164 One Red Light

The Features. How It Starts.






I watched Joey drive off with Katheena in the Maserati Bora. Alone in the dark, with no one but some mangled heaps down to the left, I watched the red tail lights fade and grow together into one red dot.



The rain began to scour the ‘57’s roof like rocks from a fire hose. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t take my eyes off the tiny red dot until it disappeared in the blur of water.



Alone.




Joey had hinted at seeing Lorelei, I was certain of it. But he hadn’t come right out and said her name. He didn’t need to. It was understood. Strange things were happening that night, I tell you. It was one long hell of a day.



It would be one long hell of a night, too.



The seats were cold and hard. Hell, everything inside and out of the Chevy was cold and hard. The dashboard was painted metal: red, like the outside of her. The vinyl seats were not original, but close to it. Cold, hard plastic, which was the fashion back then.



Even the white walled tires were hard, to match the suspension.




And the engine? Well, she was hot and bothered. She wanted to get going, baby, go. Time to blow out some carbon and clean the plugs off. She wanted to drink and I wanted to pour.




I squealed her rear left tire and she hung there for a moment and then she ambled forward. It might take her a bit to get there, but once she did, there was no stopping her.




+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +



Joey looked over at Katheena when she began to cough. Her cough was not easing up. It was becoming continuous, and sort of hollow, like a rattle. It was an empty coughing.




She didn’t open her eyes at all. She didn’t even move her hands up to her mouth. She just coughed like a puppet. It was like she wasn’t there anymore. Her body was chust going through the motions. Joey felt like he was driving a hearse. He looked up and saw his own face in the rearview mirror.




He pushed the mirror away. He didn’t want to see anything anymore. He was just about done with everything that night.



- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -




Tellesco looked over at Sean’s car in the deluge of rain. Sean had swung around and was now facing the other way, on the other side of Tellesco.




Tellesco thought he should turn around as well. He would follow Sean to the grave, if he was asked to. He would go wherever Sean went, and he would do his best to protect Sean. They were best buddies, and that is what best buddies did. They watched out for each other. Buds for life, dude.




But when it came down to brass tacks, well, those intentions were just words. Those words got washed away in the rain. When it was called, the number was wrong.



He could feel evil in his bones. He was no stranger to evil. Evil was a drunken man in a dark hallway, feeling his way along.




Tellesco wanted to jet off in the other direction. He felt it in his bones. Evil was coming.



French Kicks. Trial Of The Century.








Sean looked over at Tellesco’s car. He knew why Tellesco was still facing the other way, and that was ok. In fact, it was a good thing. Whatever was about to happen, perhaps Tellesco would be safe, and he could come back after whatever it was had happened, and he could get Sean to the Hostibal.



He didn’t want anything to happen to Tellesco.




He had to save him.




Self styled martyr, or was it a wannabe hero? Well, whatever was going on in his head, he was headed for another crash.







God Help You.


God Help Us All.



---willies out.





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