The White Road
Prologue
They are coming.
They are coming in their trucks and their
cars, plumes of blue smoke following
them through the clear night air like stains
upon the soul. They are coming with their
wives and their children, with their lovers
and their sweethearts, talking of crops and
animals and journeys they will make; of
church bells and Sunday schools; of
wedding dresses and the names of
children yet unborn; of who said this and
who said that, things small and great, the
lifeblood of a thousand small towns no
different from their own.
They are coming with food and drink, and
the smell of fried chicken and fresh-baked
pies makes their mouths water. They are
coming with dirt beneath their nails and
beer on their breath. They are coming in
pressed shirts and patterned dresses, hair
combed and hair wild. They are coming
with joy in their hearts and vengeance on
their minds and excitement curling like a
snake in the hollow of their bellies.
They are coming to see the burning man.
The two men stopped at Cebert Yaken's
gas station, "The Friendliest Little Gas
Station in the South," close ... read full excerpt from The White Road: A Thriller ebook
