Broken Promise
Page 40
“It’s okay.”
“No, I’ll do it. I’ll get in, and you get back in the car.”
“I said I would do it.”
Derek noticed, with some relief, the emergency lever inside the trunk that allowed it to be opened from the inside. He got his head in, then brought up his legs. He lay on his side, the case of beer tucked behind his knees.
“Okay, so don’t start screaming or anything,” Canton said, and slammed the lid shut.
It was nearly pitch-black in there, save for some red glow from the back side of the taillights. Derek felt the car veer back onto the pavement, then pick up speed.
Despite the rear seat between him and his friends, he could hear them talking.
“Just everyone be cool,” Canton said.
“Yeah,” said Tyler. “Like I’m going say, ‘We got nuthin’ in the trunk!’ I’m not an idiot. Not like George.”
“Fuck you,” said George.
“Okay, here we go,” Canton said. “Jeez, there’s still a line.”
“It’s only like ten cars. It won’t take long.”
Derek struggled to get comfortable. He hoped it wouldn’t take them long to buy tickets and get parked. He knew it was his imagination, but he felt as though he was running out of air, that he was having trouble breathing. His heartbeat was moving into second gear.
He felt the Nissan turn. Canton would be pulling up to the gate, where there were two ticket booths. Right beyond them, towering over them, in fact, would be the back side of the four-story screen. Once the tickets were bought and the gate cleared, the car would pass through an opening in a ten-foot wooden perimeter fence designed to keep people from sneaking in.
The car would follow the driveway to the far end of the property, where the concession stand was located, then do a one-eighty, facing the screen head-on. Derek figured once they’d picked a good viewing spot, they’d let him out.
But first, they had to clear the gate.
The car stopped, inched forward. Stopped, inched forward.
Come on come on come on.
Finally, Derek heard Canton shout: “Three tickets.”
Then, not quite as clearly, a man’s voice. “Just the three?”
“Yep, just us.”
“Ten bucks each.”
“There ya go.”
A brief pause, then the man’s voice again. “You sure it’s just the three of you?”
Canton: “Yep.”
Tyler: “Just us.”
George: “You can’t count?”
Shit, Derek thought. What the hell was wrong with him tonight?
The man selling tickets said, “And you guys know, there’s no booze allowed. You can’t be bringing anything in like that.”
“Of course,” Canton said.
Another pause.
Then: “I’m gonna have to ask you to pop the trunk.”
“Sorry?” Canton said.
“The trunk. Pop it.”
Shit shit shit shit.
Well, what was the worst that could happen? Derek figured once this guy found him in the trunk, with the beer, he could do one of three things. He could deny them entry. Or he could charge Derek ten bucks, confiscate the beer, and tell them they could pick it up on the way out. Or the son of a bitch could call the cops.
Derek figured bringing in the police was pretty unlikely. Did the Promise Falls cops really want to be bothered with someone sneaking into the drive-in for free?
At this point, Derek didn’t much care. Right now, he’d happily endure a full body-cavity search if it meant getting the hell out of here.
Canton said, “Uh, I don’t think you have the right to do that.”
“Yeah?” the man said.
“Yeah. I don’t think you have the authority. You’re just some dick selling tickets.”
“Really. Well, my name is Lionel Grayson, and I’m the owner and manager of this place, and if you don’t pop that trunk, I’m calling the cops.”
Maybe it was more likely than Derek thought. Fine, so be it.
“Okay, then,” Canton said.
Derek heard the driver’s door open. But then another door, on the other side of the car. Tyler had been sitting behind Canton. Which meant George was getting out.
Tyler said, “Jesus, George, what are you—”
Derek didn’t hear the rest as both doors slammed shut.
Canton was saying, “You know, this being the last night you guys are open, we were just wanting to have a little fun and—”
The man, this Mr. Grayson, sounding closer now, “Just open it up.”
“Okay, I hear ya, I hear ya.”
