Control - Chapter 6

[Tainted Biohazard]

Chapter 1

My headlights scour the fog infested highway as my charcoal black truck winds its way through the Smoky Mountain passes in the darkest hours of the night.  Cautious as I have been, driving in these conditions, the road is nevertheless slippery and has, on more than one occasion, forced me to misjudge some corners.  In these tense moments, my tires slipped from the pavement unto the slimy shoulders, demanding that I slow to an almost unbearable crawl lest paramedics inevitably find my corpse lodged in a ravine.

Just a few yards ahead, a sign emerges from the mist.  While its message is hardly legible through the murk, I clearly see the outline of the state of Tennessee.  Finally!  I think to myself.  The journey has been long and I grow weary.  To think anyone might’ve put so many miles on horseback in times long since past.

Beginning the journey in California, I have been travelling for three days to reach this humid region of the South.  My body aches and my legs have stiffened in this seat.  Thankfully, I have perhaps only a few more hours of travel yet to go – on any regular evening at least.  But through these miasmic conditions, who could say?  I hope to arrive at an appropriate hotel stop by morning at least. 

Given the conditions this eve, I chuckle as I consider the name of my destination, a little backwater town, tucked away in the woods.  They call it ‘Slaughter’.  Ugh.  Couldn’t they have thought of something a bit more pleasant?

Tennessee is a lush place this time of year, overridden with vegetation in these back hills.  Branches of old hardwood trees bear down over the road, sagging under the loads of stringy mosses and winding ivy which hung from them like dead curtains.  It isn’t helping visibility at all having these monstrous forces of nature emerge from the fog like marsh creatures lurching in attack.

My eyelids droop as I slurp down more java, the bitter trail of it burning my throat and warming my entrails.  Unfortunately, it has cooled significantly since my last stop at the freeway junction.  Oddly, since that stop, I have not seen a single soul on the road so far.  Figures.  What idiot would try to navigate through this ethereal soup?  Oh yeah.  Me.  I’m a fool.  I will not argue against that fact.

But what makes a fool of any man?  A woman of course.  I’m no exception to that rule.  Not just any woman, though.  At one time, she was THE woman.  The only woman I’ve ever felt truly ‘in love’ with.  Stupid me, I went and married another one, in forlorn abandon of hope that anything could or would ever be between us again.  But alas, my shackles have finally been released and I am free to rush to her.

Only one problem.  She doesn’t know I’m coming.  Oh, I don’t plan to suddenly show up at her doorstep.  That’d be… creepy.  No, thankfully, I have a friend or two left from my brief time living in this dismal state.   Why Adam moved to a town out in the middle of B.F.E named Slaughter I cannot guess.  A job perhaps?  At least ‘she’ will be just an hour or so further, well within range of a comfortable trip to visit.  If she’ll allow it.

You see, about seven years ago, I lived in Tennessee, with my now – thank god – EX wife.  I had convinced the bitch that we should move out here to be near to that old friend, that perfect woman.  How I did that, I’ll never really know to this day.  Perhaps it was my ability to play on her latent lesbian lusts.  Perhaps she just wanted me to realize that the perfect woman was not so perfect after all.  Perhaps she succeeded. (Bullshit!)

It’s not as if I believe that everything would be perfect in the world if I finally had this woman, Sunshine, in my life.  Yeah… Sunshine.  That’s really her name.  Kinda fucked up if you ask me.  Especially considering how much of my life I had been longing for her like a vampire denied the lively essence of the day.

No, we had our problems too.  Or at least I keep thinking we must have.  This way I can hold myself in denial of having missed my chance at a utopic life.  Sunshine was annoying at times.  Terribly self-centered.  Surely, considering how arrogant and narcissistic I had been before… recently… it would have gone sour eventually.  Who knows?  Perhaps everything I loved about her, her impetuosity, her willpower, her fire, would have eventually become a bitter taste in my mouth, leaving me to feel cursed to be at her side for the indefinite future to come.

I tell myself this as I drive straight for her as soon as my chains have been broken.  I’m a hypocrite AND a fool.  But I have to make things right again.  We parted on bad terms.  I guess that’s what happens when threesomes go south.  One bitch calls the other a whore while the other retaliates by condemning her for being such a slut as to have a child at sixteen.  Meanwhile I’m standing there wanting to slap the shit out of my then-wife but knowing that, to do so, I would lose them both. 

I had betrayed Sunshine.  I had offered a bit too much information to an ex boyfriend that had been pining over her.  I could relate to him too deeply to ignore his pleas for understanding.  She’d cheated on him.  My lecherous wife had informed him of this.  I confirmed it.  I’m a bastard, a hypocrite AND a fool.

So I’m not here with hope of getting back together with her. (bullshit!)  Hell, I don’t even know if she’s moved on and has another flame now, or worse, a husband.

No, I’m here to repair the damage I caused.  I don’t expect her to forgive me.  But maybe I can earn back the best friend I’ve ever had.  (BULLSHIT – you just loved the sex!)  It’s true, she was the hottest girlfriend I’d ever been so blessed to be within.  I’m a liar, a bastard, a hypocrite AND a fool.

But it was deeper than that, somehow.  If it were just the amazing sex we’d had, I wouldn’t be crossing the country like a fevered dog after a fox.  She made me love myself to be with her.  It was as if her light filled my dark soul and made me whole.  When she took it away I lost my light and I’ve been searching for my Sunshine ever since.

“Love is not a feeling.  Love is a conscious decision to overlook the shortcomings of others.”  My therapist’s voice echoes through my mind.  My EX-therapist, thank God!  Sure the bastard helped me to understand my faults over the last five years of therapy.  He was also part of that ungodly torture machine the government bound me with, forced their control down my throat and through my eyeballs until they had my unquestioning obedience.

I suppose I earned it.  No… I did earn it.  (I was about to say…)

After leaving Tennessee, my heart and mind were twisted and corrupt.  I hated my wife with the passion of one whose family has been murdered.  My family, in this case, was all hope of living under the life-giving essence of my Sunshine.  My actual family, my wife and my kids… they were the murderers, my tormentors, my daily reminder of my vampire-like curse.

