by Nathan Parks
They both ignored her questions.
“What do you remember?” Serenity asked as she steered the vehicle down an exit ramp and onto a two-lane road.
“I remember that my mom told me not to talk to strangers!” Even with her brash and protective shell, in all honesty, she didn’t feel uncertain or hesitant towards her new traveling companions. Her body felt worn down, as one feels after a heavy workout, and her mind and thoughts were fatigued and foggy; however, even with all of that, she felt safe, and that was strange to her. She didn’t remember the last time she felt safe; safe was something she was not used to feeling.
She paused for a moment and then cooled her tone a bit. “I remember getting in a fight with my dad. I remember heading out to The Warehouse, which is this new club.”
Chad stopped her. “The Warehouse? What do you remember about that?”
“Well, Jason . . . this guy I know . . . took me there. He is kind of like my boyfriend, but we both have agreed not to make it exclusive—too many hot guys out there for that!”
Chad looked at Serenity with a “Ya-see . . . too-many-fish-in-the-sea” look. She rolled her eyes at him.
“What happened there?”
“I don’t know,” Tori shrugged. She sat there with her arm across her belly and pushed away some of her hair from her face. As old as she may think she was, Serenity still saw a scared little girl. She remembered when she had been there: the world knocking at life’s door, yet still wanting to be just a little girl . . . but you didn’t want your friends to know.
“You know, Jason knows a lot of people there. It is not a place I usually would hang out at. It is really dark.”
“Aren’t places like that supposed to be dark?” Serenity inquired.
“Yeah, but not like this . . . hard to explain.”
“Dark as in ‘it-touches-your-soul’ dark?”
She looked at Chad’s face as he sat in the front passenger’s seat. “Yeah . . . just like that. There are weird things that go on there! Not just drugs and the normal club stuff . . . I mean like dark and really deranged!”
Silence once again fell over the occupants as Tori again turned her attention out the window. She watched as they passed fields and farm structures. She didn’t want to talk about any of it, because talking about it made it real . . . and real was not what she wanted it to be. Right now, she didn’t care who these two people were or even where they were taking her. She had never seen the wide-open countryside; and right now, anything was better than her apartment with her father . . . or The Warehouse.
“Can you be more specific about what kind of ‘weird things’?” Chad asked as Serenity slowed down, entering a one-stoplight town.
“Let’s talk about this a little bit later,” Serenity suggested, giving a bit of a glare in his direction, indicating he was pushing a bit hard. “I think we all could go for some breakfast.”
“Also, a chance to clean up, if that is ok with everyone else. I’m sure I look like a freak show,” Tori stated as she sat up and looked at herself in the mirror upfront.
Serenity nodded, “I think we all do.”
Chapter Nine
There were a few farm trucks parked outside the large diner, and Zarius could see that the diner was full of locals. He knew that in a few hours there would be a small-town buzz humming around the area, but at this moment things were still fairly quiet.
He shut off the motor to his bike and kicked down the kickstand. His body was stiff, but the long ride had done him good. The miles of roadway had brought focus to his mind, and his resilience was set. He knew the road that lay ahead wasn’t going to be easy; and honestly, he had no idea how it all would play out, but he had to go through with it.
The small mom-and-pop diner sat on the corner of a county road and Main Street. The two-story building had been built years ago and hadn’t changed much since. The white paint that once looked sharp was now in real need of a repaint. The shutters on the top floor windows had a few slats missing; and the awnings that were once vibrant just above the ground-level windows, the summer sun and winter snows had long worn their appearance.
He walked to the corner and opened the large wooden door to the diner. The expected sounds of morning talk, a conversation about hunting season, and requests for more coffee came wafting over him as the front door closed behind him. There were a few open tables, and his eyes landed on one to his right. The table was mixed in the middle of several tables full of locals, but that didn’t bother him. He needed some food, and then he would figure out his next course of action.
The table was just big enough to make four people feel crowded, two feel close, and one to feel like they just had enough space for a big country breakfast. It was covered in a thick, slick tablecloth with a small tear here and there; and he was pretty sure, if he cared to, he could find a complete pack of chewed gum stuck underneath it all. Fortunately, there were no strange stares that focused his way. One always had a fifty-fifty chance in a small town diner of either getting strange glares or not be noticed at all; it seemed the latter was the course for the day.
He chuckled, “Yeah, but give it a few hours, and have a few of the town busybodies to stop by. Then there would be gossip about him all the way into the next county.”
With no attempt at etiquette, a large plate of over-easy eggs, three thick-cut pieces of bacon, and hash browns were dropped down on the table in front of him, startling him.
“I figured I would keep the menus over by the cash register and not waste my time at pleasantries and just bring out what you would order. Don’t worry, the burnt coffee will be right up. Of course, that is unless your taste has changed over the years, Zarius!”
