Read Online The Gift of Illusion: A Thriller by Richard Brown - Free Book Online
Authors: Richard Brown
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by the minute, this mind further
exhausted. Death was waiting just over the next horizon. He needed
to initiate new contact, change course, or risk becoming trapped on
a sinking vessel.
James reached underneath the front passenger
seat to retrieve the stone figurine. His gateway. He would only use
it as a last resort. He slid the small statue into the interior
pocket of his sport coat, abandoned the Escort in the center of the
fork, and walked west through the woods. Twenty minutes later, he
stepped out of the woods on to Parker Avenue.
An old gas station was across the street. A
tall, longhaired man climbed out of an eighteen-wheeler and walked
around the corner to the front door of the station.
James hurried across the street and entered
the station.
The store clerk sat behind the counter
staring mindlessly at the morning news on an old eight-inch black
and white television set. The longhaired trucker passed by James on
his way to the front counter.
“Two packs of Marlboro reds in a box,” said
the truck driver.
The clerk reached over his head and pulled
the cigarettes from the shelf.
“Is that all?” he asked.
The truck driver nodded and handed the clerk
a credit card. After signing the store copy, the truck driver took
his receipt and left the store.
James crept up to the front counter and
grinned at the wiry store clerk. The clerk had tanned, leathery
skin, and a small crooked mustache.
“Eddie, is it?” he asked, looking down at
the white nametag pined to the clerk’s shirt.
“Yep. How can I help you, pal?”
James leaned over the counter. “This is your
lucky day, Eddie. I have something for you."
2
James sauntered out into the parking lot and
looked around for his car. He had no idea where he was or how he
had arrived here. He vaguely remembered sleeping in his car, and
walking through the woods, but it had all felt like a strange
dream. Nearby, a longhaired man was talking on a payphone.
“Excuse me.”
The man took the phone away from his ear and
covered it with the palm of his hand.
“Have you seen a blue Ford Escort?”
“No,” said the half-shaven man with a fresh
cigarette hanging from his lip. “Ya lose your car or
something?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a problem. I’m gonna
finish my call now.”
James walked around the corner and passed by
a semi on his way to the back of the building. A few tiny drops of
sweat ran down his face and met at the base of his neck. Rotting
trash and sewage littered the back of the gas station; a stench of
rats, newspaper, gasoline, and beef jerky. There were two dumpsters
but neither held any dump, the trash never made it inside. He found
an orange hose wrapped up in knots on the opposite side of the
building. Just what he needed to calm his nerves, cool water, but
when he turned the nozzle, nothing but a single warm drop fled from
the rubber tube. Frustrated, James threw down the hose and strolled
around the side of the building, back into the parking lot. He
thought of calling the police and reporting his car stolen, but
figured he’d better find out for sure.
While he waited for the truck driver to
finish his call, he wiped away the sweat from his forehead. The
beads of sweat tickled, itched.
A moment later the truck driver hung up the
payphone.
“Hey, do you think you could do me a
favor?”
“Depends. What?”
“Could you give me a lift to my house? Or at
least just drop me off in town? I would really appreciate it. I’ll
even pay you.”
“I don’t think that’d be a problem.”
“Thank you so much.”
James followed the truck driver around the
corner to the semi waiting on the other side. He could feel his
heart beat faster with each second that passed. Muscles tightened
to the point of tearing. His hands vibrated like a resonating
church bell. He tried to calm himself, relax. If he could just get
home, everything would be all right.
“What’s your name?” The truck driver fired
up the
exhausted. Death was waiting just over the next horizon. He needed
to initiate new contact, change course, or risk becoming trapped on
a sinking vessel.
James reached underneath the front passenger
seat to retrieve the stone figurine. His gateway. He would only use
it as a last resort. He slid the small statue into the interior
pocket of his sport coat, abandoned the Escort in the center of the
fork, and walked west through the woods. Twenty minutes later, he
stepped out of the woods on to Parker Avenue.
An old gas station was across the street. A
tall, longhaired man climbed out of an eighteen-wheeler and walked
around the corner to the front door of the station.
James hurried across the street and entered
the station.
The store clerk sat behind the counter
staring mindlessly at the morning news on an old eight-inch black
and white television set. The longhaired trucker passed by James on
his way to the front counter.
“Two packs of Marlboro reds in a box,” said
the truck driver.
The clerk reached over his head and pulled
the cigarettes from the shelf.
“Is that all?” he asked.
The truck driver nodded and handed the clerk
a credit card. After signing the store copy, the truck driver took
his receipt and left the store.
James crept up to the front counter and
grinned at the wiry store clerk. The clerk had tanned, leathery
skin, and a small crooked mustache.
“Eddie, is it?” he asked, looking down at
the white nametag pined to the clerk’s shirt.
“Yep. How can I help you, pal?”
James leaned over the counter. “This is your
lucky day, Eddie. I have something for you."
2
James sauntered out into the parking lot and
looked around for his car. He had no idea where he was or how he
had arrived here. He vaguely remembered sleeping in his car, and
walking through the woods, but it had all felt like a strange
dream. Nearby, a longhaired man was talking on a payphone.
“Excuse me.”
The man took the phone away from his ear and
covered it with the palm of his hand.
“Have you seen a blue Ford Escort?”
“No,” said the half-shaven man with a fresh
cigarette hanging from his lip. “Ya lose your car or
something?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a problem. I’m gonna
finish my call now.”
James walked around the corner and passed by
a semi on his way to the back of the building. A few tiny drops of
sweat ran down his face and met at the base of his neck. Rotting
trash and sewage littered the back of the gas station; a stench of
rats, newspaper, gasoline, and beef jerky. There were two dumpsters
but neither held any dump, the trash never made it inside. He found
an orange hose wrapped up in knots on the opposite side of the
building. Just what he needed to calm his nerves, cool water, but
when he turned the nozzle, nothing but a single warm drop fled from
the rubber tube. Frustrated, James threw down the hose and strolled
around the side of the building, back into the parking lot. He
thought of calling the police and reporting his car stolen, but
figured he’d better find out for sure.
While he waited for the truck driver to
finish his call, he wiped away the sweat from his forehead. The
beads of sweat tickled, itched.
A moment later the truck driver hung up the
payphone.
“Hey, do you think you could do me a
favor?”
“Depends. What?”
“Could you give me a lift to my house? Or at
least just drop me off in town? I would really appreciate it. I’ll
even pay you.”
“I don’t think that’d be a problem.”
“Thank you so much.”
James followed the truck driver around the
corner to the semi waiting on the other side. He could feel his
heart beat faster with each second that passed. Muscles tightened
to the point of tearing. His hands vibrated like a resonating
church bell. He tried to calm himself, relax. If he could just get
home, everything would be all right.
“What’s your name?” The truck driver fired
up the
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