In the hopelessness of a lost soul, I embraced drugs.  I embraced corruption.  I fled to my inner island of my own fantasies.  Porn and Pot.  Lots of both.  They numbed me and I used them like a medicine to patch the black hole in my soul.  But I’ve learned, over my time in therapy, that no such evils can truly repair such a longing.  It only served to twist my mind to find more and more severe escapes as those bits of bubble-gum and duct tape were rent and torn and absorbed by the growing void within.

In my desperation, a mad scientist emerged to replace me.  Cold, analytical.  Sex was its focus of study.  What WAS that man trying to do when he fondled me in my childhood?  Was it possible for me to have reacted, to have felt aroused?  If I had, would I have avoided having been such a tool where women were concerned, allowing them to lord over me in my ignorance of the ways of being a man?  Could I help my children avoid this fate as well?  Could I show them the way to a brighter future by awakening their desires earlier?  Surely they wouldn’t be doomed to suffer the fate of a late bloomer as I had.  If I did it when they slept, without their knowing, and nobody ever knew, who could be harmed by my experiment? (Bullshit – you sought a sexual rush, nothing more!)  I didn’t see that at the time.

But guilt had been my undoing.  I had admitted my faulty behavior to my wife.  She tried to swallow the sin with me but found she could not.  A month later I was forced from our home – she had exerted HER control.  Then she asked the police to aid her in her venomous quest to destroy me.  Again, as usual, in her efforts, she succeeded.  (Bullshit – you brought it on yourself and she was in the right to protect her children!)

I’ve been under the thumb all my life.  But never have I faced such humiliation and terror as the day I was admitted to jail.  Tears had streamed all that night, and my body had quivered in horror that my cell mates would view me as weak and seek to take advantage.  I was, after all, among the presence of other twisted souls.  They were kind enough to leave me be to recover my arrogant front again.

Three months of introspection followed.  I never resisted.  I admitted everything the whole way through.  I find it best to relax and let the river take me where it will when the rapids grow so rough.  Afterwards, I was released on time served and sentenced to the next five years of living hell under my tormentors’ tyranny.

Nothing was hidden from them.  They demanded it so and had the means to achieve their demands.  Polygraphs would find out if I tried.  They did make such discoveries on occasion, which led to great suffering as what little essence of joy I had would be stripped away like flaying skin from my flesh.

“My name is Randal.  Sex offender.  Child Molester.  Capable of reoffending.”  I affirmed this weekly in front of other men who affirmed the same.  I reported all sins of the week.  How often I masturbated.  How often I fantasized.  How many children I had passed in public throughout the course of everyday life.  I admitted my guilty behaviors.  I explored my thinking behind each like a man walking along a riverside beach pulling up every stone and analyzing all the vermin found beneath, categorizing, capturing, cataloguing, exterminating.

“What comes to mind first when I say the word ‘Control’?” my therapist once asked.  I shrunk from the question, my labyrinth-like mind exploding with thoughts in a confusing display like a burst of butterflies from a rotten tree-trunk.  Something to avoid, I think should have been my answer.  For the first time in my life I feel I can live without it now, under my own will – provided I continue to register public record of my deviancy wherever I hang my hat.  I am, and will forever be capable of being a deviant, a liar, a bastard, a hypocrite, AND a fool. 

But it made me a better person, all that trial.  I have control now – the most precious kind, over myself.  I see how very wrong I was, how corrupted my mind had become, and the full path I took to allowing it.  (Allowing it – Bullshit!  You drove down that road of your own accord!)  Yes.  I chose this horrible route.  Now I must live with it.  Much like this damned fog.

I seriously doubt my Sunshine will understand.  But I have to find out.

Yawning, I wonder how many more sharp corners I can take.  My sides ache from the constant jarring, pushing against the centrifugal force that threatens to send me into the empty passenger seat beside me. 

The path grows darker, still, and I wonder how that is possible.  The mist has thickened further I determine, realizing I’m hardly capable of seeing even the looming tree limbs now.

Feeling like a stagecoach driver through the muddy roads of the Medieval England, my eyes dart around at the passing shadows in the fog in growing worry that I might be at any time beset by bandits. 

I have slowed to a mere ten miles per hour, enough for a wolf pack to surround me and begin nipping at my heels if they felt so inclined.  I have far too active an imagination, I remind myself.  Such fantasies are my narcissism returning to haunt me, to convince me that my life bears more meaning than that of the common man.  Shit – I AM a common man.  Even if I AM a narcissist, a deviant, a liar, a bastard, a hypocrite AND a fool.

Nevertheless, I reach under the console between the seats to fondle at the smooth, cold steel of my pistol.  It comforts me to know that there are a full ten rounds loaded in its hold.  I shouldn’t have it, being a felon now.  But fuck ‘em.  I’m no less valid a human being to be deprived of some basic protection on such a long road trip.  I’m just thankful I had a friend who could pull some favors for me before I began my journey.  Feeling a sense of security renewed, I release my grip and retract my pointer finger from caressing the tantalizing trigger.

I could not have returned my hand to the wheel with better timing.

Suddenly a dark figure emerges in the mist!  It’s shambling across the road, actually moving, unlike those sad dead branches overhead.

I’m travelling too fast!  I’ll hit… her?... if I don’t react– I jar the wheel to the left.  My truck squeals in protest across the slick pavement and time slows. 

My heart pounds against the cage in my chest and my hair stands on end like I’ve been jolted by a spark from the engine.  I’m sliding sideways down the road now.  Surely I’ll strike this… person I think!

This CANNOT happen!  I will NOT be returning to jail tonight!  If I go back for any reason I’ll be put back in that hellish grip of a legal conspiracy to command my every waking thought.  I’d rather die first!  I will not strike a pedestrian! 

I yank the wheel to the right and my vehicle spins just as I hear a light tapping against the side of the bed of the truck.  DAMN IT!  I hit her!  I actually HIT her!

My mind is reeling.  As is my truck - careening out of control as it finally skids to a halt facing back the way from which I had come, tires sinking into the mud off the side of the road.

I take a few moments to breathe and wipe my brow, burrowing my thumbs deep into my eye-sockets to massage them back from the blur as my fingers massage my temples.  Did that really happen, I wonder? 

