“And keep fillin those stats? Naw, that don’t sound like you, DeSean.”
“That’s enough, Deputy!”
“Hey, I’m just sayin… The scoreboard does not lie.”
DeSean tore free of BJ’s grip. “Maybe if people like you did your job and found missing children, you wouldn’t be so uptight all the time.”
“What do you care?” Andrews scoffed. “You’ve got three more.”
DeSean shoved past BJ and Andrews jerked a revolver from his cowboy action rig in a flash.
Stopping abruptly, the big man stared down the silver barrel, chest pumping beneath his Carhartt.
“Andrews!” Sheriff Taylor barked. “Put that gun away!”
DeSean raised his hands and softened his voice. “I know you think we’re just a bunch of broke-ass niggas, Deputy, but trust me when I say my daughter deserves more than that from you. Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”
“Practice what you preach,” Andrews replied, aiming at DeSean’s heart.
“Goddammit Deputy,” Bud barked, white-knuckling the frying pan. “You put that gun down and I mean right now.”
Andrews ignored him, a palpable current of tension sucking the air from the room. Covering her chest, Helen’s wide eyes bounced between the men, a horrified circle stamped into her red lips.
“Enough of this bullshit,” Huck shouted, rushing across the room. “We do something to help those people, Sheriff, and right now, or you and I go again,” He stopped in front of Taylor and stared up at him. “Not tomorrow. Not the day after that. Right fucking now.”
DeSean’s thick eyebrows inched downward. “What people?”
“He’s right, Bobby.” Andrews jammed the weapon back in its holster. “We can’t just sit here and wait for the cavalry.”
“No, it’s too dangerous.”
“I’m a completive shooter, for Christ’s sake!” Andrews pulled his rig up higher. “I’m never going to get into the FBI without some points on the board, so come on! Let’s do this.”
Pushing his shirt sleeves up, Huck pointed out a window. “We’ve got two city plows sitting right there! Now, are you going to help us or not?”
Taylor combed his mustache with a hand, eyeing them over to the sound of Waylon Jennings before unlocking a heavy breath. “Alright Huck, you win. But when somebody gets killed, it’s on you.”
“Wait…our snowplows?” BJ traded a baffled look with his brother. “What the hell white boy talkin bout?”
Creeping closer, DeSean searched Huck’s face for understanding. “What the hell you talkin about, white boy?”
“We were kidnapped!” Johnny told them, swiveling on a stool with an untouched slice of apple pie on the counter before him.
DeSean snapped his head around to him, the color draining from his face. “Kidnapped?”
“Franklin! Come in,” Taylor yelled into the radio, grumbling under his breath when there was no response.
Andrews dropped the heavy duffel bag onto an empty table. “He’s probably already dead.”
“What’s going on here, Bob?” DeSean’s chest heaved and sweat trickled down his temples, getting lost in his bushy sideburns. “Who was kidnapped?”
The sheriff jerked his chin at Huck and Nina. “They were.”
Screwing his face up, BJ looked at Johnny. “Freckles too?”
“Yes,” Nina answered, unzipping her coat a little. “And twenty to thirty others.”
BJ thumbed to a window behind him. “That why a semi is parked in the middle of Bud’s Christmas tree stand?”
“We barely escaped and Ramona picked us up.” Johnny stared fondly at the woman sitting next to him. “She saved our lives.”
“Oh,” Ramona blushed, fanning a hand through the air at him. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.” She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses up the bridge of her nose. “Okay, it was a pretty big deal but I’m glad I could help.”
“Yeah, but then they came back and shot at us.”
DeSean stared hard at Johnny. “They what!”
Pulling the revolver from the black, handstitched holster tied around his leg, Taylor checked the rotating chamber and blew through the long, dark barrel. “Apparently, they drugged them before relocating them to some abandoned car wash not far from here.”
“Who did?”
Nina shook her head at DeSean. “Some men, all dressed in black.”
“It’s a human trafficking ring,” Huck explained, rubbing the back of his head and grimacing when his fingers found the goose egg nesting in his hair. “We have to help them before those men move them somewhere else.”
