Amber by Dan-Dwayne Spencer (e book reader .TXT) 📕

Roger barked out, “Yeah, unless someone’s got the hots and detours to give a pretty girl a ride home.”

Making a timely entrance, Rose walked up. “Sheriff, it happened right in front of us. Scared us spit-less.”

Looking her up and down, the Sheriff said, “I suppose you’re the pretty girl who needed a ride.” A lecherous smile spread across his lips before turning back to Jimmy. “Your brother’s right about her. I agree—you should’ve given her a ride.”

Roger mouthed off, “Sheesh, we did give her a ride.”

Ignoring Roger’s outburst, the Sheriff stopped and stared at Rose. “Wait, I know you. You wait tables at the truck stop. The one this side of Joplin.”

“I did.” Rose pressed her lips together as she studied the asphalt under her feet. “Sam fired me tonight. I broke several plates and dumped a tray onto a table.” She shrugged. “I guess I deserved it.” She looked up at the officer with a pitiful expression. “These guys were taking me home.”

“So, young lady, where is home?”

She hesitated, struggling to maintain her smile, before she informed him, “I live just up the road here at Happy Hollow.”

“Ha… Happy Hollow?” he repeated.

“Yes, that’s right. You know the place. It’s the commune you’ve been trying to shut down,” she accused.

The Sheriff’s expression completely changed. He turned back to the truck and sourly said, “This entire state is full of nothing but damned hippies. How did Kansas end up with a shitload of tree-hugging, bead-wearing misfits? They’re everywhere I look.”

“Misfits?” Rose sounded ticked. “Well, don’t get your britches in a bunch on your way to the donut shop. You’re not doing anything here but harassing a bunch of Good Samaritans.”

Stomping away, the Sheriff snatched my coffee from me and screwed the cup back onto the top of the thermos. He tossed it back into the cab of his truck and grabbed up his police radio’s microphone. “These are not the kids we’re looking for. The Mustang has Oklahoma plates. All I found here is a bunch of horny farm boys chasing after one of those hippy chicks from the Hollow. I’m going to check on the driver.” The radio belched a muffled garble of words. From where I stood, I couldn’t make sense of it. “It’s not what I was expecting either. One of these damned kids kept him alive till the ambulance got here.” More muffled electronic gibberish. “10-4, heading to the hospital with the ambulance soon. Meet you there.” Then he all but pushed me off the tailgate and slammed it shut before he headed to the water’s edge to check on the medical technicians.

The emergency medical guys brought a gurney up the embankment, with Dave strapped on it. They carried him over to the ambulance, slid him in, and in less than a minute they had turned the vehicle around; with the siren blaring they speed off, back to Joplin with the Sheriff trailing behind. In another fifteen minutes, a couple of tow trucks arrived. Using a crane, cables, chains, and winches, the operators lifted the trailer and moved it to the side of the road, where they loaded it onto a huge flatbed trailer.

With the road clear again, we were off once more in the direction of Happy Hollow. Rose bummed another cigarette off Jimmy, saying she needed it to calm down. No one else said anything. We rode in silence. I guess they were in shock from the whole ordeal and not knowing if Dave would live or die. Oh, and the cop didn’t help my stress level. I wasn’t sure the exact amount of stress a person could take before their head exploded, but I figured mine was getting close. I’d feel better if they’d at least acknowledge my shining moment of heroism. I would have to act humble as they praised my deed with thanks and accolades. Still, I was willing to make the sacrifice. But no, instead they just sat there, mute.

Without proper facilities, I remained covered in sticky mud. At least Jimmy didn’t hassle me about messing up his backseat. I sat next to Roger, who hugged the far side of the bench seat in fear of getting slightly muddy. Even though my friends were with me, I felt alone sitting there in the shadows.

I think there’s nothing more complicated than the feelings of a fifteen-year-old because as we rode in silence I started thinking about the commune. How did I feel about visiting a real hippie commune? Geeze, I felt more confused than anything. The closer we got to Happy Hollow, the more excitement and fear waged war in my brain. The thought of living without censorship, without reproof, carefree with drugs, sex, and of course, reckless nudity, it all excited me and scared me shitless.

In the dim darkness of the car’s back seat, shadows moved with the passing of every light along the highway. The predictable movement should have resulted in a calming, almost hypnotic effect, but my nerves were at DEFCON three and an air-raid siren sounded in my ears. Without warning, something touched my foot. An uncontrollable “oh” slipped from between my lips, and I heard a passive purr in response. What would have sent anyone of the others screaming from the car only told me that my friend, the oddity I called Mr. Dark, was with me. For some reason, it wanted me to acknowledge its presence. I took a deep breath and counted to ten. The sirens stopped and my nerves went back to DEFCON four. Without warning, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up and my skin tingled up and down my spine. My short-lived relaxation ended, and I went back to DEFCON three.

“What’s wrong?” Roger asked, holding his head at an awkward angle, “You say something?”

“Oh, n…nothing,”