False Prey: A Wildfire Novella (Wildfire Saga) by Marcus Richardson Read Free Book Online Page B

hours from home.”
    “So when did your trouble start?   Did Mr. Moore—”
    “Oh no, he didn’t do anything.   He was very nice, kept telling me how lucky I was my car hadn’t exploded.   Made me think I needed to buy a lottery ticket, you know?   He took his time showing me what was wrong with the car and when I told him to just fix it all and gave him the company credit card, he nearly fell over himself.   He complained that business had pretty much died off because people weren’t traveling as much, you know what I mean?   He treated me like a prince—set me up in the Holiday Inn just north of town by the interstate, got someone to drive me there with all my things.   Got me a bus pass and promised to let me know as soon as it was ready.   I told him I’d give him an extra hundred dollars if he got it done by the end of the week.”
    “How long did it take before the trouble started?”
    Sang sighed again.   “Three days.   Three days of sitting around my hotel room—” he laughed, “—it’s a lot nicer than this one, by the way.”
    “Hey,” said Danny, hand over his chest in mock-offense.   “Only the best for my sources.”
    Sang laughed again.   It was good to hear someone laugh.   “Anyway, I moped around, sent a few texts to my wife when the signals went through, and just listened to all the bad news.   Finally I had enough and had to get out and walk around.   That was Sunday. Today’s Tuesday, right?   God, a week ago I was sitting in the conference room at the Boone Center.   You ever been there?”
    “Nope, I’m a Rutgers man.”
    “Nice place.   They got all this wood trim—I think it was mahogany or something.   Anyway, the place looked like it was right out of Colonial Williamsburg or something.   Real swanky.”
    Danny nodded and said, “So, that was six days ago…”
    Sang rested his head against the wall as he sat on the lumpy bed.   “Yeah…six days later and my life has gone completely to shit.”
    Danny lit up another cigarette.   He looked at the smoldering roll of paper and tobacco in his fingers.   He knew he should slow down, but something told him not to worry.   The drug store had been pretty much wiped out of smokes.   He had checked.   He bought a discount brand—even though he hated the taste—just to have something when his regular stash ran out.   He did not want to be going cold turkey in the middle of all this flu business.  
    This is it—last one till dinner , he told himself sternly.   He was so focused on the cigarette, he hadn’t noticed Sang was still talking.
    “—bus to take me into town.   I figured I may as well walk around and see what there was to do in Brikston, since I was going to be stuck here for a few more days until all the parts arrived.   Mr. Moore said his deliveries were getting all…what did he call it?   Oh yeah, ‘ cattywompus ’.”   Sang laughed.   “Freakin’ hillbilly.   You know how it is with these people.”
    “What do you mean?” asked Danny.
    “Well,” said Sang, looking like he was surprised Danny hadn’t caught on yet.   “You know…because you’re black.   I mean…right?”
    Danny looked at Sang.   “I’ve been here for about two weeks now and haven’t noticed anyone treating me any different.   Plenty of black folk here in town.”   He wrote in his notes: who’s more racist, them or him?
    “Okay, forget I mentioned it,” said Sang, looking back up at the ceiling, clearly embarrassed.   “I guess it’s just me they don’t like.”   He sighed.   “Anyway, I was just window shopping—mostly looking for something I could get the kids, you know?   Just killing time.   Then I notice a cop car parked across the street.   The same cop that…hit me.   Back at the church.”
    Danny nodded.   “Officer Perkins.”
    Sang shrugged.   “I don’t know his name—the one without the flu mask.   Sadistic son of a bitch.”   Sang rubbed his injured arm and