Lychan Part 2

The morning came with sunshine, warm and dry. A bright and blue-eyed Ricky Bates pulled his Camry up to a gas station off of 80 going West.

Photo by Carrie Barker on Unsplash

The morning came with sunshine, warm and dry. A bright and blue-eyed Ricky Bates pulled his Camry up to a gas station off of 80 going West.

He waited. Nobody came.

Annoyed, he looked for a gas attendant. Then realized that no one would pump his own gas. He had to do it himself.

Abruptly, he got out, paying at the counter. It was a small convenience store with all the advertisements of the times streaked across the shop, begging anyone to buy its brand. He got some Healthy Times jerky, paid for gas, and went outside to the pump.

He pumped up the gas noticing a man who looked at him funny, a strange contorted visage. Entering his vehicle, Ricky looked and saw the bald man staring him down. Spooked, he suspiciously drove off in a flash.

That’s weird. I’m not home, I guess.

Ricky Bates hated school. College was the only option, his parents said, but he didn’t buy it. It had been a strange ride so far only being a freshman and he hated every second of it.

The bullshit, all the bullshit of taking classes and talking to people his age who were fake and boring. Never wanting to know Truth or of anything of that matter, the students drank and partied far into the night. It was a waste in his eyes and so he went off in the summer to clear his mind, a road trip that led him out to the Mid-West away from the hustle and grind of New Jersey. He saw signs not far from Lansing. Finally, he entered the state line of Michigan.

Over the years, he had heard his friends talk about Michigan. “My family went all the time when I was younger, but not anymore. You should definitely check it out, bro,” his best friend, Anthony had said.

Starting up the car, he drove off into the highways looking at all the local shops and businesses all scrounging for a dollar. He got off the highway and onto downtown Lansing where the grid city of brewing, Lug nuts baseball, and coffee shops dazzled him with delight. He liked it here and decided to stop in for a bit, wanting nothing but the best experience.

Stopping a little bit away, he drove down the lazy streets where nothing seemed to be occurring. Going and driving for miles down suburban streets, he passed dive bars and gentlemen’s clubs, garages, and parks. Then he went further into the neighborhoods and stopped at a park.

He breathed in the freedom of the small town feel and he loved it. Growing up in a rich white family, being the only child, he loved this fresh feeling of being alive, experiencing a new life far away from everything he had known. No one knew him, he could be himself or anyone. No one could put him in the box they had contrived for him back home. Here, he felt he could truly be himself.

Walking along the pebbled path, he came to a bench. Sitting on it earnestly and looking at the carvings of lovers and tick-tack-toe players presenting their art, he glanced at a middle-aged man with sunglasses walking with his dog who nodded with a smile and wave. The man walked with his lab who sniffed around the grassy field. The man looked lost like he never experienced another person’s company and so turned away in sadness. Ricky found it odd as he walked briskly to his car.

“Hey, where you from?” An old man asked whose house was in front where Ricky had parked.

“Oh, uh, Jersey. New Jersey,” he said.

The man came closer to the chain link fence he was behind, rusted from time. “I saw you saying hello to that man over there. You didn’t hear, I guess.”

“Hear what?”

The old man’s face was grave. Something was wrong. “There’s been murders happening for a month now. That man’s daughter was killed. Nobody knows who’s doing it. It’s causing all sorts of mayhem. I’m Randy by the way.” They shook hands warmly.

“Ricky, yeah, well, that’s… thanks for tellin’ me.”

“Yeah, so if anyone looks at ya funny they may have lost someone dear or suspicious of a new face. It’s a big city though. There’s crazies all over.”

“Not like New York though,” Ricky said pondering.

“Oh yes, that big one. Never got to it yet.”

“Not much to see.”

“My wife wants to go but I… I couldn’t care less,” he laughed heartily. Ricky smiled. “Well, watch yourself, now.”

“Thanks, Randy.” He went inside closing his back porch sliding door.

Ricky turned on his car driving off and as he went into more rural country and sped up. The roads were long and wide seeming to go on for eternity, never ceasing. But as he went faster he saw blaring lights through his mirror.

Red and blue lights whirled and sirens wailed startling Ricky as he pulled over.

Shit.

He rolled down all his windows signaling he was no criminal.

