Dark Passage Read Free Page A

six
minutes to come back here, because they would be going slowly,
studying the road and the meadow at the sides of the road. All
right, wait one more minute and let them make a mile and a third.
Let it be two minutes, then take three or four minutes to get to
those hills, and pray there wouldn’t be any more motorcycles
tearing down the road.
    CHAPTER 2
    When he was in the hills he sat down for a
rest. He wondered if it would be feasible to stay here in the
hills, give himself a few days here while the search radiated. But
if the police couldn’t get any leads elsewhere, they'd come back to
the road and chances were they'd sift the hills. The more he
thought about it the more he understood the necessity for keeping
on the move. And moving fast. That was it. Fast. Everything
fast.
    He got up and started moving in the
direction he had first taken. The hills seemed to move along with
him. After a while he was tired again but he was thinking in terms
of speed and he refused to take another rest. The weariness went
away for a time but after some minutes it came back and it was
accompanied by thirst and a desire for a cigarette. He couldn’t do
anything about the thirst but there was an almost empty pack of
cigarettes in his trousers pocket. He put a cigarette between his
lips and then he searched for a match. He didn't have a match. He
looked around, as if he thought there might be a place where he
could buy a book of matches. He puffed at the cigarette, trying to
imagine that it was lit and he was drawing smoke. He didn't have
any matches. He began to think of the things he didn't
have.
    He didn’t have clothes. He didn't have
money. He didn't have friends. No, he was wrong there. He had a few
friends and one friend in particular. And it was a cinch that
Fellsinger would go to bat for him. But Fellsinger was in Frisco
and Frisco was going to be a very hot place aside from the heat of
August. Nevertheless it was practical for him to see Fellsinger.
The next move was Frisco. The police wouldn't watch Fellsinger. Or
maybe they would. Or wouldn't.
    As an hour passed the hills gave way to
another stretch of pale green. There were no roads, there were no
houses, nothing. Parry negotiated the pale green, moved toward dark
green. It was heavily wooded area and he tried to guess what was on
the other side. He looked back, knowing that the division of
terrain would be a decent sort of guide, preventing him from
traveling in a circle. He entered the woods.
    He was in the woods for more than an hour.
He was moving fast. Then he could see a lot of bright yellow
breaking through the dark green. It meant that he was about to come
out on the other side of the woods. Already he could see a band of
white-yellow out there and he knew it was a road.
    At the side of the road he leaned against
a tree, waiting. He wanted to see a truck or an automobile and at
the same time he was afraid to see anything of that sort. He kept
sucking at the unlighted cigarette. He looked at the other side of
the road and saw a continuation of the woods. All right, let an
automobile come by. Let something happen.
    Nothing happened for about forty minutes.
Then Parry heard a sound coming down the road and it belonged to an
automobile. There was an instant of animal fright and he was
turning to dart back into the woods. A spurt of gambling spirit
pushed aside the fright and Parry ran out to the center of the
road. He saw the automobile coming toward him. It was a Nash, a 36
or 37, he wasn’t sure but he didn't particularly care either. It
was something that might take him to Frisco, if it was going to
Frisco. He was out there in the center of the road, waving his arms
beseechingly. The Nash was going rather fast and it didn't look as
if it was going to stop. It increased speed as it closed in on
Parry. There was only one person in the car and it was a man. It
was a very pleasant man who was using this method to tell Parry
that he would either get out of the way or get