Brown Beverly screeched to a halt next to me amidst a billow of blue smoke and blaring noise. Treev leaned his body out the window and shot me with his wide wild grin.
“I said boy, get in.”
I lit a cigarette and eyed the light-colored trail Brown Beverly left in her erratic wake and the pool forming underneath her frame.
“What’s wrong with Brown Beverly?” I asked with my cigarette pursed tightly in my lips.
“Got a big ol’ hole in the tank, so I filled ‘er up and told ol’ Chuck to give me a five-minute head start before he lit it. Now get in.”
“Where we going?”
“I was thinking of driving out Denver ways. Doubt we’ll make it, but doubt just as much we’ll care. This’ll be a night we’ll not remember, my friend. That I’ll guarantee.”
“We can’t drive across the plains at night,” I said. “What about the Roving Band of Sodomites?”
“Didn’t you hear?” shrieked Treev, nearly crawling out the window for air. “They all went to California for the winter. The plains are ours tonight, my friend. And I’ll be danged if I got time to sit here and argue with you.”
I eyed the bright blue flame winding up the empty village streets.
I got in the car, the door slamming shut like a gunshot in the cool winter air. We sped off into the night with a thick trail of smoke and the fire on our tail, wondering what we’d do, once we got to where.
Allen Tesch
Allen Tesch lives and writes in Mankato, Minnesota, where he doesn’t drink or smoke nearly enough. Visit Mr. Tesch at http://allentesch.blogspot.com/ and read his work at Gloews.com.
Email Mr. Tesch at allentesch@secretlaboratory.org.
