The Devil's Road: A SERIAL NOVEL
CHAPTER 01: THE DANCE --- ISSUE 02: A SIREN SONG
Welcome to Issue #2 of The Devil’s Road, a serial novel following the exploits of Samantha Hart, a Sequoyah County Sheriff, full of vengeance and fury using her badge to hunt down her sister's killer as she uncovers a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland.
Miss the first issue? Check out Issue #1: Gore, Oklahoma by clicking the link below.
If you are enjoying this series, please consider sharing it with others, and don’t hoard all the good stories for yourself.
And now, please enjoy the second issue of … The Devil’s Road.
In 2004 an Oklahoma Bureau of Investigations analyst discovered a crime pattern along the Interstate 40 corridor between Oklahoma and Mississippi. Subsequently, The Federal Bureau of Investigations (F.B.I.) started the Highway Serial Killings Initiative. They discovered over 500 bodies of women along the interstate highway system with more than 200 potential suspects, a trail of bloodshed that coats the heartland. The Devil’s Road is a serialized novel based on this horrific discovery.
Sandy flips on the tiny light over the vanity inside their motel room bathroom. She leans into the mirror, looking for runs in her mascara and lipstick, and gives her reflection a little smile. Her misshapen jawline and teeth are exposed in the unflattering downlight. The smile fades but she keeps her lips parted, examining. She always had such a beautiful smile as a child.
Sandy puts her purse in the sink and unzips it again. She pulls out the small .22 pistol, unscrews the cylinder pin, and rolls the cylinder into her palm. Two of the bullets are spent giving her only three shots if she needs them. She pulls out the spent .22s, tosses them in the toilet, pushes the cylinder back into the pistol, replaces the pin, and flushes.
One eye squints as she stares down the iron sights with the other. She pulls back the hammer and watches as the unspent round rolls towards the barrel. She uncocks the gun and slides it into her boot. Her blouse comes up and off and her skirt slips to the floor. She looks at herself again and smiles in her underwear, this time remembering to keep her lips locked together.
Her hand hovers over the doorknob, but there is a pull in a different direction. She glances back at the sink. Both hands dive into her purse, rummaging inside for something she’d rather leave where it was. She can’t find it. “Baby, I can’t find the baggy.” She hollers through the bathroom door.
“Saw you put it in your purse,” the Driver says right from the other side.
She dumps the contents of the purse in the sink and finds a small baggy with white-bluish rocks inside, crystal meth. She pulls out one of the crystals, pipe, and lighter, and begins her ritual. When the smoke finally enters her lungs, she smiles. There’s a tingle in the back of her throat. This is going to be a nice one.
She slowly exhales through her nostrils, increasing the chance to get a direct shot into her bloodstream. The warm and welcomed buzzy sensation starts at the back of her head, enwraps her skull, and then slowly floats down through her body until it reaches the floor. She’s grounded, ready. She kills the light and opens the door to the hotel room.