by Aden Lowe
Conversation flowed around me, and I mostly just listened. They seemed like a decent enough bunch of guys, and hanging out with them helped a little with the constant loneliness. At least, for a little while, I didn't think about the aching emptiness of losing Justine. I eventually would have to do something about that, or give in to the gaping pit and just lie down and die.
But what the hell could I do? She didn't want me. She'd made that perfectly clear in her letter. And when I tried to call her from deployment, she refused the calls. And right next to the ache of losing her sat the pain of missing my family. My sister and her husband and two kids were back home, and I couldn't bear to go spend time with them
Since our parents died, my sister and Justine were all I had. Now, I only had phone contact with Alexis and the kids. Anger burned through my muscles, demanding violent action. Not only had Justine taken my future with her away, she took away the time I should have with my niece and nephew.
Yeah, time for me to go. "I need to head back. Bitch at the motel is liable to rent my room out to someone else, if I’m not there to stop her."
A quick round of 'laters', and I headed back the way I'd come. The atmosphere had changed while I sat at the Hell Raiders camp. Violence flowed, right under the surface, ready to erupt at any moment, as groups of men with different club patches moved back toward the camps. The way I felt, the whole damn thing could explode in my face, and I'd beat the fuck out of them all.
A few yards away, a topless woman rode on the shoulders of a biker and shouted obscenities at another woman, also topless, but with her feet on the ground. A different man came to the defense of the woman on the ground, and it all started.
In the next heartbeat, punches flew, weapons came out, and cops came running. Dog pressed extra close and whined softly, reminding me of my responsibility to him. I might feel like wading into the melee, but I couldn't endanger him. With a sigh, I walked on by, skirting the mess.
4
Fabio(Caleb)
Right after I crossed the Tennessee state line, I stopped for the night. Since summer was in full swing, I'd invested in some basic camping gear, and bypassed the motels in favor of pitching my tent. Dog appreciated that, and so did my wallet. Even though I was okay on money for the moment, I saw no reason to waste it.
Dog wagged eagerly when I took his bowl out of the truck and filled it. While he ate, I heated a can of beef stew over my small fire, and pulled my phone out of my pocket to check if I'd missed any calls.
A voicemail waited from Alexis. "Hey, little brother. It's about time you call home, you know. Been a while. We miss you and the kids want to know you. Why don't you think about coming in for a short visit? Okay, I know you're busy, so I'll let you go. Call me. Love you, Caleb. Stay safe."
Those soft words fucking crushed me. How the fuck was I supposed to go back there? Just thinking of the places where Justine and I grew up together brought a fiery boulder to sit on my chest. If I went there, I knew I would lose it. They'd call in the men in the white suits to drag me away. A grown-ass man sitting in the Pizza Corner bawling his eyes out just wouldn't be socially acceptable.
Right on top of the fear and dread of going back, the guilt hit. A fucking truck load of it. I was my sister's only blood relative, unless you counted some distant cousins whose names I didn't even know. Staying away was incredibly selfish of me. Her kids deserved family. Sure, her husband's parents were still alive, but they had no interest in grandkids, or time for them. For all intents and purposes, I was the only fucking relative those poor kids had.
But if I went back, even for a day, could I leave Justine alone? Fuck, no.
The waking nightmare jumped up and kicked my ass. Justine with another man. Justine happy, maybe with another man's kids. Or worse, Justine in a loveless marriage. Which was worse? I had no fucking idea. The vindictive bastard in me hoped she was as miserable as she made me. The part of me that still loved her just wanted her to be happy.
How sick was that? Fucking bitch cheated on me, apparently before I even got my first buzz-cut in basic. And I still fucking loved her. Alexis assured me it wasn't true, that if Justine was with anyone else, no one knew, but that shrink came up with it somewhere, and where there's smoke, there's fire. It didn't matter anyway. I loved her, and if she needed me, I would be right there, even if it made me less of a man.
