More Flash Fiction

Overheated (#heat)

The flash of red and blue lights in the rearview mirror caught Nevil's eye a split second before he heard the unmistakable wail of a Sunnyside police car. It sounded more like a dying cat than a siren, but times were tough in the small farming community. A lump rose in his throat. This was it, he was screwed. He'd never make the money back now. 

The pavement shimmered under the noonday sun. The bank's sign had read 90 degrees at nine am. Nevil's sweaty t-shirt clung to his skinny chest and he rubbed dirty perspiration off his brow. It must be nearing 110 by now thought Nevil. He didn't stand a chance.

The policeman sat in his vehicle for that impossibly long amount of time they always do before they mosey out and walk in a heavily-laden belt kind of way to your car and wait for you to shamefully roll down your window. Only Nevil's truck didn't even have windows so there was no need for the officer to pause looking casually up and down the freeway before speaking, but he did anyway.

"What an asshole," thought Nevil while he frantically tried to think of what infraction he had committed. He hoped for a hint from the officer.

No such luck. "License and registration," said the policeman with a solemn poker face. He took the documents back to his car.

Nevil tried not to imagine the damage this precious time was doing to his wares. They were already nearly as good as ruined when he realized the motor had blown. He had been driving to the only man in the Tri-Cities area that could help him, the only one who had the particular brand of expertise required. Nevil had to admit his rig was sorely outdated. It's not like he had the money to upgrade though.

Today he might have financially broken even. In this heat, he was sure it would have been a good day. Ironically, it was the heat that doomed him now.

After what felt like an eternity, the officer still hadn't returned. All sorts of scenarios flashed through Nevil's mind. Had the cable agency turned him over to collections? Was there a warrant out for his arrest? If it was possible to sweat more in the demonic midday heat, Nevil did. Maybe he could salvage some of it. He unbuckled his seat belt, leaned over his seat, slowly opened the metal lid, and looked inside.

Oh, God! It was worse than he had imagined. He let the lid slam down, slumped down into his seat and closed his eyes. How many hundreds of dollars did he just lose? More than he could afford, which wasn't much.

The officer returned handing Nevil a ticket. "You were going 10 miles over the speed limit and your right tail light is out," he said.

Then he shifted uneasily, tipped his hat back and wiped the sweat from his face. "I don't suppose you'd sell me an orange push up pop?" he asked. "I might just faint from this heat by the end of my shift."

"Sorry sir," replied Nevil. The motor in the freezer blew a few hours ago and the ice cream is completely melted.