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One In Every Crowd by Stephen D. Rogers
"Do you suffer from multiple personalities? If you do, you're not alone."
Alan snapped off the car radio.
Amber turned it back on.
Aaron changed the station.
If we didn't find someone to kill末and soon末we were going to be a problem.
Adam started the engine.
Zack floored the accelerator.
Twisting the wheel before we slammed into the rear of a white pickup, I tried to remember which genius suggested we pull over and listen for a traffic report. This was our first visit to Massachusetts. Even if Route 128 was gridlocked just ahead due to an overturned tractor-trailer, we knew no other way to get where we were going.
Amber turned on the radio for the millionth time, managing to hear half a favorite song before Adam hit the scan button.
I laughed when I saw the sign for the next exit: "Ponkapoag Trail - Houghton's Pond." Imagine if we'd heard we should get off here and rejoin the highway twenty miles south. Fat chance of us accomplishing that feat unless the station's traffic helicopter escorted us through the maze of back roads.
Alan adjusted the temperature.
Adam redirected the vents.
Zack, just because he was Zack, flipped the wipers to intermittent and set the delay as long as possible.
"Braintree." Braintree? What did the name of the upcoming town indicate, intelligent forestry? Was this tree self-aware? We'd never relieved the pressure by killing a tree before. Imagine the possibilities, the lack of interest by law enforcement personnel.
While I preferred not to change destination without good reason, I needed to discover more about this particular collection of root, trunk, branch, twig, and leaf.
For example. Deciduous? Coniferous? Were the fruits or nuts produced by this tree also gifted? Why had a tree been so anointed instead of, say, a shrub? Or a single flowering plant, surrounded by thousands of others that only appeared the same. One rare bloom.
Aaron wanted to know why everybody was complaining about the wiper blades scraping against the dry windshield. What wiper blades?
Alice signaled a change into the left lane.
Zack pulled into the right, raising both a honk and a middle finger from the woman we'd nearly forced off the road.
The natives were growing restless. Time for a sing-along.
A hundred bottles of beer on the wall, a hundred bottles of beer末
Row, row, row your boat末
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me末
We might be in trouble if this brainy tree grew on private property, but less than if we simply killed the owner. Wasn't as though we were talking about whacking a dog.
Ninety-seven bottles of beer末
Life is but a dream末
Two blah-blah doves and a partridge in a pear tree末
A sentient tree might be protected, endangered, all but extinct. That could complicate matters. Could we expect to find the tree protected by Park Rangers, Environmental Police, Hollywood movie stars?
Alan collected celebrity autographs. Until Zack ate them.
Okay, who activated the hazard signals?
I checked to make sure no State Police troopers were slowing to offer assistance.
Let's play nice everybody.
Adam and Aaron fought for control of the wheel.
Amber pressed down on the accelerator. Alan, the brake.
The car fishtailed, squealed, roared off the highway and over the shoulder, Zack scoring a mile marker before the car tumbled downhill. Belongings flew. Glass shattered. Metal screamed. A final flip and we came to a stop in bottom of a drainage ditch.
Not in the plan. Not even in the revised plan.
Moments later, legs slid into view and then a face appeared at the window, his moustache pinched with worry. "Are you all right?"
How did I even begin to answer that question?
I reached for his throat.
THE END Stephen D. Rogers ｩ 2007 |
Over
four hundred of Stephen's stories and poems have been selected to appear
in more than a hundred publications. His website,