Blacktop Wasteland(81)

“Y’all just gonna sit there? Some friends you are!” Ann screeched.

Sam poured some moonshine out of a large plastic jug into a mason jar and handed it to the hipster. “Can’t argue with a .45,” she said in her throaty voice.

The men who had been sitting at the demolished table floated over to the bar. Conversations that had been muted returned to their normal volume. The girl onstage stepped down and another skinnier girl took her place. Skeet and a few other guys helped Bobby up and gave him some paper towels for his bloody mouth. After a few minutes, it was like nothing had happened. And for all intents and purposes, nothing had.



* * *



Beauregard turned off of Route 301 and navigated the narrow back roads that led out of Caroline County and back to Red Hill. He hugged the white line as he drove down the single-lane road masquerading as a double-lane highway. Reggie lay in the passenger seat with his face pressed against the glass. Neither he nor Beauregard spoke. There was nothing they needed to say.

Beauregard turned onto a gravel-covered road. They passed a cell tower surrounded with bright new chain-link fencing that shimmered in the truck’s headlights. Beauregard turned off the gravel road onto a narrow driveway covered in cracked asphalt. The driveway led to a clearing where the remnants of an old factory held court like an ersatz Stonehenge.

“Get out. Don’t run. I’ll shoot you in the back,” Beauregard said.

Reggie climbed out of the truck. He took off running as soon as his feet hit the ground. He headed for the woods surrounding the clearing. Beauregard shot up in the air. Reggie dropped to the ground. Blades of grass scratched his chest. He felt a hand grab him by his hair and pull him to his feet. He let himself be dragged back to the truck. Beauregard pushed him against the passenger door. They locked eyes for a moment.

Beauregard punched him in the stomach. Reggie doubled over, then fell to his knees. He made a wet gagging sound. Beauregard thought Reggie might throw up but he didn’t. He made some more gagging sounds then raised his head. Beauregard dropped to his haunches so that they were eye to eye.

“I’m only gonna ask you once. Where is Ronnie?”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know about it. I would have never gone along with it,” Reggie wheezed.

Beauregard put the .45 in his waistband near the small of his back. He grabbed Reggie’s left hand with his own. Using his right hand, he opened the passenger door on the truck. By the time Reggie realized what he was doing it was too late to struggle.

Beauregard gripped Reggie’s wrist and forced his hand against the door frame. He slammed the door shut on Reggie’s hand.

Reggie’s mouth filled with hot stinging bile and this time he did vomit. It dribbled over his loosened teeth and down his shin. He screamed. He kicked his feet. He swallowed some vomit, then threw it up again.

“Where is he, Reggie?” Beauregard asked. A slight breeze moved the grass in the clearing. The blades undulated like waves in a lagoon.

“I … don’t … know,” Reggie said.

Beauregard pulled the door back and slammed it on Reggie’s hand again. Reggie threw his head back and howled. His eyes widened to the size of silver dollars.

“Don’t … make me tell. He’s my brother. Don’t make me tell. You’re gonna kill him if I tell,” Reggie cried. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, cutting tracks through the blood on his chin.

“I’m gonna kill you if you don’t. They came to my house, Reggie. They shot my son. All because Ronnie couldn’t stick to the plan. I don’t want to hurt you any more, Reggie. But I will. And I won’t stop until you tell me where he is. You pass out and I’ll wake you up. Once this hand goes numb, we’ll start with the other one. Then we move to your feet. Then your dick. I’ll feed you to this truck piece by piece,” Beauregard said.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what he was gonna do.”

‘I know you are, Reggie. I know. Where’s Ronnie?”

Reggie’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down like a fishing lure.

Beauregard pulled the door back.

“Wait!” Reggie begged.

“I don’t have time to wait, Reggie.”

“Please. He’s my brother.”

“And Darren is my son.”

Neither man said anything. As the seconds ticked by, a dog bayed in the distance.

Reggie hung his head. “He went over to Curran County. Other side of the hills here. Crashed with some girl named Amber Butler. I think she lives off Durant Road. I don’t know what he did with the van.”

Beauregard stood.

“Alright. Alright,” he said. His tone was robotic.

Reggie looked up at him. His eyes were red and rimmed with tears.

“I’m scared, Bug.”

Beauregard pulled out the .45.

“Nothing to be scared of, Reggie. Just close your eyes.”



* * *



Beauregard got back to the salvage yard just before sunrise. A man-sized blue tarp was on the back of the tow truck. The office was locked, but he knew Boonie kept a spare key in an old Pontiac next to the main building. Once he had retrieved the key, he went inside and grabbed another key from the rack to the left of Boonie’s desk. He went back outside and grabbed the man-sized tarp off the back of the truck. Beauregard hoisted it up on his shoulders with a deep groan. He stomped around the back of the office and headed for a dilapidated Chevy Cavalier. He used one hand to unlock the trunk with the key he grabbed from the rack. He dropped the blue tarp into the trunk and slammed it shut. Once that was done he went back inside the office and locked the door behind him. He scooped his phone off Boonie’s desk as he headed for the couch. He had one text message. It was from Jean, not Kia.