Safe Ride

Kelly’s head already felt light when she pushed her way through the crowd and shuffled into the parking lot.

She wasn’t drunk, exactly, but she was close, and that last beer had gone down easy -- and fast. Another few minutes and it would all be in her bloodstream, slowing her reflexes and making her dizzy.

She knew she shouldn’t drive, but …

If Danny were still alive, she would call him and he’d bail her out, give her a ride. But Danny was dead.

And it was funny … Kelly wouldn’t have needed Danny, not like that, if he were still alive. She had only started drinking after he died.

What she wouldn’t give at that moment, standing in the dark and cold parking lot of the seedy bar, to hear the pop and clatter of Danny’s jalopy limping through the night with one cockeyed headlight, whether she needed a ride or not.

Kelly wiped a tear from her eye just as her phone buzzed in her pocket. Her breath caught when she saw the screen -- she had a missed call.

It was from Danny.

And there was a message.

Dread filled her chest, but she tapped “play.”

“Hey, sis,” Danny’s voice rang out in the night. “Got your message. Hold tight. I’m coming to get you.”

In the distance, a muffler backfired and something metal clanged through the dark silence. A pair of googly headlights splashed off the trees in all directions, and Kelly whimpered in fear and awe.