Oh, God.  I really hope she’s ok.  Everything’s fine, I tell myself.  Don’t freak out.  Just look up and see if she’s… Where is she?  Surely I didn’t spin so far down the way that I left her unconscious in the center of the road, shrouded by this mist?  Or worse.

My heart is still beating like a nervous chipmunk, perhaps all the more rapidly now as I consider the ramifications of this action.  It was a mistake, I remind myself.  We all make them.  (Bullshit… you should have been paying more attention!  You forgot you were driving and now you will pay as justice demands.)  Fuck this.  I need to go see if she’s…

THUD!

A sudden thwack against my driver side window forces my eyes to bulge, my throat to clasp shut and my heart to miss a beat as I gasp for life and duck to the right.  I think I may have just dribbled a little.  My crotch feels a touch damp as I glance back over my shoulder to see a frantic young woman beating at my door.

Seeing she’s alive, I release a momentary sigh of relief.  Her eyes are bright with terror – can’t say as I blame her.  I nearly took her life this evening. 

She scratches and claws at the top of the window for me to lower it faster.  She can hardly speak through her panicked breaths.  Her dark hair splays out everywhere around her head; twigs are crudely woven throughout the matted mess as if she has taken a long nap in the muddy undergrowth of these woods.

“Jesus H. Christ, are you OK?” I press her for an answer to my own most desperate concern – have I harmed her?  Her frantic efforts to speak break down into a wretched bawling, tears streaming down to brew through the mud and - oh shit -blood that cakes onto her cheeks.  All she can manage for an answer through her shuddering cries is to shake her head, her eyes remaining fixed on mine as if she would die if she broke contact.

She backs away from the door and collapses to her knees in the middle of the street, releasing her eye-contact as she allows her head to droop between her surging shoulders.  She hugs herself and rocks back and forth muttering something unintelligibly through her tears.

I feel a welling terror suggesting I may have caused this reaction.  I must have been going much faster than I had thought.  Damned me for being a… yeah, all those things.

Lurching out of the cab of the truck, I quickly glance afore and behind to make sure I see no approaching headlights.  Once the consuming darkness is confirmed, I rush to her side, crouching next to her, whispering, “I’m sorry!  I’m so so so sorry!  Are you hurt?” 

Instinctively I reach around to lay a concerned hand on her shoulder.  She thrusts her chest forward as my fingers touch her skin, arching back her spine as she lets out a spine-tingling scream that echoes through the wooded night.  As I fall back on my ass from the sonic blast, startled and unnerved, an owl hoots back in reply.

“Shit, lady!  I’m sorry!  I won’t touch you again, k?” I say to her, at first annoyed, and then with heartfelt apology, as she returns her face to pour her emotions into her palms once more, her body quivering.

I sit there for a moment wondering how to approach this girl, studying her in some sense of eerie curiosity.  Something is wrong here… a lot more than just a startling experience crossing a road.

She does appear injured.  Gouges in her flesh have slashed across her back, shoulders and arms.  I must’ve touched a sensitive spot, I think, as I realize precious few inches of her bodice wouldn’t be.  These injuries, however, they aren’t fresh.  I must’ve just bumped her, tagged her a bit.  Or she may have slapped the rear of my truck in passing.  She didn’t appear struck by a vehicle.  No. 

This girl has been tortured! 

The realization crawls up the nape of my neck.  Who would do such a thing to such a young woman? 

How old IS she?  A teen?  In her twenties?  I was never good at making such determinations, as my therapist had chided me for on numerous occasions.

Glancing around into the fog, I wondered if someone might be chasing her.  She couldn’t be in such a condition without someone being responsible.  And that responsible party would certainly not be pleased to find her missing, I theorized.  Feeling a growing sense of unease at the thought, I rose and returned to the truck, reaching into the cab to grab my weapon.

Stuffing the pistol into the front of my pants and pulling out my black dress shirt to hang over the gun to conceal any betraying gleam, I stalk back, cautiously, to crouch again next to the girl, who is beginning to sniffle back some of her tears.

“I’m sorry for nearly hitting you back there.”  I force the most calming voice I can, choking down any betrayal of my growing adrenaline surge.  My senses are becoming keen and crisp as I listen for any sounds of possible approach.  “Are you OK,” I ask again, though feeling stupid for asking, I add, “No.  Of course you’re not.”

Looking up, finally, her frightened, Asian-slanted brown eyes plead with mine, illuminated in my headlights.  She might be pretty underneath all the grime, I think, then chastise myself for allowing my mind to go there. (Grrrrr…)  I flash an image through my mind of the day I was arrested to remind me of the consequences of such thinking.

Suddenly, she reaches out and grabs me by the shoulders.  I can feel her hands tremble as they squeeze my muscles so roughly it hurts.  “PLEASE!  Take me with you!  Away from here!” she stresses in the voice of one overcome with dread.  “Please!  You must!”

I’m going to run out of gas if I go back the way I came.  I must be closer to this ‘Slaughter’ community than anywhere else.  But is that where she seeks to escape from?  If I take her with me, who will I inadvertently anger?  But can I allow her to remain out here to starve?  Or stab herself on a sharp branch in the middle of this wicked night?  Would she die if left to fend for herself?  Would her tormenter catch up to her?

I shrug her off me, not wanting to touch her again, even to reassure.  “Hold on and let me try something,” I say as I reach for my cell phone.  It’s been dead for miles and now is no exception.  Apparently this end of Tennessee has never heard of technology.  So calling for the cops is out.

I consider that perhaps she has come from somewhere nearby, in the woods here, not anywhere close to Slaughter.  I’ve seen infrequent homesteads along the way, judging by the mailboxes and muddy gravel roads branching off from this obscure highway main.  But then, maybe I should keep going a ways, or backtrack, to find such a driveway and see if those homeowners, assuming there are any, have a functional phone.

Or I could just take her with me to Slaughter.  I ask her, “Can I take you to the next town then?  Is that what you want?”  But she has grown overwhelmed.  In her eyes I can see her synopses short circuiting as she drifts off to gaze emptily at a distant spot over my shoulder.

