A Puncture From A PuncturePosted: July 25, 2015
The day was long; the road was longer. When Karen scanned the horizon, she though to herself maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Her hair was blowing in the hot desert wind, but a chill went down her spine nonetheless.
Anyone could be out there. Anyone at all. Waiting. Watching.
She pulled her feet back into the car.
Timothy white knuckled the steering wheel, keeping his eyes on the road just ahead of them. He briefly let go to reach for the radio dial, but a news story stopped him.
“Anyone on Highway 51 should be aware of the escaped convict last seen in the area. Don’t stop for anyone. This man is highly dangerous, and has murdered–”
Timothy turned the radio off.
Karen looked to him, fear in her eyes. “We’re on 51, aren’t we?”
Timothy gave a slight nod. “We are, but we’ll have no need to stop, so nothing to worry about.”
They should have finished listening to the bulletin. Timothy struggled with his grip on the wheel as the car veered suddenly to the left, as a tire had just burst and given them a reason to stop.
He tried to reassure Karen that he could change it in minutes, but she gasped and put her hand to her mouth when he pulled the spare from the trunk. It was flat.
“How could this happen? Why didn’t you check the spare?” Karen screamed, her eyes flitting back and forth across the empty plain, searching in vain for something to focus on.
Timothy closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then reached out a hand to steady his girl.
“We’ll be fine. If there’s a wanted man on the loose, the sheriff will be by shortly. We’ll be fine.” He may have been reassuring himself more than Karen.
She caught the uneasy look in his eye as they re-entered their car, locking the doors behind them.
When the sheriff pulled over behind the car, twenty-three minutes later, her blood was still dripping from her outstretched fingers.
Timothy was never found.