IV.

The road was empty and lit in the supernatural white of the moon, as two chrome blurs roared through, gathering speed and nerve simultaneously. Jimmy was in front as always, a small girl barely in her 18th year sitting behind him, her thoughts on the great story she’d have in the morning to tell her jealous friends at work. Donny was running behind, his grin hiding his jealousy as Jimmy, yet again, outpaced him in all things.

Donny struck out, but to be fair, it had been slim pickings at Victor’s Bar. Jimmy was riding brave, and Donny knew it had to do with his drinking. He’d had a little too much tonight, all to impress some thin-waisted girl riding b***h-seat in the moonlight.

They passed the turn for Cantrell Road at 90 miles an hour. Jimmy lived down the road in a small house with Crystal, who was no doubt failing to sleep in their bed, jerking awake at every noise and bump in the night. She believed Jimmy was staying with Donny, sleeping a drunk off on his couch again. They’d played this game a few times already and excuses were getting easier, if not more creative. This time they’d met an imaginary friend from high school who’d been run out on by an imaginary wife.

“She even took the kids.” Donny had told her, watching while Jimmy kissed behind the young girl’s ear. She laughed. “Poor guy’s real broken up. Just don’t worry; I’ll have him back first thing tomorrow.”

“Alright, I guess.” said Crystal, bothered by the news. It wasn’t too long ago that she’d been the girl hanging all over Jimmy at the bar. “Just have him call me as soon as he wakes up.” Her voice cracked at the end, and Donny thought he could hear her crying. If she knew what was going on, this was the first time she’d let on.

“Will do Crystal.” said Donny glumly. “You have yourself a good night.” He hung up the receiver, feeling the first pang of guilt over their little scheme. He looked over at Jimmy and gave the thumbs up, giving the all-clear.

“C’mon little missy!” said Jimmy, wrapping his arm tightly around the girl’s waist. She couldn’t have been a month over 18. “It’s closing time and we got places to be.”

Jimmy rode on like someone was chasing him. Like the world couldn’t keep up. He swerved in and out of the lane, looking back for the girl’s reaction, grinning wider each time she squeezed him. Her long hair whipped behind; a yellow trail of light in the darkness. She was laughing the entire time, while Crystal was crying in bed alone.

      Donny woke with a start, a ghost image of Crystal still on his mind. He’d slept through the night somehow, though his pains had followed him into the daylight. He put his hand to his eyes, trying to shield them from the invading light, and remembered what had happened the night before.

      “You a*****e.” he said out loud, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t remember everything he’d said to Crystal, but he knew it had been mean. She had enough to deal with without him losing it on her too. He grabbed his phone without sitting up and searched for her name in his contacts and clicked the dial button. The phone began to ring before he’d come up with an idea of what to say to her. He didn’t like apologies - there was too much pressure to find the right words.

      The phone rang several times without an answer before clicking over to the voicemail. Her voice came out happy, almost vibrant, and Donny knew the message had been recorded before the accident.

      “Not here right now; so sorry for that. But, you should know what to do by now, right? So when you hear the beep, just do it. Thanks, bye!” The beep came and Donny didn’t say anything at first. He squeezed the bridge of his nose, hoping that would help the words form in his mind.

      “Hey Crystal.” he said. “Uh, it’s Donny…” Another pause. He became annoyed with himself and considered hanging up the phone. He sighed heavily and continued. “Listen. I’m sorry for what I said last night. We both know I’m an a*****e, but I shouldn’t have said it. But, I mean, can’t you call first.” He stopped and took another pause. “Uh, s**t, you know what, never mind all that. Just forget what I said last night. I’m gonna try to stop by soon, honest. I know Jimmy’s hurtin’, but everybody seems to forget, he wasn’t the only one who was hurt that night.” His face felt warm and he realized his anger was coming back. He stopped himself and sighed again. “Alright, just forget it. I’m sorry again, I’ll call you later…” He trailed off, noticing something shifting in the light.

      Shadows moved back and forth on the trailer ceiling signaling someone was walking around outside. He hung up the phone and groaned, forcing himself to sit up, only to fall back down on the bare mattress from a sudden head rush. The skin around his ankle pushed against the fabric of his jeans, swollen and painful.

      “Brandi!” yelled a voice outside. “Where you at now? Come out here, I just wanna talk to ya’.” The voice was liquor-slurred and tired �" he probably hadn’t slept in some time. Jimmy propped himself up and peeked out the bottom of the window, hoping not to be seen.

      “C’mon Brandi, don’t make me make a scene. Just c’mon out!” Donny’s eyes adjusted in time to see the tattooed man from the previous night, cupping his hand against the windows of the trailer next door, trying to look in. He was wearing a wife beater tank top, ripped blue jeans, and army boots. Donny could see the top angled lines of a swastika peeking out of the tank top.

      The man continued to pace around the trailer looking in each window, before slamming both hands against the last one.

      “I see you in there girl! Get on out before I break this window down.” He pushed his forehead against the glass and hit both hands hard against the glass over and over. Donny winced at the repeated sound and rolled back on the bed.

      “Just go home Drew!” yelled a voice from inside the trailer. Drew slammed the window harder.

      “Brandi, c’mon, don’t make me do something we’ll both regret.”  There was quiet from inside Brandi’s trailer, and Drew took a deep breath. “BRANDI GET OUT HERE!” He kicked the side of the trailer hard enough to dent the aluminum.

      “Just leave you psycho!” screamed Brandi.

      “Oh yeah, I’m a psycho?” he said, still kicking the trailer with the heel of his boot. “I’m f****n’ crazy!?”

      Donny opened the door to his trailer and saw Drew kicking the trailer with all his might. The tattooed lightning bolts bobbed up and down, striking the trailer through the force of his boot. Drew stopped for a moment to catch his breath and looked up at Donny.