The waitress was a curvy lady in her late 40s, red hair pulled back in a ponytail, and a look spread across her face that would have made any rough country boy shaky in the legs.
He sat back, looking down at the plate. He didn’t want to look up; in fact, he really didn’t need to. He could feel her eyes boring into the side of his head, and he honestly wanted to just melt away or maybe even stick himself to the gum underneath the table. “No . . . um . . . this is fine, Abby.”
“‘This is fine, Abby’? That is what you are going to say to me? Really?”
So much for not having the strange stares focused on him right now. He was pretty sure that every eye in the place was focused right at him. There was no escaping any of this. There was no way he could have known that over 20-something years later she would still be working here, and yet he should have figured.
“Always was a small-town girl.”
“Everyone,” she yelled out, “how many of you have heard about the smooth-talking snake charmer who walked out on me years ago right before my father passed away?”
“Wait!” He looked up at her; and yes, her eyes were as red as her ponytail hair. “Your dad is dead?”
With one smooth motion and no hesitation at all, he watched her hand swing toward his face; and before it registered, he felt the sting and the heat of the smack spread across him. “Yeah,” she continued at the elevated volume, “this is the jackass!”
There were several shaking their heads, and a few profane-laced phrases hurled his way; but the patrons quickly went back to their conversation and coffee, which Zarius was pretty sure was, in fact, not burnt.
“Abby, I . . .”
“You aren’t going to say anything right this second, ya hear? You are going to sit right there and enjoy your eggs, bacon, and hash browns. You will drink the coffee I bring; and while you are doing all that, you will listen to me as I take my break for the morning. Ezekiel, I’m off the clock for a few!” She pulled out another chair and sat right across from him.
Abby McGraf had grown up here all her life. And yes, she was a small-town gal, and she was also full of a lot of spitfire and kerosene. At 48, she had worked most of her life at the Four Corners Diner. Working there had always accomplished what she needed. She paid her bills; got to socialize with ever
yone; and, after a while, she became just as much a part of the diner as the worn-out awnings and shutters on the outside.
“Why in the world would you ever . . . especially after this long . . . EVER set foot back in this diner, let alone back in town? Oh, and don’t give me any of the rubbish of being some long story!”
“Honestly, I don’t know, Abby. I really don’t know.” He did know why he was back, but he couldn’t give her the answers for which she was looking. She wanted reasons, and he couldn’t give them.
Her hands were clenching and unclenching. “You know, Zarius, how about we play a game? How about I pick a number 2 through 12. If you roll my number, then you win; and I will get up and not talk to you again. If you don’t roll my number, then you answer directly and right away the questions I ask . . . oh, wait . . . or did you lose your dice years ago?”
“Abby, let me talk.” He pushed the plate back and leaned forward. “There is nothing I can say . . . nothing . . . and you and I both know that. You can spend the rest of your break and thousands of more breaks, having me sit in silence and you yelling and berating me; and nothing will fix anything or heal any wounds I have caused.”
“Heal? Heal?” she shoved back. “Is that what you think I need? Healing? Lawd, have mercy, and may the spirit fall down upon me with blessings and healings,” she yelled out as she threw her hands up in the air and waved them around as if she was in a Pentecostal revival service. “No, Sir. It is not healing I need! I healed a long time ago. Yes, it took me a few years to get over it . . . especially when the one man who made me believe that he was different, the one I needed more than anything when my dad passed, was the one man who walked out and vanished without even a word. I don’t need healing; I have allowed it to scab over and even scar up. It is a reminder to never let myself be vulnerable like that again. In fact, I guess I should thank you. You allowed me to see that I was strong enough to handle on my own the gut punches life gives.”
“I was wrong, Abby, and I’m sorry.”
She sat there and looked at him. She never imagined there would ever come a day when she would look up and see him once again walk through the door. When he did, she had actually touched her forearm to the coffee pot to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“You know, Zarius, maybe I don’t want answers. You are right; nothing you can say will make it clear. I won’t understand, most likely; nor will I understand how it is that, after all these years, you look almost the same as you did the last day I saw you.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your dad, Abby.”
“No,” she raised her palm toward him, “don’t. You don’t get to. You don’t get to be sorry about his death. He loved you, Zarius. He told me just a few days before you left that if there was ever a guy he would have picked for his daughter to be with, it would have been you. A few days later he swore he would kill you and feed your body to the hogs if he ever saw you again. Be grateful he never did.”
Abby stood up and straightened the apron tied around her waist. “I’ll get you some fresh food. That was made up from some food that had been returned because someone decided they were too drunk to eat it. I’m not sure why you came back, but do me a favor:” she suggested as she picked up his plate, “make sure it wasn’t for me; and for whatever reason, leave me out of it.”
