Jon…A Desperate Prequel
by
Nicholas Antinozzi
PUBLISHED BY:
Nicholas Antinozzi
Copyright (c) 2010 by Nicholas Antinozzi
Edited by Coleta Wright
Cover Design by Steve Peterson
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Crown, Minnesota, population: fewer by the minute, a sleepy town where nothing much ever happens. These days, For Sale signs stand in front of abandoned homes that are sporadically haunted by ghoulish real estate agents. They seem to be a dying breed and promise that the market is going to rebound, but they tell the lie mostly for themselves. The exodus began during the mortgage crisis and the population had continued to dwindle during the months and weeks that followed. The good people of Crown were now fleeing in droves, taking what they could while they still had the means to escape.
The rumors had been circulating for many months, the dollar was on life support and the prognosis was grim.
Jon had never really felt attached to any one place, but he had been in Crown for a few years now and had seen how it had once been. He lived in his mother’s home, a small bungalow that sat just outside of town on a couple rolling acres of oaks. Jon was luckier than most, his mom had left the place to him free and clear of sticky-fingered bankers and tax collectors. The properties on either side of him were vacant and untended. He didn’t like that. Jon was in his early thirties, fit, handsome, and a few years out of the military. He currently shared his home and his life with Kyle, a flight attendant with a chipped tooth and a small mole on his left cheek. Kyle was of average height, thin, with delicate features and thick black hair. They were nearly past the four season mark.
On the Saturday evening before the world stood still, Jon and Kyle were up at the The City Limits, having a bite to eat and a few beers. The crowd was non-existent and both the bartender and the cook had come right out and told them that if things didn’t pick up, and soon, that they were going to close early. Jon had ordered the Crown-burger while Kyle was having hot wings and fries.
The City Limits had been around for nearly one hundred years, had seen its better days, but still had the best food around for thirty miles. The wooden floors creaked and sagged around the long bar and the room stank of long-banned cigarette smoke. Mounted fish and stuffed deer heads adorned the knotty pine walls. There were two televisions at either end of the bar, neither one worked. The bartender was named Shari, a twenty-something brunette of medium height with a trim figure and a radiant smile. Shari was capable of pouring drinks that brought her five dollar tips, and she sent her patrons to where they wanted to go. The cook was named Gladys and she had a face that went well with her name. Gladys could still remember the original owners and the names of the others who had come and gone over the years. She could also serve up some of the hottest buffalo wings known to man.
“How can you eat those things?” Jon asked with a grimace. “They smell like magma.”
“These are the Fours,” Kyle said after taking a bite of wing; he dabbed his lips with his napkin and reached for his beer. “I’ve never seen anyone eat two of the Tens.” Kyle slugged down half of the beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “These bad boys are hot!”
Jon was ready to respond when the front door to the bar opened and three strangers walked in. Jon knew they were trouble the second he laid his eyes upon them. They walked in together, as if they had practiced the entrance a thousand times over. The leader wore a scowl on a shovel-face and unlaced biker boots. He stuck his chest out as he walked. The other two walked behind da boss, one on either side. All three were big guys, but big in a way that made you think of pizza and video games.
Jon watched them arrive and then he closed his eyes for just a few seconds. Take the leader out at the knees and then go for the nearest one of the others. Jon couldn’t escape the training; it followed him everywhere, even to bed where it gave him nightmares. There was going to be a fight, Jon could feel it in his bones.
“What you lookin’ at?” asked the leader, who was looking directly at Jon.
“Nothing,” replied Jon, honestly. He then returned his attention to Kyle and his burger.
The three men looked to be a few years younger than Jon; they also appeared to have been on the road for a while, they looked around with glassy stares that shone with drugs and disapproval. Jon thought they looked like the three guys who stood behind the counter of the local salvage yard, but he knew that they weren’t.
“Come on, sweetheart,” ordered the leader as he swaggered up to the bar. “We ain’t got all night.”
“What’ll you have?” asked Shari without much enthusiasm.
“Three Buds and some menus; is your kitchen still open?”
“Not for much longer,” shouted Gladys from the back in her raspy voice.
“Can we have five minutes?”
There was a long pause before Gladys replied that she’d give them that long to order. Shari brought over three bottles of Bud and took a credit card from one of the cronies. She swiped it and watched the little monitor, satisfied, she set the card next to the register and handed each of the men a menu. She then walked back into the kitchen.
Kyle pretended not to notice the men and he continued to eat. When he took a bite of wing that really put the bite on his tongue, Kyle backed away from the table and fanned his mouth. “Oh man,” he said. “That shit is hot!”
Jon sighed and looked down at his shoes. Before he could lift his head he could hear the snickering. “That shit is hot!” Jon turned his gaze to the three guys at the bar. They went on for a while longer, as if what Kyle had said was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.
Kyle drank from his beer, stood, and proudly displayed his plate of nearly completed wings. “I got twenty bucks that says you can’t.”
This brought the men out of their revelry and they quickly composed themselves. They had just been challenged and it appeared to have insulted them. “Yeah?” asked the leader. He had ice blue, red-rimmed eyes and greasy black hair. He had the appearance of someone who had worked very hard on a look, but who wanted everyone to think it came naturally. “I got twenty says that I can.”
“I’ll take that bet,” said Kyle.
The man eyed Kyle and took a pull on his beer, he then turned to Shari. “Three orders of your hottest wings, sweetheart. My new friend here is buying us all dinner.” He picked up his beer and walked over to inspect Jon and Kyle. “That’s gonna cost you sixty bucks. Let’s see the cash.”
Jon gave Kyle a look that said it was his call. Kyle already knew that Jon would prefer not to fight, but that he would if the need presented itself. “What, you don’t think I can cover the bet? Let’s go double or nothing,” Kyle said, with only a slight lisp as he flipped open his wallet and produced six crisp, twenty dollar bills. “Unless you want to back out, I’ll let you do that.”
This must have been the last thing the man had expected to hear and he obviously thought it had been meant as an insult. His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared and his lips twisted into a scowl. “You gettin’ smart with me? Listen up, choir boy; I don’t much care for your type. You know what I’m sayin’? You should learn to keep your mouth shut.”
“There’s no need for that,” Jon said, stepping in between Kyle and the man. “He was just saying that you didn’t need to make the bet. Trust me. You don’t want to make that bet.”
“And who the hell are you? Shut your damn mouth, faggot. This is between him and me.”
“Shut my mouth? Maybe you’d like to try and help me do that. Bet you can’t.”
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Kyle smiled at this and then he started to giggle. “Trust me,” he said to the stranger. “You don’t want to make that bet.”
There was a momentary pause as the man tried to process all of this new information. He took another look at Jon and saw him as he should have the moment they walked into the bar. Jon was six lean feet of muscle and his posture was unmistakably military.
Jon stared into the man’s eyes and dared him to move without saying a word. Jon thought that he would do just that. Guys like this like to throw sucker punches and pull knives. Jon nodded and turned to face Kyle. This would be the moment and Jon had predicted it to the second. Kyle raised his hands to his chest and shouted something to the man, but Jon never heard it. He dropped like a cat as the punch sailed well over its intended target. Jon was behind his attacker in two moves and he held the man’s head in the crook of his arm. “Let it go, or I can promise you that I’ll go for your