tentatively pulled out of the parking lot checking all directions for traffic. The roads were dead. She was the lone car driving into town tonight. A stirring of movement on a side street caught her attention. She accelerated down the road. A raccoon scampered free of the brush. Hily swerved barely missing it, but keeping her foot gas the whole time. She sped away from the office toward the town. A soft glow of lights caught her eye as she approached the main road. Stuffy’s Bar and Grill, a popular local establishment per the sign. I need a drink, she thought. She eased off the gas and onto the brake to slowly turn into the parking lot. She parked in the first spot she found. Grabbing her purse and keys she hustled into Stuffy’s.
Upon entering Stuffy’s she was immediately assaulted by a haze of smoke and unwanted scents. She struggled through, more than once on the trip from door to stool her footsteps crunched. She coughed as she took a seat up at the bar. From her position of safety, up on a stool, she took a moment to glance down. She mused for a moment, the floor was littered with pretzels, a few stray peanut shells and…Nope just that pretzels and peanuts. Do not look down again. Looking straight ahead her obvious discomfort attracted the bartender’s attention.
“What can I do ya fo’?”
“One finger of Brandy and make it sour,” she quickly ordered. “Do you have a menu?”
“Nah, no menus. We serve burgers and pretzels.”
“A veggie burger, perhaps?” Hily asked hoping for the best.
“Hahahaha,” he laughed hard spilling the first drink. Pouring it again he responded, “Tootsie, this ain’t that kinda joint.” He slid the drink to her, “So what’ll it be?”
In one fluid motion Hily caught the glass and polished off the drink. “I’ ll have another of those but make it a double. And a cheese burger, hold the meat.”
This raised a smirk from the bartender “Whateva’.” He poured round 2 and sauntered off to the kitchen. Hily took this moment to enjoy her drink and new found freedom. Never in her life had she ever been inside a bar quite like this one. Fear will make you do some crazy things, she mused.
Taking in the ambiance of the establishment, she is surprised by what she saw. The row of Harleys out front made her believe the bar to be full of burly bikers, but that is only a fraction of the patrons. Intermingled with the bikers are middle-aged business men. The latter’s Harleys only seeing the light of day on the weekend. The room was cluttered with a few tables and chairs, a pair of pool tables and a jukebox. The smoke hung in the air obscuring the light, making it difficult to make out details. Hily kept her personal promise not to look down.
“Burger up,” the call came from behind the bar.
The burger is delivered in true short order fashion, open faced and garnished with artery clogging fries. The fries left a grease trail as they slid effortlessly from the edge of the plate. Hily disregarded the fries heading straight for the “burger”. The cheesy bun is wet to the touch with grease. She vomited a little in her mouth. “Can I get some peanuts?”
“We got pretzels, but no peanuts.”
“Oh,” Hily finished her drink, laid twenty dollars on the bar and left. Her stomach growled loud enough to draw the attention of the wall of meat one stool over. A flash of a smile told her he is open to conversation. His upper arm adorned with a heart inside which the word ‘Mom’ was written, revealed to her everything would be okay. “Would you please escort me to my car? I am afraid of…” she trailed off.
“Us or the business men,” he said with a smile. “Of course I will. What kind of gentleman would I be to let you go alone? Why none at all,” he pontificated in a mock English accent. They shared a laugh. “Name’s Max,” he stated, without the accent, offering her an elbow.
“Hily,” she said taking his elbow as they strolled through the low hanging cloud of smoke across the floor of pretzels and “peanuts”. Max walked Hily to her car without incident. Hily glanced in the rear driver side window and was relieved that the seat was empty. “Thank you.”
“Not at all my lady,” Max fell back into his English accent as he turned. “Hey you! Away from my bike!” He shouted with enough venom that the bike admirer stammered something and ran back to his car pausing only for a moment to grab something from the ground. The admirer is gone just as fast as he appeared.
Hily got in her car, laughing at the oxymoron of Max, the English biker. She started the car and left the parking lot. Not too far up the road her stomach growled once more, forcing to her search the glove box for a snack. Nothing. Her purse, nothing. She reached into the backseat in hopes of saltines or even a mint and instead finds a leg. A man rose in the backseat.
She screamed. Instinctively she slammed on the brakes. Hily went for the buckle, as his hands found her throat. She can see him in the rearview, two piercing green eyes in a black mask. His grip tightened, she beat his gloved hands. Her foot slipped from the brake and hit the gas. The assailant was thrown back just enough to loosen his grip. She caught a breath. Leaning forward, her hands shot back to the buckle. She slammed on the brake jarring him forward.
Click! She is unbuckled. A knife appeared. Hily’s panic mounted.
Hily lunged toward the door it popped open on the first attempt. The assailant fought for a grip, Hily struggled for life. He caught her ankle as she lunged out the door. She kicked. He slashed. Hily’s foot caught him in the face and she rolled out the door. She tumbled from certain death only to be greeted by the headlights of oncoming traffic.
The assailant eased the rear passenger door open and slid out silently. Gently closing the door he turned and vanished into woods.
If you liked that,
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Addicted and
Dragonwood
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