Sara could read tarot. She divined on the radio, live, for a segment called The Hard Cards. Every Sunday night, she would lead her callers into the empty unknown for 3.99 a minute.
Tonight’s caller introduced himself as Flynn. Sara immediately found him disturbing.
His phone's mike was loud enough to hear all the sounds his mouth made. His tongue and lips clicked and his saliva swashed as he formed words. It was as if his maw was sitting right beside her.
“Doll, would you be so obliged to do a reading on my behalf?"
Sara took a full breath. Exhaled quietly. Dealing with weirdos was part of the job.
"I can certainly can," she said, drawing a card.
The Moon.
Sara caught a whiff off his aura, a flash vision. She saw teeth. Teeth glowing bright gold in the night sky. Shaking it off, she asked, “What do you do for a living, Flynn?”
“I charter a coach down to the Richmond port. Been running the same route for years."
Sara envisioned the coach speeding down Highway Seventeen. There was something in the bottom compartment. She smelled rot.
“Flynn, I’m getting a strong presence in your cargo hold. Can you tell me what's inside?”
“I want to let you know that I listen to the Hard Cards every week. I’m a big fan. You tell it like it is, babe. Now don’t you disappoint me. You already know what's inside.” He said, finishing with a loud clicking smile.
Sara knew but hoped to God she was wrong. Adrenaline shot through her veins. She drew another card to confer with the cosmos.
“I got a hole up north. A big hole. Gangs down south send me their cargo, incriminating evidence. Bodies, mostly. I make the bodies go away. I dump them in the hole and the hole swallows them up.”
Flynn snickered. His breath booming like static through Sara’s studio headphones.
She felt cold, sick. She saw bodies sinking in a bog of clot. Dead hands reaching into the morning sun. And his teeth floating, smiling alone in the dawn sky.
“My old man always said that if you’re good at something, do it. I have a gift too, Sara. I can read the roads. I can read them like tarot cards. Cops, robbers, ass-dragging nannies -- I can get around anything.” Flynn paused, “...But lately I’ve been having problems. Those bodies from cargo, they've been riding up here with me. Staring into my rearview. Never looking away. And the coach. It never stops. I can’t remember the last time I slept or ate.”
Sara asked if Flynn was dead. There was no reply.
...
“Babe, I need to find a way out of here. I know I’m getting my comeuppance, but I need to get out.”
Sara put her hand over the next card, sensing what was underneath and knowing his fate. She peeled the corner back and flipped it face up.
And after that, the call cut out.
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