Westside Writers Fall 2011 Challenge Entry

Here is my response to the challenge made by Westside Writers:

I wailed seeing Benny’s body hanging from a tree. His arms and legs stuck out at right angles, his clothes hung off his frame: a grotesque fuchsia and the General’s message.

She smothered my screams, pulled me into the shadows, and pressed something in my palm. “Quiet message. Seven d son, set frankly dead swan.” Pointing at a sedan, she pushed me forward. “Fast go.”

I stumbled across the deserted street and looked at my hand: my lover’s passcard and a key. Can’t go home, they know where we live. The key worked. Why’d he have to come out?

In gear, the car lurched north. At a red light I shook myself. Not seven d – seventy! It was code. Take Highway 70, but which way? Seventy sunset… West!

City lights fading in the rearview mirror, it was a long way to anywhere. Frankly dead swan? Frank lead Aswan?

Another car entered the road behind me. The lights flicked high and low. Was I paranoid or being followed? I sped up but they followed through the curves. On the floodplain, the horn wailed and they overtook me. I slowed and tried not to think about Benny. Frankly deads won?

Low fuel! Where’ll I find gas? Twenty to forty miles and the car’s dead. Rounding a bend a faint light glowed. A gas station and someone stood inside the door. I alighted, he was gone, but left a note: “Half mile turn left, follow gravel road to inn.”

What choice did I have? Was it a trap? All manner of places are tucked away in coastal coves screened from the road by a ridge.

A sign flickered, “Lily and Swan.” I parked, entered, and was greeted, “Sorry about Benny. I’m Frank. You’re safe here until we can smuggle you over the border.”