Desert Places: a Novel of Terror
“Orson relished their noisy fear. Whenever they screamed, he mocked and mimicked their voices, often surpassing their pleas.Watching the dirt road illuminated by the headlights, I asked Orson what he’d done to the truck. He grinned. “I secured the steering wheel with that rope so the truck would stay straight, and I shoved that two-by-four between the front seat and the gas pedal.” Orson glanced at his luminescent watch. “For the next half hour, it’ll roll through twenty-five miles of empty desert. Then it’ll run into the mountains, and that’s where it’ll stop, unless it hits a mule deer along the way. But it’d have to be a big buck to stop that monster truck.“Eventually, someone will find it. Maybe in a few days, maybe in several weeks. But by then it won’t matter, ’cause these boys’ll be pushing up sagebrush. Local law enforcement will probably find out where they were coming from and where they were headed. They’ll realize something happened on that road back there, but so what?
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