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STARTLING STORIES
Ahead was a tree, nearer the side of the road than any others. Thick trunk, stout branches. The kind of tough old tree that could stop anything.
I opened the throttle hot. I bore down. Nearly on top of the place where Emmie’d stomped the brakes and told me to get my a*s out.
But suddenly I braked and struggled to wrestle the three-wheeler off the trajectory I had it on, back out into the middle of the blacktop of reprocessed plastic, scattered with gravel. I almost flipped it braking it, and when I got it stopped, I was a couple meters past the tree. And there I sat and I shook. And I shivered. And the grin was off my face and I hugged the coat Algie had put on me tight on myself, and felt in the pock-et the sobe-tabs. I took one of the horrible chalky things and
