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Authors: Robert Spiller
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shot through her ankle. Screaming, she fell.
Surrounded by a halo of light, the truck crashed through a patch of yucca.
Bonnie struggled to her feet. Her ankle shrieked in protest. A wave of nausea swept over her. Any mo-ment, she expected the truck door to open. Jesse Poole, the little bastard, would chase her down.
Gravel churned behind her.
The truck reversed hard and spun to face her, pin-ning her again in the high beams.
Gears ground, and the truck crept forward.
“Leave me alone, you little asshole.” She limped backward unable to take her eyes off the truck. The truck closed the gap. Then the ground vanished be-neath her feet. She flailed through the air. The back of her head smacked something hard. The world exploded in fireworks and faded to black velvet.
BONNIE WOKE TO A HEADACHE THAT PROMISED TO sever skull from shoulders. Her hand came away sticky from her scalp. A hard something poked her spine. She shifted, and her ankle screamed. Nausea punched her stomach.
She vomited. Wave after wave of convulsions gripped and shook her. Minutes later, she rolled away from the vomit, her throat raw, mouth tasting of bile.
She lay back, exhausted. Overhead, a full moon shined down from a strip of sky. A corridor of stars winked.
Where the hell am I?
She remembered the truck and sat bolt upright. New agony shot through head and ankle. She bit her lip, not wanting to cry out.
Oh God, don’t let him find me here.
She lay still, and in stages, reason asserted itself. The moon hadn’t yet risen when she’d walked earlier. The blood on her head was tacky, some of it dried. Hours may have passed. Her tormentor was gone. She shuddered, buried her face in her hands, and wept.
When she lifted her face from her hands, a knife had been taken to the moon. Flat along one side, a jagged sliver of the orb was missing. What remained illuminated her surroundings.
She lay at the bottom of a sandy tunnel. Behind her head, hard-packed earth formed a slanting wall. This wall partially obscured the moon. Across from her, an opposite wall lifted from the sand. Together the walls defined and limited the portion of the night sky she could see.
The arroyo. Stumbling backward from the truck, she’d tumbled into the sandy trench, hit bottom, and knocked herself out. Why hadn’t her pursuer simply followed her down and finished the job he’d started?
“Hey, I’m not complaining, God. I’ll take whatever you give me.”
But now what?
Theoretically, she could sit right here until someone found her. Her ankle and head seconded that option. Surely someone would notice Alice sitting in the ditch and come looking. But would they think to look on the other side of the mesh fence, or would they stick to the road? How many times had she seen an abandoned car and kept on driving?
Unfortunately, even when she was parked at school, Alice looked like an abandoned car. Most folks would think the owner just wised up and walked away.
Bonnie sighed. She could be here for days.
And it was getting darker. Already the moon had shifted—a mere sixty percent of its area shined down. She didn’t fancy the idea of spending a long moonless night at the bottom of a pit.
A six foot length of weather-beaten two-by-four lay just out of reach. Gritting her teeth, she dragged her protesting ankle to the board. As her fingers wrapped around it, she felt like laughing, and the compulsion scared her.
Don’t go hysterical, lady.
Ignoring splinters, she hoisted herself to her feet. The pain in her ankle threatened to send her back into oblivion. Breathing like she’d just run a marathon—not that she’d ever do something so stupid—she clung to the precious two-by-four, a drowning woman in a dry river of sand.
Her head almost reached the lip of the arroyo, but the top may as well have been a hundred feet above her. No way could she climb out. And stretching out before her, the dry stream bed seemed endless.
Leaning heavily on her prop, she took a
Surrounded by a halo of light, the truck crashed through a patch of yucca.
Bonnie struggled to her feet. Her ankle shrieked in protest. A wave of nausea swept over her. Any mo-ment, she expected the truck door to open. Jesse Poole, the little bastard, would chase her down.
Gravel churned behind her.
The truck reversed hard and spun to face her, pin-ning her again in the high beams.
Gears ground, and the truck crept forward.
“Leave me alone, you little asshole.” She limped backward unable to take her eyes off the truck. The truck closed the gap. Then the ground vanished be-neath her feet. She flailed through the air. The back of her head smacked something hard. The world exploded in fireworks and faded to black velvet.
BONNIE WOKE TO A HEADACHE THAT PROMISED TO sever skull from shoulders. Her hand came away sticky from her scalp. A hard something poked her spine. She shifted, and her ankle screamed. Nausea punched her stomach.
She vomited. Wave after wave of convulsions gripped and shook her. Minutes later, she rolled away from the vomit, her throat raw, mouth tasting of bile.
She lay back, exhausted. Overhead, a full moon shined down from a strip of sky. A corridor of stars winked.
Where the hell am I?
She remembered the truck and sat bolt upright. New agony shot through head and ankle. She bit her lip, not wanting to cry out.
Oh God, don’t let him find me here.
She lay still, and in stages, reason asserted itself. The moon hadn’t yet risen when she’d walked earlier. The blood on her head was tacky, some of it dried. Hours may have passed. Her tormentor was gone. She shuddered, buried her face in her hands, and wept.
When she lifted her face from her hands, a knife had been taken to the moon. Flat along one side, a jagged sliver of the orb was missing. What remained illuminated her surroundings.
She lay at the bottom of a sandy tunnel. Behind her head, hard-packed earth formed a slanting wall. This wall partially obscured the moon. Across from her, an opposite wall lifted from the sand. Together the walls defined and limited the portion of the night sky she could see.
The arroyo. Stumbling backward from the truck, she’d tumbled into the sandy trench, hit bottom, and knocked herself out. Why hadn’t her pursuer simply followed her down and finished the job he’d started?
“Hey, I’m not complaining, God. I’ll take whatever you give me.”
But now what?
Theoretically, she could sit right here until someone found her. Her ankle and head seconded that option. Surely someone would notice Alice sitting in the ditch and come looking. But would they think to look on the other side of the mesh fence, or would they stick to the road? How many times had she seen an abandoned car and kept on driving?
Unfortunately, even when she was parked at school, Alice looked like an abandoned car. Most folks would think the owner just wised up and walked away.
Bonnie sighed. She could be here for days.
And it was getting darker. Already the moon had shifted—a mere sixty percent of its area shined down. She didn’t fancy the idea of spending a long moonless night at the bottom of a pit.
A six foot length of weather-beaten two-by-four lay just out of reach. Gritting her teeth, she dragged her protesting ankle to the board. As her fingers wrapped around it, she felt like laughing, and the compulsion scared her.
Don’t go hysterical, lady.
Ignoring splinters, she hoisted herself to her feet. The pain in her ankle threatened to send her back into oblivion. Breathing like she’d just run a marathon—not that she’d ever do something so stupid—she clung to the precious two-by-four, a drowning woman in a dry river of sand.
Her head almost reached the lip of the arroyo, but the top may as well have been a hundred feet above her. No way could she climb out. And stretching out before her, the dry stream bed seemed endless.
Leaning heavily on her prop, she took a
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