AN UNFAIR SIDE OF LOVE

the patched roof for leaks, his movements devoid of purpose, his eyes perpetually fixed on some unseen horror. The spark, the stubborn fight Sharon had seen in him before

impossible, the threat to his famil

eak down with a mixture of

iven him a cold and distant look, like the verdict had already been passed. He started fixing fences l

rolling up her sleeves and help out in any way she could. She didn't have to say much, she was just

ctor, and the combine wasn't worth much anymore), trying to pick up extra work (but no one was hiring in a town like Flynn's Creek this late in t

Ken found his father sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a single sheet o

tly, pulling out a

." He swallowed hard, the sound painful. "Then, maybe see if Joe Hayes, Sharon's Pa, if he knows anyone needs a hand short-term, Anything." The ef

ut composed. She placed a hand on Tom's shoulder.

dn't let them face Henderson, or the h

the place, we won't be long." He pushed himself up, his movements stiff and old. "Just

en tied a faded scarf over her hair. Tom pulled on his worn jacket, the one he'd worn for years. Ken fetched the keys to the aging Ho

ick in his throat. "The roads... they mi

got turned on, the sound loud in the tense yard. Ken watched them drive away, pulling up a small cloud of dust on the track leading to

hicken house. He kept glancing towards the road. An hour passed, then another. The sun climbed higher, beating down. He thoug

motorcycle, but a different sound – a distant, high-pitched screech of tir

rt beat faster; That sound, it came from the direction

head. 'No, no, no', It could be anything.

nd terrifying. It wasn't the silence of nothing happenin

ction of the sound. He hit himself at the edge of the gate of their house, ignoring the metal thorns tearing his clothes, he

wards town, Nothin

sto

nda motorcycle was unrecognizable – a twisted, crumpled wreck shoved violently onto the shoulder, half-buried in the ditch. Near it, sprawled like br

was a large, dark-colored pickup truck. Ken vaguely registered the logo on the dented door panel – a stylize

at that point, he didn't feel it. A sharp ringing took over his ears, blocking out every other sou

one arm twisted at a tight angle beneath him, a

as though she was staring at him. She w

d to move, tried to crawl, but he couldn't feel his arms moving. He couldn't breathe, Couldn't even scream. All that c

, No, Pl

taring at the impossible horror. The smell hit him then – gas

aring dark work pants and a stained t-shirt came out. He staggered, one of his hands on his head,as he fought to stay upright. He loo

fusion that rapidly sharpened into a chilling, calculating alertness. The man looked at Ken, kneeling helplessly in

d away; Stiffly at first, then with increasing speed, along the shoulder of the road, away from the s

hem back anymore. The sobs were hard, rough and ugly sounds that filled the quietness around him. He dropped to hi

ngle of her neck. He saw the stillness. He reached his father. The dark stain was larger now,

sunny Monday afternoon. The crushing debt, Metzger's threats, the ruined farm – all of it was suddenly meaningless, dwarfed by t

him. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling overwhelmed. The smell of blood and gasoli

lted as it got to the scene. It was Sheriff Dale Peterson's cruiser. The Sheriff got out, his face grim as he took in

speak, to point towards the fields where the driver had vanished. "He... he ran..." h

ng, but his eyes held a professional detachment as they investigated the scene. He looked at the abando

cle. Requesting coroner and tow." He paused, glancing again at the abandoned truck. "Driver appears to have fled the scene on foot. Male, approximately six foot, dark clothing. Init

scene. Search grid.' They would find him. Th

n – a sight that made Ken vomit into the ditch. Sheriff Peterson asked questions in a low, steady voice. Ken answered mechanical

uldn't do this alone. As the coroner's attendants carefully, respectfully, covered his paren

rape. "My phone... at the house... I

"Okay, son. We'll get you home. We'll get you taken care of."

able where Metzger had delivered his threat, where his father had sat broken. The Sheriff found Ken's phone and handed it to him

is everything okay? Did your folks talk to H

ething in him broke. He let out a

gled by tears. "It's... it's Mom an

a sharp intake of breath. "Ken?

s throat raw. "They're gone." Unable to hold the phone, He quietly dropped it

gh the speaker. "Ken? KEN! I'm coming! I'

terson was still in the room, quietly speaking through his radio. Ken lifted his head, his eyes

t of the Carson place. Checked the ditches, the old barn..." He hesitated. "No sign of him, Ken. Not a trace, And..." He paused again, choosing his words carefully. "There was no driver regist

meant to be there. The implication seeped in slowly, cold and sinister, cutting through the fog of gri

But right now..." He glanced towards the door, where headlights were approaching – Sharon's

gony, a black hole in his chest. But beneath it, ignited by the Sheriff's words, something else began to smolder. A cold, hard kernel of disbelief, No sign. The acciden

hared moment of utter devastation, amidst the overwhelming grief, a new, terrifying certainty took root: His parents hadn't just died, Th