Shallow Creek

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Brendan Rhodes smiled as he passed the road sign welcoming him back to his hometown for the first time in nine years. Shallow Creek was a bit of an overstatement; the creek bed lending its name to the town hadn’t held a drop of moving water in the eighteen years he’d spent here. Off in the distance, probably five miles out, he could make out the first buildings of the small town. That was the way things went in west Texas. He remembered a family road trip to Lubbock one summer where they’d passed the Lubbock city limit sign and drove on for what felt like an eternity before leaving the desert behind and embracing civilization.

Stumpy little trees dotted the landscape as he slowed down while entering the town proper. Tall trees couldn’t survive the strong winds across the flat plains, but their shorter cousins did a good job hiding local and state law enforcement. Sleepy towns situated on Texas highways were famous for cheap gas and speed traps. Brendan cruised on for a couple of blocks before pulling into one of the two name-brand gas stations in Shallow Creek.

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