Excerpt from Chapter One of Shooting Star
Sunday, September 6, 1981
6:30 am
Kyla spied out the car’s back window, ensuring no one followed. “Take the next left,” she said to Rebecca, who sat next to her.
They turned off the highway and drove onto a long gravel road that cut through a fallow field in the predawn darkness. As the tires crunched the pebbles below, they generated a cloud of gray dust that Kyla worried would give away their location.
“That’s far enough,” Kyla said. “Turn around.”
Kyla was impressed at how well Rebecca executed a three-point turn on the narrow road. It was hard not to be jealous of her cousin who owned her own car. Sure, it was a beat-up Gran Torino wagon—one that Rebecca and her dad had patched up. Still, it was a set of wheels that allowed her to escape the isolation of her family’s farm.
Kyla, too, sought to get away from the drudgery of her barn chores, longing to spend her free time at the mall. She had pleaded with her parents to buy her a car, but after last year’s drought, the family couldn’t afford even a modest down payment.
“Park behind those trees,” Kyla said, pointing ahead.
They stopped next to a small stand of maples, about a hundred yards from the highway. The car shuddered when Rebecca turned off the engine, abruptly ending ABBA’s “I Have a Dream” playing on the eight-track.
“Can we put the music back on?” Kyla’s sister, Esther, said from the back seat.
“No,” Kyla said. “We don’t want them to hear us.”
She folded her hand-drawn map, stowed it in the backpack on the floor, and pulled out her binoculars to scan the highway. The roads would be quiet until church started in a couple of hours, yet Kyla remained concerned about the traffic. She concentrated her gaze on the point where the highway disappeared into a small valley. The guy should be here any moment now.
The sun hadn’t risen yet, though it was gilding the undersides of the clouds high above the shadowed ground. It was already plenty warm, and the day was forecast to be hot and muggy. Even the birds, whose warbles welcomed the morning, had already taken refuge somewhere in the underbrush.
A dim spot of light appeared at the end of the highway.
Kyla followed the light as it flickered through the trees and she smiled upon seeing the motorcycle. “He’s over there. Duck.”
Kyla flattened herself on the bench seat, careful to keep her face off the stain-covered duct tape. Rebecca let out a dramatic sigh of annoyance and lay down beside her, much too slowly in Kyla’s opinion.
Rebecca’s long hair spilled on top of Kyla’s face. Although it itched her cheek, its fragrant smell masked the pungent cigarette odor infused in the vinyl seat below.
“Do we really need to do this?” Rebecca said.
“Shh.”
The bike’s growl peaked and faded, becoming lower in pitch after it passed. The change in sound tempted Kyla to explain the Doppler effect to her companions, but she doubted either of them would appreciate the phenomenon. When the birdsong resumed, Kyla poked her head up and peered through the bug-splattered windshield.
“All clear.”
“You know, the corn looks pretty dark from here,” Rebecca said, referring to the dense cornfield lining the opposite side of the highway.
“We’ll be okay,” Esther said. “Kyla’s got it all figured out.”
Kyla ignored them and returned her attention to the section of highway where the motorcycle had first appeared. They waited in silence until a second bike emerged, and as before, they sank in their seats when it sped by.
She peeked at her watch and noted the time. “We’ll wait for a couple more.”
Rebecca rolled her eyes. “I still don’t think this is a good idea—”
“Shut up, Becky,” Esther barked from the back seat. “Doesn’t matter what you think. You owe us.”
Kyla had to give Esther credit for negotiating the deal with Rebecca. In exchange for Rebecca being their chauffeur for the weekend, they promised not to tell Aunt Sarah about Rebecca’s relationship with the handsome young farmhand they had caught her with.
After the next motorcycle cruised by, Kyla reviewed the numbers on her paper. “Just like yesterday, they’re consistently two minutes apart.”
“That’s plenty of time,” Esther said as she eagerly zipped up her backpack and put it on. She donned her baseball cap, pulling her black ponytail through the strap hole.
“We’ll go after the next one,” Kyla said. “If it shows up when I predict.”
Rebecca sighed. “Whatever you do, don’t get caught.”
“Don’t worry, Mom,” Esther said. “We’ll be careful.”
“Famous last words,” Rebecca said.
Kyla glanced at her watch. “Next one should be here in thirty seconds. Get ready.”
Another motorcycle flew by right on schedule. It crested a modest hill in the distance and disappeared into the glowing yellow horizon.
“Go, go,” Kyla said.
Want to learn what happens to Kyla and Esther?