The Skin Show Read Free

suddenly yanked open.
Gasping, he leaned back.
    “Didn’t
mean to scare you, kid.” Miles tried a smile. He failed. “Come on. Let me help
you down.”
    Miles
could climb down without help, and had done so many times in his dad’s truck.
He didn’t tell Jerry that, though, allowing the man to lower him down to the
road.
    Outside
seemed twenty degrees colder than it had been at the truck stop. A sharp squall
of wind threw Miles’s clothes against his body, rustling his hair, as he
followed Jerry around the front of the truck to the other side. He pulled the
hood over his head, only for the wind to blow it right back off.
    While
Jerry worked to retrieve the bike, Miles checked both directions for any cars.
There were none. The dark road stretched endlessly on each side like a dead
black tongue. The back of his neck tingled with goose bumps and it wasn’t the
wind’s doing.
    He
turned around as Jerry dropped the bike onto its wheels. The man used his boot
to nudge the kickstand down. “There you go.”
    “Thanks,”
said Miles. He reached for the handlebars and noticed his hands were shaking.  
    Jerry
looked down at Miles, frowning. “I couldn’t talk you out of going there, could
I?”
    Miles
shook his head. Scared as he was, he needed to find his dad, even if he might
not like what he saw.
    Jerry
sighed. “Don’t hang around that place any longer than you have to. If you don’t
see your daddy, hop on your bike and pedal your ass home and forget about him.
Got me?”
    Miles
gulped, nodded.
    “Good.
Go on. Best of luck to you, kid. ”
    Slowly,
Miles mounted the bike. His legs acted as if they wanted to work against him.
Stiff and difficult, he had trouble getting his feet on the pedals, his butt
planted on the narrow seat. Once he’d mounted the bike, he turned to tell Jerry
bye. The man was no longer standing behind him. The door slammed. He heard the
gears groan as Jerry put the truck into first gear. His eyes started to well
up, making his vision blurry. He blinked away the tears and pedaled across the
asphalt.
    The
dirt road was just where Jerry said it would be. There was a small dip as the
bike left the blacktop. The rubber tires crunched over the gravel. Thick trees
on each side choked out the moonlight. It was nearly impossible to see, so
Miles stopped to give his eyes time to adjust to the heavy darkness all around.
    Behind
him, the truck groaned as it began to roll. Miles had never felt more alone. He
would have looked back to watch the truck go, but didn’t want to risk the
truck’s bright lights ruining his night vision.
    He
began pedaling, taking Jerry’s advice about not wasting any time.
    The
trees curved over the road above him in a dome of spindly naked limbs. Streaks
of moonlight pierced through the tight gaps like ghostly daggers. There were no
sounds of wildlife, which Miles chalked up to the late fall temperatures.
Still, he thought he’d have heard something other than rusted squeals of the
chain on his bike, the whirring of his pedals.
    He
leaned into a curve, continuing forward. It seemed brighter in this part. As he
continued to pedal, the brightness grew at a rapid rate. Then he heard tires on
gravel, the hum of an engine. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a pair of
headlights behind him through his bangs flapping in his eyes.
    Miles
screamed when they honked their horn. He pedaled to the side, meaning to allot
them room to pass. He hadn’t expected the ditch to be so deep. The road vanished
from under him. The front tire struck the slope as the ground started to rise.
    And,
he was thrown from the bike.
     
    Miles
wasn’t sure how long he was out cold, or if he ever was. When he stood up, his
head felt swimmy. His ears sounded clogged, as if he’d been under water. He
looked down at his bike and groaned. It was busted. The front spokes were bent,
bowing outward like thin metal noodles. The chain hung in two halves around the
sprocket.
    Ruined.
    “Dammit,”
muttered Miles.