MASTER RACE

Boyd Wagner had a lot on his mind as he wandered along Devonshire Street.
The winter moon rode high in the clear night sky.
Plumes of frosty breath billowed from his mouth as he trudged in the general direction that would take him home.
He was in no hurry.
No wife to welcome him home for over six months now.

Maybe on another night he would have noticed the black Mercedes van that crept along behind him.
But he was oblivious to the fact that when he stopped to peer into a shop window or light up a cigarette, the van rolled to a gentle halt as well.
This had been so for the previous ten minutes – ten blissfully oblivious minutes!

Boyd paused again, this time to glance at his wristwatch, an idea crept into his mind…wasn’t there an all night café down on Cecil Street?
There wasn’t much else going on in Carlisle at this time of night.
A cup of coffee and a bacon sandwich was probably the best he could hope for.
It would mean retracing his steps for ten minutes, but he preferred that to the alternative –the empty rooms of his council house.
He pivoted on his heel, somewhat un-elegantly due to the quantity of Smirnoff in his system.
He’d really been putting it away since Ellie had…

The van skidded to a halt, the driver caught unawares by Boyd’s sharp about turn. Boyd looked at the looming vehicle twenty feet away.

“What the f…?”