Plunder Squad
“Beaghler said.
They were just below Fremont, on a secondary road heading southeast, already starting to climb toward the mountains. Beaghler was making a left where a wooden sign in need of fresh paint said: Doughtery’s Campsites—Mobile Homes—Sales, Service—Trailer Park—Eat. A gravel road led in between two ragged lines of old-looking trailers. A white clapboard house, also in need of paint, was up-slope to the right.
Parker said, “Switch to what?”
“The ATV. I told you about it.” Beaghler drove slowly down the gravel road, the Chevy’s engine growling low as if in greeting to all the wheeled houses.
“Why do we switch to that?”
“I told you, we’ll come at him from the back.” Beaghler steered around a group of children, who gave blank-faced stares as the car went by. “There’s only the one road in,” Beaghler said. “It’s dirt, it’s dryer’n hell, you drive along there you raise a dust cloud you can see for ten miles. That’s what makes it such a good place to hole up.”
Write Review:
Guest
Read Also
9 / 10
9 / 10
User Reviews: