Chapter 6
Gordon Chambers slept, parked at a rest area along side of Washington 95. His dreams were short little horror movies, punctuated by the sound of the occasional big rig and other infrequent night traffic. Sleep came in bits and pieces, making the short rest stretch an eternity, and when the sun rose, he felt more drained than before. He lay back in his Mazda’s reclined seat for a while and watched the Cedar skyline through the car’s bug-flecked windshield. It shifted from violet, to orange, to powder blue.
Oregon was behind him now; Eugene, Salem, Portland, and The Dalles, all left in his proverbial dust. Gordon had crossed the Columbia River in the black of night, scarcely aware in his exhaustion. He’d fought sleep grimly since his last pit stop outside of Portland, almos
