Other Stories in this issue

The Calm

by Ken Hueler

About the Author: Ken Hueler teaches kung fu in the San Francisco Bay Area. His work has appeared in Weirdbook, Stupefying Stories, Black Petals, and Strangely Funny III. Find out more at: kenhueler.wordpress.com.

Excerpt

Randy’s house was dark and the truck wasn’t under the carport. Evan pulled out his phone, then put it back—if he’d not been invited, what Randy had in mind was shady. He sat drumming on the wheel, sucking air as if a scent might inspire him, and looked to the sun, wide on the hills. He had to do something. Tired as he was, he couldn’t let a crappy day win by just crawling into sleep. He swung back onto the road and turned east—driving into the sun might make him miss someone or something. Maybe he’d end up all the way at Hollings. On a Wednesday night nothing would be going on anywhere smaller.

He started going through possible destinations—Jane’s Room or Lashes, maybe. His mind drifted to daydreams and to speeches to jerks he’d never deliver. Gravel and grass jerked him; he’d drifted into a doze. Disoriented, branches slapping the cab, he spun the wheel back onto the road. He blinked and wiped his face. Things seemed dimmer. The headlights were on, but he didn’t remember flipping them. The first thing to do in Hollings was get coffee. He was spent. While thinking about that, he almost passed her.

She was on the opposite side of the road, pale in the weak headlights and dusk, her fingers loosely twined into the strap of a backpack. She was summer-dressed for her age—lots of leg and midriff. She looked legal. He stopped, reversed.

“Late and dark to be on the road. Where you headed?”

“Not sure. You going to that town, Hollister?”

“Hollings. Was, but I worry about a pretty young thing like you out alone at dark.”

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