Deer Creek Drive Novels & Stories

I could still hear my father's laugh echo as I pulled out onto the street. I parked in Rick and Dee's driveway, cutting the engine as Dee jogged out to meet me. Their two-story home was on the edge of town in one of Wylie's newer subdivisions. It rose high on a hill, which was what had sold Dee in the first place. There weren't any beautiful flowers scattered around, like at my home, since Dee liked the way the structure was on its own. Rick mowed the lawn like clockwork, unlike at my place. A few bushes lined the red brick, also trimmed routinely.

Pine trees crowded the road on both sides, big and dark and smelling of something clean, something that had nothing to do with Chicago or Garrett Hale or the particular kind of fear that had lived in her chest for the past eleven days. She breathed it in through the cracked window. Then she got out of the truck, looked at the engine like she knew what she was looking at, closed the hood, and picked up her bag. The town was about a quarter mile down the road. She had seen the sign: Crestone Falls, Population 3,847. A gas station. A church. What looked like a diner with the lights still on. And at the far end of the main strip, a bar with a neon sign in the window that said IRONSIDE in blue an

Just mismatched shirts and shorts, probably borrowed from whoever he could get them from. They didn’t fit right—some too tight, others hanging loose in all the wrong places—but I wasn’t about to complain. We had our lives. For now, that was enough. But I knew one thing for sure—this wasn’t over. Not even close. "So, Rivercreek it is?" Draco asked as we started our journey, his voice cutting through the tense silence. "No. Cleverbridge." He shot me a glance. "It’s just an hour from Eldenberge and safe for now. No one there would know anything. I have a cabin in the woods."

“What?” “YOUR BAGS!?” “Oh—sorry. Yeah, thanks.” The driver tossed the duffels in with practised efficiency. Jake slid into the front passenger seat. They pulled into the artery of airport traffic. In the cab “So—where to?” the driver said before the wheels straightened. “North Shore. Cremorne,” Jake said, scrolling past old photos without seeing them. They took Reginald Ansett Drive, winter fog smudging the skyline. The hum of tyres. The sterile drone of highway.

This is going to be a long drive, to my lake house. &&&

Dean made his way up the streets taking a long way around a large block and then doubling back to come up in the street behind the house Aria and the basketballers were staying in. He dropped down behind a hedge when he heard a car and saw a little ford laser drive past. He chuckled to himself and stood up, checking his phone to see Mark had sent him a message. M – Two parked out front is all we could see, they got out and stood there staring at us as we drove past.

"Hard to do if she's behind me." The house was nestled into a wooded area on River Road, surrounded by massive oaks and towering pines. As he drove down the winding driveway, Aimee felt as if she actually stepped back into another time. The giant branches offered shade over the drive and hid the house from the road and passersby. It would be easy to get lost in the scenery. The grass needed cutting, but the overgrowth added to the atmosphere of the house. Her gaze remained glued outside the truck, taking in everything they passed as he drove down the drive to the main house. She would have to walk back down the driveway, she told herself. It was like a nature trail all unto itself and the ph

Minnow sank into the comfortable leather seats and inhaled the new car scent. She typed Moonfall into the GPS, and her stomach stirred nervously. Moonfall town was located one hour drive into the mountain range between the Oakheart and White Creek villages. She had family living in the White Creek area, but they weren't close to them for some reason. Minnow turned the key, and the engine hummed softly. The extensive garage doors rolled up, flooding the dark room in bright light. She drove out onto the smooth asphalt leading through the large front gates. The town below was quiet, with only the cafe owners opening their shops to the early commuters.

The massive white screen rises out of the weeds like a monolith, peeling and gray. Drakon stops the bike a hundred yards out, hidden in the tree line. "On foot from here," he whispers. We move through the tall grass. It’s wet, soaking my jeans. The wind rustles the dry leaves, sounding like footsteps. We reach the edge of the parking lot. It’s empty. Just rows of humps where the cars used to park. Except for the center. Under the shadow of Screen 2, a single car is parked. A sedan. Lights off.

Not now. I’m more grateful than ever that McKenzy and I have a popular vehicle. I pass at least two others as I head south. Thirty-five white-knuckled minutes later, I’m on Vermillion Street in Hastings. I pass their quaint little downtown neighborhood, a couple of churches, and a rehab center before I find the creamery next to an old tourist attraction mansion called The LeDuc. I park on the side street next to the mansion so the car remains inconspicuous for as long as possible.