Dog came over and laid his head on my knee with a soft whine. He always did that when my heart hurt so fucking bad I wanted to cut it out of my chest. I ruffled the thick fur and chuckled a little. Satisfied at cheering me up, he wagged and lay down at my feet, waiting for our next move. Good thing I had his fluffy butt to drag me out of my fucking head. If he didn't depend on me to put the kibble in the bowl every day, I might have eaten my gun long ago.
I choked down the beef stew and a bottle of water as the evening light faded. Cleaning up only occupied a few more minutes. Restless, I called Dog and hiked a few hundred yards along a trail that led away from the road. The dark finally became too thick, and the idea of lying beside a trail for who knows how long with a broken leg sounded like a bad way to end the evening. We headed back to the tent and settled in for the night.
One thing about camping, it encouraged a man to hit the sack at dark, and get up at first light. The demons of war haunted my nights, so sleep was always elusive at best, but I seemed to manage a little better without a TV, or other people around. On that particular night, I lay awake for a long time, thinking about Alexis and the kids, about Justine and what might have been, and about how I needed to find a place to sit still for a bit.
I couldn't very well spend the rest of my life just driving around the country, hauling a motorcycle in the back of my pickup, and with only a stray dog named Dog for company. Time to make some fucking decisions.
The demons that came to torment my sleep were new that night, though not unexpected. I found myself back home, forced to watch Justine happy with first one man, then another. And all of them were my former friends. My muscles locked with fury, but there was nothing I could do. Nothing but watch, and I could never turn away. I spent eternity trapped there, watching her laugh and smile, while my heart shattered to dust.
I choked awake, to find Dog whining softly. He usually barked, or nudged at me, until I woke up when a nightmare caught me in its web. This time, though, he stood by the zipped tent flap, vibrating with tension.
I came wide awake in a heartbeat, and listened intently while I picked up my 9mm. Not much made Dog that nervous, so I had to assume we had prowlers.
Moving as silently as possible, I destroyed my tent by slicing the back side of it open and slipping out into the night. The moon hung high and nearly full, so I had no trouble seeing where I was going. Dog followed, and I was glad I'd spent time teaching him silent commands. He remained at heel, even though he clearly felt he should range ahead.
I rounded the tent, 9mm at the ready. Movement over by the truck drew my attention. The impulse hit hard, to rush over and confront the man crouched down by the back fender, but I held off. He seemed to just be waiting there, and I needed to figure out why before I walked into some nasty mess.
The tree line stood only a few yards to my right, and offered far better cover, so I made my way over to it. From there, I also had a better view of the prowler. At that angle, it looked like the man slumped against the wheel.
What the hell? Some drunk-ass fool decided to sit down by my fucking truck and sleep it off? Wary as fuck, and paying close attention to Dog's body language, I approached the figure. The lack of movement or sound as I drew close made me nervous.
I stopped, just out of arm's reach. "Hey, buddy, you need something?"
No response.
Well, fuck. I kicked his foot, with the same result, so I kicked harder. The person shifted with the force I used, just enough for the moonlight to show me the glistening black liquid soaking a medium toned hoodie. The movement allowed the coppery tang of fresh blood to waft up to me.
Fuck!
I reached down to check for a pulse, not really surprised to find none. Someone left me with their dirty work to clean up. Annoyance flared. I made enough mess on my own to clean up after, without adding anyone else's.
Sitting back on my haunches, I ruffled Dog's fur, deciding what to do. The man was dead, the body already stiffening and going cold. Nothing I did or didn't do would change that. I could call the authorities, and wait around while they did their thing, or just pack my shit, conceal my presence, and let someone else deal with it.
The soldier in me wanted really badly to do the 'right thing' and call the cops. The realist in me knew that would put me right in the prime suspect chair. I'd done nothing wrong in this case, but what if my little vacation in Pennsylvania had ended up on police blotters everywhere? For all I knew, they could be searching for me. Letting my hair grow and not shaving would keep a casual observer from recognizing me, but if my prints ended up getting checked, the whole damn FBI might come down on my head.
