The Pale Man Rises

CHAPTER SIXTY TWO

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The sedan was all over the road as it followed the Wagoner ahead. "Damn man we'll be lucky to make it! These chains don't seem to make much of a difference if you ask me–and we've got twenty more miles to go!" Farr said as he struggled with the steering wheel. "We should have ridden with them." Spellman said pointing ahead. "There was no room Frank." Farr told him. "How 'bout that guy back there?" Frank said pointing to the rear over his shoulder at the small gray Jeep Cherokee behind them.

Farr glanced into the rearview mirror at the lights there. "I don't know–I don't think he's a cop." He said. "I don't give a shit–I think we should appropriate his vehicle!" Spellman said with a laugh. "Get a grip Frank–we aren't even in our jurisdiction." Farr laughed also.

The car slid some more over the ice that was beneath the rolling snow. They were at the edge of the road now in danger of going into the snow covered ditch. "Oh shit!" Farr said as he fought to control the machine. "What do you think now?" Frank asked him, as he held on tight to the dashboard.

Farr turned to his partner and grinned. "I'm leaning heavily toward a precedent here my friend. If this goes on much longer we're taking the guy's car!" He snickered. "Ja mien fuhrer!" Spellman laughed giving him a limited Nazi salute. Behind them the reporter Fipps sat with his stoic passenger. The beast sat on its side of the Jeep coldly aloof staring straight ahead through the windshield of the vehicle. The animal didn't even favor the wound on the upper portion of his right leg close to its shoulder.

He'd not seemed to interested in the reporter despite the fact that the young man had rescued him from his temporary prison in the luggage compartment of the bus, which at the time of the discovery was becoming a literal freezer. Nor even now did he seem grateful the least bit toward his benefactor who was also graciously giving him a ride. 

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 If not for the ride the bloodhound would had to have try and achieve its goal over the broad scope of snow and ice relying only on his nose and intuitive sense of where the evil pale man and his entourage were headed. And hunger too now gnawed at the dog, many days had passed since the beast had partaken of a decent meal.

The dog's lack of gratitude did not really concern Fipps for he was really no great lover of animals notwithstanding the new found compassion one might have thought he was demonstrating. He only offered the dog the seat beside him because he was concerned about the weather and had decided that if he was to possibly get stranded in it he desired some company while he was so detained. He didn't know anyone there and couldn't count on them offering him a hand in such weather it was probably a good idea to have along a dog with a magnificent reputation for smelling its way somewhere. At least once he would begin to bitch about it there would be no one there to dissuade him from it or would also criticize his efforts thus far.

He managed to get the animal up into the Jeep with little trouble. And so the beast sat there quietly like a somber co-pilot as he began to follow the two cops who had come from Sayerville. And now here they were behind this vehicle, which was moving slowly over, the snow covered road and was presently in danger of slipping into the ditch because of this weather.

Fipps cursed the occupants of the sedan between him and the Wagoner the Sheriff was driving. One of the guys riding with the Sheriff, he assumed was the Special Agent from the FBI he learned was in town on the case and also assumed these guys were the Sayerville detectives he'd also learned was aiding him. He had many contacts in the local police agencies in Sayer County, but he'd never had the occasion to meet the two men ahead of him. Most of his contacts were uniform guys who needed a little extra cash ever now and then and were not above slipping him a little tidbit if they thought it would do no great damage.