“I’m looking for a man,” people remained silent at the man’s muffled and raspy voice. “Goes by the name of Tucker.” He said loudly, as if he was talking to a group of idiots. Fortunately Tucker Dreggs was in the bathroom, his fat body sweat covered as another large bald headed trucker plowed him violently from behind.
“You like that baby?” the deep voiced southerner said with heavy breath.
He loved it, but he wasn’t gay. Lord no, in the eyes of JC he was pure and this was just a relapse. He was as straight as they came, with a family to provide for, and he had the cash to do so now. “Yeah I do, keep doing it you Bear!” he yelled in pleasure. He turned back, watched the big trucker for a moment and then returned his head forward and waited for that big explosion which was always his favorite part, but he didn’t feel it. He felt the man slowly and silently pull out. Tucker let out a sigh.
“Oh come on baby, I was almost done!” he turned his head and there stood Trench Coat, Francis had taken off and before Tucker could react, the man had pulled out a 12 Gauge and forced it into the man’s behind. He yelped in extreme pain, the gun was smaller than Francis but it was cold, and Christ almighty it hurt something fierce!
“You have something of mine,” he pressed the gun further in; Tucker realized that he was at this man’s mercy and nobody liked a shotgun enema. ”I’d like it back.”
“H..hey Red…I didn’t mean nothin’ by it! Come on now…L..let me buy you a drink and we’ll talk this over.” He tried his best to reason with Red, he felt every little motion he made with the shotgun and he was more compliant than ever.
“Do I look like I want a shot of Tequila?” This was all it took and a moment later Tucker was sobbing.
“Come on man, I...I don’t have it!” he showed tears of genuine frustration.
Red moved closer, the fluorescent light above blinding Tucker through Red’s sunglasses. His voice was lower now. “I suggest you get it.”
“Christ man, you’re f*ckin’ nuts!” he screamed, outside the patrons kept their eyes on the door, but Tanya had turned up the music almost full blast so the lyrics of Pour Some Sugar on me Baby echoed in the minds of the men that ogled the perfect tits of Lucy Rains. “Argh!” Red shoved the gun further up.
“I want that money; now give me a name, or a location.” Red was becoming impatient, this little homo cargo hauler was the reason he’d had to overstay his welcome down in the small town of Jericho.
“Okay okay! The money is stored in the safety deposit box at room 114 across from the lot, the code I was given was One Two Eight Nine. All of the money is there, just take it all man, please, just get this shotgun out of my f*ckin’ ass!” he was practically begging, It was a degrading sight for Red to see. He reached into Tucker’s pockets and grabbed the Motel room key with the number 114 imprinted on it.
“Good boy.” Red placed his boot on Tucker’s bare ass and pushed him forward, his head slammed into the toilet bowl and the shotgun slid out with ease. The fat trucker shot his head up out of the piss stained bowl with a yelp and gasp of air, Red grabbed some tissue, wiped the gun down with some water and shoved it back under his coat. He left the room and felt like a king with all the eyes staring at him. Suddenly the music shut off and just like before, silence was around him.
He walked to the doors, opened one of them and stepped out into the cold night air. A smile protruded across his covered face, he had no worry of Tucker following him as he was definitely a –Gay- lover, not a fighter. The money itself was not for him, it was for something else. Something he was indebted to.
* * *
Lucy Rains finished her late shift at 11:30pm. Ridge, the well built bouncer walked her home, idly talking about things, Ridge was a family man hailing from a distant land. His British accent comforted Lucy and the two had gained a sort of friendship over her two years as an honest employee of Tanya. Ridge had two kids, both smart ones as he would say, the only reason he was doing this piece of sh*t job as a bouncer was to put his two girls through college.
Lucy herself didn’t have family, she had not had a mother and her father was jailed for several charges including Pedophilia, a brute of a man who was shivved -by a man who had killed a pedophile out of jail- in prison three weeks into his sentence, killing him. He died slowly and alone, next to a sh*t filled toilet.
Lucy had lived in Harper with her aunt but she had moved down to Florida and gave the deed to a small house near Tanya’s which was a big help. As she stepped outside, Ridge walked over to her, exchanged pleasantries and began to walk. Lucy had always been attracted to Ridge, for he was such a kind man, who rarely dealt in pain. And he was respectful to women.
“Nice night.” Lucy said trying to spark conversation, Ridge caught on.
“Not bad.” He seemed quiet, as if something is bothering him, wondered Lucy.
