The Blob Read Online Free Page B

it to Fran along with a five-dollar bill. “If you ever get a little time to yourself, here’s my number down at the station,” he said. “Oh, and keep the change.”
    Hardly acknowledging this, Fran just grabbed the money and the card. Stuffing both into her pocket, she went off to deal with the babbling teenagers at the counter. “Okay! One at a time!” she yelled.
    Bemused, Herb looked down at the receipt she had handed him.
    Below the addition, words were jotted: I’m off at 11:00, they read.
    A rush of relief and happiness flooded Herb Geller. Not a rejection after all! He had a date! A real, genuine, maybe-this-might-lead-to-something date!
    He stuffed the check behind his ticket book, squared his shoulders, straightened his gun and holster, and sauntered off to his cruiser, feeling proud and happy.
    The teenagers ignored him.

4
    T he old pickup truck grumbled and squeaked to a halt right next to the Tick Tock Diner. Brian Flagg jumped out of the back, slapping the battered blue side of the cab.
    “Thanks for the ride!” he said to the man in the baseball cap behind the wheel.
    “No problem, fella. Stay good!”
    Brian winked, and the pickup truck roared away, leaving behind a rooster tail of dust.
    Gotta see Moss Woolsey, thought Brian, he’ll help me out! I gotta get my bike fixed before dark, and Moss is my only hope.
    Brian Flagg started up the road toward Moss’s place, past the Tick Tock. Too bad he didn’t have time for a Coke or something. He could use one. Still, with that hoard of his classmates inside there, the Tick Tock scene was not exactly one that he cared to make today.
    Just then Sheriff Geller walked out of the diner, easily the last man that Brian Flagg wanted to see right now. Or forever, for that matter!
    Luckily Geller didn’t seem to notice him, but just slid into his bubble-top and gunned the engine.
    Flagg picked up a little speed, skipped over to the sidewalk, and faded into the shadows of a hardware store’s awning. He turned his back, pretending to admire the hammers and chisels on display in the front window. Sheriff Geller was the guy who’d put Flagg on ice twice, and he was not the sort that Brian Flagg cared to make idle chitchat with!
    The black-and-white Lincoln eased along the road behind him, and Flagg could almost sense it stopping.
    Oh, shit.
    “Flagg! Congratulations!” cried that too-familiar voice.
    Brian Flagged turned. “Congratulations for what?” he asked in a surly tone.
    “Hear you got a birthday comin’ up. No more juvie hall, right?”
    “You got that right, Sheriff!” Brian said.
    “You bet,” said the sheriff, stabbing a finger at him. “Next time you fuck up, you’re in the majors.” Herb Geller grinned. “See you around, Flagg.”
    The bubble-top cruised on.
    Flagg sighed. Geller would like that. Geller was the guy who’d pegged him early as a juvie and had made damned sure that Brian Flagg didn’t get an inch to spare. That was why, when Brian Flagg had first been caught at something even slightly unlawful—in this case, fooling around in the brewery with some guys, guzzling some free beer in the middle of the night—the proverbial book had been thrown at him.
    And it was in the Websterville Juvenile Detention Hall—for four long weekends of “reform”—that he had met the guys that had gotten him into trouble the second time—Vinnie Marshall and Ted Clinco. Once “sprung” themselves, they’d bring their motorbikes over to Brian in Morgan City for minor repairs. Brian had palled around with them for a while, attracting Sheriff Geller’s attention. Then, when Vinnie and Ted were seen hauling loot through the broken door of someone’s apartment, the sheriff immediately showed up at Brian Flagg’s house, with a search warrant. Unfortunately for Brian the guys had stashed a few stolen articles in the shed in his backyard. Equally unfortunate, the shed was the place where he kept a small bag of marijuana as well. They never