Linwood Barclay - Far From True

The words that came to mind for Derek were “loose cannon.” George was always the one who acted first, thought later. Like turning over a professor’s Smart car and leaving it on its roof. Slipping a baby alligator from a pet shop into Thackeray Pond. (That little guy still hadn’t been found.) George had even boasted about breaking into people’s garages late at night, not just to help himself to a set of tools or a bicycle, but for the pure thrill of it.

As if George could read Derek’s thoughts at that moment in the car, he decided to do something monumentally stupid.

George dropped the passenger window, allowing cool night air to blow in as they sped down a country road that ran around the south end of Promise Falls. Next thing Derek knew, George had his arm extended out the window.

There was a loud bang. And an instantaneous PING!

“Jesus!” Derek said. “What the hell was that?”

George brought his arm back in, turned around in the seat, and grinned. He showed off the gun in his hand.

“Just shooting at some signs,” he said. “I fucking nailed that speed limit one.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Canton shouted, glancing over. “What the fuck!”

“Put that away!” Derek screamed. “Asshole!”

George grimaced. “Come on, lighten up. I know what I’m doing.”

“Where did you get that?” Tyler asked. “You steal that out of someone’s garage?”

“It’s mine , okay?” he said. “It’s no big deal. I figured I could take a couple of shots at the screen. I mean, they’re going to be knocking it down in a week or two anyway. Who cares if it’s got a couple of holes in it?”

“Are you really that stupid?” Canton asked. “You think you can fire that thing off with hundreds of people there, lots of them with little kids, and they won’t call in a goddamn SWAT team and arrest your stupid fucking ass?”

“Promise Falls has a SWAT team?”

“That’s not the point. The point is—”

“I figured when the Transformers are knocking over a bunch of skyscrapers, nobody’ll even notice. It’ll be so loud anyway.”

“You’re unbelievable,” Tyler said.

“Okay, okay, okay,” George said, lowering the weapon, resting it in his lap. “I wouldn’t really have done that. I just wanted to shoot some signs, maybe a mailbox.”

The other three shook their heads.

“Idiot,” Derek said under his breath.

“I said okay ,” George said. “God, what a bunch of pussies. I’m glad to be getting the hell out of here.” George had already told them he was off to Vancouver the day after tomorrow.

They traveled the next few minutes in silence. It was Canton who broke it. “How about here?”

“Huh?” Tyler said.

“This is a good spot. No one around. Derek, this is where you get in the back.”

“Are we still doing this?” he asked. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s tradition — that’s what it is. When you go to the drive-in, you smuggle someone in. It’s expected . If you don’t do it, the management is actually disappointed.”

Derek felt resigned to his fate. “Fine.”

The car pulled over to the shoulder, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Derek got out on the passenger side, gave George a withering look, then went around to the back of the car. Canton had popped the truck from the inside, pulling on the tiny lever by the driver’s seat, but had gotten out so he could close the lid once Derek was inside.

“It’s not exactly huge in here,” Derek said, standing there, staring into the gaping hole.

“You getting in or what?” Canton asked.

Derek nodded, turned around, dropped his butt in first.

“So it’s not an Oldsmobile,” Canton said. “Stop whining. Once we get inside, you can get out. It’ll be, like, five minutes.”

Derek said, “I hate this.”

“What’s the big—” Canton stopped himself in midsentence. “Oh shit, it’s about that thing that happened, isn’t it? When you were hiding in that house?”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I’ll do it. I’ll get in, and you get back in the car.”

“I said I would do it.”

Derek noticed, with some relief, the emergency lever inside the trunk that allowed it to be opened from the inside. He got his head in, then brought up his legs. He lay on his side, the case of beer tucked behind his knees.

“Okay, so don’t start screaming or anything,” Canton said, and slammed the lid shut.

It was nearly pitch-black in there, save for some red glow from the back side of the taillights. Derek felt the car veer back onto the pavement, then pick up speed.

Despite the rear seat between him and his friends, he could hear them talking.

“Just everyone be cool,” Canton said.

“Yeah,” said Tyler. “Like I’m going to say, ‘We got nothin’ in the trunk!’ I’m not an idiot. Not like George.”

“Fuck you,” said George.

“Okay, here we go,” Canton said. “Jeez, there’s still a line.”

“It’s only like ten cars. It won’t take long.”

Derek struggled to get comfortable. He hoped it wouldn’t take them long to buy tickets and get parked. He knew it was his imagination, but he felt as though he were running out of air, that he was having trouble breathing. His heartbeat was moving into second gear.

He felt the Nissan turn. Canton would be pulling up to the gate, where there were two ticket booths. Right beyond them, towering over them, in fact, would be the back side of the four-story screen. Once the tickets were bought and the gate was cleared, the car would pass through an opening in a ten-foot wooden perimeter fence designed to keep people from sneaking in.

The car would follow the driveway to the far end of the property, where the concession stand was located, then do a one-eighty to face the screen head-on. Derek figured once they’d picked a good viewing spot, they’d let him out.

But first, they had to clear the gate.

The car stopped, inched forward. Stopped, inched forward.

Come on come on come on.

Finally, Derek heard Canton shout: “Three tickets.”

Then, not quite as clearly, a man’s voice. “Just the three?”

“Yep, just us.”

“Ten bucks each.”

“There ya go.”

A brief pause, then the man’s voice again. “You sure it’s just the three of you?”

Canton: “Yep.”

Tyler: “Just us.”

George: “You can’t count?”

Shit, Derek thought. What the hell was wrong with him tonight?

The man selling tickets said, “And you guys know there’s no booze allowed. You can’t be bringing anything in like that.”

“Of course,” Canton said.

Another pause.

Then: “I’m gonna have to ask you to pop the trunk.”

“Sorry?” Canton said.

“The trunk. Pop it.”

Shit shit shit shit.

Well, what was the worst that could happen? Derek figured, once this guy found him in the trunk, with the beer, he could do one of three things. He could deny them entry. Or he could charge Derek ten bucks, confiscate the beer, and tell them they could pick it up on the way out. Or the son of a bitch could call the cops.

Derek figured bringing in the police was pretty unlikely. Did the Promise Falls cops really want to be bothered with someone sneaking into the drive-in for free?

At this point, Derek didn’t much care. Right now, he’d happily endure a full body-cavity search if it meant getting the hell out of here.

Canton said, “Uh, I don’t think you have the right to do that.”

“Yeah?” the man said.

“Yeah. I don’t think you have the authority. You’re just some dick selling tickets.”