Dolan's Cadillac by Stephen King Read Free Book Online

from the first three rows.
    But from even a few yards away, it was virtually undetectable. It was a dark-gray strip which matched the actual
    surface of Route 71 exactly. On the far left of the canvas strip (as you faced west) was a broken yellow passing line.
    I settled the long strip of canvas over the wooden under-structure, then went slowly along the length of it, stapling
    the canvas to the struts. MY hands didn't want to do the work but I coaxed them.
    With the canvas secured, I returned to the van, slid behind the wheel (sitting down caused another brief but
    agonizing muscle spasm), and drove back to the top of the rise. I sat there for a fun minute, looking down at my lumpy,
    wounded hands as they lay in my lap. Then I got out and looked back down Route 71, almost casually. I didn't want to
    focus on any one thing, you see; I wanted the whole picture - a gestalt, if you will. I wanted, as much as possible, to
    see the scene as Dolan and his men were going to see it when they came over the rise. I wanted to get an idea of how
    right - or how wrong - it was going to feel to them.
    What I saw looked better than I could have hoped.
    The road machinery at the far end of the straight stretch justified the piles of dirt that had come from my excavation.
    The asphalt chunks in the ditch were mostly buried. Some still showed - the wind was picking up, and it had blown the
    dirt around - but that looked like the remnants of an old paving job. The compressor I'd brought in the back of the van
    looked like Highway Department equipment.
    And from here the illusion of the canvas strip was perfect - Route 71 appeared to be utterly untouched down there.
    Traffic had been heavy Friday and fairly heavy on Saturday - the drone of motors heading into the detour loop had
    been almost constant. This morning, however, there was hardly any traffic at all; most people had gotten to wherever
    they intended to spend the Fourth, or were taking the Interstate forty miles south to get there. That was fine with me.
    I parked the van just out of sight over the brow of the rise and lay on my belly until ten-forty-five. Then, after a big
    milk-truck had gone lumbering slowly up the detour, I backed the van down, opened the rear doors, and threw all the
    road cones inside.
    The flashing arrow was a tougher proposition - at first I couldn't see how I was going to unhook it from the locked
    battery box without electrocuting myself. Then I saw the plug. It had been mostly hidden by a hard rubber O-ring on
    the side of the sign-case ... a little insurance policy against vandals and practical jokers who might find pulling the plug
    on such a highway sign an amusing prank, I supposed.
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    I found a hammer and chisel in my toolbox, and four hard blows were sufficient to split the O-ring. I yanked it off with
    a pair of pliers and pulled the cable free. The arrow stopped flashing and went dark. I pushed the battery box into the
    ditch and buried it. It was strange to stand there and hear it humming down there in the sand. But it made me think of
    Dolan, and that made me laugh.
    I didn't think Dolan would hum. He might scream, but I didn't think he would hum.
    Four bolts held the arrow in a low steel cradle. I loosened them as fast as I could, ears cocked for another motor. It was
    time for one - but not time for Dolan yet, surely.
    That got the interior pessimist going again.
    What if he flew?
    He doesn't like to
    fly.
    What if he's driving but going another way? Going by the Interstate, for instance? Today everyone else is ...
    He
    always goes by 71.
    Yes, but what
    if
    'Shut up,' I hissed. 'Shut up, damn you, just shut the fuck up!'
    Easy, darling - easy! Everything will be all right.
    I got the arrow into the back of the van. It crashed against the sidewall and some of the bulbs broke. More of them
    broke when I tossed the cradle in after it.
    With that done, I drove back up the