Glancing back to make sure she wasn’t looking at a stalker striding through the mist, I blinded myself in my headlights but could see enough to assure myself that nobody approached.

Then a thought strikes me like a brick as I look back at her dazed features.  What if I did hit her back there, and she reports it?  That could at least mean a return to probation – and a return to the hell I WILL never go back to. 

Worse still, her injuries and obvious torture experiences could be pinned on me – always easy to blame a sex offender!  How much worse would that be?  I shudder to think of dying in prison.

Doing anything horrible to her now cannot be an option, I remind myself.  I have avowed to become a person my Sunshine could love – a person I can respect.  It’s been a long road to get to where I am and I will not slide backwards now.  But what do I do?

[Chinaren]

Yay! Finally a new chapter!  Have to go out now, so... 

[NicTei]

Perhaps he could hand her over and then follow them?  No, that wouldn't work so well, not with the lack of other cars.  Maybe he could explain the whimpering bundle away as his dog; she tragically fell sick on the way to Slaughter, so he's going to find a vet as soon as he's settled in with his friend.  Penny could even give a half-hearted, but strangely convincing, bark to sell it.

Alternatively, maybe Adam could show up right in the nick of time and help him out?

[Chinaren]

Caught up, and wow, this is one tough SP! 

Have we actually run out of gas?  But then the engine is off isn't it, even if we haven't.  I was thinking of jerking the truck forward to get rid of the shotgun.

I don't feel inclined to give our entertainment for later the poor girl up to these yokels.  Maybe he can pretend to play along and then either let loose or maybe somehow end up with his gun in the mouth of our good friend, which could mean a bit of a Mexican stand off with shotgun boy, but hey, what's the worst that could happen, right?

Nice chapter here Tazz.  Enjoyed muchly except one small thing...

He approaches with a shotgun in hand and I gasp as I realize my fears are confirmed as in his hand is indeed a shotgun.

Bit of duplication there.

[Burningplain]

Nice Chapter Taz. Loved it.

As for what he does?

With a shotgun pointed at his back its time for a little bit of careful thinking.
Perhaps hand her over and try to get in with them, so he can expose them and redeem himself?

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

This is cool.  I received an email saying there was another chapter up!  Nice feature, or did you do that?

What a fine read this continues to be.  I'm not sure what to suggest really, but let's try and be different.  I say he pulls the gun out and threatens... the girl!  Maybe if he holds here hostage they will back off.

I'm not sure what will happen after that though.

[Whisperer]

Great chapter.   it is things like this that make road trips across the US a scary prospect.

My first reaction to the DP:  "My knuckles are surely going white as I squeeze down on the handle of my gun under the cover of the middle console"  With this I say he would "accidentally" shoot her.

[Tainted Biohazard]

Thank you for reading everyone!  Now polling.  Should be a new chapter next week

And, Perry, I think if you're following a story you get an email when there is a new chapter post added, but if you are doing so from a story with its own forum, you can't follow it as well because each new chapter is a new thread in and of itself and we are only able to 'follow' given threads.

[Chinaren]

I dun voted I dun.

[Tainted Biohazard]

Chapter 5

“You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a vet’s office would you?”  My mind races, somehow making a strategic connection as if I’m surfing on a wave of terror, maintaining internal balance against all odds. 

I’m a little surprised by how well I seem to be pulling off the act.  James’s face makes a double take as it appears to suddenly cross his mind where I’m headed with this and how it might mean his assumptions could be off-base.  I can hear his thoughts now – but I had been so sure!

He chuckles, obviously considering this MUST be a ruse.  He’s not as unintelligent as I might’ve guessed.  I’m finding that inner salesmen that can read his potential clients like a book as they go through their thought processes and by what I’m seeing flash across his eyes, he’s going to come at me calling my bluff without actually saying it.

Indeed, he follows with, “What’s wrong with your dog mister?”  He gives me a wry grin, letting me know he sees through the charade, or at least he thinks he does.

“Rabies,” I say, pulling the first animal disease I can think of to mind… then I pull the rest out of my ass.  “He’s not so far gone yet he can’t be saved and I have him loosely bound.  He’s my best friend in the world but I reeeally have to get him to a vet as soon as I can.  He was bit by a squirrel and he’s been sitting there under that blanket quivering ever since.”  (RABIES?!?  You can’t see ANY problems with that excuse?)

James seems to give what I’m saying honest consideration.  It’s a good thing hillbillies don’t seem to know enough to know that Rabies would be completely incurable if my story were true. 

He reaches down with an obvious desire to confirm my story as Penny seems to catch on to what I’m saying and offer some whimpering puppy yips from beneath the blanket.  Good girl but don’t overact it… I think desperately.

“DON’T!” I shout at James hoping a startling noise won’t cause Billy behind me to twitch an itchy trigger finger on his shotgun, presuming of course that he does have it aimed at the back of my head.  I momentarily consider that I might be assuming the worst of the situation and it might not be quite as bad behind me as I’m thinking.

James looks up at me, eyebrows raised in a ‘why the hell not’ expression, but his hand does stop before pulling at the blanket.

“I don’t want you to touch the blanket or get too close.  If Buster’s condition has worsened like I think it might have, he could really be dangerous.  If he sees all this light he could really freak out.  Get bit and it’s all over you know.  Seriously, he’s probably fine but I don’t want to test that theory.  I also don’t want to test the string I used to throw together a makeshift muzzle if you get my drift.”  As I speak, his hand slowly retracts and it appears I may have gotten through to him the gravity I hope to impress upon the situation.

“So yer outta gas with a sick dog an’ ya gotta get down tha road to yer friend’s house who’s a cop.  When were ya plannin’ on findin’ a vet?” James asks.  He’s nefariously more intelligent than most hillbillies it seems.  But he hasn’t thrown my ruse aside entirely yet and that’s good.

“Honestly I wasn’t sure how I was going to play it.  If there were a local vet I’d be happy to take Buster there but I looked at the phonebook across the street there and it was… um… no help.”  Uh, oh… before I even finish the comment I realize the trap I’ve just stepped into.  My hand squeezes on the pistol.