Stopping in front of Huck, DeSean stared down at him, voice coming out in a pathetic whimper. “Was there a little black girl in this car wash?”
“I…” Huck took an instinctive step backwards. “I’m not sure.”
DeSean closed the gap between them. “Well think real hard, homeboy, because this is important.”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t there long enough to find out.”
He turned to Nina, gravity tugging on his jaw. “Cassie would be six by now.”
Nina opened her mouth but it took a moment for anything to materialize. “I don’t think so, no.”
Whirling on the heels of some wet snow boots, DeSean crumpled Sheriff Taylor’s button down into his meaty hands. “And when were you planning on telling me about this?”
“I just found out!” Taylor tried knocking him away but DeSean lifted him to his toes.
“Could they have Cassandra?”
Struggling for breath, his fingers slid to the black grips on his sidearm. “I don’t know!”
“Put him down,” Andrews snapped, shoving a gun barrel into the back of DeSean’s head.
“You first, hillbilly,” BJ replied, pointing a small revolver at the deputy’s back.
Huck drew Ramona’s pink nine-millimeter and aimed at BJ’s chest, completing the Mexican standoff. A heavy quiet stole across the diner and, for a short time, nobody dared to break it. The jukebox switched songs, the tension laced piano string tight.
“Everybody relax!” DeSean dropped Taylor back to the ground and gently straightened the star on his chest. “I’m sorry,” he breathed out, nodding at BJ to lower his weapon. “Now, I’m only going to axe you this one more time,” he said, turning back to Taylor. “Could they have my baby girl?”
“I don’t know anything for sure yet, DeSean. I’m just finding all of this out in the middle of the goddam night, so how about cutting me some slack!”
DeSean staggered backwards like someone just rocked his jaw with a hard right, a stunned look lingering in his eyes. He fell against a table and knocked over a chair. “Where is this car wash?” he panted, pushing to his feet and zipping his Carhartt up.
“We should wait for backup,” Taylor told him, tightening his gun belt. “There’s too many of them.”
The big man’s glassy eyes fell to Huck. “How many?”
“Six or seven.”
“Maybe more,” Nina added, nervously twisting her fingers.
“They’re vampires!”
Slowly turning to Johnny, DeSean tightened his gaze into bloodshot slits. “Say what?”
“They took our blood and the leader drank some of it.”
He stared at Johnny, processing things to the soundtrack of Meatloaf’s I’d Do Anything for Love. “Kid, now ain’t the time to be messin with me.”
“He’s telling you the truth,” Nina told him, stepping between them.
“That what?” BJ slid a hand into a pocket. “They’re vampires?”
“That they drew our blood and drank some of it.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’re wasting time!” Huck ejected the small magazine in the Nano and counted rounds before slapping it back in. “What’s in the bag?”
Following his gaze to the black duffel bag resting on the table, a smug grin pushed into Andrews’ cheeks. “Insu
rance,” he replied, pulling an Uzi out and holding it up to the light. “Whoever they are, this will give us a serious leg up.” He gave Nina a cocky wink and the lights went out, plunging the diner into darkness.
Chapter Seven
Large Marge
Huck tightened his grip on the handgun, frozen by the shadows cloaking the room. The abrupt silence from the jukebox left a far-off buzzing in his ears, raising the hair on the back of his neck.
“The fuck is this shit?” DeSean muttered, joining Huck and the sheriff at a window.
“It’s them,” Johnny whispered, scanning the dark parking lot from a booth. “They’re here.”
“Everything’s okay, Johnny,” Ramona told him. “Just a power outage from the storm, that’s all.”
Confusion twisted Taylor’s reflection in the glass. “Lock the doors and find some flashlights.”
Nobody moved.
“Lock the front door, Paula,” Bud whispered, backing his way behind the counter.
“Johnny’s right,” Huck said, beating her to the glass door. “They’re out there.” He locked the deadbolt and searched the parking lot, willing his night vision to heal faster. “Somebody go lock the backdoor.”
