Strawberry Lane by Jodi Thomas EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Author: Jodi Thomas
- Language: English
- Genre: Small Town & Rural Fiction
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Near Someday Valley
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Saturday at Midnight
Rusty O’Sullivan gunned the old Ford’s engine just before he swung onto
the back road and headed up the hill toward Someday Valley. A storm was
putting on a show. Rain pounded so hard he almost believed he was driving
in an ocean. There was always a chance the car wouldn’t make the incline
in the muck, but he’d had a hell of a day and figured his bad luck had to run
out sometime.
He’d made it over the last bridge but the rotted boards seemed to be
crying out in protest. Half a mile later the road turned to mud. No one but
Rusty lived beyond a rustic cabin. If someone gave his dirt road a name it
would be “Nothing Beyond” or “Nothing Worth Seeing Up This Way.”
The little cabin in daylight looked like a painting, but at night it was more
a set-piece from a horror film. Except for one whimsical touch—someone
had planted strawberries everywhere. There were dark green plants in the
shade beneath the trees, along the edge of the porch, and lining every rock
path. The strawberries would erupt in the summer, but tonight the plants
were in winter’s sleep, the leaves were almost black to match the sky.
The mud that was moving downhill like lava on his left drew his
attention. A ten-foot drop was on his right. Bald tires didn’t put up much of
a fight to hold onto the two-lane road.
In the midnight rain, Rusty felt the Fairlane begin to slide sideways. Like
a slow rerun of an old black-and-white movie, the Ford tilted right as the
road disappeared and three thousand pounds of steel began to roll. Rusty
tightened his grip on the steering wheel as if he still had some control of the
car . . . or his life.
He didn’t bother to scream or cuss. He simply braced for a crash. Bad
luck had always ridden shotgun with trouble all his life.
The ground slammed into the passenger side, shattering windows and
crunching metal. Then, as the roof hit the incline, he felt the cut of his
seatbelt, and it seemed to be snowing glass.
The Ford rolled again and the driver’s door pushed against Rusty’s
shoulder. He braced as it rotated once more and the inside of what had once
been a car was now a coffin of flying glass and metal.
Something hit his head and the world went completely black, but for a
moment, the sounds remained in his brain as if echoing since birth.
Unwanted. Nothing but a bother. Deserted.
One last echo whispered through the bedlam. One word he’d heard for as
long as he could remember.
Worthless.
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