The sheriff of East Lansing stepped out of his police car in his pressed uniform and polished badge with his big brown cowboy hat. Leaning against Ricky’s car with one hand on his hip, he said, “You know how fast you were going?”

Ricky saw the deputy, opposite the sheriff, lurch forward putting his hand on his hip.

“No, officer, sorry, I got lost back there.”

“I’m Sheriff Dan. License and registration, please,” he said and went back to his car. Ricky decided to get everything ready and presented it to the sheriff. His deputy never moved but stared, focused as he came sauntering back.

“You know what’s going on here?”

“I was told.”

“Murders. Three of ’em in the last month. So… what’s a Jersey boy doin’ all the way West?”

“Well, officer, I’m in school. It’s the summer. Thought I make a trip around the country. See everything.”

“August classes usually start soon, don’t they?”

“I’m takin’ a year off.”

The sheriff taking his shades off, leaned in close. “Where were you last night?”

“Drivin’. Just got here today.”

“Ohio?”

“I’m sorry,”

“Were you in Ohio yesterday?” Sheriff Dan asked sternly.

“Yes, officer.”

The sheriff looked to his deputy who had relaxed and took his hand off his weapon.

“Just making sure.” He gave Randy a broad smile with stained yellow teeth. “I’ll be back.” He was gone as he meticulously handled the paperwork.

Ricky was shocked by the murders. He had never known anyone who was killed or knew people whose family was taken by death. It all seemed like a movie.

Upon returning, the sheriff said, “Alright, I’ll give ya a warning but next time, slow down Mr. New Jersey. The roads are kind here, the pace is slow, too slow. Be careful here. And don’t make friends with the wrong crowd. You see anything, call me.” He gave him his card. “That’s my personal number. Stay safe, kid.” He banged the top of the car twice turning as the sheriff and his deputy drove off.

“This is serious.”

Ricky drove, coming to a stop sign when his car started spewing white smoke. He cursed and screamed furiously. Getting out, he opened the hood. Nothing but a bunch of mechanical contraptions he didn’t know. White smoke filled his nostrils making him cough and fan the engine overheated by the sun and squeezed by working overtime.

No one was in sight. The road was empty, devoid of any life, and no sound of truck or car was heard. A green field fenced with cows roaming and grazing was on his right and to the left, horses in the far distance. Being on a major highway was bad news and so he waited. No cellular service and no triple-A.

He sat on the side of the road sighing. Life had been up and down. His parents were both workaholics with dead-end corporate jobs that sucked the life from them and their family life.

They met at a conference. Learning for Tomorrow trained people whose careers were unfulfilling and who needed coaching and a network of like-minded people. Coaching others and speaking in these extroverted pulsating environments where professionalism was key, they fell in love with the pursuit of serving others. Which was admirable, Ricky knew, but still hated going to them, dragged by his folks. They were filled always with fake people just trying to make money wherever possible.

Professionalism my ass, the whole world was unfulfilled. Everybody always working harder and harder, never catching their breath. It’s all a joke.

Suddenly, a large black van pulled up to the scene, and three young men his age got out. “What’s up, brother? How are ya?” the young leader of the group said shaking Randy’s hand.

“Alright. Car not doin’ so hot.”

“Yeah, I can see. My buddy here, Caelan, knows a thing or two. Let’s have a look?”

“Please, got no service out here.” Randy said as the three got out of the black van to assist.

“None of us do,” Caelan said looking inside the hood. “What’s your name?”

“Ricky, Ricky Bates.”

“Pleasure to meet ya, Rick. I’m Ivan. This is Caelan you know, and Nick.”

“How are you, bro?” Nick said sheepishly as he spit snot.

“Where you from,” Ivan asked.

“New Jersey.”

They all hollered and laughed, “Oh Jersey! New Joisey!” Ivan said mocking him, but Ricky didn’t mind. He laughed along.

“That’s not how we talk,” Ricky said with a smile.

“It’s not far, brother,” Ivan said. “You guys with your fancy cars and expensive shit.”

“Is the mob big there,” Nick asked.

He laughed, “Not where I am anyway. That was nineties shit.”

“They still controllin’ everything though, right?” Ivan began. “It’s just in the government now. What we once had at grassroots level is now just politics. Corrupt, murdering thieves is all it is. You ever heard of the conspiracy, the one with the giant bugs?”

