THE GAMES OF POWER

THE GAMES OF POWER: Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6:

Speeding down the road, radio station blaring some angry metal band that I wasn’t in the right mind to understand the vocal-cord destroying words to, I turned North on Outer Banks Byway.

The sun was on its way down the side of the earth, bathing the sky in an orange with deep red tints around the edges. I only had an hour, maybe an hour and a half, before dark, so I punched the accelerator to the floor. I prayed cops were either looking the other way or were glued to their phones checking their Facebook timelines, ‘cause I wasn’t planning on stopping.

I watched as the road signs alerted me to Avon, a few miles before the city came up. The Avon junkyard, more of a crappy salvage yard, was one of Lucas’ favorite places to “shop” for parts for his car. He spent probably as much time rummaging through its mountains of useless junk as much as he did catching a wave.

“God I’m gonna kill you,” I seethed, gripping the steering wheel, nails digging into the rubber cover. “I’m so going to kill you…”

Going 80, I sped through the town of Avon, ignoring the blaring horns and headlights as I made my way down the road.

He’s an idiot! God he’s an idiot!

Rain fell on my windshield, and I inhaled the strong smell of sky water. I whipped on the wipers and stared through the melting windshield looking for the junkyard.

A minute later it came into view, and I slowed to pull next to the chain-link fence. But I nearly ran into it when I saw a tan Tacoma truck sitting idly next to the entrance.

A cursed under my breath, and ripped my seatbelt off. Stupid moron was here. Here scrounging in the stupid junkyard for stupid car parts for his stupid car.

Fuming, I slammed the door and walked over to the truck. I put my hands over my eyes and looked through the passenger window. A Hatteras Hurricanes pullover, one identical to the one I was wearing, sat crumpled up in the middle seat. This was definitely Lucas’ truck, but no Lucas. I kicked his tire and stalked over to the chain-link gate.

“Lucas!” I called out into the yard, rain growing harder and harder. “Lucas seriously. Come out, everyone’s worried sick dude!”

“Crap,” I grumbled as the only reply back to me was the rain splattering against a broken car window.

I looked out towards the massive mounds of useless, decaying junk. Piles of car doors, internal parts, and side mirrors surrounded me, only trails of compact mud and filth leading me through the maze.

Lightning flashed above me, flashing fiercely in the sky. Great. It’s storming. The slow, painful death I was planning for my best friend grew more complex with every time I called his name and he didn’t answer.

Aimlessly walking amongst trash and rotting metal for an hour, I was starting to get the sinking feeling that Lucas wasn’t here at all. My heart pumped as the thought that he was just messing around dissipated from my mind.

“Lucas!” I called again, but still I heard nothing. Rain was pouring in sheets, and lightning filled the dark sky. I wasn’t even sure he could hear me if he was here. The storm was so loud I could barely hear myself think.

Suddenly I felt my pocket vibrate, and I shielded my phone as I took it out and brought it up to my face.

Mom. She was probably getting worried, especially with this storm. She wouldn’t like me driving in it.

“Crap,” I said, hovering my thumb over the green receiver key. But just as my thumb grazed the glowing button, I stopped. Something up ahead caught my eye.