Lost Echoes by Joe R. Lansdale Read Free Book Online

suddenly something dark appeared. A car, crossing an intersection, and Harry threw up his hands as they collided, and the woman inside of him, she jumped out of him, her head striking the steering wheel, and when it did a red haze filled his vision and splattered against the windshield.
    To his right, a doll was thrown forward.
    A large doll.
    It hit the window hard, shattering it, making glass shards jump: then the doll twisted into a U shape, ricocheted off the inside of the car, passed through him once, striking the woman, bounced back against the glass, came to rest on the floorboard in a wad.
    The doll leaked.
    Only it wasn’t a doll.
    It was a little girl.
    He couldn’t tell much about her looks. She didn’t have any. Just a mess of blond hair with runs of scarlet in it, her face a nest of broken glass and a pool of blood. The blood was coming faster now. The car was coated in it.
    He thought: Seat belts. Where are the seat belts?
    He fell forward and hit his head against the steering wheel and the car went dark and dull and empty and turned old; the door screeched as he jerked it open and let out a yell.
    He yelled more than once.
    He yelled a lot.
    His parents came out of the house and found him lying in the yard on his back, looking up at the stars, still yelling.

 
    9
    There were lots of doctors for the next few years. Doctors with charts and tests and even medicine that made him tired and a little loopy. It was supposed to help him focus. It was supposed to help him with his delusions. It made him feel bad.
    A little later, he would think, yeah, I felt bad, but I was numb. And numb, that was good.
    But back then he didn’t know that.
    So, he quit taking the medicine, thought: Okay, maybe I’m a fruitcake with extra nuts, and maybe I’m not. And if I am a fruitcake, then I probably don’t know it. But I know this: My parents don’t have any money, and I’m costing them a ton because I might be nuts.
    So I got to quit being nuts.
    Or whatever is wrong with me has got to stop.
    I’ll just stop now.
     
    And he did stop.
    Sort of.
     

     
    He was sixteen and had his license. Had his first chance to go out and see the world from behind a steering wheel, and the truth of the matter was, he was frightened.
    There had been other episodes.
    One night, while riding in a car with Joey, who got his license first, he had “an experience.” It wasn’t the same as before. The car door closing was fine. The ride was fine. Then they hit a bump and the glove box snapped open and the lid dropped down with a reverberation, and it jumped on him.
    Different this time. Milder. Just a bumpy ride at midday, a black man yelling as a car came out of nowhere. Just a fender-bender on the right side that knocked the glove box open, that and a high kick start on a rush of adrenaline. The driver even started to smile, happy he hadn’t gotten twisted into the metal. Then the man’s face fell off like melted black wax and the world Harry knew came back and it was all over.
    Joey was sitting behind the wheel looking at him when he came out of it. Joey pulled over, said, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Quit jumping. You’re fucking me up, man.”
    “What?”
    “You’re hopping and screaming. Ain’t even any music on.”
    “Shit,” Harry said.
    “That’s what I almost did.”
    “Is this car used?” Harry asked.
    “Yeah. It is. What you think, I get an old model and no one’s ever driven it? Like it’s been sitting on the car lot for a few years till I buy it?”
    “Was it ever wrecked?”
    “I don’t know. How the fuck would I know? Close the glove box. That fucker’s always popping open.”
    “Can we leave it open so it doesn’t do that again?”
    “You got more pussy ways than anyone I know. Yeah. Leave it open if it don’t make you hop and yell. Most motherfuckers like to listen to the radio, they’re gonna do that hoppin’ about. But you, you got the silent drummer going on, you know.”
    There had been