With a hand covering her mouth, Paula stared at the crashed semi through stunned eyes, imagining the worst.
“Now!” he said, watching her and Bud quickly disappear into the kitchen. “Maybe we should make a run for it.”
The sheriff stared past the frosted glass, seeing something play out against the storm.
“Sheriff!”
Taylor started as if awakened from deep thought. Turning to Nina, his eyebrows drew together in the gray light.
“Where’s the old couple in the booth?” she asked, nervously looking about.
His thin eyes darted to the messy booth. Other than some partially eaten slices of cherry pie and spilt coffee, the booth was empty. “That’s not good,” he whispered, resting a hand on the butt of his gun.
Huck searched the diner for Helen and Earl with a cold finger running down his spine. They were just there and old people weren’t exactly known for swift movements.
Turning a cellphone flashlight on, Taylor spun on his heels and illuminated the frightened look bending Ramona’s face. “Did you see them?”
She shook her head, jiggling her curls. “This is the last time I come through here!”
Deputy Andrews racked a load in the Uzi, canvas strap taught against him. “This is some fucked up shit right here.”
BJ grunted. “That’s one thing we can agree on,” he said, pulling a snub-nosed revolver from his coveralls that looked exactly like the tiny .38 wrapped in his brother’s hand. “I don’t do vampires, man.”
“They’re not vampires,” Huck hissed, setting his jaw. “This is serious and if we’re going to help those people, we have to get on the same page here or…” A thump drew his gaze to the end of the L-shaped diner. “What was that?”
Everyone cocked their heads to the side and listened to the quiet hum in their ears. Other than the wind, the diner was completely still. Sleeping or lying in wait, Huck couldn’t yet tell.
“I don’t hear anything,” DeSean whispered, glancing behind him.
“There,” Nina breathed. “There it was again.”
Johnny’s mouth got round. “That was thundersnow! We just studied it in Earth Science.”
“That’s not thundersnow,” Huck whispered.
“Then what is it?”
“The bathrooms.” Taylor followed the cellphone light toward the restrooms, his hand swallowing the Colt’s black gun grips without skinning the weapon.
“Stay here,” Huck told Nina.
“No way,” she whispered, pulling Johnny and Ramona from their stools. “We stick together.”
Purssing his lips, Huck turned and tiptoed across the floor as if it were made of glass, uneven breaths pumping his chest. “If they’re here, we end them right now.”
DeSean snorted his difference. “We should get the hell out of here while we still can.”
“Fuck that,” Huck snapped, holding the Nano out in both hands. “We can take them.”
BJ wrinkled his brow. “Man, you got a pink gun, homeboy! Take it down a notch.”
Sheriff Taylor stopped and swung the cellphone light to the Christmas tree standing next to the darkened juke box, lowering the beam to the fake presents beneath.
“What’s wrong?” Huck whispered.
“I thought I…” Dismissing it with a quick shake of the head, he pressed on. “Never mind.”
Just before entering the small nook housing the restroom doors, Huck glanced through the server’s window into the kitchen. It was dark and quiet and something didn’t feel right. A long creak rang out when the women’s door swung inward on squeaky hinges. He followed the sheriff inside, where the smartphone lit up two clean sinks and two empty stalls, the smell of disinfectant permeating the air. Huck startled, catching his own haggard reflection in the mirror. He looked like a stranger and wondered when the last time he’d eaten.
“Let’s go check the men’s room,” DeSean quickly suggested, turning for the door.
“Wait!” Huck shot a hand out and everyone stopped. His thin eyes moved over the floral wallpaper, stopping on an old-fashioned rotating cloth towel dispenser. “What was that?”
“That’s what you dry your hands on,” DeSean whispered. “They used to have one at the Sinclair by our grandma’s house.”
“I remember that,” BJ said, studying the dispenser. “Things are gross, everyone drying their hands on the same towel all day.”
“No, not that.” A double thump pulled Huck’s eyes upward. “That.”
