Thu, 19 May 2005

tundra
The brightness of the diner gave the illusion of a continuance of civilization, that other houses and buisnesses would continue past the far end of the asphalt parking lot, but now that he was out of the twenty-foot tall streetlights around the pumps Jason could only see a blackness before him, the tiniest trace of hidden moonlight like a band behind the trees giving him any sense of distance. He parked out here while the sun was just starting to dip, assuming the light would reach this far, now somewhat offended there were still places left in the world which could remain so dark as to hide a car, leaving him to half-step forward, a vague vertigo caught in the knees. He clicked his remote ignition in a slow arc in front of him until the headlights and engine came alive, a small puddle of sight thirty feet to his right. He opened the door, comforted by the slight ping of the alarm, and started to fall into the driver’s seat when he saw something in the darkness, a light, blue but startlingly bright, a light he had never seen before. He stood and stepped from behind the door, trying to guess how far it was, if it was part of some automated pump station or some new hybrid tractor, and he listened to see if it made a noise, trying not to breathe, trying to be as still as possible.

“It’s the guy,” Marshall said, quiet but not whispering, cold as the stones beneath the river. Marshall’s brother Carl regripped the spotlight, his right thumb on the switch, waiting for the guy to get closer. From the field Carl could only see him as the absence of the light from the truckstop, a walking shadow, but thorugh the scope Marsh could count the buttons on his shirt. Carl saw the car start and for a second thought he was too late, that he had screwed up, but then he could see the guy again, and knew it was time, standing and holding the light over his head as the blue light shot across the field. Carl watched the man walk in front of his car, staring, and listened to Marsh to make any adjustments, but he was set, and most likely didn’t even need Carl to bait, but this had to be done just so. Through the scope, Marshall saw the man’s face like a bloated blueberry, like some diseased pumpkin stuck on a pole out behind the farm, and took the shot, and like that the man’s head became a cloud of black fluid, caught in the spotlight for just a second before Carl cut the power and the brothers doubletimed back to the pickup.
(12:26.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #