Claire glanced up. The sunroof was open.
She drifted into the opposite lane at 110 miles per hour, aiming straight for the patrol car.
“Blood Alley—” said Dakota.
Claire let go of the steering wheel.
“This is where you belong—”
She put her hands on Dakota’s waist.
“This is who you are.”
She lifted Dakota up.
Forcing the girl’s head through the sunroof.
The Hummer hit the patrol car head-on, climbed the policeman’s hood like a ramp, and launched into the air. The top of the Hummer hit the top of the tunnel.
Claire felt a crash above her, and heard the sickening sound of Dakota’s skull being crushed, her body decapitated.
A torrent of blood rained down, splattering Claire.
The Hummer landed hard on the road.
Claire let go of the bloody torso. It fell back against the front passenger seat. Claire grabbed the steering wheel and regained control.
She saw more oncoming traffic, emergency vehicles responding to a distress call. Claire weaved in and out of the onrushing convoy. She swerved left to avoid an ambulance—right to avoid a fire engine—left again to avoid a patrol car. Playing chicken with a dozen vehicles.
A paramedic truck sideswiped the Hummer.
The front passenger door ripped off and fell away.
Behind her, vehicles drove headlong into the fireball, feeding it. Ten, twenty, thirty explosions. The shriek of metal and roar of flame.
Claire saw the end of the tunnel.
Almost there—
Dakota’s headless corpse sat up in the passenger seat. Claire saw the Highwayman’s head on the bloody stump of Dakota’s neck.
The dead girl’s body was still possessed.
The Highwayman laughed, revealing his one gold tooth.
49
In the passenger seat, Dakota’s corpse taunted Claire with a death-rattle laugh. The front passenger door had been torn off in the collision with the paramedic truck, and now the wind and flames rushed in through the gaping hole.
Claire took her foot off the gas, pivoted in her seat, and kicked Dakota into the flames. The corpse launched out of the car, bounced off the tunnel wall, and disappeared into the flames.
The enormous fireball chased Claire to the end of the tunnel.
And out.
Beyond the tunnel, Claire drove past a row of parked patrol cars, then hit the brakes and came to a stop. The Hummer was still burning. The fire had spread from the back compartment to the rear seats.
Get out!
Gasping and choking, Claire staggered out of the Hummer. She collapse on the highway and crawled away.
Two policemen rushed to her side and helped her from the burning car.
“You all right, lady?”
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“Medic!”
Firemen ran to the Hummer with water hoses, and quickly knocked down the flames. More firemen arrived. They jumped down from their red trucks, gear in hand, preparing to battle the horrific blaze inside the Devil’s Tunnel.
Too late.
The tunnel collapsed.
Explosions threw dirt, rocks, and cement high into the air.
It’s over, Claire thought.
But didn’t believe it.
An hour later, as the tunnel fire died and the rescue crews began to clear the rubble and search for survivors, Claire stood leaning against a patrol car, watching the first hint of sunrise over the mountains.
The medics had bandaged her cuts and checked her bruises, but she was still being interviewed by the detectives, O’Brien and Hunt.
O’Brien looked skeptical. “So they killed him?”
“For the road.”
Hunt checked his notes. “You say his name was…”
“Eldritch Fowler.”
“And he was your…”
“Father… I mean, grandfather.”
Another lawman, Officer Massey, arrived and addressed O’Brien. “Something you should see.”
Hunt said to Claire, “Stay right here.”
“Of course.”
The two detectives followed Officer Massey back into the Devil’s Tunnel, leaving Claire momentarily alone.
The burning smell was inescapable. Detective Hunt stood a few feet inside the passage. Further in, the tunnel had completely collapsed. At least a dozen units had driven in there. So far none had reported back to dispatch. Everyone feared the worst, but hoped for a miracle.
It would take days for the rescue team to work their way through to the other side.
Long, hard days.
Even here, at the outer edge, the asphalt had melted from the extreme heat.
Hunt stood with O’Brien and Massey at the edge of a newly formed break in the road, where the asphalt had cracked open to reveal an undocumented burial site.
Inside the cracked earth lay a human skeleton.
Poor bastard.
The skeleton had been buried with a dark slouch hat and a black canvas duster. His skull looked up at them. A morbid grin flashed one gold tooth.
“I’ll take him down to the lab,” Hunt said. “Try to get an I.D.”
O’Brien surveyed the rubble and carnage. “Bad night.”
Hunt concurred. “The red crescent moon. The devil wind. The road is thirsty.”
O’Brien shot him a skeptical glance. “You don’t believe that, you do?”
“What?”
“About the Highwayman. Ghost cars. Blood Alley.”
Hunt laughed. “Nah.”
He looked back to check on the girl, Claire. He didn’t see her. She wasn’t standing where she was supposed to.
I told that girl to stay put.
He stepped out of the tunnel and looked around.
The girl was gone.
And so was the Hummer.
50
Claire drove east, into the sunrise.
The road was smooth, the car responsive. The Hummer was smashed and burnt, but the engine purred and the wheels turned. Somewhere in the night, Claire had lost her fear of driving. She felt, for the first time in her life, a sense of her own power.
Now the only question was, “Where to go?”
Forward.
She turned the radio on to a station full of static, then dialed through a dozen songs before settling on “Highway to Hell.”
Claire smiled.
She adjusted the rearview mirror to check her own reflection.
In the mirror, her eyes glowed green.
She put a hand to her belly, which had already begun to grow, confirming what she had felt since the moment he entered her.
Something there had quickened in the dark.
There, inside her, was a new power.
Waiting to be born.
To be continued…
* * *
Thank you very much for reading Blood Alley.
I know your time is valuable. If you would take a brief moment to leave an honest review on Amazon, it would be greatly appreciated:
Blood Alley
Reviews help new readers find my work and decide if the story is for them, as well as provide valuable feedback to the author.
To hear about new releases, sign up to David Wisehart’s New Release Mailing List.
Also by David Wisehart:
Devil’s Lair
Endgame and Other Stories
Valentino: a play in verse
Acknowledgments
The author would like to thank the following for their feedback and support: Chris Soth, Matt Reagan, Philippa Burgess, Bradley Kushner, James Moll, and Chris King.
Copyright
Copyright © 2013 by David Wisehart
All Rights Reserved
Published by Wisehart Entertainment
www.davidwisehart.com
Cover photo by David M. Schrader
Licensed through iStockphoto
Cover design by Brittany Ni
elsen
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
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