Ed Rowe - Colder Than Blood

ED ROWE

COLDER THAN BLOOD

In memory of

Bob Bilston

My second best mate

COLDER THAN BLOOD

Copyright 2007 by Shannon Edward Rowe

First published in 2008 by Lulu.com

All rights reserved. Apart from legitimate use permitted under Australian copyright law, no part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, image scanning, photography, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover images by Shannon Edward Rowe

wasnt expecting trouble that afternoon as I drove home from yet I another failed job interview. My shirt collar was unbuttoned, my tie a scrunched ball in the glove box. I was in one of those black moods that only whisky can wash clean.

I had just braked for a traffic light, my mind still tormenting itself with replays and should-have-said retorts, when a girl yanked open the back door and dived into my car, screaming, Go, go, go! My body reacted before my brain could object. I stomped on the pedal and ran the red, leaving a pack of horns barking at my tail. Id burned up half a block before I remembered how to think.

The girl gripped my shoulder. Please dont stop, she said. She had long, frizzy blonde hair, and if she was in her twenties it was only by an inch. Her eyes sought out mine in the rear-view mirror. Her chin was trembling.

I gave her a hard stare through my little piece of mirror and went for the brakes.

No! She shook my shoulder. You have to help me!

Is that right? I stopped the car completely and scowled at her.

Please! We have to go now. Now! She cast an anxious glance through the rear window. I followed her gaze, but saw nothing dangerous out there.

The girl wore a tight cream-coloured top and a skirt that showed more leg than it was paid to. A gold crucifix necklace dangled between her breasts. Her hand felt small and delicate on my arm.

Whats the big emergency? I demanded. This isnt an ambulance.

She leaned in close, her breath hot on my cheek. Hes trying to kill me! Emotions rippled across her face like the contortions of a drowning child.

Whos trying to kill you? What does he want? Her deep blue eyes locked onto mine. Vengeance, she said.

Tyres screeched on the road behind us. Fifty metres back, a brown Mitsubishi work-van swerved in front of another car, muscling through the traffic like a bully. The van looked broad and sturdy, with a leathery, sunbaked skin of dirt. It straightened out and accelerated towards us.

Its him! the girl shouted. Her fist pounded my seat. Go, go, go!

I floored it. The girl was flung back into her seat as the Commodore leapt forward. I glued my foot to the pedal and blurred past a line of cars.

The van increased its speed, snorting furious blasts of exhaust as its driver gunned the engine. A ladder tied to the vans roof rack jutted out over the windshield like a jousting lance. The van began to close the distance between us, its heavy bull-bar grinning with wicked metal teeth as it drew closer.

Chew on this, I thought, and whipped my car through a narrow gap.

I shot ahead into a clear stretch of road and took off, leaving the van stuck behind traffic. The van swung from lane to lane, tailgating the cars in its way and trying to force an opening. Its horn brayed howls of frustration as I sped away.

No worries, I told the girl.

He wont give up, she said. Youll see.

In the mirror, I saw the van veer out from behind a stubborn Volvo.

Its left wheels ramped up onto the pavement and it surged ahead, straddling the gutter as it raced alongside the Volvo.

Put your seatbelt on, I said. My hands tightened on the steering wheel.

The van swung onto the road in front of the Volvo. Its tyres bounced off the kerb and the back of the van clipped the smaller vehicles fender.

Headlight glass sprayed into the air as the Volvo limped out of the way.

The van shrugged off the blow and homed relentlessly in on us again.

Oh God. The girl had seen it too. Oh God, were going to die! She clutched her knees to her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gulps.

Were not dead yet.

The road ahead sloped up a steep hill. I shifted to third gear and hit it doing over a hundred. The Commodores engine revved as we rocketed up the hill, my foot jammed hard against the accelerator. But still the van kept pace, as unstoppable as a tank, its driver a dark, menacing silhouette behind the windshield.

We soared over the crest of the hill and my guts suddenly clenched: a solid wall of cars blocked the road at the next set of traffic lights.

Problem, I said. There were no side streets to pull into.

The girls fingernails dug into my shoulder. Oh Jesus, do something! She still hadnt fastened her seatbelt. Hell catch us! As we plummeted towards the intersection, I spotted a corner service station coming up fast on the left. It was a chance, but if I mistimed it

In the mirror, I saw the van clear the top of the hill. Its cruel bull-bar smile seemed to widen in triumph as it accelerated towards us.

Hes coming! the girl cried. Hes going to ram us!

Shut up and hold on to something!

I braked hard to avoid a hatchback, then spun the wheel to the left and thumped into the service stations entryway. The undercarriage scraped harshly on concrete and the back tyres went into a skid. I fought to control the fishtailing car, the steering wheel jarring my fingers as we barely missed a petrol pump. A thud and a muffled squeal of pain came from the back seat, but I had no time to look. The car continued to slide.

I grappled with the wheel as we skidded towards the stores plate-glass window. Inside at the counter, a clerk turned his head in alarm.

Grunting with effort, I hauled the wheel across and skimmed so close to the glass that the automatic doors started to open. The car sledded past the store on two wheels before skidding out of the adjacent entryway and onto the other road.

Horns blared as I cut across the path of oncoming traffic. I pumped the brakes to regain control and a strong, acrid smell of burnt rubber filled the car. I straightened out into the middle lane and stood on the pedal again. My heart was pounding hard enough to make a nervous doctor reach for sedatives.

The girl scooted forward, her eyes wide and panicky. Did you lose him?

In the mirror, I saw the brown van shoot out of the entryway a hundred metres behind us. Im working on it, I said.

I made an abrupt left turn into a tree-lined residential street. The back of the car threatened to spin out again, but I kept it under control through sheer willpower. The girl grabbed my headrest to steady herself. With the rear view still empty, I pulled a quick right into the next street.

Only it wasnt a street, I realised too late. It was a dead-end court.

There was no time to back out. I braked hard and tucked the car into the nearest driveway, my teeth clacking as the tyres bumped the kerb.

Just as we slid out of sight behind a hedge, I turned my head and saw the van go roaring past down the other street.

The girl watched it go. A light mist of sweat gleamed on her forehead. She was shivering. Her top had come untucked from her skirt, revealing a milky strip of skin with a cute bellybutton sewn in the middle of it.

I kept the engine idling while we watched the road in silence for a long minute. Then I let out the breath Id been rationing. Hes gone.

Now, whats the story?

I she started. Her eyes narrowed as if she sensed a trap.