Passenger (standard:drama, 1430 words)
Author: Eutychus	Added: Mar 28 2005	Views/Reads: 3372/2222	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Someone carjacks the wrong person. This one grew out of an advantage I saw in being able to disengage the passenger side air bag in my truck. Stories sometimes come from the weirdest places.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

should score me extra points with the crew.” 

“Like I said, it's my life and it will end how I want it to. There's not
going to be some punk kid leaving me to bleed or a squad of lawyers 
pulling my feeding tube. I know where and when it's going to end, and 
you aren't a part of it. Well, I guess you are a part of it, but that's 
not my fault.” 

The kid was no longer bracing himself against the door but leaning on it
for support. “How can you want to die just because your bitch and kid 
get killed?” 

“She was not a bitch,” he said as he reached out and slapped the kid
across the face. “You're too young to understand what love really is. 
You know what hormones do to you, how they make you feel, but that's 
not love. And I'm not going to explain it to you. It's not something 
that can ever be fully explained anyway. 

“And who said that was the only reason I want to die? Want a tic tac?”
he asked, popped one himself and tossed the empty box onto the floor 
next to the kid's knife. 

“Look, you don't want to die. You got too much to live for. Hell, so do
I.” 

“You've got so much to live for you're trying to join a gang to lower
your life expectancy by half. Don't ever get a job as a defense 
attorney. You'll die of starvation,” he said and started a long 
coughing jag that ended with him wiping a trickle of blood from the 
corner of his mouth. 

“What's wrong? Hey, I never cut you.” 

“Oh, this started a week ago. Doc said that's to be expected at this
stage of the cancer. You see, death just means I'm going to see my wife 
and son again and my savior for the first time. I'm all ready to die. 
Hope you can say the same. You'd better buckle up.” 

“Man, I don't want to die! I ain't ready. At least I don't think I am,”
he pleaded as he desperately tried to buckle the seatbelt. 

“Okay, I'll drop you off up here. Someone can give you a ride back to
town,” he said and pulled into the State Highway Patrol barracks on US 
422 in Delightful. 

He explained the situation to the dispatcher who insisted that he talk
to a patrolman and fill out a report. 

“Did you want to press charges?” the tall, beefy cop asked. 

“What would they be?” 

“Assault for the knife to your neck,” he began and rattled off a series
of chapter and verse references from the Ohio Penal Code to correspond 
with the other charges that carjacking encompassed. “Did he hit you or 
anything? I see some blood on your lip?” 

“No,” he said and spit out what remained of the gelatin capsule from the
tic tac box. “I have a blood capsule that I use in a card routine that 
explains the salvation message. The King of Hearts has a central role 
in that trick and I sometimes sleight a blood cap in to make things 
more graphic for the kids in Sunday school. 

“I don't want to press charges. I punished him enough already, I think.
Just give him a ride home and try and discourage him from hanging with 
the kids he hangs with. Maybe make him wear handcuffs for a little 
bit.” 

“He's already wearing them. We're doing the full ‘scared straight'
routine on him. Holding cell, cuffs, the whole deal.” 

Five miles down the road, he considered stopping for a cup of coffee at
the Halfway Restaurant on the corner of 534 but decided against it, 
sipped some more of his grape flavored water and made a phone call. 

“Hey there lover. You on your way home?” 

“Yep. I'll be there in fifteen minutes or so.” 

“How did things go today?” 

“Mr. Davis is coughing up blood. He's not going to last much longer, but
he enjoyed seeing that ‘man with the funny face' again. Speaking of 
which, you'll have to check behind my ears. It still feels greasy and 
I'm pretty sure I missed some of the white.” 

“Sure thing. To think my folks had reservations about me getting
involved with a clown like you. You're running a little late today.” 

“I gave a kid a ride after my visit. I'll tell you about it when I get
home.” 

“All right. Hurry up and get home. We miss you.” 


Tweet