Chain Letter Read Online Free PDF Page B

smoke. He answered Kipp, but his voice
     was lost in the crowd and the ringing ears.
    “You’re going to have to speak up!” Kipp shouted.
    Using hand signs, Neil managed to get across the message that they should follow him.
     Tony stumbled obediently on his heels, bumping into Joan whenever possible, with her
     hanging on to his pants pockets, giggling and cursing up a storm as they dodged people
     and slid between jammed cars. The maze seemed endless. Finally, however, Neil halted
     and by golly if they weren’t standing next to Kipp’s pride and joy—a super-charged
     ’97 Ford. Kipp had parked at the farend of the lot where they could supposedly enjoy a quick getaway. Too bad the exits
     were all on the other end of the lot.
    The wait in the traffic was tedious. The concert had strung them all up and now they
     had to move like snails. A half hour later and they were still captives of the carbon-monoxide-spouting
     train. To pass the time, Kipp—who was driving, naturally—and Brenda set to work on
     the remainder of the beer. Joan even had a couple of cans, though her dad always gave
     her a sobriety test when she got home from being out late, and Tony thought what the
     hell and put away a couple of beers himself. The alcohol seemed to dull the ringing
     in his head. Neil took a can, too, after prodding from Brenda, but nursed it carefully.
    They were on the verge of a breakthrough to the street that led to the freeway when
     someone knocked on their window.
    “Alison!” Brenda squealed when Kipp rolled down the window, letting in a fog of exhaust.
     “Wow! It’s sooo amazing running into you here!”
    “Brenda, I was with you when we bought tickets for this concert,” Alison said, ducking
     her head partway into the car. Her curly black hair was held back with a pin and there
     were oil stains on her hands. She looked slightly exasperated, unusual for her—Alison
     always impressed Tony as being in control. He was sitting in the backseat and, for
     reasons known only to his sober mind, he immediately took his hand off Joan’s knee.
     “Hi Neil! Hi Joan!” She smiled. “Like the concert, Tony?”
    He grinned. “Wasn’t loud enough.”
    “Having car trouble?” Neil asked from the dark corner of the backseat. The car in
     front was moving and if they didn’t move too, the horns would start quick. Alison
     held up her oily hands.
    “Yes. Fran and I are killing the battery. It just refuses to turn over. Could you
     please . . . ”
    “Call the auto club,” Joan interrupted. “I’ve got to get back soon or my old man will
     be out on the porch with his shotgun.” The car behind them honked. “Come on, Kipp.
     Move it.”
    “Pull over to the left,” Tony said, though he knew Joan’s dad disliked him and would
     only be too happy to have an excuse to castrate him with buckshot. Joan scowled but
     held her tongue.
    “Sure,” Kipp said. Alison stepped back and he swung out of line, their personal slot
     vanishing quickly. The glaring rows of headlights at their back made it a sure bet
     it would be a while before they got another shot at the freeway.
    Fran’s car was a Toyota Corolla, and Kipp promptly snorted his disgust for Japanese
     workmanship. While he tried jumping the battery, Tony checked for loose wires and
     Neil peered in the gas tank. All systems appeared go until Kipp put the jumper cables
     directly on the starter. It didn’t so much as click, and they knew where they stood.
    “Call the auto club,” Joan repeated when they paused for a hasty conference on what
     to do next. “You’re a member, aren’t you, Fran?”
    “I don’t know. Am I?”
    “I am,” Alison said. “I guess I could call . . . ”
    “No,” Tony said quickly. “It would take one of their men forever to get through this
     traffic. This is a run-down area. Neither of you would be safe waiting around. You’re
     coming home with us.”
    “But my dad will have to drive all the way out here