The Way Out
Chapter One
Now at Earth's lips,
Now at my lips.
- Dine Blessingway ceremony
DAY ONE
Winter, now. The desert races past.
Driving is a blessing of speed you don't get from walking. I lean
into the seat with my boots against the dashboard and watch this
oceanic country of southern Utah surge and collapse around us.
Canyons fall away, inhaled by red earth. Dirk Vaughan's hand drapes
the steering wheel, his fifteen-year-old Bronco moaning to the road.
He drives like an old street cop, body hanging relaxed on its
skeleton as if loosely prepared for impact, his eyes scanning
easily, seeing everything. We pass a semi painted in the highway
grime of snowmelt, nipples of soiled icicles hanging from its frame.
Dirk's posture does not change as we speed around it, the signal
flicked on, wheel nudged, accelerator touched, signal flicked the
other way. He has been in sixteen car accidents in the forty-five
years of his life: a reckless teenage rollover, numerous impacts
maneuvered in close quarters with a patrol car, and high-speed
collisions that left cars welded together. I ... read full excerpt from: The Way Out ebook