“So, this dude comes here, the same time every day, and sells dope?”
“Yep.”
Skylar nodded in agreement.
“And he’s selling it to … older people, younger people, the same people?”
“Anybody,” Shooter said.
“Everybody,” Skylar confirmed, putting his fedora back on and checking his face in the mirror. Shooter flipped it off.
“Dan, it’s high-schoolers, college kids, bankers, lawyers, doctors, hippies—some nice looking hippies—you know, with the beads and cotton dresses. Man, this hippie chick was built like a brick shitter. I mean, usually they’re scrawny and delicate, in a dirty kinda way, but this one was like—WOW!”
Skylar nodded, and then punched his brother in the shoulder.
“Ow! Jerk off! Don’t make me climb over there.”
Dan said, “Really Shooter, I can understand you can spot a hippie, but bankers and lawyers? How can you tell?”
Shooter was poking his chest.
“I can tell, Dan. I have that ability, have ever since I was a kid. It’s like a super power. Ain’t that right, Skylar?”
“It’s true,” Skylar said, gulping his beer and letting out a belch.
Dan looked at Skylar.
“Is that so? So Skylar, do you have a super power, too?”
The man nodded.
“And what might that be?”
Shooter held his nose and said, “Don’t do it Skylar … Please!”
“Do what?” Dan said, looking around.
“Oh my …”
An odor so foul drifted into his nasal passage and looped down his esophagus into his stomach that nausea followed, and tears began to form in his eyes.
Skylar had a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Pretty powerful, huh?”
The Buick’s doors opened as Dan and Shooter dove from the car, hacking and coughing. Dan rolled up to one knee, gasping for air as Shooter’s frantic hands were trying to shove gulps of air in his mouth.
“That’s disgusting! You’re gonna pay to have my interior detailed, Skylar. Man, get a minty colonoscopy or something. You aren’t natural; you’re foul!” Dan said, pulling his shirt over his nose.
Shooter was on his feet yelling at his brother.
“Yeah, shove a giant peppermint stick up your butt. That’s gross. All my life Dan, all my life, and let me tell you, you never get used it. Never!”
Skylar chuckled as he finished off his beer.
“That’s what cheesy burritos with jalapeños will do for you.”
The three of them sat on a picnic table inside a wooden shelter staring across the road at another park shelter’s parking lot. Dan was in the middle, watching through some binoculars. There was Jeff, the punk from Walmart, unfolding a wad of bills from his pocket. The young man appeared to be wearing the exact same clothes from before: designer jeans, gothic T-shirt, heavy leather boots , and a cock-eyed ball cap. There were two boys and one girl, in nice clothes, driving a beat-up white European sedan. High schoolers. Probably got a party going on somewhere. He wasn’t worried about them, though; it was Jeff that bothered him. His brows twitched up and down, and his blood started to burn as the man handed over a Ziploc bag of weed.
“That’s him, right?” Shooter said.
“Yep, that’s the one alright. Good job.”
“So, now what, Dan? We gonna give him a talking to?” Shooter said, as Skylar punched his hand into his fist.
“Yep, but we better be careful. He could be armed. Just remember your positions. If he makes any sudden moves, don’t hesitate to shoot. I don’t think he’s packing anything, though. If he is, it’s in the car.”
He could hear the sound of playful comments coming from the teenagers as they all packed into the two-door sedan. Brats. Jeff, the welfare dealer, slumped against his mini-van, licking his fingers as he counted the cash. The man nodded as the foreign coupe sped away.
“Let’s go before he hits the road,” Dan said.
Dan led as the three of them jogged over, taking the young man totally by surprise. Jeff tried to slip into his van, but Dan’s voice took control.
“Hey man! Hey! We’re all out of gas. You think you can give us a lift?”
“Call someone that cares; I got places to go!” Jeff sneered, reaching to close his door.
“How about I call 9-1-1?” Dan said. When Jeff paused, Dan grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him from the van.
“Hey, what the hell—”
“GET ON THE GROUND!” Dan yelled. “PARK POLICE!”
