Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Crock & Drop looked about as classy as it sounded.
Along the way, Benny told me that a weasel shifter owned it.
The guy was named Nathan, but he went by Gort.
I couldn’t quite get the connection between the name and the nickname, but Benny assured me there was one.
Anyway, the dive was a real hole-in-the-road, and it would never be anything else. But it filled a need, apparently.
As I parked in the lot—as close to the brightest street light that I could—there were only a handful of other cars lined up outside.
I took a moment as we stepped out of my car to pause and feel out the energy.
It felt like alleyways and dark nights, switchblades and gravelly lots with weeds growing out of the cracks in the concrete.
I dropped my hand down to the blade strapped to my thigh, wanting to be prepared.
“You expect trouble?” Benny asked, his voice low.
“I don’t expect it, but I want to be prepared for it, just in case.”
Even though it didn’t take us long to walk to the entrance, I kept my eyes open, watching to either side as we hurried along. Benny didn’t say anything, but he seemed to be just as aware of the potential for danger as I was.
But we reached the front door without a problem and pushed through it.
I looked around. The dive was worse than I had imagined it.
The floor was covered with peanut shells, the bar smelled of stale beer and burned grilled cheese, and I got the distinct impression that they looked the other way when people lit up with a joint or a cigarette.
Given smoking was illegal in public places, that put them in danger of a fine, but they didn’t seem to care.
“I’m not holding my birthday party here,” I muttered.
Benny snorted. “Legs, even I wouldn’t come here if it wasn’t so goddamn cheap. It’s one of the few places I can afford to eat and have a drink.”
I sighed. “I know. All right, do you see your source around here?”
Benny looked around, then pointed toward a booth in the back. “There he is. Winston.”
The guy looked like a ferret. He was eating a plate of fries, with a beer next to his plate.
Dressed in camo, his hair was slicked back with mousse or gel or something strong enough to keep every hair plastered in place.
His face was gaunt—so gaunt that he was either starving or he was on something that burned up the energy.
And he was twitchy. Every now and then, he’d shiver, as though in a spasm, but I had the feeling it was caused by some sort of drug.
“That’s Winston?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Benny said. “Don’t let the looks fool you.
He’s more observant than he seems. And before you ask, nobody knows what’s wrong with him.
He doesn’t trust doctors, though he’ll go along with other vets, to make sure they get there and back.
Ever since he went camping last summer, he’s had that twitch.
That’s right about when he slid into conspiracy theories super hardcore, too. ”
I frowned. Whatever was going on, it definitely wasn’t normal. “He’s human?”
“Yeah.”
“You think he might visit one of our healers? We can tell him they’re…shamanic? It might make him feel better about being examined.” I hated knowing someone was going without care because they were afraid to seek treatment.
“He might,” Benny said. “You’d do that?”
“Yeah, I’d do that.” I took a deep breath. “Okay, introduce us.”
Benny led me over to the booth. “Winston?”
Winston looked up. He stared at Benny for a moment, then seemed to focus. “Yeah. Benny.” He turned his gaze to me. “Who’s this?”
“Winston? I’m Kyann Sarasan. I’m Benny’s friend and I’m trying to help him find Greg Swift, from the Soldiers of Misfortune encampment. I was hoping you could tell me what you saw?” I didn’t thrust out my hand. I’d wait for a signal that he would welcome the gesture.
Winston paused, staring at his plate. After a moment, he whispered, “Sit down. They say it’s okay to talk to you.”
I had no clue who he was talking about—it might just be voices in his mind—I made Benny slide into the booth first, then sat next to him. Instead of pushing Winston, I waited for him. This was a man who would move at his own pace—whatever pace made him comfortable.
A waitress approached. “What can I get you?” she asked, pulling a pencil out from behind her ear.
I didn’t want to eat, so I just ordered a Coke. “Benny, you want anything? My treat.”
Benny ordered a burger and fries, and a lemonade.
“You like lemonade?” I asked, for some reason surprised by that.
“I love juice,” Benny said. “Give me fruit any day over candy.”
“Really? Well, that’s good to know.”
The waitress brought our drinks and, as she walked away, Winston decided to talk.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Just what you saw with Greg. Benny said you saw him being abducted?” I said.
