Uncollected Stories 2003 Read Online Free

seemed like a nightmare, a
vague dream, that, as all nightmares, is unreal and transparent when the
bright light of day shines upon it. But as I drove past the wrought iron
gates of the Crestwood Cemetery I realized that this was no dream. Four
hours ago my shovel had removed the dirt that covered the grave of
Daniel Wheatherby. For the first time a new thought occurred to me.
What was the body of Daniel Wheatherby being used for at that
moment? I shoved the thought into a deep corner of my mind and let out
onto the go-pedal. The car screamed ahead. I put my thoughts into
driving, glad to put the terrible thing I had done out of my mind, for a
short time, anyway.
Chapter Four
    The California countryside blurred by as I tried for the maximum speed.
The tires sang on the curve and, as I came out of it, several things
happened in rapid succession. I saw a panel truck crazily parked right on
the broken white line, a girl of about eighteen running right toward my
car, an older man running after her. I slammed on the brakes and they
exploded like bombs. I jockeyed the wheel and the California sky was
suddenly under me. Then everything was right-side up and I realized
that I had flipped right over and up. For a moment I was dazed, then a
scream, shrill and high, piercing, slit my head. I opened the door and
sprinted toward the road. The man had the girl and was yanking her
toward the panel truck. He was stronger than her and winning, but she
was taking an inch of skin for every foot he made.
    He saw me.
"You stay out of this, buddy. I'm her legal guardian."
I halted and shook the cobwebs out of my brain. It was exactly what
    he had been waiting for. He let go with a haymaker that got me on the
corner of the chin and knocked me sprawling. He grabbed the girl and
practically threw her into the cab. By the time that I was on my feet he
was around to the driver's side and peeling out. I took a flying leap and
made the roof just as he took off. I was almost thrown off, but I clawed
through about five layers of paint to stay on. Then I reached through the
open window and got him by the neck. He cursed and grabbed my hand.
He yanked, the truck spun crazily off the ledge of a steep embankment.
The last thing I remember is the nose of the truck pointing straight
down. Then my enemy saved my life by viciously yanking my arm. I
tumbled off just as the truck plunged over the cliff. I landed hard, but
the rock I landed on was harder. Everything slid away.
    Something cool touched my brow as I came to. The first thing I saw
was the flashing red light on top of the official looking car parked by the
embankment. I sat bolt upright and soft hands pushed me down. Nice
hands, the hands of the girl who had landed me into this mess. Then
there was a Highway Patrolman over me and an official voice said, "The
ambulance is coming. How do you feel?"
    "Bruised," I said and sat up again. "But tell the ambulance to go away.
I'm all right."
I tried to sound flippant. The last thing I needed after last night’s ‘job’
was the police.
"How about telling me about it?" the policeman said, producing a
notebook. Before I answered, I walked over to the embankment.
My stomach flipped over backwards. The panel truck was nose- deep
in California dirt and my sparring partner was turning that good
California soil into a reddish mud with his own blood. He lay
grotesquely sprawled half in, half out of the cab. The photographers
were getting their pictures. He was dead. I turned back. The patrolman
looked at me as if he expected me to throw up, but, after my new job,
my stomach was admirably strong.
"I was driving out of the Belwood district, "I said, "I came around that
curve..."
I told the rest of the story with the girl's help. Just as I finished the
ambulance came to a halt. Despite my protestations and those of my
still-unnamed girl friend, we were hustled into the back. Two hours later
we had a clean bill of health from