by Steph Post
Hiram had a faraway look in his eyes, so Ramey tried to snap him back to attention.
“So, this new guy, you said his name was Jack O’ Lantern, he ain’t as tough as Oren was?”
Hiram scratched the side of his nose with a long, brittle fingernail.
“Nah. I think he done his best to fill Oren’s shoes once Oren met his maker, but he just don’t got that ruthless spirit, I don’t think. I only knew him when he was younger, mind you, for he became president, but that’s just my opinion.”
“You know anything about the Scorpions now?”
“I heard some rumors for I moved out here. Tried to distance myself from that world once I realized I had to start preparing for the great war headed our way. But I remember somebody saying something about the Scorpions’ numbers being down. Back in the day, they were like any other club, riding high and tight, four abreast, ten deep, tearing down the highway. But last I heard they were half that. Barely an enterprise no more. With that kind of manpower they probably just sell drugs to junkie teenagers to make enough money to buy beer. Oren could get you any gun you wanted in a week’s time, a whole shipment without even blinking an eye. Jack can probably get you a gram of crystal in about the same time. Pathetic, if you ask me, what kids are into these days.”
Ramey shifted on the couch next to Judah and met his eyes, questioning. Judah cleared his throat.
“You think the clubhouse is still in the same location as before?”
“Don’t see why they woulda changed it. It was in the perfect spot, the only place at the end of this long drive off Highway 225. Lightning Strike Road, I think. See what I mean about a flare for the dramatic? They loved it. But you couldn’t even see the clubhouse from the highway and it was easy to control access to. I never actually been out there, but the Scorpions were always bragging about it like they cleared the road themselves or something.”
Judah nodded and rubbed his hands up and down the thighs of his jeans. He was anxious to get the hell out of the creepy trailer, anxious to get started on the next step of the plan.
“Anything else you think we should know?”
Hiram furrowed his brows.
“No. Now, I don’t know what you two got planned, and honestly, I don’t want to know and I don’t care. I got enough to worry bout trying to make sure I survive what’s coming. Anybody asks on either of our ends and this conversation ain’t never happened.”
Judah stood up.
“Fair enough.”
Hiram stood as well and parted his lips in an ugly smile.
“But if you’re planning on doing anything like what I think you might, I gotta ask if you’re packing enough heat.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning if you got the cash, I got a storage shed out back that would put the National Guard’s armory to shame.”
Ramey stood up next to Judah and put her arm around his waist. Judah couldn’t read the expression on her face, but her next words gave him a strange thrill.
“All right, Hiram. Let’s see what you got.”
Jack O’ Lantern banged the gavel down on the long plastic table. Back in Oren’s day, the table for church was a massive slab of oak that reportedly had been hewn and carved by Oren’s great-grandfather back when Bradford County was just being settled. It had been a beautiful piece, lacquered to a high shine and nearly indestructible. When Oren had died, his wife had been forced to sell the table to pay off his creditors who had begun firing shots into her kitchen at night. The table was sold, the harassment eventually stopped, but Jack never forgave his Aunt Belinda for selling off the most enduring piece of the Scorpions’ history. Now they were left with dwindling numbers and a table that could be folded up and jammed behind a couch.
Jack slammed the wooden gavel down once more and the flimsy table wobbled. It got everyone’s attention, though, and the men sitting before Jack turned away from their side conversations and focused on him. Because their numbers were so small and their decisions so few, church had become a rare occurrence. Usually Jack O’ Lantern only conferred with Slim Jim, on occasion with Legs or Long John, and then told everyone else what to do. But Jack knew that the situation with the Cannons was different. Something had to be done and he needed everyone on board.
Jack O’ Lantern surveyed the table. The men sat in their metal folding chairs and waited for Jack to speak. Slim Jim was at his left, hands flat out on the table, the puckered scars across his knuckles standing out pink against his taunt, sallow skin. Legs and Tiny sat opposite him, both fidgeting with lit cigarettes, and Long John occupied the seat to Jack’s right. Long John sat stolidly on his chair, his prosthetic leg straight out in front of him and his hands resting on his thick thighs. Toadie and Ratface weren’t allowed to sit at the table, but they were in the room, leaning up against the wall with arms crossed in posed nonchalance. Jack O’ Lantern rested the gavel in front of the large glass ashtray in the middle of the table and grunted.
“This everyone?”
A sarcastic smile came to Slim Jim’s face.
“Yep.”
“What about Grundy and Junior?”
“Still out in Phoenix, checking on their cousin in rehab. I tried calling em but I can’t get nothing.”
Jack frowned.
“And Kippy?”
Slim Jim shook his head.
“Still in the hospital with that gallbladder infection. Don’t know when they’ll set him free. His old lady wouldn’t even let me in the room to talk to him. Started raising hell, squealing like a stuck pig, so I left it alone. You want me to try again?”
“Don’t bother. His organs picked a helluva time to go out, but if they won’t let him outta the hospital then he ain’t no use to us right now.”
