RESISTANCE
Clouds had drifted in after lunch. Shane hadn’t anticipated that. The weather almanac said today was supposed to be light and bright. Yet, there were the clouds, fucking up his day. Shane made it via the main roads without much fuss, but he was worried about the mountain crossing up ahead. There was only one way to get back up to Pineville and it included going through a rock tunnel on the side of Mount Weir. It would be dark in the tunnel, very dark.
As Shane approached, the road was empty. Most people avoided the tunnel if they could. It was like a gator trap, of course. But, Shane had to risk it if he wanted to get back before sundown. At the mouth of the tunnel, he looked inside, called out, and gauged whether or not it was the right time to try.
Back home, little Wayne had suggested breakfast for lunch and Star thought giving in might be the best solution to keep them calm. So, she fired up some pancakes and they ate them at the picnic table with some cokes and lemonade. No one spoke at first, but she knew they were all silently counting the hours.
“What if he can’t make it back?” Tarin asked.
“He’ll make it back,” little Wayne snapped.
“Yeah, but what if he doesn’t, doofus.”
“Don’t call your brother that, Tarin,” Star chimed in. “But, I’m not belittling your point. I think we should start on a project after lunch.”
“What kind of project?” little Wayne asked.
“A Plan B kind of thing,” Star answered.
Shane looked at his watch and knew it was now or never. He stepped a foot onto the scooter and pushed the throttle forward. He was a quarter way through when he heard the rumbling. Shane pressed the throttle as far as it would go. Quickly, he was at maximum speed, but it wasn’t enough. He could feel the back wheel of his scooter rising up with the earth. He could feel the dirt and asphalt kick him in the back of the neck.
A white van approached from the opposite end of the tunnel. It slammed on the breaks only a few feet from Shane. The side door flew open. But, he was already airborne. The beast was breaking through the ground behind him and the sheer force of it had sent him sailing. A man jumped out of the van and grabbed him off the ground as he landed.
“Let’s go,” he said.
“But, my scooter,” Shane answered, searching behind him.
“Fuck the scooter. Let’s live,” said the man.
And with that, he threw Shane into the van. His new friends pulled at Shane’s legs, as the gator made a 14 mph dash for the door snapping its jaws at the opening. The van took off with a lurch pulverizing some of the bulbs still strapped to Shane’s back. Shane didn’t care. They had saved him outright.
the real stuff
A couple of the stories within Bartleby, I’ve continued fleshing out. This one has a couple of parts. I like to think of it as my “GATOR RAID” story. What if gators were on steroids and took over the earth. Here’s an earlier part to it.
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