“Problems Ridge?” she was genuinely concerned, she didn’t have time for many, but Ridge was, special.
“Fine, just tired,” he was obviously lying.
She’d never been so interested in finding out ones despair then Ridge, because if Ridge had problems, they were usually real problems, not the problems those fat f*ck truckers came in spouting about catching their wives eyeing up thinner men, or spending a little extra on some shoes.
“Wife problems, mostly.”
“She giving you a hard time about custody?” Lucy found herself rubbing his muscly arm, she felt a need to pull back but couldn’t stop, knowing full well human contact was a big no for Ridge, but he loosened up.
“Yep, and the Judge seems to agree, he seems content that I am a violent individual, however she’s trying to persuade them otherwise but they seem intent on keeping me away from my children.” Poor Ridge, thought Lucy, the kindest man she’d ever met was getting the worst kind of trouble out there for people like him.
“You want to come in for a coffee?” They turned a corner with the house in sight. Coffee, unlike some strippers, usually meant sex, but for Lucy, her friend’s pain was something that could be thawed out, coffee and a movie could fix that. “I could throw a movie on; we could have a few drinks, talk over some stuff? I know you love my coffees.”
Ridge did love her coffees and she was the most down to earth stripper he’d ever met, but something else was behind her, behind her erotic career or her attitude to certain people, she was genuine and kind and that was what made a friendship with her easy.
“Sounds like a good plan, but Tanya needs me to get the last patrons out.” He felt a bit of hatred towards himself when he said it, if he had to choose with having a heart to heart with Lucy Rains or beating up drunken squatters, Rains would pass the bar each time.
“Well how about you go fix them out, and I’ll find us my copy of The Warriors and we’ll watch it to some Irish coffee?” Ridge perked up as Lucy said it.
“Sure, I’ll pick up some stuff from my place and be over after Tanya locks up.”
They both smiled and Ridge headed off back to the club as Lucy headed inside. Good lord, thought Lucy, I think I may have a little crush.
* * *
Sheriff Garland Gaines had both his feet perked up against the desk in his office, his hat hidden over his face. He was asleep, just like every other night out in Harper; it was a sh*t area of detail. His co-workers were all sitting around the desks filing paperwork of traffic reports and small incidents. Life was boring here in Harper, but over the last month, every so often the department would get a report of a disturbing attack which when investigated just showed bodies hung up like as Deputy Kohn placed in his report ‘That one movie with that Alien hunter in it’.
The words Chaos reign supreme would be plastered over all the walls in blood of the incidents location, in the last month these places included a Motel, a church and a family home in the outskirts of Harper. Gaines tried his best to solve the mystery but before they could show up, the chaos would already be over.
Deputy Kohn and Lieutenant Jacobs sat at a desk and discussed the incidents several times over the course of the murders but eventually it was all they discussed to the horror of the several other employees of Harper PD.
Kohn, a scrawny, twenty two year old Cherokee munched on potato chips as he spoke. “What if it’s a cult?”
“What? Bullsh*t!” retorted Jacobs, a fat, much older man, his face was worn and it was obviously he was smarter and much stronger. “If you wanted my two cents, I’d put it down to anarchists.”
“Anarchists?” asked the Cherokee with curiosity. “You mean guys loyal to the disbandment of the system?”
“In their eyes they believe they’re fighting for freedom, when in fact they’re causing the very thing that keeps them on the other side of the fence.”
“I see. So you want to tell the Chief that anarchists are killing people on the outskirts of town?” a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
“Well fire-water, it’s not my decision it’s Gaines-“
“We’re keeping patrols out, regardless of what they’re goal is or why they choose to murder in our town, I’d prefer it if you two shut the f*ck up about it for once.” Gaines said with a sluggish drone, his hat still over his face. The two of them shut up immediately, the sheriff shuffled a little and got comfier. Claire Danes, the blonde headed officer filing reports grinned at the sheriff, just long enough for Deputy Kohn to realize that his crush had her eyes on someone else.
* * *
Red made it to the Motel at about quarter past eleven. What a sorry piece of sh*t this place was, the M of the MOTEL sign was flickering. How cliché Red thought before walking across the parking lot. Room 114 was on the second floor, the light was on inside and next to it, room 113 was wide open, a party was obviously going on inside. He sighed and headed up the stairs, brushing past a puking whore and a guy hoping to take advantage rubbing her back. He slipped by the doorway of 113 and pulled out the key for the room. He unlocked it and stepped inside, the place was immaculate. The small safe was open, with no bag of money in it. Red couldn’t believe that Tucker was faster than him at getting his money, and so he realized that the fat cocksucker had really pulled a fast one on him, but not for long. He gave a small grunt, turned out of the room and headed back to Tanya’s.
