Witness Falls

By Mac Wilkey

When Dad takes one of his famous shortcuts, the family ends up at a remote theme park that needs a lot of improvements. Guests are given the impression that they are in danger and perhaps they are. When all of the wild adventures and family issues come to an end, everyone learns that families are more important than fitting in, especially in a really strange setting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781329398511

Book preview

Witness Falls

Witness Falls

By

Mac Wilkey

Sempine Publishing

Copyright Page

© 2015 by Mac Wilkey

All Rights Reserved.

No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the publisher and/or author.

While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the publisher assumes no responsibility for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein.

Cover Design

© 2015 by Mac Wilkey

All Rights Reserved.

Cover Design by Sempine Publishing

© 2015 by Mac Wilkey

All Rights Reserved.

Chapter 1

Dad whispered those four words that drove Mom bonkers.  Since she and Jen were asleep further back in our SUV, I was left to speak up for sanity—not to mention keeping our vacation from being flushed down the toilet.

My four-word response was the same one that Mom would have provided had she been awake.  Coming from me, it had no authority. Dad did give me the map, but his I know a shortcut remained in effect.  We had gone more than a mile along Butler County Road 433 before I located it on the map.

It’s a dashed line, Dad.  This road is a dashed line.  The panic was taking over; my voice was getting higher and higher as I tried to reason with my dad.  I doomed myself to failure when I uttered the six words that were forbidden on our family vacations.

My innocent question (Why don’t we ask for directions?) got me a look that I hadn’t seen since the time I asked Mom to make quiche for dinner.  I barely avoided his grab for the map by yelling watch out and pretending to duck behind the dash.

Following a quick check of the road up ahead, Dad returned his focus to his only male child.  You’re going to wake your mother up if you can’t be quiet.  I thought you wanted to be my navigator.  Looking back at the two females asleep in the next row of seats, he gave me the it’s just you and me grin and a thumb’s up.

As the car headed up a steep incline, I searched again for the legend to see what kind of road a dashed line represented.  The legend included double lines, bold lines, narrow lines, and railroads, but I couldn’t find the dashed line. When I rubbed the dashed line with my finger, the ink smeared.

Where did you find this map, Dad? I asked.  Somebody had drawn this road onto this copy of the Alabama road map."

Dad’s grin was spreading across his face as he stepped down harder on the gas pedal. That man back at the Tennessee-Alabama line drew it in for me.  He said there used to be an Indian Reservation out here on the top of the mountain, but it has become a pretty nice-sized town, he thinks.  According to him, a lot of people go this way, and he’s never known any of them to have any problems getting through.

I didn’t like the sound of that he thinks.  Taking a closer look at the map, I realized that the dashed line had been drawn so that it seemed to be labeled.  The real County Road 433 ran at right angles to the dashed line road. 

Hoping that I could get Mom awake, I tried to act excited.  Well, I was excited, but I was trying to act pleased and excited.  Wow, Dad! Hey, Mom—Dad’s found a short cut!  Check this out!  Dad probably didn’t hear the please that I muttered because he was explaining things to me, his right hand man.

For some reason, the state doesn’t publicize this route.  The man back there thinks they want everyone to go by those big, new malls in whatever city is up ahead.  He had been slowly increasing the volume on the radio to cover my frantic voice.  To my dismay, Mom groaned, adjusted her position in the seat, but didn’t wake up.

Also, to my dismay, Jen woke up and seemed to be thrilled that we were taking a short cut.  Poor Jen didn’t remember our twelve hour shortcut through the North Carolina mountains when we tried to cut fifteen minutes off the trip from Gatlinburg, Tennessee to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee. 

That same feeling was creeping into my stomach, but somehow I thought this time we might just be okay.  After all, we weren’t taking my dad’s shortcut; somebody else had drawn in the road for my dad. Then I heard some pretty discouraging words.

Yep, that old chief must know his way through these mountains, alright. I bet he’s hunted every square inch of these ridges for deer and turkey and …

I couldn’t resist; I added, . . . scalps.

Chapter 2

Jen catapulted into the front seat with an Indian war whoop and a tug on my thick, brown hair.  I must have reacted in the way she hoped because she couldn’t stop laughing for quite a while.  By that time, Mom was awake which meant that something positive had been accomplished.

Jen looked past my head as if she was seeing something behind me.  He’s got a tomahawk, Bobby!  You’d better duck!

Although I couldn’t stop an involuntary flinch, I didn’t look back.  For that reason, I was shocked to feel a sharp slap to the back of my head.  Mom’s voice followed the slap, and I knew she wasn’t a happy Indian reservation