Snap

Snap

by

Allen Renfro

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

ARMSlength on Smashwords

Snap

Copyright © 2012 by Allen Renfro

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

CHAPTER ONE

The orange glow on his face was the color of spray on tan. The light burned a giant ember, a beacon, in the darkness as he lay down in the dewy grass, raking his hands through the wetness. I thought to myself, he’s making a snow angel. He slid his arms and legs back and forth, up and down, the wetness soaked through the back of his jeans and his blue flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The pops and hisses behind me. His body writhed and jerked in harmony with the sounds, bacon sizzling in a frying pan.

Hurry up, I said.

He had not completed his ritual. We wouldn’t leave until he did.

He sat up reaching for the half full Jack Daniels bottle that leaned precariously away from him, took a swig and wiped his mouth, his arms resting on his knees.

They’re not coming. Not yet.

He stared at me, long and hard, his face changing with the flickering glow. I could not bear it, his penetrating blue eyes, devouring me or fucking me. I could never tell. His boyish face covered in stubble.

What? I finally said, over the groaning and dragon seething that was growing louder.

He smiled his crooked smile, drew another gulp from the bottle. Nothing.

He stood up and unzipped his pants.

How long has it been now? Six months? A year? They’re not even close to catching me.

I looked over to the rusted old yellow Camaro, the doors open, like the wings of an angry vulture in the fire’s shadow. You’re taking too long.

He passed the car and approached the sign near the road, his boots kicking up small gravel as he staggered over, dick in his right hand, Jack Daniels in the other. He stood at the painted wood sign like he was standing at a urinal. He read at the top of his lungs as a hot stream of piss traced lines across the sign.

Pine Grove Southern Baptist Church, Sunday school 10 am, worship service 11 am, Sunday night service 6 pm, Wednesday night service 7 pm, Tom Jenkins pastor. The Lord is my shepherd. All are welcome.

He shook off the last drops of piss looking at me. Fuck this shit.

Revenge has its moments I thought. He would not like that word, the black and white of it. He lived in the gray. Revenge was not gray, it was black. Justice was white. He knew that he was somewhere in between. Straddling the fence so tight the barbed wire could rip his balls and his asshole. It was the fog that kept him alive.

All are welcome, he shouted, drawing the come of welcome long.

I knew it was Jack talking, not him.

We have to go! I said.

Okay, okay, Jesus, he whined putting his dick away and zipping his pants.

I was already in the car with the door closed as he wrestled with the cap of the bottle, staggering toward the car. The seconds were like hours. I knew they’d be coming. Someone had to see the glow by now. He stood at the door of the Camaro admiring the growing savage of his actions, the fire tongues licking the night, the mouth of the fire swallowing the steeple like a well paid whore.

He stepped back for a second and I was afraid I'd have to wrestle him into the car. He stretched out his arms looking up into the dark sky.

Here I am God! he shouted. Kill me you sonuvabitch!

He hurled the half full bottle of Jack to the church doors. The crash of the bottle brought a lion’s roar of flames. I could hear the surrender of the wood as the building fell in on itself, the hungry monster eating all of it with a groan of satisfaction. The car screeched onto the highway, gravel and dust plumes rising up in the dark glowing night behind us, the tires screaming like banshees.

I looked back as we sped down the highway. In seconds the glow was only a bruise in the sky. The pine and cedar trees that grew tall on either side of the highway looked like orange x-rayed bones silhouetted in the fire.

We grew quiet, we always did after the ritual was complete and we were making our escape. I looked over at him. The green glow of the dash behind the steering wheel illuminated his face. I turned away, clicking the switch, looking into the video screen, make sure no pics of him, not even a shadow, only the voice, on ice, and the inferno.

You want some light? he asked.

No, I said over the rumbling engine. It's fine.

The gasoline fumes emanating from the trunk made my head swim as my eyes fought against me. Why did I take this job? Every video the same, but different places. I looked up, saw the red eyes staring at us, warning us to stop until evil had passed, but tonight I wished the eyes were green. I heard it. They were coming.

