The Forsaken

He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, his jeans obscenely tight in the crotch, the scent of him something to behold in the tiny space.

“I like your singing,” he said again. “But keep the rest of that old bullshit to yourself.”

He unbolted the door and walked from the ladies’ room. Diane had watched the whole thing from the mirror over the sink. She breathed and breathed and then dabbed her face again, tucked her silver hair behind her ear, and marched back out for another drink and to start the second set.

When she walked back into the Star, all the bikers had left. She ordered a shot. Until she felt that warm Jack hit the back of her throat, she’d started to wonder if she’d imagined the whole thing.

But they’d been there. She could still smell them.

Qui

“You want to see where they go?” Lillie said.

“Why the hell not?” Qui

They followed the tracks only about twenty feet until they saw where the tracks became muddled and had sunk deeper in the mud. The tracks then circled back the way they came and out onto the road. From the turnaround point, they made out distinct boot prints heading into the woods.

“These aren’t hunters,” Lillie said.

“A kind of hunter,” Qui

“I don’t think he spooks much,” Lillie said. “He’s too worn-out to study on things like that. He seems like he’s been waiting on them a long time.”

“You heard anything about what he was saying?” Qui

“I know that place,” Lillie said. “Some shithole shack off a back road. I used to fish by a little river that ran into the lake there. Best place for crappie. But I hadn’t seen anyone go in that shack for years.”

“When’s the last time you been out there?”

“When’s the last time I’ve been fishing?”

“Come on,” Qui

It was dark when they turned off Cotton Road and headed down south on past Dogtown. There were wooden posted signs from Wildlife and Game about the seasons for hunting and the need to obtain a license. By the edge of the lake, there was a park, with a playground, a couple piers, and a set of public restrooms. Qui

“You sure this is it?”

“Look in your headlights, Ranger,” Lillie said.

In the narrow beam of headlights were many rutted tracks from motorcycles and cars. The lights shone ten feet ahead into absolute darkness, no moon above, and the road had been so untraveled that limbs and tree branches scraped at the doors and hood of the Big Green Machine.

“Boom won’t like this,” Lillie said.

“He does love this truck.”

“He made that truck,” Lillie said. “He got tired of you riding around in that old piece of shit.”

There was light ahead.

Multiple headlights and a bonfire lit up a gathering at the edge of Choctaw Lake. Qui

“A Tex-Mex biker gang?” Lillie said. “OK. This should be interesting.”

“You want to walk it?”

“Hell no,” Lillie said. “Let’s see what these motherfuckers are up to.”

Qui

“OK,” Lillie said. “Now what?”

“We wait.”

“Wait for what?” Lillie said. “For them to start shooting?”

“Someone will ask what the fuck we want,” Qui

Qui

Not a minute later, a large man in a black leather jacket with a denim vest over it ambled on over to Qui

“You dating anyone lately, Lil?” Qui

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Here comes Mr. Right.”

The man walked up close to Qui

“Evening, Officer,” the man said.

“Not an officer,” Qui

“Howdy, Sheriff,” the man said, laughing. His voice was guttural and rough. His body odor and breath swarmed over even Qui

“We got a problem, Deputy Virgil?” Qui

“You got a license to operate a beer joint?”

“Ain’t no beer joint,” the man said. “Just having some fucking fun with my brothers.”

“And who are your brothers?” Lillie said.

The man gri

“Y’all have some ethnic diversity here.”

“Just some folks down from Memphis,” the man said. “They brought the tequila. We breaking some kind of law?”

“You have a permit for that weapon?” Lillie said.

Qui

“You want to pat me down?” he said to Lillie.

“You want to shower first?”

The man laughed. “Come on,” he said. “Fuck. We done here?”

“Is this your place?” Qui

“Bought and paid for,” Chester said. “You need to see that paperwork, too?”

Qui