Trail of Blood (2)

Jeremy opened his door and looked at Tally. “You stay here. I’m gonna check the car.” He carefully moved his legs and stood up by the car, then fell to his knees in the slippery mud. Hauling himself up on the door handle, he coughed again, and braced himself against the cold, wet metal. “Jeez, Tally, I think I’ve done something to my ribs.”

On the roadway above, another vehicle screeched to a stop. Tally tensed. It was the battered black pickup that had chased them all the way from Phillipsburg. Highlighted by the heavy quarter moon, three men stumbled from the cab, followed by a clatter of empty beer cans. The driver was big, not tall but muscular, with a rolling gut that stretched his T-shirt to the limit. He was followed by a second man, small, skinny, bearded. Then moonlight caught the shaved head of a third man as he came around from the passenger side.

Their combined anger hit Tally like an invisible wave. She had become extra-sensitive to people’s emotions lately, which she didn’t especially like. It was like having a hive of buzzing bees in her brain.

"Hey, boy! Not so smart now, are you, boy?" the driver taunted, grinning down at Jeremy from the roadside above. “Wanna shoot me the finger again?”

Tally was inside Jeremy’s brain now as he swallowed hard and decided to stand his ground. Not his choice of saviors, he was thinking, but surely they would realize that the game was over now. He supported himself with his left hand on the car door, squared his Polo-clad shoulders, and stood as straight as his aching ribs would allow.

"Look, man, I've had an accident! I'm sorry I flipped you off back there, but we need help! It's a long way to town!" Then he paused and enunciated carefully in his most reasonable senior-class-president tones: "I’m Jeremy Marek."

Those three magic words had tamed a lot of bears in Jeremy's life, Tally knew, but not these three. Their anger was at the point of rage, and Jeremy was the target for the night.

And the story goes on--