The Book of Bones

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“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Uriah “Bones” Bonebrake stared at the dashboard of his Dodge Ram 1500 pickup truck, watching as the arrow on the speedometer fell while the RPMs red-lined as he depressed the gas pedal. Not good. A green road sign loomed up ahead and he coasted the truck to a stop in front of it.

“Almost made it.” He consulted his phone and found to his absolute lack of surprise that he had no signal. He’d have to hoof it into town and hope they had a repair place. He could handle minor repairs but, unless he missed his guess, he was looking at something major. He grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler, slung his leather jacket over his shoulder, locked the truck, and headed down the highway.

A stiff breeze took the edge off the hot summer day, but almost immediately, sweat began dripping down his face, only to evaporate in the dry desert air. He dribbled some water on the back of his neck and tried to focus on the landscape.

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