Read Online Just Past Oysterville: Shoalwater Book One by Perry P. Perkins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Perry P. Perkins
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whatever,
or whoever, he was watching. Slowly and casually, he reached into
his jacket, lying on the seat next to him, and pulled out an apple
and an odd, wood handled knife. A leather sheath, which Jack
removed, covered the short, crescent shaped blade. Though the pine
handle looked old and worn, the blade was bright. Its concave edge
looked razor sharp as Jack held it in front of his face and slowly
began to peel the apple.
Jack kept talking, telling her how this was
sort of a working vacation and he was planning on taking
Interstate-8 down to San Diego, then follow Highway 101 all the way
up the coast to Long Beach.
Finally, whoever had gotten his attention must have looked
away, and Jack glanced back to Cassie, laying the knife down beside
his plate, in plain sight. Cassie glanced from the knife to Jack
and back, before leaning over the table and whispering, "What was
that all about?” Jack gave a slight shake of his head, looking back
up and Cassie realized that whoever it was, was coming towards
them. She could smell the flat stink of stale cigarette smoke
before he passed. From her vantage point, all she saw was the back
of a lanky frame, a dirty leather biker jacket, and a long, greasy
ponytail, as the figure quickly passed their table and headed for
the door. The other thing that caught her eye were the dark green
tattoos scrolling out from under each sleeve and across the backs
of his hands.
Then the stranger was gone.
Cassie looked questioningly at Jack, who had
wiped the blade of his knife clean and was returning it to his
pocket.
"He seemed to have taken an unhealthy
interest in our conversation," Jack replied to her unspoken
question. "I'm sure he was willing to offer you a ride if I had
turned you down."
Cassie felt her mouth go dry at the thought.
She tried to imagine being alone in the cab of one of those big
trucks, surrounded by that stink, those tattooed hands somewhere
nearby in the dark, and shuddered.
Jack reached for his pie once more as the
waitress returned with another piece for Cassie.
Without thinking, she clasped her hands
against the edge of the table and, bowing her head, said a quick
prayer for the food. Jack watched, amused by the complete lack of
self-consciousness the young woman showed, praying in front of a
room full of truck drivers.
Cassie glanced up and caught Jack's gaze,
misunderstanding his look.
"Do you have something against praying?" she
asked.
"Nope," he replied, unruffled, "Stick with
what works for ya, that’s what I say. I’ve just never had it do me
much good is all."
Cassie frowned but couldn't think of
anything to say to that, so they ate together in silence for a few
moments.
Finishing her pie, which wasn't a shadow of
Grace William's apple creations; she glanced up at Jack, who was
once again watching her with a speculative look on his face.
"Well," he said, at last, "I guess I could
move some boxes around and make some space."
Cassie held her breath.
"Problem is," he continued, "I'm not headed
straight across. Like I said, I'm planning to head back up 101, the
long way."
"That's fine," Cassie said quickly, "I don't
mind…"
Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, "I thought
you were in a big, all-fired hurry?"
"A bird in the hand, and all that," she
replied, "Who knows how long I'd have to wait for someone else
headed that way? It's taken me the better part of two days just to
get here. I'm willing to change the plan if it means riding instead
of walking, and I can pay for gas…"
"Nah," Jack shook his head, "Keep your
money, I was driving anyway. Pay for your own grub and that'll be
enough. You're set on this, aren't you?"
Cassie nodded.
"Awfully foolish, if you ask me." He
grumbled, "The next guy you asked might not have been the harmless
old fool that I am. Might just be safer all around if you don’t
have to ask again."
"So, you'll give me a ride?" she asked.
Jack paused, chewing on his lip, then
sighed, "Well, I guess we can give it a try. I
or whoever, he was watching. Slowly and casually, he reached into
his jacket, lying on the seat next to him, and pulled out an apple
and an odd, wood handled knife. A leather sheath, which Jack
removed, covered the short, crescent shaped blade. Though the pine
handle looked old and worn, the blade was bright. Its concave edge
looked razor sharp as Jack held it in front of his face and slowly
began to peel the apple.
Jack kept talking, telling her how this was
sort of a working vacation and he was planning on taking
Interstate-8 down to San Diego, then follow Highway 101 all the way
up the coast to Long Beach.
Finally, whoever had gotten his attention must have looked
away, and Jack glanced back to Cassie, laying the knife down beside
his plate, in plain sight. Cassie glanced from the knife to Jack
and back, before leaning over the table and whispering, "What was
that all about?” Jack gave a slight shake of his head, looking back
up and Cassie realized that whoever it was, was coming towards
them. She could smell the flat stink of stale cigarette smoke
before he passed. From her vantage point, all she saw was the back
of a lanky frame, a dirty leather biker jacket, and a long, greasy
ponytail, as the figure quickly passed their table and headed for
the door. The other thing that caught her eye were the dark green
tattoos scrolling out from under each sleeve and across the backs
of his hands.
Then the stranger was gone.
Cassie looked questioningly at Jack, who had
wiped the blade of his knife clean and was returning it to his
pocket.
"He seemed to have taken an unhealthy
interest in our conversation," Jack replied to her unspoken
question. "I'm sure he was willing to offer you a ride if I had
turned you down."
Cassie felt her mouth go dry at the thought.
She tried to imagine being alone in the cab of one of those big
trucks, surrounded by that stink, those tattooed hands somewhere
nearby in the dark, and shuddered.
Jack reached for his pie once more as the
waitress returned with another piece for Cassie.
Without thinking, she clasped her hands
against the edge of the table and, bowing her head, said a quick
prayer for the food. Jack watched, amused by the complete lack of
self-consciousness the young woman showed, praying in front of a
room full of truck drivers.
Cassie glanced up and caught Jack's gaze,
misunderstanding his look.
"Do you have something against praying?" she
asked.
"Nope," he replied, unruffled, "Stick with
what works for ya, that’s what I say. I’ve just never had it do me
much good is all."
Cassie frowned but couldn't think of
anything to say to that, so they ate together in silence for a few
moments.
Finishing her pie, which wasn't a shadow of
Grace William's apple creations; she glanced up at Jack, who was
once again watching her with a speculative look on his face.
"Well," he said, at last, "I guess I could
move some boxes around and make some space."
Cassie held her breath.
"Problem is," he continued, "I'm not headed
straight across. Like I said, I'm planning to head back up 101, the
long way."
"That's fine," Cassie said quickly, "I don't
mind…"
Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, "I thought
you were in a big, all-fired hurry?"
"A bird in the hand, and all that," she
replied, "Who knows how long I'd have to wait for someone else
headed that way? It's taken me the better part of two days just to
get here. I'm willing to change the plan if it means riding instead
of walking, and I can pay for gas…"
"Nah," Jack shook his head, "Keep your
money, I was driving anyway. Pay for your own grub and that'll be
enough. You're set on this, aren't you?"
Cassie nodded.
"Awfully foolish, if you ask me." He
grumbled, "The next guy you asked might not have been the harmless
old fool that I am. Might just be safer all around if you don’t
have to ask again."
"So, you'll give me a ride?" she asked.
Jack paused, chewing on his lip, then
sighed, "Well, I guess we can give it a try. I
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