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Highway 340
Highway 340
Highway 340
Ebook31 pages31 minutes

Highway 340

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Dave is stuck between towns on a back highway. All he needs is gas, but he gets everything else. And everyone in this in-between place talks about nothing but food. Everyone, that is, except for a young woman and a wandering old man.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateFeb 18, 2009
ISBN9781458180568
Highway 340
Author

Dwayne Phillips

A systems and computer engineer since 1980. A short story fiction writer.

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    Book preview

    Highway 340 - Dwayne Phillips

    HIGHWAY 340

    by

    Dwayne Phillips

    SMASHWORDS EDITION

    * * * * *

    PUBLISHED BY:

    Dwayne Phillips on Smashwords

    Highway 340

    Copyright © 2011 by Dwayne Phillips

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

    * * * * *

    HIGHWAY 340

    Dave grabbed the cuff of his sleeve with the fingers of his right hand, leaned forward in the driver's seat, and rubbed the windshield with the shirt-covered heel of his hand.

    C'mon, he mumbled to his windshield Clear up a little. I have to see a little better.

    The windshield of his Ford Focus was fogged except for two little clear spots near the defroster vents. Dave had to lean forward and side to side to see through his portals to the road. Dave was going to fix the defroster, as soon as he got home, as soon as he decided where home was going to be.

    Highway 340 is in the western edge of the northern half of Virginia. It is a two-lane highway that was ten miles east of Interstate 81 snaking its way through the poor, rural areas. Dave had left Interstate 81 an hour earlier. Several accidents in the snow and ice had all but stopped traffic on the Interstate. Dave pulled off on an exit near a town whose name he couldn't remember to try this road. Someone had told him about the scenic drive on this highway four hours earlier. He was lucky he remembered that brief conversation while getting gas. He thought he was lucky when he exited the Interstate, but now he was reconsidering.

    Dave had been driving for 13 hours. At least he thought it was 13 hours. He had passed through towns named Grove Hill, Newport, and Battle Creek. Luray was coming next. Or had he passed through Luray? Or was Battle Creek next? The signs on the side of the road had run together in Dave's mind. He rubbed his cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt. It was wet from vainly wiping at the windshield, and the cool wetness revived him for

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