Sure enough, James jumps all over the opening I’ve left him.  Damn!  “Well, there’s Ol’ Max at the end of town down there past that there yonder holler.  He’s a taxidermist but he’s pretty good with animals and ‘tween you an’ me, he’s got all the good drugs you could possibly need there.  I’m sure he’d know lots ‘bout rabies bein’s as he’s gotta deal with crazy critters in the forest all the time.”

I bow my head.  Damn, Damn, DAMN!  If I try to weasel out of getting help from a local friend he’ll be sure I’m lying to him because I’ve just said I’d prefer to find local help.  But what else can I do but try to find an excuse?  I stammer for a moment searching for one.

James beats me to it.  “Ah know.  I wouldn’t feel too comfortable visiting a crazy cooter at the enda town in a strange place neither but trust me,” he chuckles, “Ol’ Max is a good ol’ boy.  He’d take good care of ya.”  I do NOT feel very comfortable with the way he just emphasized “good care”.  And it’s my dog that needs help, according to the story I’m sticking to here, not me.

“I… I’m sure, but would he cost me anything?  I mean, I’m a little short on cash at the moment.  I haven’t eaten a thing in over a day just trying to make it to where I’m headed.”  I spit out another excuse that I just as quickly realize is likely to get me in more trouble. 

Penny whimpers again.  For a girl who seems to be so mentally lost, she’s really pulling off this impromptu act nicely.  Much as it tends to clog the mind, fear also has a way of forcing focus it seems.

“Aw shit,” James says.  “Now why didn’t ya say somethin’ bout that earlier?  Miss Brown over there runs a great diner.  I’d be just downright tickled to bits if you’d accompany me for a cup of mornin’ coffee an’ some eggs n’ grits.  Billy an’ me had just been talkin’ about getting a bite before gettin’ on with the search for our sister anyhow!”

“Aaaah, yeah,” I nod, leveraging the obvious discomfort anyone would feel in James’s cousin’s eye-holed presence.  I flick a glance and gesture with my chin back towards the shotgun wielding kid behind me sending James that look that says, I don’t want to hurt his feelings but you’d be fucking nuts to think I’m going to sit down at a diner table with that abomination, or something to that extent.

James smiles and chuckles a bit.  In his honest recognition of what I’m trying to convey, I get a little lost as to what he thinks about my ‘dog’ for a moment. 

“Tell you what,” he offers, “I’ll send Billy to go find Ol’ Burt an get him off his ass so’s you can get yer truck gassed up an’ runnin’ again so’s you kin get down the road to wherever you’d like to take yer dog.”  There is only a hint of doubt in his voice when he says ‘dog’.  He continues, “and while he does that I’ll take ya ta get somethin’ to eat at that there diner.  That’d just be good ol’ fashion Southun Hospitality there, son.  Whaddaya say?”

Damn, I think.  He’s got me pegged.  If I reject his offer I’m just being rude and illogical as it solves every excuse I’ve offered him.  If I take it… with Penny listening, hopefully she could be trusted to stay still enough to not draw further attention.  I could LOCK the doors and leave her inside while Billy presumably goes elsewhere and I can keep an eye on James.  He’s given me an out here but if he’s being clever enough, he’s just rigging me up to make myself vulnerable and separate me from the girl.

But what choices do I have here?  I remind myself I am the master of my destiny as I consider my options.

[Chinaren]

Lol!  I think the whole dog thing was pushing it a bit, but you pulled it off.

Anyway, let's agree and let him send Billy off.  That way he's evened up the odds.  Wait until Billy's buggred off, and then pull the gun! 

I'm feeling aggressive today. 

[Burningplain]

Awesome chapter. As for what he does. Lock the doors of his truck and go for foodies, pray the girl stays under the blanket.

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Well this is tough one!  Between a rock and a hard place. 

Perhaps do half of Chinaren's idea and half of Burningplain's idea.  Wait until Billy goes off, then lock the doors, take the gun and go off with our other redneck chum.

We don't have any petrol do we?  If so, pedal to the metal is what I'm actually thinking.

[Whisperer]

Short and sweet...I like it

Randall is rooted...he really needs to try to think before he speaks.

He could try lying and say he called his friend from the pay phone across the road and now he is waiting for him, so he better stay in the car.  But this being such a small town, James would probably know the phone is out of order, so.....

I somewhat agree with the previous suggestions, but just going to eat is not really going to solve the problem of the "dog with rabies".  So I suggest....

Randall needs to make an excuse to fumble around in the truck for a few minutes after James starts walking to the diner so he can make arrangements with the girl to wait until both James and Billy have left so she can get out of the car and hide somewhere so they can meet up later.  If she leaves the door open or window down,  it will look like the dog escaped.  So no more problem of having to cover up for that lie. 

We all know in horror stories 99% of the bad stuff happens at night,  the sun is coming up now so things should start to look less threatening, and maybe, just maybe, Randall might start getting his head together.

[Tainted Biohazard]

Thanks to all for reading and replying.  You make it worth continuing!

Now Polling!

[Chinaren]

Yee ha!  Voted and winning.   

[Burningplain]

Now We draw chinaren.

[Chinaren]

Damn you Burpy!    Damn you all to heck! 

[Tainted Biohazard]

Chapter 6

“Alright, just let me lock up,” I flash James my best forced warm smile.  Leaning over, I grab at the handle of the window lever on the passenger side door and look up into the brown eyes of the wolfish man.  I pause as if to say, “Well?  Are you going to move so I can roll up the window?”

“Oh!  Of course,” he chuckles as he leans back, snaps his suspenders on his overalls and gives his shirt a few casual tucks under his pits to stuff back the fabric that’s pulled free from stretching.  As I crank the window shut, I catch a glimpse of a few brown flecks scattered across the shirt under his right arm.

Leaned over, I whisper, “Great act, Penny!  Hold out here and stay still until I get back.  I don’t know how far this Billy’s gotta go but I don’t want him to see you when he comes back, understood?”
 
“Mhphmm,” I hear a muffled groan as she shifts position a bit. 

