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The Influence

Page 34

by Bentley Little


  He ended up performing his old chores, feeding the chickens and collecting eggs. It was relaxing this time, rather than stressful, and afterward he helped Dave and a guy named Don dig a hole to bury the bodies of deformed rodents that had been collected from around the ranch.

  Once again, he took dinner in the Big House with Lita and Dave, filling them in with more detail on what had happened at the last, then he walked across the yard to spend one final night in the shack. He had no laptop, but the TV was still here, and he turned it on for white noise as he prepared to go to sleep.

  He had no dreams.

  Leaving the next morning made him sad. He had grown used to this place and these people. Magdalena felt like home to him, and though he now had the job that he wanted and a rental house near the beach, it was hard to reconcile the fact that if he ever returned, it would be as a visitor rather than a resident, and nothing would be the same.

  “I only look forward,” Jill told him once. “It’s too sad to look back.”

  He understood what she meant.

  “Call me,” Lita said, hugging him and crying.

  “I will,” Ross promised.

  He drove back to San Diego, stopping off in Yuma for coffee, gas and a bathroom break before making a marathon run across the desert in an effort to beat the heat. Back in California, he unpacked the pickup, took it back to Enterprise, and someone from the rental car agency drove him home. Tired, he lay down on the couch, intending to take a short nap before finding a place for all the boxes he’d brought back, but when he opened his eyes again, it was morning. He’d slept through not only the rest of the afternoon but the entire night, and he awoke hungry, though his body clock was off and he was not in the mood for breakfast. Tacos sounded good, and he wondered if that little stand on the beach, Surfside Tacos, was open this early.

  He was still wearing yesterday’s clothes, and he took them off, got in the shower and changed into clean underwear, pants and a shirt. Tacos still sounded good to him, and he put on some sneakers and walked outside, looking toward the beach.

  It was about 75 degrees and clear, the ocean as blue as the sky.

  He breathed deeply, thought of Jill, and smiled sadly to himself.

  Nice weather for a walk.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Thirty Nine

  Forty

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Thirty Nine

  Forty

 

 

 


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