The Silver Lake Murder by Gregg Matthews (different ereaders txt) 📕

The motor vehicle traffic on Highway 10 north and south is gridlocked. He can hear some hissing sounds like a rattlesnake makes before it strikes, but knows it is something wet in the engine dripping on something hot in the engine. With his right hand, he lifts the blinker up and pushes it up once more, signaling he is turning right. Putting his right hand over the vent, he can feel the warm air blowing out. Lowering the driver’s window, he breathes in the fresh southern air. The air wakes him up a little. He is not sure of the exact day but knows it is summertime and July. The temperature outside is well over one hundred degrees.

Up ahead, the sign reads New Orleans, he turns his blinker on. Every time the blinker blinks, a slow, dull sound echoes in his mind. Pulling the car off to the shoulder of Highway 10. The car’s engine is making some of its final sounds. From the rearview mirror he can see white smoke pouring out of the exhaust pipe. The gauges on the dashboard are not functioning properly. The car lets go with a loud gasp and turns off. Smoke is still coming out of the exhaust and from under the hood. He doesn’t pretend to come up with a plan to fix it. The car is done, it has served him well. Looking through the windshield, the color red is prevalent. The break-lights of the cars in front of him consume his view. The traffic into New Orleans is at a standstill. The car was not going to be moving whether it worked or not.

Taking a minute to get out of the car and stretch his dehydrated, sore body. He can see hundreds of people walking on the grass south, down the side of Highway 10. Most of the people have exited their cars and decided to walk. The people are walking in the direction to go into New Orleans. People are trying to reclaim their businesses, homes, and cars lost in Hurricane Katrina. A few helicopters with different TV News station logos on the side race overhead. Police sirens are heard off in the distance. A warm summer breeze blows across his face.

The scenery is familiar to him. He remembers the sounds and the warm winds. The experiences that come with being close to the ocean, has always attracted people to New Orleans. Looking at the signs, telling him where he is, still do not register as reality in his mind. He reads the sign again, New Orleans ten miles.

It’s a little later in the day now, mid-afternoon. He has been driving for more than twenty hours, and his body and mind are ready to collapse. He realizes he is in no condition to walk. He retrieves a couple of bottles of water and two power bars from the trunk of his car. He makes sure all the windows in the car are down. He climbs into the back seat and passes out.

CHAPTER 24

The next day thewarm southernsun, shines in through the windshield into the back seat. Blake rolls over, trying to avoid the sun. A few hours later, the sweat on his body is excessive. He rolls over a couple of times, not helping his cause any, he decides to get up. From the backseat, he opens the door and tries to focus on who and where he is. He looks around the landscape and again sees hundreds of people walking north along the highway and hundreds of people walking south back into the city.

The motor vehicle traffic is gridlocked in both directions. A couple of Louisiana state police helicopters fly overhead across the highway towards the city. He can hear more sirens off in the distance.

Getting up from the backseat. He can feel the clothes he is wearing are wet with sweat. He makes some adjustments as best he can. Walking to the back of the car, he opens the trunk and begins to gather himself. The first thing he grabs is a bottle of water. Tilting his head back and gulping the bottle of water down is bringing him back to life slowly. Reaching in, he takes another bottle of water and does it again, again one more time. When he tilts his head back, the sun shines bright in his eyes. He puts his aviator sunglasses on, and wraps a blue bandana around his head.

His long curly brown hair is sticking up and out in a lot of different directions. The bandana will keep the hair and sweat out of his face while he walks. Putting another bandana over his mouth tying it in the back will keep the debris and smoke from the city streets out of his mouth. He puts on a fresh black sleeveless T-shirt, with writing on the front, RiversTattoo Shop, New Orleans, 704 Bourbon Street. Cut-off shorts and an old pair of hiking boots are pulled from the trunk as well. Taking the two backpacks with gold-coins and cash in them, he transfers the contents from both backpacks to one larger black backpack. The larger backpack holds the gold-coins and cash. He ties a red bandana around the large black backpack. He estimates the backpack to weigh twenty to twenty-five pounds. He drops a large hunting knife inside the backpack. He consumes a couple of protein bars and stuffs two more in his back pocket. Catching his breath, he throws the backpack over his right shoulder.

The journey back to Rivers Tattoo shop at 704 Bourbon Street New Orleans begins. Knowing he is at least ten miles away; he finds a good pace and walks with determination. He joins the hundreds of people walking towards the city.

Hoping he can find Rose, and they can move on with their lives together. During the walk, his mind takes him back to being with Rose and having everyday conversations with her. He