Looking out the window, through the mirror, I can see that James and Billy are conferring behind my truck.  I breathe a momentary sigh of relief knowing that I don’t currently have a shotgun to my head.  With as little additional movement as possible, I stuff the cold steel pistol down my pants.  It feels like ice as it grazes across my privates but it provides me with enough confidence to calm the shudders my shoulders are currently wracked with.

I’ve never been here before, in the midst of eminent conflict.  I’ve always imagined it, thought I could handle it, but I’ve never been in the middle of it.  And it’s more intense than I’d thought it would be. 

Reminds me of when I entered the gas chamber as a private in the Army, thinking I’d be the one guy immune to the stuff, only to find out, in shocked horror, how terribly wrong I could be.  The gas had entered my lungs like any other air, but brought with it the sensation of being struck across the face with a hammer as my tubes clamped down in violent protest and my stomach became my new and far less functional lungs.  It was then that I learned what it might feel like to die, to have no choice but to let go of the spark of life.

And I am now finding this immediate and real threat to be a lot more worrisome than I could’ve believed.  The idea of having a sudden shootout at any time is enough to cause my guts to liquefy out of fear alone.  They feel on the brink of jellifying already and as I take a moment to find some calm, I realize every muscle in my body already aches with the soreness of overwhelming tension.  I paw at my crotch to make sure things are still dry and am relieved to discover no more moisture than would be indicative of a strong flow of perspiration.

“Ok,” I affirm to myself as I sit up and grab the wheel and cast another wary eye into the rearview mirror only to be reminded how chock full the back of my truck is.  Penny’s door is now locked and it’s time to get moving if I’m not going to appear to be spending time in sly preparation.

“How long will you be?” Penny whispers.

“I’ll make sure not to take long.  Just leave everything LOCKED,” I hiss in an attempt to deny moving my lips.  “Just lay low and we’ll be on our way in no time,” I assure.

Opening the door, I get out and stretch.  The morning air immediately sets to work evaporating the clamminess from my skin.  James walks forward with a dark grin on his lips and I quickly take a step and throw the door shut behind me.

“You sure your dog’ll be alright in there while we go grab a bite?” he asks.  “Don’t ‘e ever gotta pee?”

“He might but he wasn’t interested in the leash.  I’m really getting worried.  Just lays there panting and growls if I move the blanket,” I say as I turn to look in the window, more to keep my own body in the way of James as he approaches, appearing to want to get a closer look. 

Now that I’m standing outside, not bound in a truck seat, I feel much more capable of dealing with him if he were to get hostile.  He isn’t that much taller than I, though he is a bit wider set and looks as if he’s spent some time farming, given the thickness of his arms.  I wouldn’t want to wrestle him, that’s for sure.

“Well?” he says as he comes to stand before me.  His eyes glance over towards the diner and he flicks his hand to gesture we get a move on.

I nod and smile, adding as I begin to walk forward, “I actually do appreciate this.  I was trying to avoid paying for any food until I reached my friend’s house.  I’m going to need to find work of some kind and until then I’m on a finite budget.”

“Fi-nite huh?” James says absently as he pauses in passing the window to glance down into the truck cab.

“Yeah,” I act naturally as I notice him looking in the truck behind me.  I cast a quick prayer that Penny senses that NOW, more than ever, she needs to stay the hell still!  “You know… limited.”

“Ah know what ‘fi-nite’ means,” James chuckles as he turns and grins toothily, ambling towards me with his suspender straps twisted around his thumbs.  “Ah just can’t see who ‘tis yer tryin’ ta’ impress is all.”

“I… I wasn’t trying to impress anyone!” I state defensively.  (Bullshit!)  Was I?  “I was just using the best word I could think of for the message you know?”

“Mmhmm,” James nods.  “We’re gonna hafta work on yer people skills, Randy.  Folks ‘round these parts might find ya a bit… well… y’know.”

“Um, arrogant?” I guess as we reached the crosswalk.  I pause to look for oncoming cars as James pushes past me and strides off solidly across the street.

“I was going to say ‘pompous’,” he says.

“Oh,” I say as I sheepishly dash across the road to catch up.  “So I can’t use the word ‘finite’ but you can sling terms like ‘pompous’ around and that’s just fine?”

“Well,” James pauses on the other end of the road, glancing back to wave at Billy who starts up their truck with a ‘grugugugugug’ echoing throughout the town, “You may not realize this, Randy, but you kinda give off the impression that you think you’re better than everyone else.”

Not everyone, just you, I think immediately.  I’m looking James up and down trying to envision where he might be hiding any weapons, guns, knives, anything dangerous aside from his ham fists alone.  He does have some sizeable pockets and it’d be impossible to tell without patting him down if he has anything squirreled away within.  “I… I don’t mean to.  It’s not like I think I am better than anyone else,” I defend as we round the corner of the street to head to the entrance behind the diner.

“Oh, I’m sure you don’t THINK you think you are,” James chuckles gruffly spinning on his heels and gesturing me forward to take the lead around the back of the building.  “It’s just kinda a ‘vibe’ you put out there y’know?”

“How is that?” I ask as I take a moment, not comfortable with the thick man walking behind me, to open the glass door for him to go through first.  A small tin bell casts out a dull clink as the door is drawn.  “By using words like ‘finite’?”

“Oh, I suppose that’s a part of ‘t all,” James nods in appreciation as he slides into the diner ahead of me, boldly ignores the ‘Please Wait to be Seated’ sign and saunters over to a booth seat situated in front of a dingy window that allows a hazy view of my truck across the road beyond.  Billy has apparently left, for their truck is nowhere in sight.

He motions me to take a seat as we are approached by a thin elderly woman with a sour look on her face like that of a pinched mouse.  I’m not sure if it’s an expression of how she feels in response to our presence, or if it’s just the natural set of her face. 

Aside from a disdainful twitch on her lips, she seems to have a great poker face actually, betraying nothing of her thoughts, neither towards James, surely a notoriously well known local, nor I, an obviously out of town foreigner.

“Coffee?” she asks.

“Sure, Mae,” James answers kindly as he turns up the mug in front of him to allow her to pour the java without ceremony.