Jack O’ Lantern looked into the faces of his men. Long John couldn’t fight and after being shot, Tiny was pretty much useless. Toadie and Ratface weren’t much more than testosterone-soaked teenagers looking to either fight or screw anything within barking distance. At least he had Legs and Slim Jim. Jack rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand and then coughed. It was time to get to business.
“All right, boys. The Cannons. Let’s go over what we got.”
Legs stubbed out his cigarette.
“They run Silas. No one’s willing to give em up. They must have everyone scared. I even tried talking to some folks on the street. Housewife types. They acted like they ain’t never even heard the name Cannon. Looked at me like I had three heads for asking.”
Jack O’ Lantern nodded.
“Okay. What else? Slim, anything?”
“I told you bout the scrap yard. I know that’s where they gotta run from, but the place’s been locked up since yesterday morning. I got my cousin watching, but I don’t think they’re gonna show.”
Slim Jim sparked his lighter.
“And we can’t figure out where they’re staying. Found the older son’s trailer, but no one in it.”
“We got names for these people yet? Any kinda info?”
Slim nodded, his raw Adam’s apple bulging as he spoke.
“We know Sherwood. My cousin said he’s been around. Got a reputation for being a real asshole. Professional. Unforgiving type.”
“Fantastic.”
“And the older son’s name is Levi. He’s even bigger asshole. Likes to pick fights, bust heads just to see em bleed. He’s got a wife and kid, but he must’ve moved em somewhere.”
Jack O’ Lantern frowned.
“And the kid. But he don’t matter no more. Who’s the other guy?”
“Sherwood’s got another son. Judah. My cousin thought he was in prison, but maybe he just got out or something. Don’t know nothing on where he’s at, though.”
Jack sat in silence for a moment while the rest of the Scorpions watched his face, waiting. Finally, he ran his hand through his curling orange hair and then slammed his fist down on the table.
“This place is on lockdown. Nobody gets in and nobody leaves, less I know about
it. Long John, how’s that new batch of crystal going?”
Long John cleared his throat.
“It’s a waste if I can’t get back out there to finish it.”
“Fine. We need that score. Head back out to the trailer, but stay there. Don’t go driving around and don’t go home. That’s the same for everybody. The Cannons are planning something. They gotta want revenge for that kid. They’re gonna come after us sometime and we need to be ready. As soon as they show themselves, we gotta be ready to strike so we can get our money back.”
Legs leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. It wobbled and shifted against the added weight.
“So we’re just gonna sit here and wait for them to invite themselves to dinner? They got our money. We need to be out there, tracking em down.”
Jack shook his head.
“No. This guy Sherwood’s gotta be smarter than that. That’s what he’s expecting us to do. Be spread out and vulnerable. He’s gonna hit us here soon. We mighta killed his son for Christ’s sake. He’s gotta come after us. We stay here, we don’t show our numbers and we draw him to us.”
Jack O’ Lantern eyed the men around him.
“Unless someone else has a better plan?”
No one spoke. Legs looked as if he were about to, but then stared down at the table instead.
“All right. Long John, get outta here. And remember what I said; don’t leave the trailer til you hear from one of us. Tiny, take Ratface and Toadie and load up on grub. Legs, get out to Wal-Mart, you’re in charge of ammo. Slim, you’re with me. I’m locking the gates in an hour, so everybody better be back by then. Questions?”
Slim Jim had a dark look on his face, but he kept his mouth shut. Jack O’ Lantern waited through a moment of silence and then pounded the gavel on the table.
“All right. Let’s move.”
THE AIR conditioner in Ramey’s Cutlass had been broken since last summer. Even with all four windows rolled down, it was sweltering inside the car. The sun seemed to radiate off the black vinyl interior and dash, intensifying the stifling heat. They were driving down Highway 18, taking the back way up to Kentsville, and Judah had cautioned Ramey not to exceed the 35 mile an hour speed limit. The last thing they needed was to be pulled over by the police on their way to stake out the Scorpions’ clubhouse. Consequently, however, there wasn’t much of a breeze.
Judah leaned back in the passenger seat and laced his fingers behind his head. He loved watching Ramey drive. Considering the circumstances of the day, her grip on the wheel was surprisingly relaxed. She hung her right wrist over the steering wheel and leaned her left elbow out the window. Her hair was swirling about her bare shoulders and collarbone in wispy tendrils. She was wearing sunglasses against the afternoon glare and though she wasn’t exactly smiling, her lips had the trace of an ease that did not often favor her. She was lost in the rhythmic lull of stretching asphalt and passing trees and for a moment Judah thought to himself that maybe this could work. They could make a go of it; they could really have a chance. Ramey turned to him, a frown creasing her forehead and tightening her lips, and the moment was forgotten.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
Judah reached into the plastic cup holder between them for his pack of cigarettes. He fitted one between his lips before mumbling.
“No.”
Ramey pushed in the cigarette lighter for him.
“I just want to make sure I got this right. You want me to drop you off a mile north of Lightning Strike Road and just wait for you to call me while you’re trekking through the woods, getting to within spying distance of their clubhouse and watching them to see what they’re all about.”
The cigarette lighter popped and Judah touched the orange coil to his cigarette.
“That’s pretty much it.”