“Yeah . . . I can respect that.”
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As Serenity found a parking spot between a pickup and a black motorcycle, Chad could not help but ask Tori, “What did you mean by ‘dark things’?”
“Well, there was the usual stuff . . . I mean, you know, people doing drugs. I don’t do them, but who am I to judge if someone else wants to. But the few times I have been there, I noticed that Jason and some of his friends were biting each other’s wrists and licking away the blood. I’m sure it was staged but just not my thing. I agreed to go back last night because I just wanted out of my place. Trust me when you have the degenerate for a dad that I do, you will take people playing vampires any day.”
She stopped and thought. “You know, I do remember something. Last night was different. I noticed a lot more people there than I have the few times we have gone before. Several seemed to know Jason, but I didn’t know them. I noticed that once we went into The Warehouse, Jason seemed to change.”
“‘Change’?” Serenity questioned. “How so?”
“I don’t know. As I said, he is kind of like my boyfriend . . . but not. I respect there are a lot of things about him I didn’t really know. But he was connected, so he got me into places.”
“But you said he changed.”
“Yeah, he spoke in a deeper voice; and his actions just seemed . . . different. I know it may sound weird, but it was almost like someone had stolen Jason and replaced him with a darker version of himself. Not sure how much darker you could get, but he gave off a pretty dark vibe.”
Chad sat there for a second and attempted to piece all of this together. He looked at Serenity and wondered what she was thinking. “Well, let’s talk about this inside. I don’t know about you both, but I am hungry.”
The other two nodded as doors opened. They all climbed out into the rays of the morning sunrise. Victoria had the chance to see her reflection in the window of the car and realized how disheveled she looked. “I for sure need to clean up before I sit down inside any restaurant!”
“Chad, find us a booth, and we will catch up with you. We are going to head to the bathroom first.”
“Why? We could . . .” He stopped short of finishing his sentence as he caught Serenity’s “shut-up” look. “Um . . . why don’t I just shut my mouth and get a booth?”
The three were met with the smells of coffee that had splashed upon the hot plate and started burning, as well as the aroma of eggs, bacon, and that smell that is given off by an old furnace. It seemed welcoming and inviting; and that is what they all needed right now, even though for each of them it may have been for different reasons.
◆◆◆
Zarius sat looking at the new plate of breakfast that Abby had dropped off. That was all he could do. He missed his wife; his heart hurt for the pain he clearly had caused Abby. Everything about Eden was flooding in on him. The reasons he was here—the past that he had left, the future that it most likely held, and the present that seemed to whip at his soul like a cat-o-nine tails—thrashed deeply painful and treacherous gashes.
He felt the breeze from outside come past him as the door to the diner opened, and he watched as three new patrons walked in: a guy and two ladies. They caught his attention because their style of clothes and their demeanor clearly did not scream, “I’m from around here.”
“Well, looks like I’m not the only out-of-towner here,” he sighed, pushing the hash browns into the egg yolk. “Of course, I guess to some I am not an out-of-towner, just a prodigal.”
He watched Abby as she moved around, serving individuals. Serving . . . she had always had the heart of a servant. They had been in their early 20s, and it was shortly before he had met his wife. He had spent ages attempting to hide and blend in with humanity. He had kept his distance from real relationships; then again, Abby had been so full of life and such a gentle spirit. She had reminded him so much of a time when life was simpler.
He had come to this small town, drawn to it because of what it held, even though no one within the small farming community could ever have imagined it. He had hoped with everything in him that he would become free, and in some ways he had. He had learned about a path he could choose to follow of which he had never before been aware.
That path had made him who he was today; but in doing so, he discovered a world beyond even what his mind could understand. His destiny began to grow; and for every truth he thought he had known, more was revealed. His understanding of existence had begun to unravel.
He thought about what his wife had asked him a few hours earlier when they spoke. She had asked him what he knew of his history. He had bristled at that. A feeling, long burie
d, had begun to swell in him . . . one from which he had run years before.
In fact, it was questions like those his wife had begun to put forward that caused him to run from here the first time; now it seemed the very same questions brought him back.
Abby had been such a part of his existence here. He had never intended to hurt her; yet it was clear that when one runs from questions they may not want to face, it leaves others to face them . . . others who should have never had to face them but were forced to and, in doing so, were drawn in like a hangman’s noose to the point of choking the life out of them.
Yep, he was done. He couldn’t stay here. He had to focus. He had to move forward. He couldn’t let the fears of yesteryear become the bullet in the assassin’s gun for anyone else . . . not this time. He downed the last bit of coffee in his mug, stood, and threw a tip onto the table along with enough money to pay for his breakfast. He headed out the door, past the three who had just come in. He needed to ride a bit more . . . ride and think.
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