The Everlasting Andersons

Prologue

The nighttime air blew gently across the windows of a truck as it sped down the road. Desperate to get home. Inside there was a brown skinned man with a fierce look on his face. One hand was on the steering wheel, the other clutched his phone so tight his palm was starting to become a different color altogether.

"Call my wife!" He yelled into his phone.

The familiar sound of dial tone crashed against the roaring engine and loud cursing coming from the man. Creating a symphony of chaos on an otherwise quiet road.

"I'm sorry, the number you are trying to reach, is unavailable. Please leave---"

The man punched the steering wheel in frustration, adding the honking of a horn to the symphony.

He cursed himself for leaving for work that day despite the eerie feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. He had chalked it up to a lack of sleep.

Suddenly his phone ring and he almost swerved off the road trying to answer it.

"Hello?! Babe?!"

"Whoa now," croaked a gravely voice, "I'm not really into men. Sorry to disappoint you there boy."

Somehow the mans face tightened up even harder at the sound this voice.

"Where are they?! Stay the fuck away from my family you bitch ass motherfucker!"

There was a brief pause and the man's anger seethed in the silence.

"You calm yet? Good. One more little outburst like that and we gotta start planning funerals."

"I'm not playing Jack, if you----""Daddy", a voice interrupts. Another tense silence ensues.

"That got your attention didn't it. Not another word. If so much as a whisper comes out of your mouth I'll take her head off." He could practically hear the sick smile on his face. "Here is what's gonna happen. You won't be coming home. Your gonna take a little detour. I'm sure I don't have to tell you where. Say yes if you understand what I'm saying."

"Yes." The man says through gritted teeth.

"Good. I'll see you there." He hangs up. Leaving an awkward silence. He sighs deeply and dials one more number from his contacts.

The phone rings a couple times, worrying the man to his core.

"Pick up the fucking phone!"

"Hello?" Says a groggy voice.

"Wake up and get ready. It's time to come home." The man hangs up. Not even bothering to hear his response.

He sped up swerving pass the occasional car that showed up at this time of night. Suddenly a police siren wailed behind him. Without even skipping a beat he reaching into his glove box and pulls out what a small purple pouch, tied at the top by a thin silver strings. He slips a finger through the string and unloops it. He reaches his hand out the window and tosses it back behind the car. In seconds a wave of brown mist flows over the streets, concealing his presence as he pushes the car forward. Heads were gonna roll tonight.