Ramey snatched the cigarette from Judah’s fingers and brought it to her lips. He gave her a sour face and then fumbled with the pack for another one.
“And you don’t think that’s the least bit risky?”
Judah squinted against his cigarette as he lit it. He inhaled deeply and blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth.
“Of course it’s risky.”
Ramey turned to him, her eyes going back and forth between Judah and the road.
“I don’t like the idea of you going out there alone. What if they see you? What if something happens and they get ahold of you? I’d have no way of knowing. You’d be screwed.”
“Do you remember our senior prom?”
Ramey turned her attention back to the road and pressed both palms against the steering wheel.
“Don’t change the subject.”
Judah looked out the open passenger window at the scrub pines and turkey oaks drifting by.
“No, I’m serious. Just listen. Do you remember?”
Ramey took another drag of her cigarette, holding the smoke inside her lungs as long as she could. She exhaled, blowing a stream toward the windshield.
“I remember going stag and you going with that tramp Marcy McLean.”
“You coulda gone with any guy in the whole school.”
“I didn’t want any guy in the whole school.”
Judah slapped his thigh.
“Man, you were proud. And stubborn, my God. I think you went by yourself just so you could break as many hearts as possible.”
Ramey pursed her lips.
“I don’t think I was breaking many hearts in that puke green number I was wearing. Aubrey picked it out for me. She read in some magazine that a green dress would set off my hair. She called the color chartreuse. I called it a pale shade of baby vomit.”
“I think you looked good in it.”
Ramey cracked a wry smile.
“You say that now.”
Judah grinned.
“And I thought you looked even better with one sleeve torn off your dress and a cut above your eye.”
Judah knew the scar was still visible, torn into her skin by Marcy’s cubic zirconia ring. The one he’d bought for her at Penny’s.
“She came out a lot worse.”
“I remember.”
Ramey threw her half smoked cigarette out the window and then pulled her hair back with one hand.
“And she deserved it. Dumb whore. Made out with that loser John Green right in the middle of the dance floor. That guy was like a twenty-two year old senior or something. And you standing right there, next to the spiked punch bowl.”
Judah smiled.
“I think I was too drunk to even know I was still at the prom.”
“Well, there was no way I was gonna let her get away with it. She’s lucky I didn’t permanently disfigure her face.”
Judah reached over and rested his hand on her hip. He hooked his finger through the belt loop of her jeans and tugged.
“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You always had my back. You were always willing to risk everything for me. Even at the expense of that chartreuse dress.”
Ramey reached down and squeezed Judah’s hand. Her mouth was set in a fierce line.
“Always.”
“So that’s what I need you to do.”
Judah leaned over and tucked a wafting strand of hair behind Ramey’s ear.
“Trusting me to take care of myself is a risk. Letting me do what I need to do is a risk. But that’s the way it’s gotta be. And that’s the risk I need you to take.”
Judah leaned back against the passenger side door and watched Ramey’s lips. Just as he knew she would, she bit the bottom one, held the edge of it between her teeth for a moment and then set her jaw in a hard line.
“I know.”
Judah turned in his seat slightly so that he was facing the road again.
“Whatever happened to Marcy anyway?”
A slight grin played at the corners of Ramey’s mouth.
“She went through three husbands, got as big as a house and is addicted to video poker.”
Judah turned h
is gaze back to the windshield.
“Well. I guess I dodged a bullet with that one.”
Three crows screamed in indignation as they sliced through the ashen sky above. A dull wash of clouds had rolled in, shrouding the sun, but offering no relief from the smothering heat. Jack O’ Lantern shrugged his shoulders, trying to create some air flow underneath his cut. The worn leather vest was sticking to his broad back and making him itch between his shoulder blades. He pulled a bandanna out of his back jeans’ pocket and mopped his face with the damp rag before taking one last look around the gravel lot. There was no way in except through the sliding chain link gate and he had recently strung razor wire along the top of the nine foot fence after a pack of local teenagers had climbed over and tried to break into the clubhouse. They were most likely just looking for beer and a place to vandalize, but the incident had left Jack feeling vulnerable. Oren would never have let something like that happen.
Jack O’ Lantern heard footsteps crunching in the gravel behind him, but didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes on the long, white road beyond the gate and waited for Slim Jim.
“Everything secure?”
Slim Jim put his hands on his hips and glanced around the lot.
“Fences are good. Camera three is down again, but there’s nothing we can do bout it right now. I bet a damn squirrel chewed through the wires again.”
Jack O’ Lantern grimaced.
“Perfect.”
Slim Jim twisted around and looked at the clubhouse.
“The motion sensor lights are still working, though. And we’ll have someone out on watch. Don’t break a sweat on it.”
Jack O’ Lantern grunted and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“You call my old lady and tell her what was what?”
Slim Jim squatted down on one knee in the gravel.
“Yeah, I told her. Cynthia didn’t seem too thrilled, though. Something about your kid’s soccer game tonight.”
“Shit.”
Slim Jim picked up a piece of scuffed quartz and twisted it between his fingers.
“Shelia called again, too.”
Jack groaned.