My name is Danny.

A wiener costs $1.25. The sign written in magic marker taped to the wall just above the hot lamps read. The wiener came with a stale warm bun, watered down chili and a little mustard from a nearly empty squeeze bottle, all of it wrapped in aluminum foil. Counting the coins from my pocket the wiener was Thanksgiving dinner to my stomach. The guy with the cracked glasses and Elvis Presley side burns stared at me from behind his register and bullet proof glass, his arms folded across his chest hiding the name tag on the authorized red gas station button down shirt.

Counting every penny, nickel, dime, a single quarter, lint, chewing gum wrapper and my heart sank with each breath. I knew, not enough and I would have to suck his dick like I always did. Just for a fucking hot dog. It was a tough day, no buyers, too many sellers.

What’s it gonna be? Sideburns said rubbing the bulge in his authorized navy colored gas station slacks. I only half heard the electronic bing bing as the door of the station opened and closed.

Fifteen, I heard a deep masculine voice say, for gas.

He stood there fishing his hand into the front pocket of his jeans, shirt open, white tank top underneath. His dark hair had been blown around by the wind, his blue eyes smiling at me with bright twinkles, his face was a soft brown, dark eye brows that nearly touched above his nose, his face covered in stubble that gave him a chiseled in stone appearance. Probably some rich fuck who dressed like that for kicks.

He slipped a twenty through the slot in the bullet proof glass. Sideburns took the money and rang up the transaction, slipping a five back through. Blue Eyes walked toward the exit the five spot purposely falling like a leaf from his hand. I followed the green zigzag like a swinging hammock down to the floor, hypnotized.

I could hear Sideburns trashing from behind the glass but I watched Blue Eyes standing under the awning in the glow of the outside lights. He wrestled with the gas pump trying to fill two gas cans next to an ugly gray four door sedan that looked to be older than my dead grandfather.

Come on! Sideburns said, walking toward a back exit to the alley behind the station. On cue I walked past the five spot on the ground, out the front door, took a final glance at Blue Eyes who was preoccupied with filling the gas cans and went around to the rear of the store. Sideburns would be standing next to the dumpster with his dick already out. At least it was dark and I didn’t have to look at him. The wind was blowing cold and I shivered just a bit.

Hurry up bitch, he said, pulling me by my shirt down on the ground, forcing his cock to my mouth. A couple of moves up and down and he would shoot. It’s like that sometimes.

Before I could pull back I was knocked down by something from behind, a loud yell and a metallic crash as Sideburns fell against the dumpster and to the ground, something had me by my shirt, dragging me back and up to my feet, pulling me so hard my feet could barely keep up.

Blue Eyes was practically yelling at me as we turned the corner of the station into the flood of lights at the front of the store. You’d suck him off for a hot dog?

Still pulling me by my shirt in a way that I felt like I was stumbling, he dragged me back into the store, leaning down to pick up the five spot on the floor. He pushed me toward the hot dogs.

Go ahead, take them, he said as he slid the five spot through the slot in the bullet proof glass.

There were four wrapped in aluminum foil under the heat lamps. I took four, plus some napkins, and ketchup packets that were lying on the counter I didn’t see before. He walked out the door toward the gray colored car at the gas pumps and I followed. He didn’t say anything so I went around and climbed in the passenger side thinking he would stop me if he wanted.

He opened the trunk of the car and placed two filled gas cans inside. He slammed the trunk hard making the entire car shake, the shocks creaking. He jumped in, revved the engine and squealed the tires in a U-turn onto the dark street. I didn’t say anything about the headlights being off. I held tightly to the four wieners, this wouldn’t take long. He would pull the car into a dark spot in the park just up the road, a quick suck and a swallow and I had enough food for three days.

The smell of the hotdogs made my stomach growl. I wanted to eat. He was silent, looking straight ahead. He realized the lights were off and quickly turned them on. He whistled one of those whistles that said, wow that was close we could’ve been pulled over by the cops.

