Read Online 300 Miles to Galveston by Rick Wiedeman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rick Wiedeman
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She hugged harder. “Wait wait wait. How are you running like that?”
“Oh! It’s the weirdest thing. It just healed.” She showed him her knee. There was a light scar, no stitches.
“The stitches fell out?”
“I guess. I didn’t see them when... those guys came.”
She told her father the story.
Bane had heard them coming and hidden behind the bench with his pistol crossbow. When the boys approached Sophie, who was still asleep, Bane stood and told them to leave. One boy put his hands up and started walking off, but the other grabbed Sophie and laughed. “Whatchu gonna do, gimpy? Shoot her?” Before she was fully conscious, Sophie dug her nails into his ribcage, and bit two of his fingers off as he tried to slap her away.
“I think I swallowed one,” she said.
He looked at her eyes. They were still green, but there was a hazel patch at 10 o’clock on her left eye, and at 2 o’clock on her right eye.
“You feel OK?”
“Yeah. Actually, I feel great.”
“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Me too. And I shouldn’t.”
“Sorry to scare you like that,” Bane said as he approached. “But where the hell did you go?”
Kurt tossed him the Advil bottle. “Gas station. Like I said.”
“There’s blood in your hair.”
“Yeah, but it’s OK. I dunno how to explain it. Those boys beat me badly. Hit me back here... and then I couldn’t see. But when I woke up this morning, I was fine. Took me a minute to remember everything, but it’s come back to me, now. Where are those thugs, anyway?”
Bane kept his eyes level. “One ran off. The other we…” he drew his finger across his neck, “and threw in the creek.”
“You get your crossbow bolt back?”
“Never fired it.”
Sophie was still hugging Kurt. He placed his hand on her head, and looked to Bane, who nodded.
“Dad, you stink.”
They walked down to the creek and rinsed out their things. As they washed, Bane tuned the radio.
“This is the USS Fort Worth at Coast Guard Station Galveston. We have room for 35 survivors. We will update the count as we accept new passengers. Message repeats.”
Chapter 8: Fearfully and Wonderfully
They followed the access road to Central Expressway, Highway 75, one of the three north-south arteries of Dallas. Where they connected were a series of bridged spirals, but they stayed on the ground, peddling smoothly. There was a gentle uphill climb, then down for the next couple of miles. A few cars were abandoned on the highway, and once they saw a confused deer, but that was all. No people. No trash. It looked like people had just given up and walked away.
When they saw the exit for Knox-Henderson, Bane spoke up.
“Used to be some great stores down there. You ever go to the store at the back of Weir’s? Neat stuff. Candy, quirky toys. Hard to explain what they had – it was just cool.”
Kurt nodded. “If I really liked a lady, I’d get her something from Urban Flower.”
They didn’t pause as they passed the exits, but they talked about the times they’d had at Mockingbird Station and Lower Greenville. Finally, they climbed the slope up to the end of 75, where in another turn it would become 45 South to Houston. To the right stood downtown Dallas, silent. Fountain Place, a late-modernist skyscraper shaped like a stretching crystal, reflected the sky and clouds, while the Chase Building, with its bifurcated, convex roof, looked like a giant penis made out of Legos.
The highway curved left, and then right, and then became 45 South to Houston. They all raised their hands together in a silent woo! .
The day was beautiful. There was about a 5 mile per hour wind from the west, not enough to require constant steering adjustment, and as they passed through South Dallas into Dallas County, the land began to look like Texas again: old trees, broad fields, and wide skies. Crows cawed, and wild horses watched them pass.
Horses.
Kurt looked to Bane. “You ever ride horses?”
“No. We had goats.
“Oh! It’s the weirdest thing. It just healed.” She showed him her knee. There was a light scar, no stitches.
“The stitches fell out?”
“I guess. I didn’t see them when... those guys came.”
She told her father the story.
Bane had heard them coming and hidden behind the bench with his pistol crossbow. When the boys approached Sophie, who was still asleep, Bane stood and told them to leave. One boy put his hands up and started walking off, but the other grabbed Sophie and laughed. “Whatchu gonna do, gimpy? Shoot her?” Before she was fully conscious, Sophie dug her nails into his ribcage, and bit two of his fingers off as he tried to slap her away.
“I think I swallowed one,” she said.
He looked at her eyes. They were still green, but there was a hazel patch at 10 o’clock on her left eye, and at 2 o’clock on her right eye.
“You feel OK?”
“Yeah. Actually, I feel great.”
“Yeah,” Kurt said. “Me too. And I shouldn’t.”
“Sorry to scare you like that,” Bane said as he approached. “But where the hell did you go?”
Kurt tossed him the Advil bottle. “Gas station. Like I said.”
“There’s blood in your hair.”
“Yeah, but it’s OK. I dunno how to explain it. Those boys beat me badly. Hit me back here... and then I couldn’t see. But when I woke up this morning, I was fine. Took me a minute to remember everything, but it’s come back to me, now. Where are those thugs, anyway?”
Bane kept his eyes level. “One ran off. The other we…” he drew his finger across his neck, “and threw in the creek.”
“You get your crossbow bolt back?”
“Never fired it.”
Sophie was still hugging Kurt. He placed his hand on her head, and looked to Bane, who nodded.
“Dad, you stink.”
They walked down to the creek and rinsed out their things. As they washed, Bane tuned the radio.
“This is the USS Fort Worth at Coast Guard Station Galveston. We have room for 35 survivors. We will update the count as we accept new passengers. Message repeats.”
Chapter 8: Fearfully and Wonderfully
They followed the access road to Central Expressway, Highway 75, one of the three north-south arteries of Dallas. Where they connected were a series of bridged spirals, but they stayed on the ground, peddling smoothly. There was a gentle uphill climb, then down for the next couple of miles. A few cars were abandoned on the highway, and once they saw a confused deer, but that was all. No people. No trash. It looked like people had just given up and walked away.
When they saw the exit for Knox-Henderson, Bane spoke up.
“Used to be some great stores down there. You ever go to the store at the back of Weir’s? Neat stuff. Candy, quirky toys. Hard to explain what they had – it was just cool.”
Kurt nodded. “If I really liked a lady, I’d get her something from Urban Flower.”
They didn’t pause as they passed the exits, but they talked about the times they’d had at Mockingbird Station and Lower Greenville. Finally, they climbed the slope up to the end of 75, where in another turn it would become 45 South to Houston. To the right stood downtown Dallas, silent. Fountain Place, a late-modernist skyscraper shaped like a stretching crystal, reflected the sky and clouds, while the Chase Building, with its bifurcated, convex roof, looked like a giant penis made out of Legos.
The highway curved left, and then right, and then became 45 South to Houston. They all raised their hands together in a silent woo! .
The day was beautiful. There was about a 5 mile per hour wind from the west, not enough to require constant steering adjustment, and as they passed through South Dallas into Dallas County, the land began to look like Texas again: old trees, broad fields, and wide skies. Crows cawed, and wild horses watched them pass.
Horses.
Kurt looked to Bane. “You ever ride horses?”
“No. We had goats.
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