“You ain’t no—”
Dan drove his hand into the man’s lower back and shoved him into the van. He didn’t know what he was doing, though. Something inside of him took over.
Skylar screamed into Jeff’s ear, “Shut up, Asshole, or I’ll take the nightstick to ya!”
“You’re no cop, either! What is this?”
Dan jammed his knee in the man’s back. The dude wasn’t very strong; even when he tried to resist he seemed unnaturally weak.
“So you’re the one dealing drugs in my park, I see. Well guess what, we have it all on film. Every bit! We’ve been watching you for weeks now, and now, you’re going to jail.”
“You ain’t got nothing. You think I’m stupid or something? I’ve seen all of your faces, and I’ve got a boss, and once I tell him you’re messing with me, he’s gonna mess you up.”
Dan caught Shooter and Skylar’s uncertain looks. He hadn’t really thought things through. He just wanted to shake the man down, but it would take more than that. Inside his mind, something was telling him to walk away, but Jeff’s smart-ass tone wouldn’t let him. He needed to straighten this guy out.
He grabbed the man’s hand and drove his thumbnail into the pressure point on the man’s thumb. It was something he'd learned from his uncle.
Jeff let out an awful scream and began to whimper like a girl.
“Oh, please don’t do that again. What do you want with me?”
He couldn’t believe it worked so well. Dan and the brothers looked at each other, and Skylar shrugged. What did Dan want, though?
“Give me all of your food stamps, your EBT Card, and all of your money.”
“No—OWWWW! Oh please don’t do that again!”
“All of it. And you're gonna leave here and get a job.”
“Oh no I’m not. OW!”
“Yes you are!”
“No, I’m not,” the man said, with tears streaming from his eyes. “I don’t want to go to work. I’ll go to jail first! And you’ll be going with me. You can’t rob me. I’ve got rights. It’s a federal crime to sell welfare that ain’t yours. OWWW!”
“It is mine! And I’m gonna give it to someone that needs it, not some lazy ass turd that doesn’t want to work for nothing.”
“I ain’t gonna work! Never!” The man screamed in his face. Dan was certain the man would die before he went to work.
BZZZZZZIT!!
Jeff’s eyes almost popped out of his head as he pitched forward and began to sag into Dan’s arms. Dan was holding a man who felt like a corpse all of a sudden. He laid Jeff down and looked at Skylar, whose little face showed as much shock as he felt. They both then looked at Shooter, who was holding a stun gun in his hand.
“I couldn’t take it any more, Dan! I had to shut him up!” Shooter said, with the stun gun in his quivering hand. “He’s just an idiot!”
Jeff was a pile of flesh on the ground, and by the smell of things he had just urinated himself.
“Did he pee himself?” Shooter cried, eyes wide in excitement. “Man, I’ve never used this thing before. It’s pretty powerful. I’m like the super stunner.”
Skylar added, “It smells like he did more than pee.”
“Man, I thought that was you! Oh no! What do we do, Dan?”
Dan felt something unnatural in the air, and Jeff’s body looked awf
ully stiff.
“He’s dead,” Skylar said. “They always crap themselves when they die.”
“He can’t be dead; I’ll check his pulse,” Shooter said, grabbing the man’s wrist.
Dan was frozen, his face gawping. He whispered, “This can’t be happening.”
“I can’t get a pulse, Dan! He’s dead, Dan! We killed him!” Shooter shouted.
“WE! You killed him with that stunner. Why’d you stun him for?”
“Ah no, we’re in this together. I’m not taking the rap on this one. We have a pact!”
“What pact?” Dan said.
He started to pace over the gravel, biting his nails down to the skin.
Skylar said, “It’s self-defense,” as he placed a large knife in Jeff’s limp hand.
“Where’d you get that thing, from Rambo? Man, it looks like a sword,” Shooter said. “Hey, let’s chop him up and toss him in the woods. That knife has a saw on it.”
Dan’s world was exploding.
“Are you crazy!? Skylar, get your knife! We’re getting the hell out of here!”
