Endurance - Jack Kilborn [13]
Deb knew she was pretty. She just wished she was whole.
She fidgeted, waiting for Mal. He looked to be late twenties, maybe early thirties. Only a few years older than her. Deb hadn’t seen a wedding ring on his finger, but that didn’t mean much. At their age, all the good-looking ones were either spoken for, or gay.
Not that it mattered. The only man Deb had been with since the accident was Scott, and it had been awful with him and not something she ever cared to repeat.
Another minute crawled by, and Deb began to wonder if Mal had changed his mind. She’d gone on a blind date last year, and the guy had gotten up to go to the bathroom at the restaurant and never came back. It was right after he’d gotten a little frisky with his flirting and had cupped her knee, feeling the prosthetic leg below it.
This isn’t a date. It’s an interview. And he already knows you have no legs.
She wondered if Mal, or Rudy, would want to see her bare stumps for the article. That would be a no way. The only one who had ever seen them was her doctor, and the only other person who would ever see them would be her undertaker.
Someone knocked on the hood, startling her. Mal leaned over the driver side door.
“Can you pop the trunk?”
Deb hit the button, then had a moment of panic realizing what he’d see.
It doesn’t matter. He’ll see your prosthetic legs during the competition anyway.
She braced herself for his comments when he sat down next to her, but all he said was, “Thanks again for the ride, and the interview. Please let me pay for gas.”
“If you insist. But this beast doesn’t get very good mileage.”
“I can imagine. I drive a Prius. But I always wanted a Corvette.”
“Me too.” She smiled. “Buckle up for safety.”
Deb started the car, engaging the hand clutch on the gear shift, and squeezed the gas lever on the steering wheel. The tires squealed, pinning Mal into his seat, and the car peeled away from the lobby entrance and onto the main road.
Almost immediately Deb squeezed the brakes, skidding to a stop as someone darted into the street ahead of her—
THWAK!
—the dark figure slapped the hood of her car, spun, then scurried away in a limping crouch. He disappeared into the bushes alongside the road, into the woods.
“Holy shit,” Mal said.
Deb blew out her cheeks, the adrenalin making her hands shake.
“Did I hit him?”
“I dunno. He was huge.”
“All I saw was long, white hair. But an old man couldn’t move that fast.”
“Did you see his eyes?”
Deb nodded, then shuddered.
“They were red,” Mal said. “I swear they were red.”
After taking a few more seconds to compose herself, Deb pulled onto the side of the road and parked the car.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Mal said. “He jumped out of the bushes right in front of you.”
“If I hit him, it’s my fault. I have to check.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Deb undid her seatbelt and pulled herself out of the Vette. It was dusk, but looked even darker because the sun had dipped below the tree line. The town of Monk Creek wasn’t exactly a town, per se. It was more like a collection of a few motels, some scattered stores, and a loose group of homes interspersed along the mountainside and woods in a thirty-square-mile area. The hotel was packed, but once you stepped off the property you were smack dab in the middle of the wilderness.
Deb squinted into the brush just off the shoulder of the road, where the man had disappeared. If he’d been hurt, he couldn’t have gotten far.
“Hello?” she called.
No one answered. A strong breeze kicked up, blowing Deb’s hair into her eyes and making her widen her stance so she didn’t tip over.
“Anyone there? Are you okay?”
She watched the breeze make the bushes sway, back and forth, like they were waving at her.
Deb peered at the ground, at the slight slope leading into the woods. In her Cheetah-Flex sprinting