Part One
"On a long and lonely highway east of Omaha"...!
John Stanzy sang along with Bob Seger on the radio. He had been on the highway for about four hours now, of course he was far from Omaha far from anywhere actually. He was suppose to drive an hour down I-95 south from Kingman, straight to Lake Havasu. Except he had one little problem, bordem, that was why the radio was so loud. About twenty-five miles out of Kingman he had dozed off and some how turned right into the middle of the desert. Since finding the highway (the right one, John had doubts about that one) he had been driving for about an hour and a half. He hasn't seen a damn thing, not so much as a distance glance of lights in the horizon. There was one more problem he was running out of gas, and fast.
The tank was running just below the "E" mark, and in this moment of total urgency, he had a hope. There was a sign up ahead. Just beyond the exstent of his headlights he could barely make it out, but it was there dammit. Another half-mile and he was upon it close enough to see the bullet holes and chipped paint. The sign was old and rusted which was odd in Arizona, the rust not the age. Scooting a little further in his seat he could just barely make out the words, Torn, Arizona.
The town was marked by a lonely Chevy truck sitting by the road. John couldn't tell if it was abandoned or not but if it wasn't it should of been. The town was a little ways up the road, just beyond a bend in the road. There wasn't much to Torn, Arizona, some houses, a little library, some buisnesses and the gas station up the street to the right. John pulled in the lighted gas station though he couldn't see anybody he got out of his truck and entered the little convienince store.
There wasn't anyone in the convience store not a damn soul. John yelled for someone to come help him, not a cicket opted to help. John stepped out of the concvience store and saw a man wearing a gas attendents uniform standing under the street light. John yelled to the man, he didn't answer didn't even acknowledege John it was as if this man and John were in two different worlds. The two men just stood there, John staring at the man, or maybe through the man, it seemed to John that he could see right through him straight to his own truck. Then the man spoke, his words grabbed John's lungs and forced the air out. Cleared his brain of all rational thought, and just about stopped his heart.
"Reckon you'll die if you stay too long in these parts too long, now".
John looked up and down Sugar Lane (main street) and didn't see anyone, maybe thats why its so empty he thought. Maybe this pyscho fuck of a man killed them all. John knew he should run, but where in the hell to? The desert was surely death, as was staying in this damned town. He decided go for the town, at least he could hide, find a weapon and maybe a telephone. John''s thoughts turned back to the gas attendent who was no longer were he was thirty seconds before, the prick had dissapeared. Agreeing with his own thoughts John ran full speed down Sugar Lane, towards the library the biggest spacious place to hide that John could see.
His feet pounded the pavement harder than his heart pounded his chest, yet his lungs were the only things he thought were gonna burst. The stitch in John's side grew ever larger threatining to tear the whole side of his body outward onto the pavement, intestines, entrails and all. Somehow he made it to the library's door which gratefully was open even though the open hours had come and gone. Inside a smell of musty wet paper blew past John's face, he wondered how long this place had been shut up with no people. Stealing a quick glance over his shoulder and not seeing anyone John moved towards the check-in desk. There was no phone or weapon of any kind in sight. Swearing silently John moved towards the stairs. Then his eye caught the headline of a newspaper clipping, which was odd for this desk because it was void of any other paper.
Local Boy Arrested For Brutal Double Slaying
by: Richard Bach
Early yesterday morning young Torn resident Hugh Craig was arrested for suspicion in the brutal double slaying of his parents. If found guilty the seventeen year-old faces a year in juvenile detention then possibly life in Florence State Penitaterary. He has not been named as of this print , to be the police's prime suspect though the odds are stacked against him. Mr. Craig's lawyer offered no comments on the boy's behalf, yet told this reporter "the case looks pretty good...for the state" The bodies were found early...
John put the clipping down without much thought you see this kind of crap everyday on the news. He moved up the stairs his feet leaving little indentions in the carpet. There was nothing upstairs except one closed door and some books. The books were old titles but they seemed to be in pretty good condition considering they were housed up here in the attic. The window was the last thing John saw for it was hidden behind a row of books. He made his way through the maze of books glancing at some of the titles as he went. "Desperation..Stephen King", "Infestation..Elizabeth Peake", known authors like those. The street below was empty and quiet as it was before, the street lights glowing without the insect buzz of moths. John closed his eyes, rubbed his forehead and wondered what kind of mess he got himself into. He opened his eyes saw the same scene and turned away from the window, as he did his eye caught something on the glass. It looked like some kind of message, squinting and moving closer he could barely make it out. "Help us, only you can now"! Then John was gone his conscience taken from him, blood matted his hair even before he struck the floor. Lying beside him was the novel The Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens.
The White House was quiet at this time of night, except for the Oval room where the president, the vice president and the secretary of defence sat quietly discussing there problem.
" I thought the situation was under control?" the president said.
" It was, until someone breeched the perimeter and entered the site" replied the secretary of defense.
" You know what has to be done sir". the vice president offered.
" Indeed, indeed I do."
With a sigh the president got up from his leather chair, opened his giant desk and hit the little red button. Somewhere in the depths of the White House a buzzer sounded waking all who slept in the bunker, all went about their buisness with the determination only American soldiers can offer.