Page 13

“Yeah, I feel that,” Axel admitted. “My one and only time doing some shit my friend had gotten ahold of left me so paranoid I couldn’t even enjoy the high.”

“I don’t like feeling that way either. I just hope my heart doesn’t explode before the job is finished, or that’ll be another mess someone’s gotta clean up because of me.”

“You didn’t make that mess back at the gas station.”

“Maybe not, but Sa, my, um, friend wouldn’t have been there tackling people if I hadn’t fucked up and made it so he had to come to town in the first place,” Scout said, keeping his voice low as they headed for the only open checkout line that was manned by a person.

Axel wasn’t sure what he expected to see when Scout opened his wallet.

Certainly more than the fifty bucks it contained, all of which was gone by the time he’d finished playing for the contents of both their baskets.

And yet he was smiling as they walked outside, and he took a quick drag off the vape he pulled from the pocket of a worn leather jacket.

“Check out all those stars,” Scout murmured as he tilted his head back. “I think I’m gonna take a ride up to Rattlesnake Ridge and take a closer look. Who knows, maybe I’ll see a comet or a meteor shower or something. Isn’t there one that’s supposed to bring good luck or something?”

“Not that I know of,” Axel said. “You can wish on a falling star though, if you believe in that kinda thing. I don’t waste my time anymore. My wishes never turn out the way I hope they will.”

“I can’t say that mine have either, but I’m not sure I’m ready to let that stop me.

It’s not like the results completely sucked or anything, and the parts that have will be over with soon.

When I think about how things could have turned out and what I would have lost because of it, it’s easy to accept a little pain and inconvenience. Those are temporary.”

“Most conditions are,” Axel said as Scout took another drag and flashed the ghost of a grin.

“Most, but not all,” Scout said before heading for a motorcycle parked beneath one of the parking lot lights.

Axel stood there for a moment, trying to unravel what he meant, when it dawned on him that there was only one condition he knew of that was permanent.

Death.

Shaking his head, Axel decided to stop thinking about the confusing enigma that was Scout and get his feet moving in the direction of home again. He was beyond exhausted, and his old man was probably way past pissed that there wasn’t anything for dinner.

Shit, that’s what he meant to pick up. Ground beef and a few box meals to stretch it with. Damnit, damnit, fuck.

Guess they were having cereal again. It wasn’t like Axel could do anything about it now.

The screech of the door opening when he finally reached the trailer was enough to set the old man’s mouth in motion before Axel could get inside and shut the door back before the neighbors got pissed.

“What the fuck took you so long getting back here!” His old man slurred, slamming a bottle on the table hard enough that a few empty cans fell over.

“Was a bad day at work, pops; I stayed late to help with some cleanup.”

“When ya gonna clean up around here?”

“When are you?” Axel snapped as he shoved the milk in the fridge while trying not to breathe through his nose. “Thought you were gonna take the garbage to the dumpster, Pop.”

“You shoulda done it yourself before you left.”

“I would have, only you yelled at me to leave it, remember!”

“I’ll get around to it eventually.”

“It needs to go out now, Pops; it reeks in here!”

“Aw, fuck off with that shit. I’m not in the mood to hear any more of your lip today.”

“Pops!”

“I said, ‘Fuck off with that, goddamnit!”

“Fine!” Axel snarled as he finished shoving the contents of his bags in their proper places before turning to deal with the trash.

Maggots wriggled around among the overflowing mess at the top.

Axel’s eyes started to water as he scrunched up his nose and tried to hold his breath while he dealt with the mess.

He cringed when something wriggled beneath his fingers as he gathered the edges of the bag together, tied them off, and lifted the plastic from the can with a wet, sickening squelch.

Revulsion shot through him as he carried it outside, dripping stinking refuse across the kitchen floor.

“You bring supper?” The old man hollered after him.

“I brought milk and syrup,” Axel hollered as he headed out the door. “You can either have cereal or pancakes.”

“Some fuckin’ dinner!”

Axel chose to ignore that and closed the door behind him before carrying the bag to the dumpster, having to heave it over the top to get it in.

Of course that meant a spray of nastiness splashed across his hand and chest, soaking through his t-shirt and leaving him more pissed off than he already was at having to deal with it after the day he’d had.

It was an old shirt, and he really couldn’t afford to replace it, but the closet washer and dryer unit was on the fritz again, and his usually handy old man hadn’t lifted a finger to try and get it working right again.

With no idea of when he’d have the time to take their clothes to the laundromat, he saw no point in hanging on to the shirt and letting it stink up his room.

As it was, he was going to have to mop before they tracked garbage slime all through the trailer, imbedding the stench for good.

“Hey, grab me a beer, will ya?” his father asked the moment he stepped back inside.

“Why can’t you get it yourself?” Axel asked.

“You’re closer.”

Throwing up his hands, Axel headed for the fridge, being careful to step over the mess.

“You ain’t got anymore beer!” Axel snapped after a glance inside the fridge revealed that there wasn’t a bottle or a can to be found.

“Then why the fuck didn’t you bring any!”

“How was I supposed to know you were out?” Axel asked.

“Ya could have texted,” his old man bellowed. “You could have come home on time instead of staying late to help out at the gas station. How about helping out around here for a change? How about thinking about your old man instead of everyone else?"

A glass whizzed past his head and shattered against the wall beside the fridge, and something in him snapped.

“Why is it always my fault!” Axel yelled, grabbing a mostly empty jelly jar and hurling it back at his old man.

Unlike his father’s, Axel’s aim was true.

His old man let out a grunt and a large, disgusting belch, not that Axel paused to try and rein in the fury swirling like a massive tornado inside his head.

He grabbed the first thing his fingers brushed against and whipped it at his father even harder.

A glass pickle jar with sticky orange residue followed.

Then the ketchup and mustard bottles. Soy sauce packets from an old takeout order made an unsatisfying splat against a cupboard when Axel missed, so he snatched up a plate with nothing but crumbs.

He was screaming and yanking at a stuck metal shelf, trying to rock it free so he could hurl it at his father, when someone grabbed him from behind, shook him like a rag doll, and turned him away from where his dad writhed, groaning on the filthy floor.

His fingers scrabbled for purchase, looking to break the hold the person had on him.

They slid over worn leather as he was physically lifted and hauled kicking and clawing over someone’s shoulder, while a deep, rumbling voice snarled at him to settle down.

It wasn’t the words that finally got his attention; it was the sound smack on the ass the man gave him, harder than any his father had ever administered.

That’s what got him to go limp and give up fighting, that and the fact that he recognized the voice and the massive Rollin’ Jokers MC member that carried him.

His name was Creature, and there was no way Axel was going anywhere except where the man wanted him to.