“Great idea!” Shooter said as Skylar took back his knife. Shooter then began checking the man’s pockets while holding his own nose.
“Shooter, what are you doing?” Dan said, crossing the street.
“I’m getting his welfare stuff.”
“What? No! Let’s go!”
That’s when the State Park Policeman rolled up, blue lights flashing. Dan froze, but Shooter and Skylar dashed for the woods.
CHAPTER 21
Dan was in jail. It was a cold and unfriendly environment. He had never felt so distraught. His faced was pressed into the bars of the county lock-up. His eyes were swollen; he was hungry, and there was a nauseating smell he couldn’t avoid. He stepped back, ran the back of his hand across his brow, looked around the vacant cell, and noticed a blood stain on the floor. There were blood stain droplets, too. His eyes began to flit around. He never really gave much thought about what it was like to be incarcerated. The movies and television shows didn’t do it much justice.
He looked at the chewed-up edges of his nails and let out a long sigh. How long would his confinement last? When would he eat again? He had been punished before, many times, but until now he had never felt like he was trapped. The worst he ever remembered was middle school. One time he had sat in the principal’s office for over an hour before the big, black, balding man arrived. An hour was like an eternity back then, but actually being in jail was ten times worse.
He sat down, knees bouncing up and down. He could hear the voices of his soon-to-be-ex-wife and parents telling him over and again, ‘You should have taken your pills!’ He could see his brother, Cooper's, beet-red face sneering and nodding in agreement. Worst of all, he was beginning to agree with them. He wouldn’t be in jail if he had taken his pills. He would have done something else, anything else, and not had a care about anyone else’s life.
What’s wrong with me? All I try to do is set people straight. I just want things to be like they used to be. Why did everything have to change?
Why do I have to change?
He thought about his son, Clyde. What would happen to Clyde without him there? He didn’t want to go a day without his son. He didn’t want to miss out on seeing his boy growing up. Things began to sink in. The stakes were too high. The things he did, the way he acted … had consequences. He buried his hands in his face. Why couldn’t he let things go, like everyone else? Why couldn’t he just let things be, or slide?
“Hey, Jerk-off,” a voice came for the other cell. “Hey, what’s the matter, ain’t you ever been to jail?”
Dan looked up to face the sound of the antagonist. His muscles knotted between his shoulder blades.
“You gonna cry, Pretty Boy? Boo-hoo,” the man added, rubbing his fists in his eyes.
Dan was torn at the sight of his fellow prisoner. There had been a time, hours ago, when he would have done anything to see the living face of this young man, Jeff, but now he felt little relief that the man that Shooter had stunned still lived. The odds still remained in favor of the decline of American society. Dan stood up, facing Jeff.
“I might be crying, but at least I didn’t crap my pants.”
Jeff’s paunchy face twisted behind his droopy face.
“You and that midget hit me with that electric gun is all. You won’t be gettin’ away with that, either. Payback is gonna come. You’re lucky these bars are between us, or else your face would be adding more blood to the floor.”
“Is that so? Because I think that is well beyond your capabilities,” Dan replied, stepping right up to the bars. Jeff stepped back and avoided his stare. Dan wanted to lecture the young man, talk some sense into him, but what good would it do? What good would any of it do? What good had anything he had ever done, do? He sat back down and pondered his purpose.
Things could have been worse. Jeff could be dead, and Shooter in jail for murder with Skylar and himself as accessories. Instead, Jeff revived just as the park police officer arrived. The fool screamed assault, and the stun gun was still on the ground. Skylar and Shooter were long gone, and Dan explained to the officer that it was a couple of kids that ran off. Jeff tried to rebut, but his head hurt too much, and he could barely talk. The park police officer wasn’t the most adept, though. By the time the county sheriff had arrived, he had convinced that officer of another story. Something believable, so he had to lie.
