Useless Bay
Page 15
I pulled the keys out of my back pocket and felt my way to Ginny’s driver’s side, unlocking the door. The interior light came on, and there was the chocolate/cherry upholstery. I sank into it, running my hands along the dash. I may have kissed the steering wheel.
I was about to start the engine when there was a rap on my window. I jumped into the stratosphere.
Two great mismatched eyes were staring at me from under a cap of poufy yellow hair.
I cranked the window down.
“You need to get your mate some aspirin. The All-Nite Pantry on Burnside’s still open.”
I closed my eyes and listened to his voice. It was lyrical—even the English accent had overtones.
I wasn’t a shaking-hands kind of guy, but I held out my hand anyway. “Thanks, mister . . . ?”
“You can call me Ziggy,” he said, thrusting his own hands in his pockets. Apparently he wasn’t the shaking-hands type either.
“Thanks, Ziggy. We were in a bad way.” I started the engine.
See? I thought to myself. Nothing freaky about him. No hunting knife. Just a well-dressed look-alike who’d happened to save our asses.
And just as I convinced myself that everything was normal, Ziggy said something that blew me into the stratosphere again.
“Oh, and Noah, you need to show them the flyer in your pocket. There’s a darkness coming. I know you can feel it. Someone needs to make a stand, son. It has to be here. It has to be you.”
With that, he stood back, hitched up his collar, rapped twice on the roof of my car, strolled back into the shadows, and was gone.