Back The Ravaged
Chapters (30)
  1. HUNTER
  2. JACK
  3. ANNE
  4. HUNTER
  5. JACK
  6. ANNE
  7. HUNTER
  8. JACK
  9. ANNE
  10. HUNTER
  11. JACK
  12. ANNE
  13. HUNTER
  14. JACK
  15. ANNE
  16. HUNTER
  17. JACK
  18. ANNE
  19. HUNTER
  20. JACK
  21. ANNE
  22. HUNTER
  23. JACK
  24. ANNE
  25. HUNTER
  26. JACK
  27. ANNE
  28. HUNTER
  29. JACK
  30. ANNE

“Hunter, I’m damn sorry to hear that. Your dad—I know he wasn’t around all the time when you was growing up, but when he was, he made the most of his time with you. Hell, he made it for anyone he encountered. I’m proof of that.”

Thinking about it, Hunter knows that Sid is right. “He did. And we tried to keep in touch. But with us living on separate ends of the spectrum, it was tough. So now I’m riding cross-country with these two crazies, making a complete safari of the trip.”

“How long you gonna be in Indiana?”

“Haven’t really planned it out. Probably tonight. We’ll see, maybe catch some breakfast tomorrow, then head out. Enough about me. What the hell have you been up to?”

Fidgety, looking around with a lost gaze, Sid runs his hand through his Einstein do and says, “Oh, you know, retired from earning my keep. Trying to keep this place in order since Annie passed of cancer last fall.” After a quiet moment, he asks, “Say, any of you fellas want a beer?”

Hunter wants to ask who he was bickering with, but doesn’t. Looks to Itch and Nugget, who shrug and nod yes, they suppose they could drink a beer. As reliable as the tides. Hunter pulls down the beginnings of a smile. “Sure,” he says. “Thought about heading back into Corydon for some grub. You hungry?”

“Corydon? Fuck that noise. You just wheeled in; you sure as shit ain’t backtracking. I got a better option. Let’s hit the VFW. They got a fish fry tonight. Have some beers, catch up. What do you and your saddle gang say?”

Hunter turns. “Sound good, guys?”

Itch grins. “Let’s do it.”

Nugget says, “I’m game.”

“Then get your bony asses up. We’re driving the ’Cuda.”

The black upholstery is clean and smells new—odd for a car that’s fifty years old. Engine is loud and rumbling.

“Hear that?” Sid asks. “That, my friends, is the sound of a four-forty V-eight, triple deuce carburetors, and 727 TorqueFlite automatic transmission.”

“Sweet fucking ride.” Itch tells Sid as they pull into the graveled parking lot at the VFW.

“Appreciate it,” says Sid. “Just replaced the seats few months back.”