Then, George. “You know, man, this is America. You think being a fucking ticket seller gives you the right to violate our constitutional rights?”
“George, just let it go.”
All three voices at the back of the car now. Derek was still pretty sure Lionel Grayson wouldn’t call the cops. He’d just tell them to piss off. Turn their car around and send them on their way. Derek already had a plan. They’d go back to his place, download a Transformers movie to the flat-screen, and get drunk on his couch.
No need for him to be the designated driver any—
Bang.
No, it was more than that it. So much more than just a bang. In the trunk, it sounded to Derek like a sonic boom. The whole car seemed to shake.
It couldn’t have been something on the screen. One of the Transformer robots blowing up, say. You had to be in the car, have the radio tuned to the right frequency, to hear the movie.
And even if this had been a regular movie, in a theater, the bang was too loud.
It sounded very close.
George.
Could he really have been that dumb? Had he gotten out of the car with the gun? Had he started waving it at the manager? Had he pulled the trigger?
That stupid, stupid, stupid son of a bitch. Surely to God he didn’t think getting caught over something like this was cause to shoot a guy.
There were screams. Lots of screams. But they sounded off in the distance.
“Jesus!” someone shouted. Derek was pretty sure that was Canton.
Then: “Oh my God!” That sounded a lot like George.
Derek frantically padded the back wall of the trunk, looking for the emergency release. His heart was pounding. He’d broken out in an instant sweat. He found the lever, grabbed hold, yanked.
The trunk lid swung open.
Canton was there, and George was there, so was a third man. A black man Derek figured was Lionel Grayson, the manager. Not one of them was looking into the trunk. In fact, all three had their backs to Derek, their collective attention focused elsewhere.
Derek sat up so quickly, he banged his head on the edge of the opening. He instinctively put his hand on the injury, but he was too spellbound to feel any pain.
He could scarcely believe what he was seeing.
The Constellation Drive-in Theater’s four-story screen was coming down.
Dark smoke billowed from the width of its base as it slowly pitched forward, in the direction of the parking lot, as though being blown over by a mighty wind.
Except there was no wind.
The immense wall came down with a great whomping crash that shook the ground beneath them. Clouds of smoke and dust billowed skyward from beyond the fence.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Barely a second. Then, a strangled symphony of car alarms, whooping and screeching in a discordant chorus of panic.
And more screams. Many, many more screams.
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Table of Contents
Also by Linwood Barclay
Title Page
Copyright
Contents
Dedication
ONE
THE FIRST DAY
TWO
THREE
>
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
TWENTY-ONE
TWENTY-TWO
TWENTY-THREE
TWENTY-FOUR
TWENTY-FIVE
TWENTY-SIX
TWENTY-SEVEN
TWENTY-EIGHT
TWENTY-NINE
THIRTY
THIRTY-ONE
THIRTY-TWO
THIRTY-THREE
THE SECOND DAY
THIRTY-FOUR
THIRTY-FIVE
THIRTY-SIX
THIRTY-SEVEN
THIRTY-EIGHT
THIRTY-NINE
FORTY
FORTY-ONE
FORTY-TWO
FORTY-THREE
FORTY-FOUR
FORTY-FIVE
FORTY-SIX
FORTY-SEVEN
FORTY-EIGHT
FORTY-NINE
FIFTY
FIFTY-ONE
FIFTY-TWO
FIFTY-THREE
FIFTY-FOUR
FIFTY-FIVE
FIFTY-SIX
FIFTY-SEVEN
FIFTY-EIGHT
FIFTY-NINE
SIXTY
SIXTY-ONE
SIXTY-TWO
SIXTY-THREE
SIXTY-FOUR
SIXTY-FIVE
SIXTY-SIX
SIXTY-SEVEN
SIXTY-EIGHT
SIXTY-NINE
SEVENTY
THE NEXT DAY
SEVENTY-ONE
SEVENTY-TWO
SEVENTY-THREE
Acknowledgments
An Excerpt from FAR FROM TRUE