Swallowing hard, Andrews slowly looked up at the water stained ceiling, a revolver hanging in both hands. “They’re in the vents,” he whispered coldly.
“What?” BJ’s face soured. “This isn’t Die Hard, man.”
Andrews looked down, a grave look weighing on his face. “No, it’s Aliens.”
“Both you idiots listen to me, there is no way anyone can fit inside air ducting in real life; that’s not happening. I used to be in construction, remember?” DeSean nodded to the bathroom door. “Let’s get the hell up outta here.”
The sheriff brought a finger to his lips and quietly pulled the door back, letting in the soft gray light from the wall of windows up front. Andrews and BJ looked at each other, a silent understanding passing between them as they quietly slipped out into the diner. Another noise made the group stop in front of the men’s room.
“What was that?” Nina said, staring back into the diner.
“Probably Bud and Paula.” Holding the light out, Taylor drew his sidearm and tracked cautious steps toward the counter. Huck swung the pink gun around to things that weren’t there and ran into Taylor from behind, making his heart jump.
Sheriff Taylor stared past a yellow ticket pinned to an order wheel in the server’s window. “Where are they?” he whispered, searching the inky blackness for signs of movement.
“This just keeps getting better and better,” Ramona grumbled, glued to the back of the pack. “Maybe I should take my gun back.”
“Hey,” Andrews whispered. “Did you feel that?”
“Feel what?” BJ replied, nervously scanning the empty diner.
“I just passed through a…cold spot.”
DeSean frowned at him. “Cold spot?”
Shivering in revulsion, Andrews groaned. “That was like sitting on a warm toilet seat.”
“Keep moving.” Taylor went behind the counter and pushed through the swinging door. “Bud!” His voice carried throughout the entire diner and Huck cringed as the element of surprise fell from their side.
Single file, they entered the kitchen and put a wall of ovens to their backs.
“Where’d they go?” the sheriff whispered, running the light over the stainless-steel tables and commercial appliances occupying the large room.
Huck’s eyes hitched on a ba
ckdoor with a peephole that probably overlooked the dumpsters and grease traps. He waited tables at a hotel in college and this could be their way out. Tiptoeing closer, he kept the gun at the ready and turned the deadbolt to the right, clicking it into place and signaling the fact that Bud and Paula – for whatever reason – failed to lock it. Tugging on the locked door, he peered through the peephole, imagining Ambrose standing there with that silver toothpick wiggling in the corner of his mouth. His shoulders fell. “It’s frosted over. I can’t see a thing.”
A clicking sound tugged at his attention. Turning, he saw the sheriff enter a walk-in cooler across the room. The group traded nervous looks and followed him inside, white breaths rushing out over the milk jugs, egg cartons, fresh produce, and meats and cheeses stocked inside.
Taylor shrugged his broad shoulder. “I don’t get it.”
“Let’s just get to the plows and get out of here,” DeSean said, wiping sweat from his brow. “We should use the front door where we can see what’s on the other side.”
BJ blew a stream through the light. “Shoot our way to the plows if we have to.”
Nina nodded. “I like that plan.”
The sheriff searched their faces, giving Johnny’s chattering teeth a doubletake. “I don’t,” he said, pushing past them and exiting the cooler. He stopped next to an old Hobart dishwasher when the room suddenly fell dark. “Shit,” he hissed.
Nina jerked her head around, backing away from the darkness gathering in the corners. “What’s wrong?”
“My phone’s dead.”
DeSean dug a cellphone from a pocket and brought it to life, staring forlornly at a sunlit picture of a cute little girl with pigtails and a big smile. The one he hadn’t seen in two years. Noticing Huck staring at him, he hit flashlight mode and lit up the utensils scattered about the countertops. “Hey!” Spinning in a quick circle, his eyes bulged from their sockets. “Where’d Large Marge go?”
Nina whirled on her bootheels and inhaled sharply. “She was right behind us.”
Huck’s adrenaline jumped because there was no way anyone could’ve taken Ramona without making a sound. Impossible. Yet here she was, just as mysteriously gone as Paula and Bud.
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