* * *
The wind picked up during my walk and the cold night air bit at my face. It stung. It felt good. The country air and peaceful surroundings gave way to the sound of vehicles traveling on I-95. Families on vacation for spring break, business people driving overnight for their morning meetings, and truckers making the long haul from Florida to New York then back again. I filtered the sound of the traffic in my mind and allowed my brain to distort it. It reverberated through the air like waves at the beach. That calm feeling washed over me again. I laughed at myself for being able to relax with everything that had occurred in the last few days and the probable consequences hanging over me.
I followed the winding road through a stretch of woods. A tall bright signpost appeared front and center as I stepped past the wooded stretch. Two cars were parked next to gas pumps. A middle-aged man walked a golden retriever in the patch of grass between the gas station’s parking lot and a closed diner.
I crossed the street and stopped in front of the store entrance to think for a minute, using the time to acclimate myself to the store’s surroundings.
The man with the golden retriever returned to his mini-van and opened the back door. The dog jumped in the back seat, cuddling up to a little girl. The man nodded at me and jogged to the driver’s side of the car. A minute later the car turned left out of the parking lot and turned right onto the interstate on-ramp, disappearing from site.
I opened the door to the store, a single chime greeting me as I walked through the open doorway.
“Hello,” a cheerful young woman said from behind her register. She was dressed in black pants, a white button up shirt, and wore a red and white checkered vest. A red tag had the name Michelle printed on it in white lettering with a black outline. She wore her dark hair in a ponytail and wore too much make-up, perhaps to cover the ever present dark circles under her eyes and the premature lines on her face from a lifetime of working odd shifts at places like this. Or maybe places even worse.
I nodded and looked away.
“Looking for anything specific?”
“No. I’ll just be a few minutes.”
She put her hands on the counter, slumped over and frowned, all the while nodding her head. “Okies. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
She must live for moments when someone would come into the store in the middle of the night and carry on a conversation with her.
I grabbed a hand basket and wove my way up and down the aisles, grabbing various items as I went. I had no idea what I wanted. Just needed to pass the time and clear my head. Jessie had thrown me for a loop at the motel. Now wasn’t the time for me to think about relationships and life after the military. And not just because of the current predicament I found myself in. It went beyond that. The life I led, and the life I foresaw myself leading for some time to come, left no room for love and relationships. Those things were liabilities in my world, not assets.
The basket grew heavy. I looked down and saw I had filled it to the top. That was my cue that I’d grabbed enough off the stocked shelves. I walked to the counter and placed the basket on it.
“Anything else?”
I looked around at the display to the side and shook my head. “No, this’ll be all.”
She babbled on, but her words didn’t register in my head. I stared out the window at a group of four men cutting through the parking lot to the store. A couple of them yelled at an elderly man filling his car with gas. The old man cut it short, hung the nozzle up at the pump and got in his car, driving off in a hurry. The men laughed and slapped hands and pointed at the store.
“—and so I’m only doing this until I have enough saved to go back to college and then I’ll—”
“You know those men?” I gestured with my head toward the window.
Michelle bit her lip and nodded.
“Troublemakers?”
“One of them’s my ex,” she said. “And he’s not a nice guy. Ex-con.”
“What’d he do?”
She looked up from her scanner and the item in her hand. Her eyes watered over. “Tried to kill me.” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “You should go. Just take the stuff and go. Those guys are bad news, especially if they’ve been drinking.”
“Keep ringing this stuff up. Don’t say anything to them. Don’t acknowledge them. Got it?”
She said nothing.
The electronic chime rang when one of the men pulled the front door open. They stepped through one at a time and cut to the left, behind me, laughing as they walked down the aisle. I got a good glimpse at them as they came through. All dressed the same, old jeans, black Doc Martin combat boots, and heavy flannel shirts worn as jackets. Two had long hair, one had a shaved head, and the fourth kept his cut close on the side and spiked four inches on top. Only the bald man came close to matching me in size, but that didn’t mean I’d underestimate any of them. You never knew what a man was capable of until the moment of impact.
“This your new boyfriend, Michelle?”
She looked at me and said nothing then glanced down at the empty basket on the counter.
