Dave

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Arkansas was empty, but it wasn't ugly. There were green mountains that looked like hunched giants on the horizon, roadside antique stores, steaming springs, and enough Dollar Generals to keep Harry in highly preserved snacks and beer for 30 years.

Just as Harry rolled to the end of the long steel bridge that connected Arkansas to Mississippi, the Lambo began to make pinging sounds and commenced to shaking. It death rattled and would not rouse no matter how many times he turned the key and pumped at the pedals.

He looked at the flat, dusty landscape that awaited him on the other side of the bridge. Harry started packing Takis and Powerades into his Louis Vuitton backpack. The Lambo, she was the last real remnant of The Time Before. He'd have to leave her. But not yet. Not yet. Harry lay on the hot hood of his car. He flicked a roach turd off a beer can and guzzled down 12 ounces, 24 ounces, 32 ounces, and so forth and so on until he couldn't feel the searing of the sun or the mosquitoes lancing his skin.

A bug bit hard at his ribs, shaking him from his stupor. When he opened his eyes, this bug had graying hair and an outheld stick. Harry sat up and jumped to his feet. A person. A man. A seemingly living one.

"Son of the bitch!" the man laughed. He threw down the stick in his hand. "I thought you looked too fresh for a corpse. Son of a fucking bitch. You don't know how happy I am to see you!"

"Am I hallucinating?" Harry asked, still a little drunk, but mostly in disbelief. It had been three solid years.

The man wiped his hand against his khakis before offering one to Harry to shake. "I'm Dave."

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⏰ Last updated: Oct 02, 2021 ⏰

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