He’s crazy. “Nope, I don’t think so.”

“Well, they say,” Ivan said lighting a cigarette. “The higher-ups in politics are these giant bug people who have taken over people’s bodies and manipulate world events to their liking. Look it up, bro.”

“Shit, you in deep,” Ricky said, chuckling.

“I’m in too deep, my man,” Ivan laughed, slapping his shoulder. Even if Ivan was crazy Ricky still liked him. His charisma and social skills were unbeatable. Attractive and articulate, he demanded respect. “How we lookin’ Caelan?”

“Let’s fill it with some coolant. It looks like there’s a leak maybe in the coolant system. I got some, don’t worry.”

“Hey, thanks, guys,” Ricky said, genuinely relieved that somebody had come.

“Don’t thank us,” Ivan said. “Thank him. His dad loves working on cars. Jeeps and trucks. All of ’em. Hey, you know a few things about cars, doncha?” he asked referring to Nick.

“Me,” Nick asked shocked. He laughed, “No, but I know how to get down with the ladies, man.”

“That you do, brother,” Ivan said. “Hey, it’s Friday,” he said taking a drag from his cigarette. “What’re you doin’ tonight? You visitin’ family?”

“No,” Ricky said shrugging. “Doin’ whatever. No plans. I don’t even have a place to stay.”

“You’ll stay with us, man! Don’t worry, we got you covered. We got a couch in the basement.”

“You all live together?”

“Gay, I know, but we pay nothin’, man.”

“How much?”

“Three fifty each.”

“What?”

“Dude, cheaper here. What’d I say? We had another guy but, uh… I don’t know where he is.” Ivan took a long drag. Caelan came back with the coolant filling up the Camry. The white smoke had dissipated mostly. Everyone hushed.

“Whaddya mean?” Ricky asked, intrigued.

“We… uh. We can’t find our friend,” Ivan said.

“What ya talkin’ about?”

“He skedaddled off somewhere. Don’t know where he is,” Nick said.

“You lookin’ for him?” Ricky asked wondering.

“We were,” Ivan said. “But who knows? He could be in a gutter somewhere, drunk,” he giggled. “He does this from time to time.” Smirking broadly, he took another drag.

“Well, should be good, man,” Caelan finally said. “We know a guy. Roll it up down this road for about a half mile and then turn right and he’ll be down past two lights. You can’t miss him. Better to have someone look at it to make sure everything’s OK with it.”

“OK, thanks. Hey, but if you’re lookin’ for your friend, I don’t wanna keep you.”

“Nah, you’re fine, brother,” Ivan said assuring him with a smile. “We’ll follow you.” He drove away ahead of Ricky as he shouted, “It’s the start of a beautiful friendship!” He howled like a wolf in the dying morning.

Ricky checked his watch. Almost noon.

Finding the shop wasn’t hard as the three guys waited in the back for Ricky. He pulled the car into the lot. The sign read Franky’s.

A large mechanic round and full who waddled to meet Ricky stopped short and saw the black van. “Whaddya fellas want?”

“We’re waiting for him,” Ivan said smoking another cigarette.

“I told you, you can’t park here.”

“Hey, man, it’ll take two seconds while you help him.”

The large mechanic turned around and sighed heavily. “Alright, what’s the problem?” Ricky explained the car problem and how the guys helped.

“You stay away from them, you hear? They’re nothin’ but trouble. Gus, you get your ass over here, now!” he yelled. Gus, his son, came over. “You take care of this car, alright?

“Where you stayin’? I’ll call ya when it’s done.”

“With them,” Ricky said, pointing.

“Bad news, kid. All I’ll say is: watch yourself.” Ricky shrugged not believing him, but frankly, he didn’t care.

“I’ll be alright. Thanks, Franky,” he said.

“That’s my father’s name. I’m Jedd and this here is Gus, my son.” Giving his nod of respect, he headed for the black car.

“All set?” Ivan said.

“Yessir.”

“Alright, let’s go,” Nick said looking at his phone. “Turn on the tunes.” Caelan started up the van, turned on the radio, and blasted metal screamo, leaving behind a dirty trail of black, thick exhaust.

To Be Continued…

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