After a moment, Winston nodded. “I did,” he said, playing with the last French fry.
“Are you still hungry?” I asked. “I’d be happy to buy you something more.”
“Pie?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face.
I motioned to the waitress. “We’d like some pie. What flavors do you have?”
“Apple, cherry, blueberry.”
I looked at Winston. “What do you like?”
“Cherry?” he said, sounding surprised that I asked him.
“Just bring the whole pie. I’m paying for everything,” I said, motioning to Winston’s plate. “Including his dinner.”
“Right,” she said, then headed back to the counter, returning with three dessert-sized plates and a whole cherry pie, along with Benny’s food. As she left, I pushed the pie toward Winston. “Eat whatever you like.”
His hands were shaking, so I cut him a slice and put it on the plate. “There you go. Now, you were telling me about Greg?”
“Right. Greg.” He stared at his pie, then took a large bite. After he swallowed, he said, “I knew him, though not well. But one night we were both coming back from the VA—he had some sort of cough going on. We dropped in here to grab a bite. We left, and he stopped in the alley to take a leak.”
Lovely. “What time was it?”
“About seven. Appointments at the VA take forever. Anyway, I wondered what was taking him so long, so when I glanced around the corner, I was surprised to see him with two large creatures. They grabbed him by the arms and started walking down the alley. He wasn’t fighting, but then a bright light flashed—so bright I couldn’t see.
When it died down, he was gone and so were they. ” He stopped, going back to his pie.
“Did you ever see him again?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“When was this?”
“I don’t know. A week or so ago? Maybe? I’m not good with time,” Winston said.
“What did the men look like?” I asked.
That made him set down his fork. He wiped his lips with a napkin. “They were aliens. They were tall and you might think they were men, but in the glow of the light, there was something odd about them. They weren’t men. Not really.”
I figured I wouldn’t get far with this, so decided to ask about the light instead. “What was the light like? What color was it?”
Winston thought for a moment. “It was the color of spring leaves, with gold in it.”
His voice was poignant. I had the feeling that meant something to him on a different level, but wasn’t sure what.
“What happened when the light blinded you?”
“When I opened my eyes, they were gone. They couldn’t have gotten past me to exit the alley, and on the other side, it’s a dead end. And then, well, that’s it.” There weren’t any cars there, everything was quiet.” He pointed to the side of the bar. “The alley’s right out there.”
I sat back, thinking while Benny and Winston ate. “I’m going to take a look in the alley. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” I finally said.
As I walked out of the bar, I stopped at the counter and paid the waitress. “Can you make up two to-go bags for them—add in a couple burgers to each one, large fries, and a couple of your cookies. I’ll be back, but I thought I’d pay before walking out the door.”
Bartenders didn’t care for people who looked like they were stiffing them.
She nodded, took the money, and was about to take the change out of the till.
“Keep it. Be nice to them, please. They’ve had a lot of trouble in their lives,” I said.
She must have recognized something in my tone, because she softened. “Sure. I’ll throw in side salads. They could probably use some veg.”
“Thanks,” I said, heading for the door.
* * *
The alley was long and narrow, and in the light of the overhead street lamps, the tall chain link fence across the end of the road glimmered.
The buildings on both the right and left stretched out from the front sidewalk to the end, with no passages between them.
I jogged down the alley, looking to my right and left.
A few doors, but they looked boarded up.
Unless someone had a nail gun, they weren’t getting in the mostly-abandoned shops.
I checked each one though, tugging on the handles, testing the boards that closed off the doors.
Nothing was loose, nothing gave, and everything looked like it had been boarded up for some time.
There was one other shop where the back door was accessible, but it was locked tight.
When I dashed around to the actual street, I saw that it was a dry cleaning company, with business hours from seven am to four-thirty daily.
Since Greg had disappeared around seven, the laundry would have already been closed.
I slowed down and walked toward the end of the alley. About ten feet from the end, a sudden shift in energy caught me, making me stop. I shook my head, trying to clear the sudden dizziness that hit me. A moment later, when I stepped to the side, it passed.
I stepped back into the space, and immediately, the spinning began again.