Free Sex in a Sidecar by Phyllis Smallman

the car I saw something else. Gina was laid out like she’d been crucified, feet together and arms outstretched. I wobbled forward and knelt beside her. “Gina,” I screamed. “Gina.” I shook her. It was too late. Even I could see that. She was cold, as cold as the rain, and her empty blue eyes were staring up at the turbulent sky. Rain slicked her hair to her head making her gay plastic barrettes look cruelly fresh and bright. With sodden clothes clinging to her body, Gina looked smaller, shrunken even and suddenly younger. She reminded me of a huge Halloween scarecrow abandoned in November. I rolled her over across my knees, took her in my arms, brushing water off her face and hair, crooning softly to her, “It’s okay, it’s okay.” But it was a lie. She was never going to be okay again. Holding her and rocking her, I gave into grief and self-pity. When it passed, I had a few harsh words with myself. I didn’t know how much time I had left before Myrna arrived but not enough to sit on my behind wailing. I sat up straight. Gina’s head flopped sideways, leaving a huge blotch of blood on my shirt.
    The back of her head had been crushed in. Someone else had to be out here, no falling branch had done this damage. I searched the underbrush, looking for the monster waiting to jump out at me.
    Maybe it was shock or maybe I don’t deal real well with emergencies but it never occurred to me not to take Gina with me. Fear gave me strength. I got my hands under her arms, locking them across her chest and dragged her back to the car. Gina wasn’t light. I leaned her up against the car. Her legs splayed and her head slumped. While I opened the back door I held her upright with my hip and one arm, an undignified thing to do to a corpse.
    Grunting and twisting and tugging, I got Gina into the car and then I went to tackle the tree.
    The top of the palm was wedged in-between two laurels. I shoved it. I pulled it. I even tried to roll it out of the way but the tree was going nowhere.
    I started the Audi. Gently, I put the big car up against the palm and tried to push it forward. Nothing happened. I backed up and took a real good run at the palm, hoping to break through. The tree held. I did it again. And again the palm held. The third time convinced me it wasn’t going to budge. There was no way I could drive through the dense underbrush and go around the fallen tree. I had one silly thought about finding boards to build a ramp and taking the car over the tree.
    The truth was, I had a car but it was no good to me, the Audi was going nowhere. Neither was Gina. The clock said one-thirty. I turned off the key. How long did I have? An hour? No more. And where was Gina’s murderer?

Chapter 20
    I searched the underbrush. If I left the car it wasn’t only the wind I had to worry about. Out there was someone who had killed more than once. Did he know I was with Gina? Did he want to kill me as well?
    My first inclination was to stay in the car with the doors locked. But could I ride out the storm in the Audi? Hours locked in with a dead body, maybe even days. And when the storm surge came I’d drown in the car. Staying wasn’t an option.
    I left the car, climbed over the palm, and started down the road alone. I wasn’t running now…or jogging or power walking…just moving forward, head down, my arms up to protect my face. I went north, sometimes blown forward by the vicious wind, sometimes barely able to move against it. The wind assaulted my lungs, making it hard to breathe, and the rain drove needles of pain into my bare skin.
    I stumbled along. My brain was in gear now, working out the options. As I saw it, I had two choices: get over the south bridge or find shelter. It was about five miles to the bridge. How long would that take me? An hour at least. Adrenalin rush and fear had taken their toll; I was exhausted.
    My cell phone was back in the Audi with my