Scare Tactics Read Online Free PDF Page B

phosphorescent wake of putrefaction in the air. There was a seething corona, as of tainted, primordial gas, all around it. The thing belched more gases and rumbled and laughed at me. Yes, that sound could be interpreted as a laugh, though it was so dreadful I knew I was condemned to hear it repeated even in those few hours of exhausted sleep I would be entitled to for the rest of my natural life.
    “Long as you’re up, pal,” my muse said to me, “why don’t we get to work?”

horrorshow

•    1    •
    The Star-Light Drive-In
    N ealy Bazemore stopped on the way to his shift at Lockheed for breakfast at the All-Niter Trucker’s Haven, which he did whenever his wife overslept or was out of town visiting relatives. The waitress he’d been casually hitting on, Taryn Melwood, was talking to some freak at the other end of the counter: young guy, tall and gaunt, but who could tell for sure about his age the way he wore his hair, and there was some gray showing in his straggly beard. He looked well-traveled. Taryn smiled as if she were really interested in whatever line the guy was handing her; but that was part of her job. Nealy fidgeted until he was able to catch her eye. Taryn came down to his end of the counter after drawing a mug of coffee for him.
    “Running late this morning,” she commented.
    “Yeah.” Nealy glanced at the bearded guy and the greasy blue backpack beside his stool. “Get all kinds off the road, don’t you?”
    “Hero? He’s not so bad. He’s from England, how about that? Been in here off and on the last couple weeks.”
    “Say what? ‘Hero’?”
    “That’s what he says to call him. I can’t pronounce his regular name. He’s into all kinds of interesting stuff: astrology, and, you know, reads palms. Anyway, what are you having this morning, Nealy?”
    “What do I always have, darlin’?”
    “Coming right up.” Taryn bustled off to relay his breakfast order to the kitchen.
    Nealy only had a few minutes, and Taryn was always busy at this time of the day, so when she served him his eggs over easy and sausage links he said, “Gaynell’s gone on down to Columbus to help out while her sister-in-law’s sick from her gallbladder, and Gaynell’s mama has the kids. I got me two tickets for George Strait at Six Flags which I hate to see go to waste, so like I was wondering—”
    Taryn didn’t say anything, just glanced at him in a lively way before picking up another order and hustling it down near where the bearded Englishman was getting up from his stool. Taryn gave the shabby traveler a quick smile and a shrug to indicate she didn’t have the time to talk or get her palm read.
    Nealy watched them, his lip curling. Well, tough luck, pardner. You’re just not that little gal’s type.
    Nealy had known Taryn, his wife’s third cousin, most of her life, and had coveted her since she was a ripe fourteen. She was coarsely blond with brown roots, kept her hair that way on purpose, and it didn’t look tacky because she was young enough to get away with anything. She had big dark brown eyes and made them appear bigger with a lot of eye makeup, but she never bothered with lipstick. Her lips were naturally red and so well-shaped it gave him palpitations when he thought about kissing her.
    The bearded guy passed behind Nealy with his backpack, and Nealy smelled him: not dirty, exactly, but pungent, an outdoorsman’s taint as if he slept in the woods. Nealy’s eggs got a little cold because he couldn’t concentrate on anything but Taryn and her teasing non-response. She took her time getting back to him.
    “You’re not through with that?” she said, looking at his plate.
    Nealy nodded and reached for a toothpick. Their eyes met. Taryn gave a little what-the-hell shake of her head and shoulders and smiled and said, “What time?”
    “Six-thirty?”
    “I’m in love with George Strait,” Taryn said severely, as if that let Nealy out. But Nealy felt close to bursting just the