Bernie stared at the sky, wishing they would return to him, when he felt a mean-hearted shove at his shoulder blade. He broke free of his trance, looking over his shoulder at a monster of a different breed.
"The day's wasting away, boy," said The Black Rider.
He’d already warned him once about calling him boy. It was just short of calling him nigger, in Bernie’s mind. He’d dealt with enough of that crap in his life; awkward white people intentionally or unintentionally reminding him of his skin color.
“Don’t call me boy again. Got it?”
The Black Rider grinned at Bernie’s words, looking like a shark that was missing a couple of teeth.
The lazy-eyed cretin called himself, ‘The Black Rider.’ What a ridiculous fucking name, thought Bernie…even more ridiculous than being spared the beast’s wrath because of the color of his skin. Even the river monster was a racist. Racists, racists, everywhere, and not a branch to swing, Bernie chanted inside of his head. Matty would have laughed at that one. With that thought, Bernie felt his bravery deflating again.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” said The Black Rider, shrugging off Bernie’s demand. “Still. The day is wastin’ away real fast.”
"I know. I'm just remembering them. Let me have this moment, please," Bernie said, looking to The Black Rider with a, ‘don't-you-dare-fuck-with-me,’ expression. "I lost my only family that day. I never knew my parents, so I don't know if I even have any siblings out there. They were my brothers. They were my sisters. Those people were the only family I ever knew. Do you get that? I’m not sure you do." Bernie felt himself staring at The Black Rider in a way so cold that it might cause the river to freeze over.
The Black Rider smirked, putting his hands up in acquiescence.
Something about Bernie's statement seemed to delight the grisly old man. His face reminded Bernie of a poorly oiled catcher's mitt, craggy and dry, looking like a chunk of flesh might fall off it from a stiff wind.
"I hear you knocking," said The Black Rider. "All I’m saying is I know that our job's gonna get tricky as shit once that sun goes down."
Looking up at the looming clouds, Bernie said, "I don't think we're going to see any sun today. Maybe tomorrow, if we’re lucky."
"If we're still alive," said The Black Rider, chuckling and rubbing his stubbly chin. "Or maybe I should say if you’re still alive."
Bernie felt a steady stillness inside him in this moment, but he knew it would not continue. "You better be worth it," Bernie said, unwilling to continue bantering with the repulsive man.
"Every penny, kid. I'm worth every red penny, but don’t forget that I’m doing this pro banno."
“Pro bono,” Bernie corrected him for the second time.
The Black Rider grinned, exposing his uncared for teeth, and for the first time since he'd met the man, Bernie finally believed him.
Snakehead is available from Amazon here
Takaashigani Page 17