(published by Mythic Picnic, January 2026)
“Broke Down South of Dallas” by Victor De Anda
Me and Big Business are just north of Waco on I-35 when the old lady screeches and sputters. You know the sound. The ’74 Eldorado’s engine dies. Like my marriage did after forty-some years.
I throw Bizzy into neutral, coax her onto the shoulder. Flip on the hazards. The rush hour traffic rages past. Ditto for the ex-wife once she checks her driveway.
My cell buzzes. Her name and image light up the screen. Fuck me.
I put her on speaker.
“Where on God’s green Earth have you taken my baby?”
I check Bizzy’s mirrors. “I’ve got every right to—”
“No you don’t,” Lilah says. “The divorce settlement was final. She’s mine now.”
A mosaic of tail lights fills my sideview. “I thought we agreed on joint custody of the car.”
“Like hell we did!” My cellphone screen glows hotter with her stinging words. “I’m taking Bizzy back, numb nuts.”
My thumb hovers above the “hang up” button. “Over my dead body, sweetie.”
Lilah shushes me. “That’s the idea, darling.”
Tires spitting gravel from behind. A V8 roars minus a muffler. In the rearview: A hopped-up camo’d 4×4 tears down the freeway shoulder, getting closer. “What the fuck?”
Lilah’s static photo on my cell seems to smile. “I put a tracker on the car, dipshit. My guys will be taking her.”
“Bitch,” I yell into the phone. End the call. Scramble for the .44 in my glovebox.
Glass break.
Something pierces the air and thumps the backside of the driver’s headrest like in the old Westerns. I fumble the gun to the floorboard. No time.
Out of the car and running away fast. Another whizzing sound cuts the Texas humidity nearby. Backwards glance: two mountain-sized men clambering out of the 4×4. One’s hefting a serious crossbow. I sprint harder. More arrows hurtle past. A blink later, pfffttt. I take a tumble. The pain is blinding. Losing Bizzy hurts even worse. I break down and cry.