Speak Rain Read online

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  Finally, much later in the day than he’d originally planned, Daniel stopped begrudging the rain and climbed into his truck. Woodland Hills happened to have a fairly evenly sloped path down to the valley so the road down was a straight and lengthy one, progressing four miles straight down the hill past an elementary school, some farms and the beginnings of the next closest town, Springton, on the valley floor. The road teed into the state route that ran out to the freeway, but he didn’t turn left to get there, instead turning right to grab a bite to eat at the local morning coffee gathering place.

  The rain had picked up from a drizzle to full scale showers, as though it knew what Daniel was planning and didn’t want him to escape. Three cars, or more accurately, pickups, were parked outside the local gas station that doubled as a grill and coffee shop for the farmers in the area. If the British have tea time, post-three-pm was coffee and bullshit time in the few booths in the grill area. Non-farmers and people new to town were generally glared at, or given silent nods while the coffees were sipped.

  Daniel was a good ol’ boy at heart and had hit it off relatively quickly with the farming coffee club and was invited to sit down within three months of moving in…an unheard-of record. Today was apparently an off day though. No one bothered to even tip a cap towards him when he entered.

  Daniel ordered a day’s special of fish and chips, not terribly popular with the farm group, and then got his cup to fill with a Mountain Dew. He’d ordered a large. If he was going to drive for several hours he was going to need some quick juice to keep him running. He then turned to the group of rednecks in the first booth and said, “Howdy.”

  The response was underwhelming. The eldest tipped his cap at him and mumbled, “Daniel.”

  The rest sat stewing over their cups of coffee. Most cups were down by a half already, and none seemed to be steaming, and none had been drunk since he walked in. Dan guessed they’d sat there for quite some time already.

  “What’s wrong, boys? You all seem half asleep.”

  John, one of the younger farmers that participated in the group regularly was sitting closest to where Dan stood and slowly looked out the window before replying gruffly, “Just kinda worn out. I need to see some sun.”

  “Ya, I know what ya mean,” Dan replied.

  But it appeared no one was going to invite him to sit down or converse. A few quiet minutes later after he’d retreated to the grill counter sipping his soda, the cook gave Daniel his fish and chips and he took it out to his truck to leave.

  Dan’s pickup was a hard-starter. While he held the key in the start position and waited for the loose old engine to rumble to life he swore under his breath. It wasn’t so much about the truck, or even the rain as it had gotten even heavier while he was inside, but rather the attitude of the good ‘ol boys in the dinner. Of course, the farmers here never expressed real enthusiasm nor commonly uttered particularly positive statements if you just looked on the surface, but the conversation underneath was an expression of camaraderie and general wellbeing when it flowed. The lack of interaction inside left a sour taste in his mouth, like he was being excluded or perhaps he’d walked in on a sensitive topic.

  Once the truck was idling smoothly Dan threw the column shifter into reverse and checked his mirror before turning his head through the back window to back out. When he did he swore he saw a man standing at his tailgate looking at him, but it was so dark and the figure was so shadowed that there were no features at which to look. It was the glint of amber or red in the pair of eyes that truly made Dan jump when he saw it.

  Immediately Daniel threw his right arm over the bench seat and flicked his head to see who the figure was. But when he turned there was nothing but rain and reflections off the tarmac and a few other lonely surfaces from the pair of halogen lights whose sensors had not allowed them to turn off once the sun came up for the overwhelming duskiness the rain produced.

  He checked the mirror one more time, subconsciously trying to make sure the figure wasn’t still standing there. Seeing nothing, Dan swore under his breath again and started to back out. For some reason an edge to his trip was beginning to sink in such that he was actually hesitant to turn around again to look through the back window to backup. He just idled slowly out of the parking stall in reverse without looking, secretly hoping nobody real was standing behind him and then threw it into drive to get on his way.

  Something was not right in Woodland Hills and Springton. Daniel was sure of it. Pulling onto the freeway, though it seemed more deserted than he expected, lifted weight from his heart and he began enjoying his now cold fish and chips.