I was only a little nervous as the car sped past the park entrance. The car heater was blasting through the vents and it felt good compared to the cold wind blowing outside. I placed the hot dogs in the pocket of the door and looked at him to see if I could see any reaction. I slid my hand between his legs and he jumped, quickly looking at me.

What are you doing? He sounded more startled than angry but sometimes you can’t tell.

Thanking you for the hot dogs, I said as I squeezed the bulge.

He quickly took my hand away. You’re welcome.

I folded my arms across my chest deciding whether to open the door and jump. This kind of guy was unpredictable, his sense of morality, or responsibility or maybe he was the fag hater searching for a place to strangle me with my belt and eat my skin raw and then fuck me. It’s like that sometimes.

The rumbling of the car made the quiet less awkward. I would sneak glances at him as the lights of oncoming cars flashed across his face. He didn’t seem angry, he seemed determined and not for me.

I was warm and the thud of the tires hitting the reflectors in the center of the highway was like a soft heartbeat that lulled me to sleep. I slid deeper into the seat and reached for a hotdog, hoped he wouldn’t punch me for eating. He didn’t. The first bite and he looked at me almost with a smile.

How long has it been?

What? I said with a full mouth.

Since you ate?

Couple a days? Don’t really remember for sure.

Well don’t eat so fast, you’ll get sick.

You were watching me, I said. How else would you know about the hot dogs?

He didn’t say anything, looked ahead, concentrated on his driving.

We had driven out of the town and were on the country highway moving deeper into wilderness. I knew I didn’t have to fear for my safety, he would’ve already slit my throat and shoved my dick in the glove compartment if that’s what he wanted to do.

I grabbed the second hot dog and wished for something to wash it down with. Didn’t think to ask for a drink but that was probably instinct. If I dared to ask Sideburns he’d piss on me.

How old are you? Blue Eyes asked.

17, I said.

You look 13, he replied staring at me. Nothing but skin and bones.

I swallowed hard and shrugged not knowing if he saw the gesture, It’s what they want.

He looked at me with disgust. Tricks?

Yeah, I swallowed another bite of the hot dog.

He returned to watching the highway. You might have thought about moving to a bigger town.

I’m doin all right, I said.

He snickered, Sucking cock for a hot dog behind gas stations doesn’t sound all right to me.

We grew quiet again. I began to wonder how long we had been on the road. It seemed like hours, on the same highway, drifting through small towns, little more than a couple of buildings on the either side of the road. I finally asked for something to drink.

He cocked his head toward the back seat. Cooler back there.

I turned and looked. There really was a cooler. It would either have beer or somebody’s head. I reached in to the cold rocky ice found a plastic bottle. It was water. Bottled water. I pulled out the plastic bottle, the wet of the ice clinging to the sides, dripping on my leg as I opened it and swallowed half of it down. I could see from the light of passing cars he had a lot of stuff in the backseat, an old green duffle bag probably stuffed with his clothes and a notebook overflowing with papers along with the ice filled cooler.

Can I turn on the radio? I asked turning it on without waiting for permission.

I giggled at the classical music that screamed from the speakers, the loud bellows of a woman singing opera.

What? he said.

Opera? I said.

You think this is my car, he said turning to look at me.

That made me shut up for a minute.

Look, he said, you can get out anytime you want.

Where you goin? I asked taking another bite of the hot dog.

I’m going where I’m going, he said sliding his hands along the edge of the steering wheel.

Well, why you goin there? I like asking stupid questions.

You little fuck, he said. For the first time I was really scared. Eat the goddamn hotdog and shut up.

The opera woman singing on the radio annoyed me and annoyed Blue Eyes too. He turned off the radio. The engine sounded better anyway. All women who sung opera were fat, weren’t they?

I really made him mad with my question and I really didn’t mean to. He gave a stupid answer and I gave a stupid question. It’s like that sometimes. Tit for tat, dick for dat.

The smell of gasoline was strong, like it was alive and crawling out of the trunk through the back seat. I had to do that once, crawl through the back seat to get out of a trunk.

You’re not from around here, I said.