I looked up at the small TV fed by the security camera. The group of men approached from behind.
I turned around, held my arms out the side, resting my elbows on the counter. I made eye contact with the bald man leading the group.
He stopped six feet away from me. Far enough away that he could escape if I made a move. His guys fanned out, two toward the door, one on the other side. The bald man leaned to the side, looking around me. “Michelle, you hear me?”
Her breathing picked up. She said nothing.
“Bitch,” he said. “You better answer me.” He looked at me and then at her. He started to redden, first his neck and cheeks, then the rest of his pale face.
“I think,” I straightened up, “you should apologize and then leave.”
“Screw you, Jarhead.”
Jarhead? How could he tell? I looked nothing like a Marine. “I’m not looking for any trouble tonight—”
“Yeah, well you just found some.” He took a step forward.
Keep it coming, baldy.
“—I think you should turn around and go home. Sleep it off. Hell, go down to the highway and play Frogger with the semis for all I care. Probably do the world a favor.”
His eyes narrowed as he processed what I said. He looked to the side, toward the door, and laughed. Two seconds later he was in my face.
I didn’t flinch.
He did his best scary guy impersonation, shoulders back, face inches from mine. He exhaled heavily through his mouth. I could have gotten drunk on his hot alcohol stained breath if he stayed there long enough.
“What you got to say now?” he said.
My hand moved to the one of the displays on the counter. I fingered a few items until I felt that I had the item I wanted. I smiled then brought my hand forward. “I think you could use a breath mint.”
One of the guys behind him laughed. The bald man turned. “Shut the hell up.” He took a few steps back, never taking his eyes off of me. He started to shift from his left to his right foot and back. Was he contemplating his next move? Preparing to hit me? Turn and run? He probably didn’t expect me to stand my ground like I had, with no sign of fear on my face. Sure the feeling was there, but I’d learned to control fear a long time ago.
“Mike, let’s go,” the one with spiky hair said. “Cameras in here, man. You ain’t s’posed to be near Michelle, anyway.”
Mike took a few more steps back and went to the door. Stopped and turned to face me again. “This ain’t over. Got it?”
“Yeah it is, Mike,” I said. “Now get the hell out of here before I mop the floor with your face.”
The men left the store. Mike stopped in the open doorway, pointed at me then pounded his chest twice with his fist. The door slammed shut behind him. He jogged across the parking lot, holding his pants up with one hand, and caught up with his friends. They walked past the glow of the
gas station lights and the night swallowed them whole.
“I-I’m sorry about that,” Michelle said.
I waved her off. “Don’t be. I’m not worried about those guys.” I leaned over the counter. “I am worried about you though. You should probably lock up and leave.”
She shook her head. “They won’t be back. Besides, I’d get fired if I did that.”
“They could be. And fired is better than dead.”
“They’re just drunk. He’ll apologize in the morning. He’s,” she paused and turned toward the front of the store. “He’s not supposed to get within one hundred yards of me. One call and he’ll go to jail. He knows that. He’ll apologize in the morning.” A tear rolled down her cheek.
I shook my head. Was there any point in trying? She’d made up her mind about the guy. I knew then that she eventually planned to go back to him. And one day, she’d likely pay with her life.
“Keep your eye out. Call 9-1-1 the moment you see them.”
She nodded then looked away.
I dropped a hundred dollar bill on the counter, picked up the bag she’d filled with my items, and started toward the door.
“Hey,” she said.
I turned back to her.
“Don’t you want your change?”
“Keep it.”
I pushed through the door. The cold air hit me like a baseball bat. Beads of sweat felt like tiny icicles as they dried on my skin. I crossed the parking lot diagonally and continued across the street. Five minutes later the roar of a diesel engine filled the air. It wasn’t until the engine idled lower that I became concerned. The truck slowed to a near stop next to me.
“Yep, that’s him,” a voice said from inside the cab.
The truck lurched forward. Red taillights illuminated the immediate area as the truck jerked sideways and screeched to a stop in front of me. Four doors opened. Four men stepped out. The two longhaired rednecks were the first to approach. One held a shotgun. Mike stepped around the one on the driver’s side of the truck.
“Hello, again,” Mike said. “Remember us?”