I’m wondering what it means that this is the full extent of their conversation right now.  Does she mean to say, “I can tell you have a new guest from out of town but I’m not going to ask until later,” or, “I’ve learned long ago that anything you’re involved in is something I don’t want to know anything about.”?

I turn over my cup, happy to have anything that could enhance my reflexes at my disposal.  “It’s caffeinated, right?”

She pauses and gives me an offended look and states dryly, “It’s coffee ain’t it?”

I shift uncomfortably in the vinyl seat and smile sheepishly.  “Yes.  I suppose it is.”

“Breakfast?” she asks us both as she stands back upright.  It almost sounds like a statement in the way she says it.

“I’ll pay for us both,” James says as he nods.  I notice neither of them seem to seek eye contact.  Maybe they are afraid they will give away too much if they do.

She turns and walks away leaving me to wonder what ever happened to menus and choices.  Rounding the counter lined by a row of faded and worn swivel chairs, she shuffles through a swinging half-door to the kitchen.  I haven’t seen any sign of movement outside of Mae’s activities and I begin to think she may be running a one woman show.

“See?  That’s exactly what I was talkin’ about!” James breaks me from my thoughts as he leans over the table, forcing the thin wood to creak and the salt shaker to slide across the cracked laminate into his elbow.

“I don’t see what you mean,” I say as I rub a spot on the window in an effort to give me a cleaner, less dust encrusted vantage on the truck.

“Why would you have even thought that she’d be putting some kinda pussy coffee in your cup?  What’d be the point of that?  Can you think of any person in the whole wide world who’d be like, ‘I’ll bet those guys’d sure would appreciate being given coffee that ain’t coffee at’all!.  I mean shit man, that’d be like a horrible prank or something right?  Cause that’s what people want in the morning, somethin’ that don’t do shit, right?  I mean, just cause we’re country folk don’t mean we don’t drink real coffee y’know!”

“No,” I say, “Now that I think about it, I’m sure you all drink the strongest coffee available.”

“See?” James sits back and shakes his hands in an incredulous expression.  “Right there!”

“Right where?” I say, completely confused but thoroughly glad to be off the Penny subject.  I try not to show my frayed nerves by glancing over at my truck too regularly.

“What was that supposed to mean?  Were you trying to say that you think we don’t have any sense for our health?  That we don’t see any value in caffeine-free coffee because we’re stuck behind the times?”

I pause for a moment, looking into the eyes of the bearlike man across the table, scouring them for an understanding of what he might be really getting at, wondering if I’m being too suspicious to be trying to read between the lines of what he’s saying.  I laugh nervously and shrug.  “I guess I hadn’t thought about it.  Maybe I ought to learn to think more before I speak.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles gravelly, “That way, when you say stuff that sounds like it could be an insult, it’ll be clear you meant it as such.  Y’know, cuz you took the time to consider how to make your words carry the most impact an’ all.”

I laugh a bit at this as his thoughts somewhat echoed my own.  I nod, smiling, wondering if I might actually be beginning to like this guy, presuming that he isn’t so nefarious as I’m assuming him to be.

“What do you do for work, Randy?” he asks, causing me to cringe at the shortening of my name once again.  I’m thankful, as I glance over at the truck once more, that I don’t see any activity over there.

“I’m in sales,” I say with my best confident and friendly put-on smile.

“Heh,” he utters, “What’re ya lookin’ to sell ‘round these parts?  Pigfeed?  Weed?”

“Weed?  No…” I’m not even going to think about what he’s just said there any further.  That forbidden temptation is something I’ve done a lot of work to put far behind me.  (Still finding it tempting though, aren’t we?)  “I’m actually figuring I’m going to have to look for work down the road.  You know, Cookeville, possibly as far as Nashville even.  I didn’t imagine I’d be finding anything around here.”

“There you go again,” he mutters slyly.

“Oh, come on now,” I object, “Just because I presume a small town isn’t likely going to have many job opportunities doesn’t say anything about what I assume the going rate of intelligence is here.”

“Well, I suppose you’re probably right there,” he nods, acquiescing. 

Dang, I think.  I had been hoping he might be about to tell me there was some kind of indigenous industry afoot in Slaughter but seeing as he mentions nothing, I’m left to assume the locals make money in whatever mysterious ways hillbillies do.  I pause, wondering what that could actually be.  Hogging?  Hunting crocodiles?  Naw, Tennessee is too far north for that…

“Here,” Mae suddenly shoves a plate in front of me with a clank.  I must have been pretty lost in thought to not notice her approach.  I look up and smile and she returns not the slightest wiggle of her nose or twitch of her lips.  Her eyes pass over me with stone cold uncaring as she bends to add a top off of coffee.  I’m just as amazed that James doesn’t even thank her, just nods as she fills his cup.

As she shuffles off like a waddling goose, I look back down at the drab gray plate filled with a slice of ham, two eggs over easy and a pile of steaming grits topped with two gold slices of butter.  Grits.  Been a while since I’ve been handed a plate of grits.  I only learned of the stuff’s existence during my time in the Army.  The boiled hominy tastes… alright.  Fairly flavorless if you ask me.  One bite confirms, from one plate to another, grits are grits.

“Mmm,” James munches, “Them’re good grits.  Folks come from far an’ wide for Mae’s grits.”

“I’m sure they do,” I agree, hoping my tone doesn’t betray any further derision.  I actually am hungry so I focus on eating, disappointed by the Southern portioning.  I should’ve remembered it never amounts to as much as I’m used to having for a breakfast. 

Though we eat in silence, I begin to wonder just how disarmed I might be at the moment.  Eating is such a calming and relaxing experience.  I can’t allow it to strip me of my sense of alarm here.  Or can I?  I wonder, as I glance once more at my truck through the grimy glass pane, if James really is completely unaware of Penny huddled in my cab right now?
 
Am I even dining with an enemy?  Or could he really be just a concerned relative?  “What do you do for a living, James?” I ask.

“Oh,” he pauses, wiping off a dribble of butter that had escaped down his beard, “a little of this and a little of that.  Pharmaceuticals y’know.”

Pharmaceuticals?  Drugs?  Ah… he must be a pot grower or something along those lines.  Probably not the most uncommon profession in these hills.

“I might be able to use a good product representative,” he suggests.