Decision made, I packed up, quick and thorough. With a small, leafy branch, I smudged away my, and Dog's, footprints from a few dusty, grassless areas. It took some work, but I concealed traces of my presence well enough that someone would have to look pretty damn hard to find anything. It was still early, so the dew, and subsequent drying, should take care of the rest. With Dog beside me, I drove away, leaving the body to become someone else's headache.
We drove on through the night and well into the day, staying off the beaten path and taking random turns occasionally. Lunch came from a small roadside general store that had seen more prosperous days. I didn't mind, though. The woman behind the counter handed me a fresh-made sandwich and an icy-cold root beer, while she apologized it wasn't more.
"This is perfect, thanks. Let me have a bottle of water, too. Dog's probably getting thirsty."
"Oh, you have a dog? You should bring him in. I'm sure I have some dog biscuits around somewhere." She bustled from behind the counter. "Well? Go on, get him."
Faced with that force of nature energy, I had no choice. I went out and brought Dog in from where he'd been napping in the truck. Bastard padded right in like he owned the joint, and ate up the attention the woman gave him.
"He's gorgeous!" She stroked his head. "He's an Akita, right? What's his name?"
I shrugged a little and swallowed my root beer. "I have no idea what breed he is. He was skinny and ate up with fleas, and I fed him. From then, Dog just stuck around."
"He doesn't have a name?" If looks could kill, I'd have been six feet under at that moment.
"He has a name. It's Dog."
"What kind of name is that? He needs a majestic name, something that tells of his heritage." She scowled at me some more.
"But he answers to Dog."
"Well of course he does. You would too, if that's all anyone ever called you." She turned to baby talk Dog some more, and of course he nuzzled up close, giving me his big toothy dog grin.
Bastard loved me getting scolded. "Guess I could call him Pup."
The woman actually bared her teeth at me. "Oh, go behind the counter there and get yourself a slice of pie and let me think." She sat down on the floor, cross-legged, and chatted with Dog like he knew what she was saying.
And I had to admit, the motherfucker was smart. He always seemed to understand everything I said, too. Pie sounded like a good idea, so rather than argue, I followed orders and watched.
"Hmm. You look like a warrior. Samurai would be a good name for you. Do you like that?" Dog tilted his head and grinned some more. "Oh, you do, hmm? Okay, so Samurai it is. And your lazy person over there can call you Sam if he can't say it. That work for you?"
He barked. Well, as close to a bark as I'd ever heard from him. Bastard was practically silent, except for low growls and huffs. The low, short bark he gave the woman sounded like he was holding a conversation with her.
"Well, good, that's decided then. I'll explain it to him." She ruffled his fur, gave him a treat, and got up.
Dog fucking stood there and wagged like a fool.
"Well, you heard all that. He wants his name to be Samurai." She went back around the counter.
"I guess I did." I finished my pie. "So what, you're a dog whisperer, or something?"
She smiled. "No, I just happen to like and respect them. They know that."
I stocked up on a few snacks for the road, and Dog/Samurai and I got back in the truck and headed north.
5
Fabio(Caleb)
I kept driving, listening to local news reports on the radio. If anyone suspected my involvement in the death of whoever's body I left back there in a small clearing, nothing about it came over the air. Hell, I had no idea if the body had even been discovered yet. I hoped so. No one deserved to be left like that. I couldn't afford to get bogged down in a murder investigation, though, so there had been no choice.
After a quick stop at an outdoors supply store to replace my ruined tent, Samurai and I stopped for the night at a small 'primitive' camping area at a State Park. At least, with other campers around, maybe no dead people would turn up at my tent flap.
We got set up and ate dinner, then took a stroll around the campground, and a short hike along a trail that appeared to be used regularly for horses, too. Samurai showed interest in everything, as usual, but in that quiet, dignified manner he always maintained.
The area was pretty active, with several families camped at the far end. For half a minute, I considered leashing Samurai, then discarded the idea. His training and manners were beyond reproach, and I had absolute confidence in my control. My hand signal was more effective with him than a leash and choker on most dogs.
