Lucid Dreaming by Lisa Morton Read Free Book Online Page A

would’ve turned around right then and gone back. I had the road atlas, we could even have picked a different way…
    Stupid. And both of us almost paid bigtime for that little lapse of thinking on my part.
    The trouble came the next day. We spent the night in a hotel in Amarillo, then continued east on the 40 as soon as the sun was up. It was almost fall now, and the days were getting shorter. I didn’t like traveling at night, so we tried to make the most of the daylight hours and be on our way not long after sunrise.
    We were maybe an hour outside of Amarillo, it was a bright morning with a few streaky clouds overhead, and I was doing eighty along the asphalt.
    Until I saw something up ahead.
    I started to slow, and at first I thought it was a big accident of some kind, that a bunch of cars had piled up in the center of the freeway.
    Then, as we got closer, I saw the cars were grouped around a big semi that was positioned almost perfectly across the highway, so that all lanes were effectively…
    â€¦ blocked . As in roadblock.
    I jammed on the brakes, and as soon as we were done screeching to a halt I slammed us into reverse.
    Too late.
    Two guys with guns were stepping onto the asphalt right behind us. If I kept reversing, they’d probably just shoot out the tires.
    So of course you know what I did:
    I floored the accelerator in reverse.
    And they shot out the tires. And the rear windshield. And the entire back of the SUV. Those assholes had automatic weapons, and they just creamed my car.
    Fucking Texas.
    The SUV thudded to a stop on the two rear wheel rims, and I threw myself over Teddy because glass and shit was flying everywhere. Suddenly the front doors were jerked open, and the guys with rifles now stood on either side of the car, pointing those automatic weapons right at us.
    â€œGet out of the car NOW!” they screamed.
    â€œOkay, all right!” I let go of Teddy and jumped down from the driver’s side.
    â€œGet on your knees!”
    I did.
    â€œHands behind your head!”
    No screwing off with these guys. I locked my fingers at the base of my neck and tried not to imagine half-a-dozen close-range slugs burrowing through my body.
    â€œHow much Prolixin you got?”
    That took me by enough surprise that I just gaped for a minute. “What?”
    The asshole over me said, very slowly, as if talking to a child: “You’re driving on the interstate, which means you’re taking Prolixin . How much do you have?”
    It all clicked together in my head: Of course. These guys were awake enough to arrange an ambush—of course they were on Prolixin . They were the ones who’d stripped Amarillo clean. And what better place to wait for more Prolixin than the main cross-country interstate?
    I actually dared to look up at my captor. He was a weathered-looking guy, in his forties, with sandy hair and the beginnings of a bushy beard. He was honestly wearing a big cowboy hat. Beneath the hat, his eyes were hard.
    â€œA lot,” I answered. “Look, you can have it all, just let us go…”
    He barked a harsh laugh, then went on in that clichéd-sounding drawl. “Well, now, see, if you’d done the reasonable thing and stopped when you should’ve, we could’ve just taken your stuff and let you go. But since you made us shoot up your car, what’re you gonna go in ?”
    Fuck.
    â€œNah, you’re gonna have to come with us now,” he said.
    â€œHey,” called the other man from the far side of the car, “is this boy retarded or just dreaming?”
    He was talking about Teddy. I leaned over and could see under the car and to the far side, where Teddy was on the pavement, curled into a trembling fetal ball.
    â€œHe is not a boy, and he is NOT fucking retarded,” I snarled.
    â€œOh, we got us a potty-mouth here,” said the guy over me.
    Suddenly an incoherent yodel of joy sounded from the other side, and the