Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Light Ray Blues, Series 2, Instalment 17: Drive he said

When we left Leslie she had sent two would be kidnappers running and was last seen driving like crazy to Sharbot Station. Buckle up bucko, we're in for a wild ride . . . .

Knock, knock, knock.

“Leslie, wake up.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“Come on Leslie.”

The Sharbot Station clock said it was 5:30 in the morning. Leslie was three hours early and asleep behind the wheel of a four-door sedan in the station’s minuscule three slot parking lot. Mary and I had stayed out of sight all night behind a stack of ties piled a little ways away from the station on the off chance that someone might come back to look for us. I woke up early and it was only by accident that I saw Leslie's car while on a little walk to stretch out my right leg. Lucky for me Mary could pick locks and freed me from the ankle cuff, but twist was still causing me grief. I ran back and woke up Mary. We hustled right over to the car so we could get out of there PDQ.

Leslie was dead asleep. I could see her through the driver’s side window. Arms folded on the steering wheel with her head resting on them. I could hear snoring. Hear it clean through shatterproof automobile glass. 

Mary knocked on the passenger side widow.

I knocked on the driver’s glass again. My knuckles were starting to hurt.

Leslie slowly lifted her head and turned to see who it was. I had a two-day beard, so maybe she was too groggy to recognize me. She reached down, grabbed the crank and rolled down the window. 


“Yes, it’s me Leslie. Why don’t you get in the backseat and let me drive.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“I insist.”

I reached in through the window and unlocked the driver’s door and the rear passenger door. Leslie left the key in the ignition, climbed out and got in the backseat. I got in behind the wheel, reached across to the passenger side and unlocked the door for Mary.

“Which way Leslie?” I called to the rearview mirror.

“Turn around, turn left out of this lot, go straight to the intersection, then right on 62, then keep going straight till Gordoborough. Stop somewhere around there to eat.”


Leslie laid down and stretched out on the backseat, but had one last sleepy parting thought, “You don’t have your license. Somebody stole your wallet.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I called back to her over my shoulder.

I heard snoring.

I gunned it.

Instalment 18 can be found here.

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