A pale, dusty dusk settle over the flat, Texas plain. Slowly, the stone-strewn gravel roads drained themselves of the bustling blood sustaining desolate desert life. Mothers gathered their children about them, glancing into the shadows as they corralled them into the house. For a few minutes, dark yellow lights glumly glowed from the homesteads- billows of smoke poisoning the air as they spilled from the stacks. Scents of cooking meat and roasting vegetables seared the atmosphere. Then, with sluggish languidity shades draped over the houses’ drooping eyes, extinguishing the light with its black barricade.
Connor Adams, arm resting on the wheel of an old red truck, squinted into the blackness, counting homes as he passed by. Beyond him, the country yawned on and on, deep and cavernous, waiting to swallow him whole. 1, 2, 3….
Rocks rolled under his tires, jarring his way as he bounced along, headlights plowing their way through the night. 4, 5, 6….
Tossing a nervous glance behind his shoulder, he pulled into the seventh driveway. A slight chuckle escaped his lips as his eyes lighted upon the garage door. Crisp, crimson paint contrasted sharply against the withered planks, which were washed in a cracked coat of white. The red cross, still freshly vivid, bled its pitiful tears, crying out in scarlet drops for the community that created it. Through its middle, it tolerated a terrible black slash, and beneath it, inky, emboldened words made this statement:
“Painted with the blood of the Lamb.”
Connor chuckled again, imagining what the young reverend’s reaction must have been when he saw it. The color had probably drained right out of his enthusiastic, cheery face. He might have even dropped his Bible. Now that would’ve been a sight to see!
Tap, tap!
Jumping out of his reverie, the boy peered out of his window and into the dark, dreary world. His girlfriend, Amelia, stood outside, huddled against the cold of the night. She held her hot pink purse protectively to her being.
Click!
The doors popped open with a press of his finger. Winking at the girl, he gestured to her with a flick of his head. Uneasiness echoed in her gaze, and she turned towards the slumbering house once more.
Knitting his brows together, he bit his lip. She wasn’t usually like this. Something must be wrong.
Beneath the gentle rap of his knuckles, a hollow pound resounded, resonating like judgmental gavel. “C’mon, Amy….”
She faced him once again. Beckoning her inside, he pointed to his wrist. They didn’t have much time.
Uncertainty still rang through her being. Staring at him dumbly, she wavered, swaying a bit with the blow of the wind. A little voice whispered inside her, small and still in this breathless moment- this pivotal choice. It begged her, beseeched her, to go back, to return to her parents, to listen to them, and to never look back.
Looking behind her once more, she sighed. They were sure to find out- bound to find out. She couldn’t hide forever.
Pound, pound, pound!
When she turned around, Connor gazed back at her, his big, brown eyes swallowing her in his snare. Slowly, she reached out, fingers wrapping around the car door handle. She had promised. Given her word. And she couldn’t bail out. Not now.
Pulling upon the handle, she swung the door ajar and climbed in. The worn cushions failed to comfort the squeaking seats, releasing eerie moans from the pit of the vehicle. Quickly, she thrust her purse onto her lap and reached for her seat belt. The heat of Connor’s keen gaze prickled the back of her neck, beads of sweat breaking over the surface of her skin. Sliding the belt into its little receiver, she locked herself into her fate.
She refused to look at him, concentrating all her attentions alluding to somewhere else…somewhere beyond the fragile silence fallen between them. The unknown force fettered her body in tremulous shakes. Peeling back the zipper of her bag, she dove her hands deep inside, probing at the darkness gawking at her through the gaping hole. Lipstick, coupons, wallet….
The subtle drumming of her heart escalated into a wild pound, ringing throughout the perverted night, filling it with the knowledge of their very presence. Leaping nimbly over the contents, her fingers fled about, retreating from the time she knew was not their friend.
She halted. Pressing lightly down, she explored the item found. Plastic molded beneath her touch, mounding only at the bottom. A sigh escaped her lips. It was still there.
“Right,” she said, zipping up the bag and encircling it in her arms once more. Flipping her chin into the air, she set her jaw, staring down the dark cloak smothering the windows with the lack of light. “Hurry, before they see us.”
The ancient motor sputtered and spat, grunting as it struggled to start. Shoving the key deeper into the ignition, Connor’s face convulsed into many lines as he twisted it about. Amelia looked at him, concern creeping past her nervous composure. Tense silence tautened the atmosphere, suffocating them in its close quarters.
Groaning one last time, an outburst of ire issued from the throat of the vehicle, winding its fateful spin through the darkness of the night. The thread of threat looped around the moment, constricting all into the confinements of its slight, slender, knot. Digging her fingers into the seat, Amelia braced herself. Lurching, the engine roared into life, the beams of light before them once more paving their way.
Swerving around pot holes, Connor gripped the steering wheel with a steady hand. Amelia set her jaw, eyes glued to the house hung with the awnings of blackness. Her heart fluttered like a wingless bird, wanting nothing more than to soar, to get out of this mess, to be free. With every passing second, the roll of the wheels sent the building further and further into the shadows. Just a little more now….
They pulled onto the road and, with great stealth, crept quietly away.
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