Instead of quieting down for the evening, two of the families gathered around a fire to make s'mores and tell stories. Normally, I would have already stretched out in my tent by that time, but the thought of sleeping while people nearby were awake made me itch. So I sat up by my fire and talked to Samurai.
The families eventually tucked their kids in for the night, and the parents had a few beers by the fire. A while later, the two men got up and headed my way.
I tensed, prepared for trouble, but stayed seated on my log. Beside me, Samurai's muscles tightened under all that fur, leaving no doubt in my mind he would respond if they started anything.
"Hey, man, noticed over here by yourself, thought we'd see if you wanted to join us for a beer or two." The taller of the two stopped across the fire from me, while the other ranged a bit to the side.
Red flags went up all over my brain. "Thanks for the offer, man. Think I'm going to turn in, though. Have to get on the road pretty early tomorrow."
The other guy shrugged and grinned. "Your loss, man. Ol' Devin's wife over there been looking you up and down, said she'd like a li'l strange."
For fucks sake. Leave it to me to find the only fucking campground in the state with some chick looking for some extra dick. "Again, thanks for the offer, but not interested." I was so not in the mood for bullshit like this.
The taller guy's face reddened. "You sayin' my wife's cunt ain't good enough for you?"
Samurai stood, on full alert. I took his hint and stood, too. "No, I'm saying I'm just not interested."
Second idiot laughed. "Well, either you're sayin' it ain't good enough, or you're a fag. Which is it?"
"I'm not looking for trouble, boys. Probably a good idea for you to head on back to your camp." My 9mm rode easy in its holster, concealed by the bottom of my shirt and ready in case I needed it.
Samurai made a low, vibrating growl, deep in his chest, unlike anything I'd heard from him before. The unmistakable warning made me even more wary. I lifted the edge of my shirt, so the gun became visible.
The second idiot laughed again. "Check it out, Devin. Fag thinks he's big just because he's got a gun. Bet it ain't even loaded."
I grinned. "That's the kind of thinking that gets idiots dead. Not only is it loaded, but I know how to use it very well. Ju
st ask all the jihadis rotting in the sand because of me."
The taller one paled a little, and seemed ready to back down, but his buddy had other ideas. "I call bullshit. Every asshole that wants to act like the big swingin' dick in town says he went to war."
I shrugged. "Guess you'd know all about that, huh." I moved away from the fire a little, and Samurai separated, flanking the smaller guy. "You probably have to make up for some deficiencies by pretending to be something you're not."
His face went dark red and sweat beaded his forehead. "What the fuck you trying to say?"
"I'm not trying to say anything. I am saying you have to talk so big because you're a damn pussy. That's why his wife is looking for real dick. You couldn't do it for her."
His fists clenched, but he didn't move. "I could kill you for that."
"Well, son, come on, then, and quit talking about it. I've been trying to get some motherfucker to kill me for two years." I stepped to the side, hands loose at my sides.
The taller one reached for his arm. "Charlie, come on, man. He ain't worth it."
He jerked away. "Yeah, you're right. Let's go." He turned and started to walk back toward their camp. A few steps away, he paused and looked back. "You better keep that fucking mutt away from us, too. I'll put a bullet in its fucking head."
Rage shot through me. Samarai reacted, dropping into a fighting crouch, ready to spring. I deliberately walked to the man and grabbed the front of his shirt, hauling him up to look him directly in the eye. "Listen, motherfucker. You come near me, or my dog, and I will fucking end you. Best thing you can do to stay alive right now is go zip yourself inside your tent and fucking stay there." I let go with a shove.
He stumbled back a couple of steps before tripping and falling. His buddy helped him up, and they rushed back to their camp to disappear inside their tents.
I went back to my seat by my fire, and Samurai came to sit by my feet. "Don't worry, ol' boy. Anybody wants to hurt you, they have to go through me first." I ruffled his fur and offered him a treat, which he took with his usual delicate precision.