* * *
The bar was losing its patrons, it had gotten to 11:45pm and Cindy had headed home while Tanya decided to stay and clean up the rest of the less lenient patrons. Ridge entered the bar as Francis stumbled outside. Kara Chinook was slowly dancing on the bar, much to the delight of the last three patrons at the huge mahogany woodwork.
“Okay fellas, closin’ time, y’all got a problem with that then take it up with Ridgy boy.” Her deep southern slang was humorous to Ridge, and he assumed his dialect was just as funny to her. He eyed the three remaining patrons, recognizing two of them. One was Derrick Bicscomb; a trucker which resided in Harper, he was hugely overweight and hygiene wasn’t his forte. The second one talking to him was Hap Jenkins, a dark skinned biker who rode from Harper with a small group known as The Muerte. The third was unknown, his head lowered he took another sip of his beer, he placed it on the table and headed outside. The two others with protest stumbled out together, Ridge helped them along gently but they ignored him as they stumbled away into darkness screaming the lyrics to Pour Some Sugar on Me Baby. Kara headed outside and down the road to her car, Ridge watched her from the door just to be sure and after a wave goodbye she was off into the night.
“That all of them Tan?” asked Ridge politely.
The woman looked around; the bar was, for the first time since 8am that morning, quiet.
“Yeah, lemme switch off the pumps, you tuck the chairs in.” Ridge nodded and the two began their nightly ritual. They cleaned the bar up lightly and Tanya switched off all the beer pumps manually, to stop robbers from emptying them in the night. Ridge swept up the floor which was coated in glass, dirt and the occasional used condom. Ridge hated this job. Suddenly, the door lightly swung open and a lone man in a hooded gown walked in.
“Bars closed mate, no point coming in here.” Ridge said placing the broom away.
“That’s a shame,” the hooded man’s face was hidden, the gown draped down to the floor. ”I was hoping for a good drink, do you believe that?”
Ridge was confused. “Believe what?”
“Do you believe that a man is entitled to parch his thirst freely?”
“I’m afraid you’ve got me at a loss.”
The hood sauntered over to the bar and sat down. Don’t get comfy thought Ridge, his arms tensing.
“If I asked one of the towns’ lovely police officers, they’d say no, you must work, in order to get money, to pay for drinks.” Ridge got the idea this freak was going to go into full rant mode. “If I ask one of your fine establishment workers, they’d say no, you must fulfill the law or be gone. And if I was to ask a man of god, he too would say no, you may drink to god, not to freedom.” Anger emitted from the mention of the word god.
“Look buddy, if you want a drink, head over to The Bucket of Blood, two blocks over. It’s open til’ four. Right now, you’re cutting into my time so can you please just go?”
The hood stared forward, Ridge expected red eyes to appear and then a sharp, joker like grin, but all there was, was darkness, and heavy breathing.
“Fine.” Ridge headed forward as if to grip the hood, but as he reached, an arm flung out, gripped his arm while another gripped his head and slammed his head onto the bar. Ridge passed out immediately from the full force of the hit, his huge bulky frame slammed to floor.
“Freeze cocksucker!” screamed Tanya at the hood leaning over Ridge. A double barrel shotgun aimed straight for his head. “You get outta my bar, or I’ll blast eight tones of sh*t into you. Hear me?”
The hood slowly moved back menacingly and slowly walked to the door; he peered outside and then looked back at the furious hick dyke. A small whistle came from him and several more hoods sauntered into the bar.
“All of you. Get out! Get out now or so god help me I’ll put you all in the f*ckin’ ground!” they all immediately flung out weapons of their own, and aimed them straight for Tanya.
“Oh-“ A hail of shotgun, pistol and Uzi bullets splintered into her flesh, the hail knocked her backwards and she was flinged into a pyramid of glasses. Her shotgun dropped onto the floor with a click and gun smoke filled the air. Tanya was dead before she hit the floor. The four hoods stared at the bar for a moment.
“I thought they’d be more.” said one of the hoods with disappointment.
“We’ve got work to do, string the bouncer up, and get his phone; we’ll call in some party goers ourselves.”
Edited by Ziggy455, 23 March 2012 - 02:01 AM.