Dan had confessed that he went to buy weed from Jeff, but Jeff had tried to gouge him on the price, so they got into an argument, so Dan pulled out his stun gun and let him have it. They all bought it. Jeff wasn’t the most credible of characters. The county magistrate, stern and authoritative, wasn’t the most amiable, though. Dan figured to get released on his own recognizance, but bail was set. It was higher than he expected, but manageable. He made one phone call, hours ago, to Shooter and Skylar. It was up to them to get the money, something they both easily parted with. He made it clear not to contact anyone from his family, and he prayed that the incident didn’t make the papers. Lucky for him, it was a decent-sized city, and minor crimes didn’t always make the main paper's print. There were other sources that worried him, though. At this point, he was just happy he was only charged with a misdemeanor.
A door opened down the hall, and the sound of footsteps was coming his way. In the adjacent cell, Jeff’s saggy face was pressed up to the bars. The officer was a large man, old and gray, his years of walking the beat long behind him. He spoke in a Smart Alec tone.
“Well, someone just posted bail for one of you boys. But the other, well, he’s gonna be here a while longer. Seems like one of you has been forgotten all about …heh heh,” he laughed as he hitched his thumbs behind his belt.
Dan looked at Jeff and Jeff at him. He had an uncomfortable realization that they had something in common. The officer walked over to Jeff’s door and smiled. Then the policeman rattled the keys in front of him. The cop then said, “You ready to go home, Son?”
Jeff looked at Dan with a gloating smile. Dan felt his world beginning to end. No one was coming, at least for a while. He was stuck here, all over that man, a dope dealer, who was going to be set free.
Jeff said, “You bet. I can’t wait to smell the fresh air.”
The cop looked at Dan and said, “Well, it’s gonna be a little while longer, Fella, cause you are staying right where you are. Your baby momma called and said that her momma wasn’t gonna post any bail.”
“Dammit! I hate that woman!” Jeff said, throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old.
Wow! Wow!
Dan was outside of his cell the moment the bars swung open. The officer was chuckling as he strutted down the hall and through the door. Dan was right on his heels. He made a couple of quick turns in the courthouse annex, and the first person he saw was his Uncle Lou, talking to the magistrate. He cou
ldn’t hear what they were saying, but the judge glared at him, like he was just another idiot like the rest. Then the judge shook his uncle’s hand, smiled, and strode off. Uncle Lou was quiet as the officer walked them through the paperwork. He tried to pay attention to what he was doing, but before he knew it the smirking officer said he was done, and he and his uncle were back on the sidewalk.
“Thanks, Uncle Lou! I mean, really, thanks a lot. I’ll pay you back every penny.”
Lou was silent as they walked. Dan didn’t have any idea where they were going. It was pitch black, well past midnight, but he didn’t know for sure.
“A … Does anyone else know?”
Uncle Lou stopped and looked at him. His stern expression and glowering eyes made Dan nervous. His uncle spoke.
“Do you really think I’d tell those idiots anything? They’d have you locked up into a mental hospital. Geez Dan, of all the stupid things. Hijacking a drug dealer? Couldn’t you have just slashed his tires or called the police? What did you think you were going to accomplish? What did I tell you about not getting into trouble in this city? You’re lucky, lucky as hell. The next time you do something so stupid, you better make sure your two little friends can foot the bill, because I won’t.”
Dan was stunned. Not because he felt like he didn’t deserve it, but because he had never seen his uncle so mad before.
“I’ll pay you back. I’m sorry. I’ll make it right.”
His uncle huffed and said, “Dan, you can’t make everything right. People don’t want to be right. You can’t fix them.” Lou poked him in the chest. “You can … fix yourself.”
Dan was stunned, silent, and sagging lower than a snake's belly.
His uncle had a look in his eye like he had just said something he was ashamed of saying. “Dan, you have a family. You have to do what’s best for them, even if it means not being yourself.” Uncle Lou turned his back and started walking away.
“Aren't you taking me home?”
“You got money in your wallet; catch a cab. I need to get home and crawl back in bed. Oh, and I wish I could have been there to see that bastard crap himself. Now, stay away from Skylar and Shooter for a while.”