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With a yellow highlighter Jack Perry had traced his route on the map the AAA had given him. He would take the Mass. Pike to 84 straight across Connecticut through the New York Interstate, across Pennsylvania to Hagerstown, Maryland, where he would lay up. Then on through West Virginia and Virginia to 40 and straight across all the way to Tucumcari, New Mexico. The trip would take him five days. If he left by noon, he'd make Hagerstown Holiday Inn by nine that night. The rest of the nights, he'd sleep in the trailer on the Interstate. He could not wait to get out of the state. |
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Earlier that morning he had shopped for food and supplies and filled the van with gas. Only two matters were left before he disappeared. First, to finish putting on the new muffler pipe. Then, a final stop before he dropped off the face of the earth for good. |
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The French had a saying: "The softest pillow is a clear conscience." He could not sleep knowing the Hazzard kid had been infected by a virus that only he could identify. Nor could he just disappear while it spread throughout the community with Doomsday vengeance. It was morally imperative that he do something, if not just to save lives, to atone for having helped developed this horror. For days he had agonized over how best to unburden himself. But the murders of Marcus Wiley and his daughter reduced his options to one. |
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He would not go to the parents, after all. They had enough on their hands with their kid. Besides, he did not want to face their reaction, their interrogation, their blame. Nor did he want to be prime witness in the case once the authorities were summoned to investigate. Overnight he would be at the eye of maybe the biggest |
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