      “What the f**k are you looking at?!” he said.

      Brandi’s trailer door flew open and she rushed out in the sun, swinging wildly with a black baseball bat. She swung high, connecting with Drew’s bicep, but he quickly recovered and grabbed it right above her hands.

      “Now that’s more like it!” he laughed, and grabbed her by the hair. Brandi screamed and tried to kick him, but he avoided her feet and pulled her toward the trailer.

      “Let her go!” yelled Donny, clutching onto the doorframe, trying not to fall out. His head pounded and his leg ached from the walk from his mattress. Drew stopped and turned around, glaring at Donny.

      “What the f**k did you just say?” he yelled. His eyes were wide and shaded a deep red, and there were deep scratch lines and scabs on his arms. Donny could tell he had something more than liquor in his system. Drew threw Brandi to the ground and walked toward Donny, bat in hand.

      “Listen man…” Donny started to say, but Drew moved fast. He jabbed the thick end of the bat into his stomach, knocking him down. Donny fell to his knees coughing harshly.

      “Say something else!” Drew yelled. He swung the bat as Donny rolled away, narrowly missing a direct hit to the back of the head. Donny’s heart raced as Drew yelled out again.

      “C’mon Hero, say something else!” Drew took the bat and held it out with his hands apart, like a crazed baker attacking dough with a rolling pin. Donny rolled around aimlessly, trying to avoid a hit, but wasn’t quick enough. Drew caught him just under the chin, hitting his throat. It wasn’t a direct hit, but it was hard enough to cause Donny to cough madly, grabbing at his neck. He could see Drew correcting his grip on the bat and knew what was coming. His mind flashed to his sister Nikki and he braced for the killing stroke.

      The cocking sound of a shotgun behind them cut through the air quicker than the lightning bolts on Drew’s head. Brandi stood with her feet planted, bracing for the recoil if things went that way. Drew stopped with the bat still raised and started laughing.

      “Well...would’ya look at that.” Drew lowered the bat to the ground and grinned, dropping it next to his feet. He walked back and turned, facing Brandi. “You ain’t really gonna shoot me now, are you darlin’?” His grin was menacing, but his eyes had lost the violence they’d held a moment before.

      Donny’s hands were holding his neck, trying to stop the swelling he knew to be coming. The pain in his jaw was tremendous, but no match for what he felt in his throat. His eyes were on Brandi, pleading with her to pull the trigger. Drew stepped to the side and inched toward his car.

      “Alright now girl, no need for that. I’m goin’.” said Drew. The shotgun had a sobering effect against whatever he’d taken that had brought out his courage. He opened the door to his car, still negotiating with the gun.

      “If you come back,” Brandi said. “I’ll kill you where you stand. You know I will.” Her voice was shaky and angry, but her hands were steady. Drew didn’t give a remark. He looked around, probably hoping to find an ally in the park, and decided there were none. He sucked at his teeth and got in the car, driving slow in case the gun took a speedy retreat as a threat.

      Donny coughed again, spitting out and tasting blood in the back of his throat. His head throbbed, and his whole body shook from fear and relief. Brandi still held the gun, staring in the direction of Drew’s car. Donny rolled on his arm and tried to stand, but he lost balance and fell into a sitting position against his trailer. He realized he was breathing too fast, on the verge of hyperventilating, and coughed to try and regain control. After a minute had passed, Brandi lowered the shotgun and moved towards her trailer.

      “Wait!” Donny forced his voice through what felt like a cheese-grater in his throat. “What was that?! What the hell just happened?” Brandi raised the shotgun slightly, prepared to defend herself against Donny’s questions. He pushed his back against the trailer, bracing himself in case the danger wasn’t over.

      “Why don’t you mind yer’ f****n business next time!” Brandi yelled, clenching her jaw as she glared at him. This was no shrinking violet. Donny put up his hands, palms out, and remained quiet as Brandi opened the door of her trailer and rushed inside.

      He exhaled loudly and rolled over, lifting himself to his feet and keeping a hand planted on the side of the trailer to keep balance. His body was numb and shaken, and he didn’t trust himself to keep steady. He stepped into his trailer and opened the mini-fridge, hoping to find something cold to hold against his throat. There was nothing.

      His foot hit the vodka bottle which rolled across the floor. With nothing else to help his pain, he picked up the bottle, unscrewed the top, and took a big mouthful of burning liquid. He swallowed too quickly: it was halfway down his throat when an ill-timed cough shot half of it right back up through his nasal cavity. He dropped the bottle and yelled, his eyes instantly watering from the alcohol burn. He opened the bathroom door and vomited, missing the toilet completely. Luckily, it was conveniently placed inside the shower stall to save much needed space in the trailer. He gagged and coughed wildly, blowing his nose into the shower.

      After a few minutes, the burn subsided and he grabbed a towel to wipe his face. He was sweating profusely and catching air in shallow gasps. His shirt was damp and pressing against his skin unpleasantly.

      “Oh god,” he said. “I need to get out of here.” The day’s events so far seemed to him a bad omen of his imminent future if he remained longer. He tried to get up and felt a twisting feeling inside his stomach. He was hurting; both from the vomiting and the hit he’d taken from Drew’s bat. “What else?” he asked, hoping there wouldn’t be an answer.

      He finally stood up and trudged into the open part of the trailer. The vodka bottle had emptied onto the linoleum floor, filling the trailer with the strong smell of alcohol. His stomach turned again and he gagged, fighting back every urge to expel more. He took off his shirt and quickly wiped himself down. The thought of a shower-of going back into the bathroom at all-angered him, and he grabbed at any shirt he could find next to his mattress. The trailer door slammed against the frame as he shuffled to his truck and sped off.