by phuc
I glanced through the gun rack and the back glass, saw Bob and Sam stretched on the floor of the camper. Bob was up on one elbow, gingerly managing sardines from a can Crier had opened and left for him. Sam wasn't moving. Later Bob told me he died before we got out of the lot.
We went through the exit, and though the highway was there, the yellow line had faded and the concrete had buckled and grass grew up through it in spots. Nothing else was remotely familiar. I wasn't in the least bit surprised. I remembered what Sam had said: "It ain't over yet. It ain't never over." No, it wasn't over. It was time for the second feature. A lost world movie. As we drove, a massive shape stepped out of the jungle foliage at the right of the highway and Crier eased on the brake and we watched. It was a Tyrannosaurus rex covered in batlike parasites, their wings opening and closing slowly, like contented butterflies sipping nectar from a flower.
The dinosaur looked at us in a disinterested way, crossed the highway and was swallowed by the jungle.
"I don't think this leads home anymore," Crier said, and eased forward again, started picking up speed. I looked in the truck's wing mirror and I could see the drive-in in it, one of the screens in Lot B. The projector might still be running back there, but if it was, I couldn't make out a picture. The screen looked like nothing more than an enormous slice of Wonder Bread.
CUT/FADE-OUT
Roll Credits
JOE R. LANSDALE is a full-time writer and a lifelong resident of East Texas. He is the author of five novels and more short stories than anyone wants to count. He generally writes Westerns, science fiction, mysteries, horror, and fantasy and has appeared in most of the genre magazines. His most recent Doubleday books are an award-winning anthology, Best of the West, and a Double D Western novel, The Magic Wagon. Mr. Lansdale lives in Nacogdoches, Texas, with his wife, son, and daughter.
Table of Contents
PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
Epilogue