Why do you think that? Blue Eyes said his eyes focused on the road.

You don’t sound like you’re from here, I said.

I don’t sound country enough?

Well, are you from around here?

He looked at me again, his Blue Eyes were dark in the light coming from the dash. Do guys stick their dicks in your mouth just to shut you up?

Fuck you! I shot back, taking the last bite of the hot dog.

He laughed. He laughed so hard the car was swerving on the dark road and I grabbed the door handle in fear.

What the fuck? I said frustrated. The headlights traced a round line against the wall of trees and the asphalt.

You’re acting all bad ass and you’re just a punk, he laughed.

Like you’re somebody’s hero, I muttered under my breath.

I felt the car slow. Looking at the edge of the light tracing lines on the highway in front of us I paid no attention to his quick glances at me. For the first time I had left him lacking for words. I wondered what time it was, not that it made a difference to me. Was it Friday or Tuesday I didn’t keep track much anymore. Time is a stranger like that. We name it. It has a bunch of names ending in day and o’clock but once you break up with it you forget about the name. At least for a little while. Sometimes before I go to sleep I remember and riding in cars not knowing where I’m going or what I’m doing I remember. I looked at the clock on the dash, the green digital numbers 9:04. It seemed a lot later.

That place we’re not goin to, I said, feels an awful lot like Memphis.

For me, yes, Blue Eyes said, but for you I don’t think so.

Why not? I asked noting that I still had two hot dogs in the pocket of the door. This is the middle of nowhere. Are you gonna take me back?

Back there? he scoffed. To that gas station?

What else am I supposed to do? I almost yelled. Yeah you fucked it up tonight but it ain't nothing I can't fix.

Anything would be better than what you were doing there, he said.

So you gonna be my knight in shining armor?

He laughed again and this time it was comfortable. You really are a smart ass.

Better than bein a dumb ass, I replied.

He continued laughing as we came up on a small crossroads kind of town with only a couple of utility lights and a neon sign that said LIQUOR from the window of a store cutting against the dark of the deep night. I don’t like these little hick towns, the kind that doesn’t have a real name, just what everybody who lives there calls it. Every outsider is an enemy and they look at you that way. You might as well have blood on your hands. The car came to a skidding stop in the loose gravel.

I need some Jack, he said reaching into the backseat and into the duffle bag. The light outside wasn’t enough for me to see but I knew he was reaching for money. I was glad to get out of the car and stretch my legs. The sweet and nauseating fumes from the gas were giving me a headache and it was nice in the cold night air. The sky was filled with twinkling stars and the moon was orange and full. I hugged myself in the cold and thought this wasn’t so bad, better than sleeping in a train car or under the bridge. And much better than a trick sleeping in me.

"I could see Blue Eyes through the window of the store smiling and accommodating to the elderly man pushing the buttons on the cash register. He handed the money to him, took his change and nicely refused the paper bag for the bottle of Jack Daniels. Blue Eyes walked out of the store, his boots crunching in the gravel. He had the bottle open and took a swig before he got to the car.

Come on, let’s go, he said. There’s a motel just a little further.

He was in a hurry suddenly and I just closed the door before he gunned the car back on to the highway. He had the open bottle of Jack set between his legs like he was drinking a soda. He rolled down his window, the ripping sound of the wind coming through added to the cold. Holding the bottle of Jack by the neck, choking it, he took another big gulp and pressed his foot on the pedal. Fog was rolling in across the dead fields. I tried to ignore my fear, looking out the window hugging myself to keep warm. In the glow of the moon I tried to keep up with the houses, fence posts, trees that whizzed by in the dark saying a secret prayer I would not wind up being devoured in a pile of metal and wood every time we came hard around a curve. The beams of light could barely carve through the thick fluffy white.

I was relieved when we came to a slow stop under the awning at the front of the motel. Blue Eyes handed the half empty bottle of Jack to me, fumbled with the duffle bag and stepped out of the car. I was surprised he wasn’t staggering. He greeted the cautious old man behind the glass with cash, signed a paper and grabbed the door