My Short Story.

[Oz]

Ok, this is my short story. I copied it from word, and i'll try to neaten it up a little, but sorry if it looks weird.

Damning Evidence

Billy Joe Miler was an old man. He had set all of his affairs in order; he would be buried at the local cemetery, his savings paying for a big gravestone, and his farm would be given to one of his nephews, because they were kind to him when they came over. They would get the farm, and the furniture. He was lucky, he decided. Here he was, less than a month away from dying of leukaemia, and he was perfectly calm.
He spent most of his days now sitting out on the porch, watching the birds and the wind.

It happened that he was outside now, drinking some lemonade and feeling very content, when he saw two boys walking along the path between his fields, towards the woods. He had seen these boys before, and he knew why they were going into the woods, and what they would do there. He had snuck up on them one day, and smelt the smoke.
He had never smoked marijuana before, and very probably wouldn’t, but those boys took it very lightly for something that illegal. They probably got it from their parents, or their general neighbourhood.

The boys had almost reached the wood by now, if you could call it that, just thirty trees or so in a sea of bushes and creepers, made from clearing the land for farming, hundreds of years ago.
Billy Joe was tired. He felt very tired. He lay back in his rocking chair and closed his eyes.

* * *

The taller of the two boys was named Chris, and had been smoking marijuana for two years now, and was held highly in the eyes of his peers because of this. He had short, cropped hair and a pale face. The shorter boy’s name was Herbert, but was called Herb by other kids. His parents wondered why kids called him this. They didn’t realise that it wasn’t just a name. He had first started four years ago, the first kid in the area, and was a local prodigy at school. He had introduced Chris to the weed, but had stopped soon after that, because his parents were suspecting something. But Herb’s friend, Randy, had recently disappeared, and Herb was feeling down. Chris had decided to cheer him up by taking him to the woods for some ‘smoking’.

The boys sat down on two tree stumps. One pulled off his shoe and extracted a small plastic baggie, with some shrivelled up grassy looking stuff and tobacco in it, as well as some small white papers. The other boy pulled off his shoe and pulled out a cigarette lighter.
The first boy put the contents of the baggie into the papers equally, and rolled them each into a cylinder. Herb took the joints, lit one, put it in his mouth, lit the other, and gave it to the other boy. They both sat there silently, puffing, letting the smoke flow down their windpipes and into their lungs. Soon, they felt dreamy and light-headed, almost drunk.
Chris was looking over at the far side of the wood, and because he was high, it took him a minute to realize that there was a car there, and it took him a minute more to realize that it was empty. “Herb! Check it out!” he cried.
The boys got up and walked over to the car. It was a brand new car, and it had leather seats, and a CD player. The driver’s door was open, and the keys were in the ignition. The boys looked at each other. Whose car could it be? It certainly wasn’t Old Man Miler’s car, whose old wreck was the oldest car for miles around. In fact, no one from that area was rich enough to own that kind of car, not even the storeowners from the town. They looked about. No one was there but them. They decided to get in.

Soon Chris, who was sitting in the drivers’ seat, decided to start the engine. He turned the keys in the ignition, and the engine started to purr. The car was one of those cars where the engine was big and lazy, and was built to be powerful. It was certainly built well. Chris put the car into gear, and started to drive off. They were in a middle of a field, but Chris knew that there was a gate across the other side that would be open, and he started to head in that direction. Herb had realized what Chris was doing by now, and decided to let him. They wouldn’t get into much trouble. How could they? They drove off and when the reached the gate, Chris made a right to go to the interstate. Less people would be there.

When they reached the interstate, Chris realized straight away that there were a lot more people there than he thought there would be. He drove on regardless. The effects of the smoke were starting to wear off now, but the boys were still high. Chris looked down at the speedometer to tell how fast they were going, but his head was so mucked up from the smoke, he just stared at the dial. He worked out that they were doing sixty, and looked up just in time to see the car career into a station wagon beside them. The impact was not too bad, and Chris put his foot down on the accelerator to get away almost immediately. He looked back to see the station wagon pull over and an angry looking man get out. The car now had scrape marks all along the left wing, and would be easy to spot, if the police were called in. The fun had stopped now, and Herb looked worried. Chris was worse. He said, “Cheer up, man! You look as if you just got caught smoking by your mom!” .It didn’t help Chris. It was his driving that had caused that accident, and he would be charged with reckless driving and driving underage, not to mention stealing the car and smoking weed. He could go to prison. He had turned 16 a few months ago, and he could be charged as an adult. He was driving at eighty now, and something on the speedometer caught his eye. It was the abbreviation MPH. He had been driving along at eighty miles an hour. That added speeding to his list of charges. Possible charges, he told himself. He decided to come off the interstate and dump the car along some back road, then walk home. It would only take half an hour or so. He began to change lanes to get into an upcoming slip road. He was almost off the interstate when a black and white patterned saloon car came up behind him. Chris swore, “Damn!” .He looked to Herb for help, but he was asleep. Asleep! How could he be asleep at a time like this? He reached across and shook Herb roughly “Herb, you idiot, wake up! HERB!” The boy mumbled something and rolled over so that he was facing the window, away from Chris. The police car behind them turned on its siren. That got Herb up. He jumped up, and looked in the wing mirror. The police car was flashing its lights, and Chris decided that pulling over would be the best option. He slowed down and pulled into the hard shoulder. The police car stopped behind him and two policemen got out. They walked over to the car, one on each side, so that the boys were trapped, should they try to escape. The policeman closest to Chris signalled for him to wind down his window. Chris did as he was told, and spoke with the policeman.
“Am I being arrested?” he inquired.
“Yes.” said the policeman.
“Will I be charged?”
“Of course.”
There was a pause.
“Will I go to jail?”
The policeman paused. “I suppose so. Perhaps.”

The boys got out of the car. One policeman started to search the car, while the one that had spoken to Chris took the boys away to the police car. He looked in the glove box and under all of the chairs, and even in the cigarette tray. Then he opened the boot. For a moment, he looked very surprised, then he took control of his facial expression. He called to Herb, who was nearest, to come and see if he could explain the contents of the boot. Herb came over, surprised. He looked in the trunk. Lying there, bloodied and beaten, was the body of Herb’s best friend Randy.

[born in fire]

Thats a really good story!
What happened to the old guy though?

[Homz]

What I want to know is, why is Herb's friend in the car dead. I just don't get it.