Roadkill
Copyright © T. Masters-Heinrichs 2006
Electronic edition © T. Masters-Heinrichs 2012
First Appeared in Print 2008
Voices, Journal of the Lake Winnipeg Writers' Group, Volume 6, Number 1, ISSN: 1710123-9
Cover Photo by Orlanda Szabo
www.orlandaszabo.wordpress.com
Cover Design & Layout by BKPublishing
http://bkpublishing.ca/
Published at Smashwords
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ISBN: 978-0-98108-549-4
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Roadkill
By T. Masters-Heinrichs
Tapping fingers on the steering wheel, Emily, looked away from the dark smear scarring the cement. A glance in her rear view mirror showed her Australian Shepard staring out the window, oblivious to the life taken. On the shoulder she noted a strange sickle-shaped object, it reminded her of a huge claw. Bits of what looked like flesh clung to one end.
Stopping at the yellow light, she let her eyes wander about the Lagimodiere and Perimeter Highway intersection. Where the ditches were deep and wide, the waving cattails and bulrushes encroached to the edges of the shoulders. Emily accelerated with the green light, her mind drifting to summers spent up at Lake Winnipeg.
Ahead, the traffic was building. Odd, she thought, for a Thursday. She slowed, feeling herself and her red Neon shrink as she approached a large black 4x4 truck already stopped. Emily cursed at the debris pelting her car from the blue SUV passing on the shoulder. She hit the brakes as it cut her off. Her horn’s pathetic sound and the view, the SUV’s bumper, added to her frustration.
“This is ridicules,” Emily said to Boxer. The dog in the back seat didn’t reply. “Who are all these people? It’s Thursday!” Again the dog was silent.
The SUV jerked ahead, its red brake lights only feet from her face. Behind her a large chrome grill filled the rear window. Emily suspected the driver would forget about the little toy car and drive right over her.
A tractor-trailer pulled up on her right. The neon’s low profile gave her a clear view under the trailer, she could see the far right ditch. The cattails shivered in the breeze as the setting sun highlighted them in reds and golds.
Again the SUV surged ahead and hit the brakes.
“Jerk!” Emily yelled. She watched the grill in her rear view mirror inch closer. On the radio ads were running. She hit buttons, ending up on CBC. Classical notes filled the car as she gripped the steering wheel. Emily noted the dust collecting on the dash. She looked past the chrome grill smiling at her in the rear view mirror. Her windows needed washing.
As the SUV pulled ahead, Emily refused to move. She looked quickly out her left window. Boxer whined, then laid down. Emily let her eyes drift along the shoulder. Here and there bottle caps and bits of glass sparkled in the autumn sun.