Highway To Hell Read Free Page B

continued beneath his clothing onto his chest and neck. He had a flat face; his nose showed signs of being broken more times than was healthy, while his forehead had a long horizontal scar that when it had first been inflicted doubtlessly bled like a broken fire hydrant. His eyes were cold, emotionless even in the bright light of day. They looked black, like a shark. His jaw was clenched, face painted with anger so thick it couldn’t have simply been because this girl said something disagreeable.
    Marcus bent down to the girl. The man stood far enough back to not pose an immediate threat, and his unclenched fists hung loose at his sides. Something about him still made Marcus feel uneasy but it was too late to change his mind now. The course of fate had been set on its way and they were all but pawns caught in its undercurrent.
    “Are you okay?” Marcus asked, reaching out to the young woman. She trembled with a mixture of fear and withdrawal and had an odor about her that Marcus knew all too well; it was the stench of addiction. Her arms were filled with tract marks, and bruises from where she had taken several hits at the same time. Her nose upon closer inspection was red and sore, and her teeth were yellow and looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.
    She looked up at him, her eyes bloodshot with tears. Her face was desperate and it physically pained Marcus to look at her. She nodded at him, a small movement, but she averted her eyes; she couldn’t look at him, and he knew why. He looked over her outfit again and it all becomes clear to him. They weren’t a young dysfunctional couple in love. Far from it: she was a young girl trapped in a mistake she had made and was unable to find her way back home.
    “Hey, pig, get the fuck away from my girl, alright?” a powerful voice boomed from behind him.
    Marcus rose and turned, ready to face the man, but was more than a little surprised when he saw how close they were. Standing nose-to-nose, the hot acrid breath filled Marcus’s face and made him want to gag. The man was high, Marcus could see that: his eyes were unfocused, moving from place to place as if only moments before each had been given a double espresso.
    “Listen, I don’t want any trouble, so please, take a step back and tell me what the problem is.” Marcus remained calm, and looked the man in the eyes. He tried to talk through the drugs, through the rage that brought the red curtain down on the show, trying to reach the person who was buried deep down inside somewhere. No matter who it was, or what they had done, conversing with a clean mind was easier than trying to reason with the unpredictable nature of a drugged one. Behind him, Marcus could see the girl trying to stand, reaching desperately for her baby.
    “Yeah, well stay outta my face, leave the woman alone and get out ‘fore you get into trouble, pig.” Anger flashed in the man’s eyes. He smacked his teeth and began to sway from side to side, shifting his weight from one to the other. Marcus took a step back. It was apparent the man would not be doing so.
    The man moved, tracing Marcus’s movements, and it was enough to put him on edge. He was nervous, but in too tight a spot to reach for his radio. He knew then that it would turn physical. The man’s eyes and his face changed; the shark-like features were gone, and in their place was a twisted featured ghoul, the skin a pale green-gray. It looked waxy. The eyes were large round discs of black, its nose squashed flat against its face like a Persian cat, and the mouth was cocked in a wry smile that revealed black teeth and a rotten tongue that darted out to taste the air like a snake. Marcus closed his eyes and shook his head like fighter getting up from a sneaky knockdown and the image was gone. The man had advanced, his stance changed to a more bladed one, and his breathing had become much shallower. He found reassurance in all of the signs he was reading, because although the