The Killing Vision - By Will Overby Page 0,55

all seemed wrong somehow, that a few minutes ago they were discussing Mars and now she was fucking them all and it was dirty and wrong but he still wanted to do it because this would be the first time he had ever had sex with anyone besides his own hand. And immediately he ripped open his jeans and knelt between her legs and plunged into the slickness and felt her arch up to meet him.

And that was when all the sensations hit him. A roar of sounds and a dizzying array of visions pierced through him. He saw Candy with a dozen other guys. Felt the emptiness that was her soul. Saw her whole filthy, stinking squalid existence in a matter of seconds. He managed to pull away from her and stumble back out of the car, his erection wilted and his pants still wrapped around his knees. His body was coated with sweat, and he realized tears were streaming down his face.

“That was quick,” Mike said, laughing.

Scott moved toward the car and threw his empty beer bottle into the woods. “My turn,” he said.

Joel hadn’t been with anyone since. The thought of being pummeled by that cacophony of energy and emotion again was more than he could bear. He had quit football not long after that, and when he understood the weight of his ability he began to shut himself off from other people. Sex had not been something he had wanted to repeat.

But now he found himself thinking of Dana and how much he enjoyed being with her, and he wondered if she felt the same. And would she still want him if she knew they could never be together physically?

His phone buzzed on the table beside him, startling him out of his thoughts. He grabbed it and looked at the number, hoping it would be Dana. But it was a number he didn’t recognize. Against his better judgment, he accepted the call. “Hello?”

“Is this Joel?” said a male voice.

“Yes. Who’s this?”

“This is Barry. From the group.”

Joel remembered him. The creepy red-haired guy. “Hi, Barry.”

“Listen, I’m really sorry to bother you, and I hope you don’t mind me calling you, but I need to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“I think you’re in danger.”

Joel sat up in the bed. “What?”

“I think something may happen to you. Something bad.”

A cold sweat had broken out on Joel’s forehead. “Like what?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t want to alarm you, I. . . just think you should be careful.”

Joel stared straight ahead at the blinds over the window. His skin prickled and he realized he had goosebumps down his arms.

“Joel, you there?”

“I’m here.”

“Tackle him. Even if you think it’s too dangerous. Do it anyway. You’ll know when.” He disconnected and Joel sat with the dead phone against his ear, listening to the silence.

* * *

10:35 AM

Wade watched Derek work the lug nuts on the wheel of the Mustang. Today he was going to replace the brakes and hopefully take the car out for a spin when he was done. It was already sweltering in the barn, even though he had propped the doors and windows open and a breeze was flowing through like a hot river. He wiped the sweat off his face with the tail of his t-shirt and leaned back against the workbench.

“Think you’ll be done by the time I get home from work?” Derek said.

“Should be.”

“I’d like to take Chad for a ride. I’ve been telling him about it and he really wants to see it.”

“As long as you don’t do any drinking.”

Derek blew out a breath. “We won’t.”

“I don’t want to have to bail you outa jail.”

Derek shook his head. “Why are you always saying that?”

Wade grunted. “Hey, I was sixteen once.”

“Was alcohol even invented yet when you were sixteen?”

Wade picked up a rusty washer and chucked it at the kid’s ear. “Watch it.”

Derek stood up and stretched, then looked at his watch. “Crap, I gotta get to work.” He tossed the lug wrench to Wade. “If I’m late again, I’ll get an ass-chewing.” He cracked his neck and headed out into the yard. “See ya.”

“Have a great day at the office,” Wade called.

“Yeah.”

Wade watched him make his way up the back steps into the house, and a couple of minutes later heard the Escort fire up and pull out onto the highway with a squeal of tires. When he was sure he was alone and that Marla wasn’t going to make an appearance, he pulled the cigar box from