation, however kindly it’s meant. The fact that you clearly drove out here just to pick me up and maybe turn around doesn’t make my mind any easier about the whole thing. So let’s deal with this like men. You drive back into town, or take care of your business out here. I’ll keep walking, and if I find someone else and they’re friendly, I’ll hitch with them. Otherwise, it’s a good walk, the sort Father might have needed back in the day.”
I saw him stiffen at that, and the lines of his face tightened. “Now isn’t the time to be talking about that sort of thing,” he said in a low, sharp voice. “It’s a long walk into town, and a longer one back. I just thought I’d save you the trouble.”
“Hopefully, I won’t be walking back,” I said. “If the police can’t find my car, I’ll need a new one, and I don’t think I can wait for the insurance company to settle before I get one.”
“The police won’t find your car,” he said flatly. He climbed back into the cab of his truck. Gravel shot out from beneath the wheels as he did a three-point turn as fast as anyone I’d ever seen. The right corner of his front bumper barely missed knocking me into the ditch, and then he was gone. The truck rumbled off into the distance, leaving me choking on the dust and fumes.
“Now that’s interesting,” I said as the cloud slowly settled back onto the road. Then I started walking again.
I finally caught a ride about two miles farther on. It was a young fellow I didn’t know who stopped, pulling his pickup over to the side of the road and telling me to climb in back. He’d offer me a seat in the cab, he said, but his dog was sitting there and it had precedence. His face was open and broad, and he had a blacksweep-broom mustache underneath a nose someone had broken a couple of times. I decided I liked the man right off, and settled into his cargo bay next to a couple of bags of cement and some ornamental bricks.
We spoke, when the ride wasn’t too noisy, through the window in the back of the cab. His name was Samuel, and he’d moved into town proper a couple of years before Mother died. He’d heard about my house and was interested to see who lived there. It, and Carl, it seemed, had become a local legend. Kids told stories about it, about how it was supposed to be haunted. No one had ever actually seen a ghost, of course, but that didn’t stop the talking. The brave ones would drive out there at night in the summer and repeat my experiment with the lightning bugs. That didn’t make me feel any better for what I’d done, but it told me the fireflies had been acting strange for a while.
At least, that’s what Sam said, and I believed him. There didn’t seem to be any reason for him to lie. His dog was a tick hound named Asa, sad-eyed and slow moving. It just sat in that front seat and watched me all the way in. It was a well-trained dog. It never made a sound the whole time we rode together.
When we finally hit town, Sam—he said he preferred it to his given name—pulled over in front of the police station and let me hop out. “If you ever need another ride, you can call me,” he said, and then drove off. I realized after the fact that he hadn’t given me a last name or a number. Calling him would be difficult if I had the need. Then again, I was in town to make sure I didn’t need to make that call, or any others I didn’t want to make. I turned to the building and made my way inside.
I had only vague memories of the police station from my youth, but what I saw before me matched them pretty well. The building was two stories tall and made of brick, with a sign overthe doorway that proudly announced that this was in fact the home of law and
I saw him stiffen at that, and the lines of his face tightened. “Now isn’t the time to be talking about that sort of thing,” he said in a low, sharp voice. “It’s a long walk into town, and a longer one back. I just thought I’d save you the trouble.”
“Hopefully, I won’t be walking back,” I said. “If the police can’t find my car, I’ll need a new one, and I don’t think I can wait for the insurance company to settle before I get one.”
“The police won’t find your car,” he said flatly. He climbed back into the cab of his truck. Gravel shot out from beneath the wheels as he did a three-point turn as fast as anyone I’d ever seen. The right corner of his front bumper barely missed knocking me into the ditch, and then he was gone. The truck rumbled off into the distance, leaving me choking on the dust and fumes.
“Now that’s interesting,” I said as the cloud slowly settled back onto the road. Then I started walking again.
I finally caught a ride about two miles farther on. It was a young fellow I didn’t know who stopped, pulling his pickup over to the side of the road and telling me to climb in back. He’d offer me a seat in the cab, he said, but his dog was sitting there and it had precedence. His face was open and broad, and he had a blacksweep-broom mustache underneath a nose someone had broken a couple of times. I decided I liked the man right off, and settled into his cargo bay next to a couple of bags of cement and some ornamental bricks.
We spoke, when the ride wasn’t too noisy, through the window in the back of the cab. His name was Samuel, and he’d moved into town proper a couple of years before Mother died. He’d heard about my house and was interested to see who lived there. It, and Carl, it seemed, had become a local legend. Kids told stories about it, about how it was supposed to be haunted. No one had ever actually seen a ghost, of course, but that didn’t stop the talking. The brave ones would drive out there at night in the summer and repeat my experiment with the lightning bugs. That didn’t make me feel any better for what I’d done, but it told me the fireflies had been acting strange for a while.
At least, that’s what Sam said, and I believed him. There didn’t seem to be any reason for him to lie. His dog was a tick hound named Asa, sad-eyed and slow moving. It just sat in that front seat and watched me all the way in. It was a well-trained dog. It never made a sound the whole time we rode together.
When we finally hit town, Sam—he said he preferred it to his given name—pulled over in front of the police station and let me hop out. “If you ever need another ride, you can call me,” he said, and then drove off. I realized after the fact that he hadn’t given me a last name or a number. Calling him would be difficult if I had the need. Then again, I was in town to make sure I didn’t need to make that call, or any others I didn’t want to make. I turned to the building and made my way inside.
I had only vague memories of the police station from my youth, but what I saw before me matched them pretty well. The building was two stories tall and made of brick, with a sign overthe doorway that proudly announced that this was in fact the home of law and
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