I never thought the day would come when I’d use the term, ‘No shit, Sherlock,’ in a book. But I did. And it fits. Here’s a snippet for you, unedited of course…enjoy!
“Shit, Drake! Were you aiming straight for it?!”
His head felt unnaturally heavy, weighted down like an anchor was attached to the back of his neck, pulling him underwater into the void. Yet, he heard Keel bitching from beside him, and that kept him from fully drowning in the darkness. Drake’s breaths were long and deep, and with each heave of the chest, his chin moved, making his head sway back and forth. It was an uncomfortable way to breathe, so Drake forced his eyes open and lifted a hand to his face, straining the muscles in his neck until they worked again. When he was fully upright, the first thing he saw was the ejected airbag. Part of it rested just on top of his thighs, and looked as if it had been vomited from the steering wheel into his lap. A fine splatter of blood drops covered one side of the material, and Drake felt along his left temple, where the throbbing that echoed inside his brain seemed to start from. All five fingers came back wet with blood.
“What happened?” he asked his hand.
“You went straight at the fucker, that’s what happened, you ass!” Keel yelled.
Drake turned his neck to find Keel safely strapped into his seat, shaking small pebbles of broken glass out of his hair. “What?” he asked.
Keel glanced at Drake and opened his mouth for another insult but let his jaw fall slack before swallowing. “Great. You’re bleeding. What’d you do, hit the window?”
“Hit the window?” Drake touched his temple again and winced. “We’ve been in an accident.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Keel leaned across the truck cab and twisted the ignition key. The engine started with an ugly squeal and Keel sat back in his seat, relieved. “Still works. I’ll drive.”
The sun outside seemed to be sparkling over a small patch of diamonds. It took Drake a moment to realize there were no jewels scattered on the road outside his window, only glass from the accident. He saw the van, pushed completely off the shoulder now, its back end firmly pressed into a tree.
“Anyone hurt?” he asked Keel, who’d already exited his side of the truck and was walking around the front, stretching his neck and cursing.
“Just you, dumb ass.”
“I didn’t see it. The sun,” Drake said, pointing outside. “There was something in the trees…”
“Move over.” Keel opened the driver door and pushed Drake into the passenger seat. “Put this on your head, and stay put.” He tossed a rolled up handkerchief at him before turning away from the truck. “Damn, what a mess.”
Drake blotted at the cut on his head while watching Keel circle the van. He came back to the truck a few minutes later with more concern on his face than Drake had seen before.
“What is it? Someone in there dead?” Drake asked nervously.
“No, it’s empty. Whoever was driving is long gone. But the van…I recognize it.” Keel leaned on the door frame and followed the upward curve of the paved road with his gaze. “This has to stop soon, we’re almost to the top of the damn mountain,” he mumbled.
Drake stared at the smashed van resting in the embankment, noting its faded white paint job and newly smashed front end. One of the tires had exploded from the accident, causing the frame to tilt precariously toward the driver side. His brows furrowed as he tried to place where he’d seen it before. And it came back to him as Keel hopped into the truck and slammed the door shut.
“Those bastards on the road…that’s their van,” Drake said. His mouth filled with the sharp taste of iron, and he spit blood out the missing passenger window from where he’d bit a hole into the side of his tongue.
“Yeah, what are the chances?”
The two men looked at each other briefly before Keel put the truck back in drive and slowly pulled away. They listened to the crunch of the tires moving over the broken glass in silence.
Please don’t let her be with them, Drake thought to himself. Please don’t let those animals have Riley.
– Find Me #3, Coming Soon