Page 9

The second location proved to be a tremendous improvement from the first. It was still a dump. But nevertheless, it was an improvement. There were walls, a porch, windows, and even ceiling fans. No air conditioning, but you couldn’t be too picky when you were drinking illegal liquor. There were two generators providing power to the small structure sitting on a mound of dirt.

There were two long docks with eight small boats tied off. Most were tiny bateaus. Some had small outboard motors perfect for fishing through the bayous. There was soft music playing, but no one was dancing. In fact, they weren’t sure that anyone was even alive inside.

When they opened the door, several had their heads down on their tables or the bar, others looked glassy-eyed, and still others appeared to be completely zoned out.

“I take it back. This is a fresh new hell.”

“Yeah, but it’s a fresh hell we need to be welcomed into,” said Bull.

They walked toward the bar as everyone turned and stared at the strangers. When they reached the bar, they weren’t sure that anyone was actually working, then noticed a very short, very, very young woman staring up at them. She had a long dark braid hanging over her shoulder and dark eyes that looked like she meant business.

“What’ll it be?” she asked. Trak frowned at her.

“Are you old enough to drink?”

“Who are you? My father?” she frowned. “Never mind. I know you’re not my father.”

“Don’t you know your father?” asked Trak. She opened her mouth, then glared at him.

“No, asshole. I don’t know my father. And no, I’m not old enough to drink, but I can serve it. I need this job. So, do you want something or not?”

“My friend didn’t mean anything by his comment,” said Otto. “You’re just awfully young and pretty.”

“Well, thank you. I’m eighteen. I can serve. Out here anyway. I need the work, and it’s decent money. What do you want?” she asked.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” said Bull. He’d sip the shit out of it, but he wouldn’t drink it all.

“Beer for me,” said Otto.

“And you?” she asked, looking up at Trak.

“Bottled water.”

“Bottled water? Mister, do I look like I have bottled water? I got soda, beer, whiskey, and moonshine. Take your pick.”

“Soda. Diet if you have it.”

“Diet,” she nodded. “Right. The big man with six-pack abs wants a diet soda so he can watch his figure.”

“How would you know if I have a six-pack?” he frowned.

“Dude, I can see the ripples through your t-shirt. Unless you’re wearing padding, you’ve got six-pack abs. Not that I’m complaining, it’s attractive. I mean, for someone who looks old enough to be my grandfather.”

She brought out their drinks as they felt the eyes of everyone in the bar on them. Otto turned, raising his glass and smiling at the people. They all said hello, raising their glasses as well, but stared at Trak.

“Maybe I should wait outside,” said Trak.

“No,” said Bull, shaking his head. “You’re good here. Besides, she keeps running into the brush like the other guy. That still is sitting right out there.”

They watched as she ran back to the bar, grabbing a giant wrench.

“Problem?” asked Otto.

“Yeah, there’s an asshole in charge of something that he knows nothing about, and I’ve got to fix it, or I won’t have enough moonshine to sell tonight.”

She took off, and Bull looked at Otto, stepping toward the back of the bar where she’d exited. A few seconds later, a flash of light and fire hit the sky, and they all ducked. All except Trak, who ran toward the explosion.

Lying twenty feet from the now mangled metal was the young girl. Shards of metal lacerated her skin, pointing out as the fire burned parts of her face and hair, clothing stuck to her body.

“Shit,” muttered Bull. “We need to get her to the clinic.”

Trak lifted the young woman, gently carrying her through the bar.

“Hey! Where you takin’ her?” asked a man. Trak said nothing, continuing to walk. Otto followed, and Bull turned to them.

“We’re getting her to a hospital. She’s burned badly and hurt.”

“She ain’t got no insurance. You’re gonna have to take her to charity,” said a woman.

“Does she have family you can call?”

“Not that I know of,” said the woman. “Her name’s Lydia.”

“Thank you,” said Bull, running after his friends.

Trak was already wrapping her in a blanket from the medical kit, the special material ensuring it wouldn’t stick to her burned flesh. He lay her on the floor of the boat. Beneath the bench, he pulled out the rest of the first-aid kit and tapped comms.

“Female, eighteen years of age, multiple lacerations with metal shards in her flesh, burns from the moonshine still.”

“Trak, this is Riley. Don’t pull anything out. Something could have hit an artery, and as long as it’s in, she’ll be okay. Is she conscious?”

“For now. Sort of. She’s in shock,” he said, looking down at her once pretty face.

Bull took the boat through the bayou as quickly as he could without jostling the poor girl. Trak kept speaking to her, telling her about his own two daughters and his wife. He even apologized for appearing too gruff. She had tears in her eyes, and it was cutting him like a knife.

When they landed the boat, Doc, Kennedy, Kelsey, and Cruz were waiting with a stretcher on the back of the ATV.

“Jesus. Set her down, Trak,” said Doc. He didn’t move, staring at the girl. “Trak, brother, I need you to put her down. We need to get her to trauma.”

Trak just stared at the girl, then up at Doc. Cruz touched his arm, reaching for the girl.

“Let me have her, brother. We’ve got her.” He reluctantly released her into Cruz’s arms, watching as they strapped her to the stretcher.

“Her name is Lydia,” said Trak. “Lydia. She’s eighteen. She’s just eighteen.”

“We got it, Trak,” said Doc. As they disappeared down the long tree-lined path, Trak just stood there. Nine, Ian, Ghost, and Gaspar came running toward them.

“We heard on comms. What the fuck happened? Are you guys okay?”

“We’re not sure what happened,” said Bull. “We’re all good, but the little girl running the bar is burned and cut up bad. She’s a mess, brother.”

“She’s eighteen. Her name is Lydia,” said Trak robotically.

“Brother, we got her. We’ll get her fixed up,” said Ian.

“She’s just a damn kid,” said Otto. “A kid was running that bar because she needed the fucking money. She said somebody hadn’t done their job, and she grabbed a wrench and went out to where the still was located. Next thing we knew, it was up in flames.”

“Was there anyone else there?” asked Nine.

“Not that we saw, but someone could have left through the back trails or around the other parts of the bayou,” said Bull. Trak turned to stare at Nine.

“She’s only eighteen.” Nine frowned as Wilson started toward them.

“Trak, we’re going to help her,” said Wilson.

“She’s only eighteen.”