My books are now available at all the leading on-line books stores — and to celebrate, Somethin’ for Nothin’ is on sale for $.99 through August 31.
M.T. Bass Author Pages
Chapter 3: The Lucky Wishbone Diner
They sat a long while, parked on the side of Highway 1 coming out of the Chugach Mountains, staring through the windshield at the lights of Anchorage, a glittering pool of civilization spilt like milk beside Cook’s Inlet in the foggy dusk, an oasis to slake their thirst of loneliness after two thousand miles of travel through desolate Canadian wilderness.
Albert reached between the seats for the last, nearly empty bottle of Yukon Jack. He held it up in toast, “It is the call of the wild, my friend. The call of the fucking wild.”
Albert took a pull and passed the bottle to Waxy. “No man of reason can dispute this.”
When they had finished off the bottle, Waxy put the blue Ford panel van into gear and Albert tossed the empty Yukon Jack bottle out the window to shatter on the shoulder of the road.
They drove around downtown Anchorage, gulping down the uniquely municipal manifestation of humanity’s presence which seemed so foreign to them now after a near terminally long absence since leaving Seattle. After circling back past the Lucky Wishbone Diner for what seemed to be at least the ninth or tenth time, they pulled in and grabbed a booth across from the counter.
“Tomorrow, man, tomorrow we strike it rich,” said Albert.