The Space Between Read Online Free

Isaac's order, soon after which the talk turned to standard issue conversation: politics, career, and sports. The three older gentlemen were pleased to discover they had a fellow fan of the Georgia Bulldogs in Isaac Owens, thus declaring that rock stars weren't half as bad as expected. Once he'd finished his lunch and signed a few autographs for Sissy and her three younger girlfriends who'd just happened to come by the diner for a snack, Isaac paid his tab and rose to leave.
    "It was really nice talking with you all. I'll make sure to stop by before I head out of town."
    Albert turned on his stool to shake Isaac's hand again. "Now don't be a stranger. You'll probably get pretty bored out at that end of the county and we could always use some fresh blood in here."
    "I'll keep that in mind." He turned to wave at Sissy and her gaggle of friends. "Nice meeting you ladies. Mitch, Harold." The other two men nodded at Isaac in similar fashion as they had upon his arrival.
    As Isaac passed through the door and back into the rain, he heard Albert call out, "And keep us posted on your big mystery, Ike! We could use the excitement!"
    §
    Driving south again on 61, Isaac stopped to fill up the Mustang at a small gas station about a mile outside the center of town. He garnered some curious looks from the haggard woman behind the register, but no questions about where he was headed. She seemed more concerned with the small black-and-white television keeping her company behind the counter and the cigarette perched between her dry, yellowed fingers. Isaac wasn't sure, but he thought he saw traces of pulverized sawdust ground down between the wood planks under his feet, and wondered if the same woman had been working here when the last batch had been scattered across the floor decades ago.
    After a few stray buildings passed by, the trees once again took over the landscape, crowding in toward the road like angry locals staring down the outlander. They were tall, mostly pines with the occasional patch of hardwoods, only a few species of which Isaac could identify. The rain had increased, and after another twenty minutes on the road, just when he was sure he'd missed his turn, the green sign reading "Mt Zion Trl " sprung from the tree line. The wheels of the old car locked up in the last few feet of deceleration, causing the rear to swing out just enough to get Isaac's adrenaline pumping. He managed to stop just in time, and wrestled the wheel counter-clockwise to make the turn.
    Isaac winced as the front wheels of his car dropped a few inches from the blacktop onto the gravel road that was Mt. Zion Trail. He let off the gas before the rear wheels breached the drop, then released the breath he'd been holding when he didn't hear the scraping of metal against road. It was the damn rain! He could hardly see the reflective sign, much less the surface he was driving on. A fine mist whipped about the road, the wind creating a haze of water and backsplash that rose inches above the ground.
    Listening to the churn of gravel under him, Isaac slowed the car down to twenty and brought the piece of paper with the directions close to his face. He read down as far as he'd gone, ascertaining he only had another two miles to go before arriving at the house: 100 Mt. Zion Trail, Holden, Georgia. Two miles driving the suburbs of Nashville sometimes seemed to pass in the blink of an eye. This road was a completely different journey, taking Isaac through several sharp turns every few hundred feet. Some of the hills off to the left and right were steep enough to turn his stomach, the image of his car sliding off into a ravine and ricocheting like a pinball against the trees materializing in his thoughts.
    But he managed to stay on the road, and quickly became amazed at how the topography had changed so dramatically from the flatlands occupying most of the scenery between Atlanta and Holden. The woods were thicker as well, and Isaac thought he caught a glimpse of a