The 13th by John Everson

front room was just big enough to put a couch, an easy chair and a TV in, and she used what was probably supposed to be a fourth bedroom on the main floor as a second family room where she kept her sewing machine and a couple bookcases. David liked staying there despite its closeness, because Aunt Elsie slept on the main floor in the largest bedroom, which meant he had both upstairs bedrooms and the bath there to himself.
    He looked at a country-style three-story on Culligan Street and just shook his head. The upstairs master bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows and a walk-out balcony. You could probably fit most of Aunt Elsie’s house in those peoples’ bedroom!
    David pulled off the subdivision’s paved route and onto a dirt trail that ran up a hill and down to merge with Park Street just behind the Clam Shack. The late-afternoon heat beating off the asphalt was starting to get to him, and he considered stopping along the forested path to rest.
    A squirrel darted out in front of his bike and froze. At the last possible second, but before David couldbrake, the animal took off into the brush, leaves rustling behind it. Close call.
    That would be a good one. Yesterday get hit by a cop, today get hit by a squirrel. He opted not to stop—once he did, his legs would stiffen, and he didn’t want to tackle the incline between Main and Second with a charley horse.
    In minutes, he was gliding down the dirt trail where he’d kissed Brenda the night before. He recognized a huge log decomposing at the side of the trail, and then he was at the Shack’s back parking lot. Where he’d peed in front of a girl too.
    Oh man. No wonder she’d blown him off last night. Who cares if she was dropping trou…he should not have followed that lead. What if she saw his stuff and thought…
    He pushed the thought from his head and circled the bar, noting the beat-up red siding and ripped screens all around. The white soffits had been painted recently, but aside from that, the building looked as if it was slowly moldering into the earth. Even the red neon sign looked forty years old in the daylight; at night all you could see was the flickering call to all barflies within a twenty-mile radius.
    David took a long pull from his water bottle and realized that his head was pounding a little less in sync with his pedaling, and he hadn’t felt like puking in at least a mile. His eyes still felt sunken and fried, but a night’s sleep would solve that. Tomorrow he intended to be back out on 190 across the ridge. Today was just a reminder ride.
    He pulled up the hill on Park and gasped as his legs slowed. It was like running up steps that never ended. Finally, just as he thought he couldn’t stomp his feet toward the pavement anymore, the familiar brown brick of Aunt Elsie’s house came into view,and he turned the corner and pulled into her cracked asphalt drive. That was one of the projects he’d promised her this summer—the drive needed a strong dose of crack filler and sealant.
    There was a police cruiser parked out on the street, but David didn’t think much about it until he ditched the bike in the garage and walked in the kitchen door.
    “David, is that you?” his aunt called from the front room. “There’s someone here to see you.”
    Now? David cried mentally. He could barely walk, he was puffing like he’d run a marathon and sweat was pouring in torrents down his temples and across his cheeks. He grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen drawer and solved the latter issue, and then walked into the living room.
    “You!” was the first word out of the blonde policewoman’s mouth.
    David blinked twice when he saw her. While her outfit was regulation—navy pants, black belt and medium blue shirt buttoned to the neck, there was no mistaking the wavy curls of honey blonde hair that cascaded across her shoulders and sent unruly wisps out to straggle across her cheeks. Yesterday when she’d run him over, Christy had looked casually sexy.