“I… I… I think I should probably stick to something else,” I stammer.

“Shame,” he says as he pushes away his empty plate to clack up against the one I’ve just pushed away.  “I take it you got a problem with addiction, huh?”

I nod.  “Something like that.”

“We ain’t talkin’ about your common city drugs here y’know,” he explains helpfully.

“Oh, well, I… I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it actually,” I start.

“Admit what?” he asks.

“I… I find… I struggle with something as simple as pot actually.  Y’know?  Marijuana?” I say as his expression goes incredulous on me.

“Aw, shit, NO!” he says in awe.  “Really?  THAT ain’t even a drug!” he asserts.

“Well, according to… well… it is actually.  And it’s one I have a hard time staying away from, so really… since its pretty much the first layer of any drug culture’s activities I just need to steer clear of all of it you know?”

“You really must think I’m an idiot, boy!” he guffaws.

“No, I mean it, I’m weak to weed, y’know?”

“Uh, huh…” he interjects through his laughter.  Upon recovering, however, he suddenly stops laughing, looks up at me in the eye and states solidly, without any hint of humor in his voice, “I wasn’t talking about the drugs though, Randy.”

“What?” I ask as I hear Billy’s truck rumbling back into the picture in the distance.

“What I meant was,” James said with the voice of a man who’s lethally serious as he explains something to a child, “You can’t honestly think I didn’t notice the gun under your shirt?  What are you running here?  Guys don’t just drive through town packin’ without having something to hide, no?  You workin’ for someone else?”

“Uh… no!” I assure, taken aback.

“Uh huh,” he says, glancing out of the corner of his eye to make sure Mae wasn’t immediately watching as he pulls a revolver from a pocket and sets it heavily on the table before us both.  “I just showed ya’ mine.  Now show me yours!”  He says with the toothy grin of a hunter.  “Surely you’d be willing to hand it over without me havin’ ta shoot ya for it?  I’d hate ta hafta bury a fella I just fed.”

I pause to consider the situation.  Billy is once more pulling up behind my truck and it looks as if he’s got a passenger.  They could really be looking to help me to gas up here but then again, they could’ve just gone off to get some more help in any possible conflict too. 

I still don’t know what James thinks he knows about Penny’s location but I know that he’s calling my bluff and is going to disarm me here and now and I can only assume he’s going to shoot me if he doesn’t get his way.  I’m not sure if he’s trying to recruit me as an agent for his drug operation or if he’s just playing head games with me.  Regardless, it’s all too clear that he’s got his finger just a twitch away from the trigger so if I dared try something now it had better be with a clear plan in mind.

So do I hand over my weapon, try to distract him from it, play a mindgame in return, or act bold and stupid in a panicked attempt to get this bastard off my back?  Or something else entirely?

[Tainted Biohazard]

Poll Results
of:

Code: [Select]

Shall we dine with the enemy?
Agree until Billy has been sent away then pull the gun and confront!
0%
0%  [ 0 ]
Lock up and go eat, praying Penny keeps her yap shut until we're in the clear.
50%
50%  [ 1 ]
Lock up and go eat once Billy has been sent off and we can keep the gun closely concealed.
0%
0%  [ 0 ]
Arrange to meet James in the diner, buying time to set up Penny's escape while the Rednecks are distracted. Take the gun with us.
0%
0%  [ 0 ]
Arrange to meet James in the diner, buying time to set up Penny's escape while the Rednecks are distracted. Let Penny take the gun.
0%
0%  [ 0 ]
Author Only Vote
50%
50%  [ 1 ]
Total Votes : 2
Who Voted: sheik, Tainted Biohazard
Tome:

Code: [Select]

Shall we dine with the enemy?

Agree until Billy has been sent away then pull the gun and confront!
    1 (33.3%)
Lock up and go eat, praying Penny keeps her yap shut until we're in the clear.
    0 (0%)
Lock up and go eat once Billy has been sent off and we can keep the gun closely concealed.
    2 (66.7%)
Arrange to meet James in the diner, buying time to set up Penny's escape while the Rednecks are distracted.  Take the gun with us.
    0 (0%)
Arrange to meet James in the diner, buying time to set up Penny's escape while the Rednecks are distracted.  Let Penny take the gun.
    0 (0%)

Total Members Voted: 3


[ViP Perry Tratchett]

   First responder!

Always look forward to these chapters and this one didn't disappoint. The situation here is tense, and one wrong word could set things off. 

I say he gives them what they're looking for.  Finally 'admit' he's on the way down south (or whatever direction) to  meet 'big Jim' for a consignment (big box) of the hard stuff.  Say he's trying to get out of the business, been in the clink for a while maybe, and this could be the score he needs to set him on the road to righteousness.

[Chinaren]

Second responder! 

Nice chapter there Tazzy!  Your character is coming across as nervous and a bit bumbling.  Makes it believable I have to say.   

For the SP.  Def don't hand the weapon over, it's his only equalizer here.  Perhaps he can put it on the table with his hand over it, not quite pointing at our new friends, come over a bit hard ass.  Maybe, instead of Petch's idea of coming out with a drug story, he could refuse to reveal his 'business', but hint that it's bad news.

Not the most imaginative idea I'll grant you, but it's all I have for the moment.  I'll return if I think of anything else. 

[NicTei]

Actually, I think this would be the perfect time for Randy's cop friend to swing by.  Maybe he was out on a patrol and saw Randy's truck?  Or he just saw him through the window of the diner?  Either way, that would certainly put the situation more in his favor; at least it would force Billy to put away his gun.

[Whisperer]

Don't hand over the weapon.  I think he should try to stall for a bit, hoping this small town might come alive a bit.  Kinda like, play dumb on the tension that is happening between them, " hey what's happening, we were just having a friendly breakfast". 

[Tainted Biohazard]

Now Polling!

Sorry for not including your option NicTei... while extremely appreciated, I'm trying to keep all poll options a matter of how the character will decide to act.  Nevertheless, thank you for reading!

[ViP Perry Tratchett]

Had to check what I suggested for this one it's been so long.  Voted for what I think I suggested though, and, as usual it seems on here, I created a tie.