Devil's Breath

By Sebastian Chase

Sue Ellen Jenkins has lived a life most would not survive. Now, she has found a semblance of peace after moving away from the small Georgian town where her father enjoyed killing—and received a life sentence for his pleasures. To enable her escape, she married young to a tolerably abusive man. When her father dies in prison, issues arise with her autistic brother, forcing her to return to the town she thought she had left behind. Here, she discovers that life has saved its best for last—an evil so dark that it threatens to consume the country. Her devastation is complete when she finds out it is the same sadistic spirit that had possessed her father, but now it occupies her husband.

Reunited with the high school sweetheart she should have married, former Army Ranger Ron Dalton, Sue finds herself dragged into insanity beyond comprehension. Together they must rescue her brother from the merciless cult that has been preparing for the return of the entity, but to do so, they have to survive in a town that has become Hell on Earth. Nearly every resident is now a killer, made that way by the cult's secret weapon, the drug Devil's Breath. Once used by the Nazis and CIA for interrogation, utilized today by Colombian criminals to gain control of victims, the drug effectively turns people into zombie-like puppets.

Shockingly, Sue discovers that her brother may be a key player in the murderous plot, but more disturbing is what Ron Dalton learns about Sue; she used to be a killer, too. Unsure if he can trust the woman he still loves, Ron finds himself in a bloody war once again. This time though, it is not with the Taliban, but with a demon and its cult who are testing their strategy on his small town before moving to their ultimate goal: using Devil's Breath to carry out the largest terrorist attack the world has ever known.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sebastian Chase
• Release date: Jun 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311878410

Sebastian Chase

Sebastian Chase is a Navy Veteran, former programmer, and surgical technician. He has written for enjoyment for several decades starting with short stories and poetry, which evolved into lyrics for local bands. He grew up in a military family, which led to extensive world travel, including living for two years in Iran when relations were better with the United States. He has also toured Western Europe, Eastern Ukraine, Iraq, and the United Arab Emirates. Stateside, he grew up in Virginia, California, and Washington State. He now calls Denver, Colorado home where he lives with his wife and son in the shadows of the beautiful Rocky Mountains.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Dreading the coming confrontation, Sue Ellen Jenkins released the latch on the worn picket fence and stepped into the backyard. The sweet smell of roses accosted her, made more intense by the hot stagnant Georgian air. She closed the gate quietly and walked down the pea-graveled path; yellow roses to her left, lavender to her right, more varieties ahead. She turned the corner, coming to the backside of the old house, and there she saw her brother. He was working in one of the many flowerbeds, and even though he was almost thirty, he reminded her of the boy he had once been, always playing in the dirt. She walked to him smiling, enjoying the memories.

You have been such a good boy. I promise this won't hurt a bit, her brother said. She watched from behind as he placed garden shears at the base of a burgundy rose and cut. Well, maybe it hurt a little.

Why do you call them boys? she asked. Startled, Billy Moreland dropped the rose and whipped around, his muddy-brown eyes wide with fear below his wiry sandy-blond hair. After several seconds, recognition dawned on his face.

Sue! he exclaimed. His sweaty brow furrowed, his eyes squinted as if in suspicion. Where did you come from? With a southern drawl, he spoke slow, mirroring the speed at which his mind moved. At age three, doctors diagnosed Billy with an intellectual disability, but in grade school, cruel children dubbed him retarded. Billy had suffered a lot.

I'm sorry for scaring you, she said. I tried the front door, but when you didn't answer, I knew you'd be here. Billy's large backyard rivaled some of the finest home-based rose gardens in the world. Every square inch that wasn't a pathway held an assortment of roses in elevated planting beds, their sugary fragrance attracting countless bees from the surrounding forest. The bees made Sue nervous, but she had learned long ago that ignoring them was the best way to avoid a sting.

Why are you here? he asked, setting the shears down and removing his gardening gloves, laying them next to the fallen rose. It's a long drive, and it's not a holiday. Why then?

Sue and her husband had relocated to Macon several years earlier, after her father died in prison, leaving Billy alone in the inherited house he now adorned with the thorny flowers. She had wanted Billy to come with them, but he refused. His gaze, both accusatory and suspicious, now cut through her. Even though he was slow, she knew he was still highly perceptive.

Sheriff Dalton called, she said.

Ronny? Billy had grown up with Ronny Dalton, and considered him as close a friend as possible in that Ronny had never called him retarded.

Yes. He said you had an issue at Corky's Market.

He was out of Yoo-hoo, Billy said defensively.

That's no reason to yell at the man. Corky is almost eighty-years old. You could have given him a heart attack.

He was out of Yoo-hoo! Billy yelled.

Sue stepped back, shocked at the passion her brother displayed over the chocolaty drink. After years of dealing with his eccentricities, she knew she had to tread softly or he would fall into a fit. He was lucky Ron hadn't arrested him for his outburst in the store.

Let's go inside, she said. Get out of this heat and get some sweet tea.

Hotter than a fresh fucked fox in a forest fire! Billy exclaimed, repeating one of his dad's favorite phrases.

Billy! That is not appropriate! Come inside. Her motherly instincts had taken over. After years of compensating for her father's shortcomings when dealing with his youngest child, she found these instincts hard to let go.

I call them boys because they are part of me and I'm a boy, he said, not moving.

Huh?

Your question, why do I call my roses boys.

Oh, I get it. Very poetic. He nodded his head once and then turned to retrieve the rose he had cut.

Ouch! he cried, bent over.

What is it?

He poked me! Billy picked up the shears lying in the dirt next to the offending flower and violently began to stab at it. Bad boy! Bad! Bad! Bad!

Billy! Stop! Sue cried, but was afraid to approach him should he turn the shears on her.

You-are-a-bad-boy! Billy emphasized each word as he stabbed the shears through the delicate flower repeatedly, driving the blades hilt deep into dirt, splaying rose petals far and wide.

Billy, please!

Damn, he got me again! Billy cried while looking at the side of his hand where blood trickled from another small hole the rose inflicted. He dropped the shears, stepped into the flowerbed, and started jumping like a maniac on top of the helpless flower. This is what we do to bad boys! Bad, bad, bad!

Sue stepped back a few feet and watched, knowing she was powerless to stop the country-honed muscles of her brother while he raged over a prick from a flower. Sheriff Dalton had been right in his suspicions; Billy was no longer taking his medications.

After a couple minutes, red-faced and breathless, Billy calmed down. He looked at the destroyed rose and then to his sister's horrified face. She saw as a disturbing anger fled from his eyes, replaced by shame and guilt.

Sue Ellen, he said softly, his eyes drifting downward. I'm sorry.

Her memory instantly jumped back to the last time Billy had apologized in the same shameful tone. It was after he had accidently shot a teenager fifteen years ago while hunting with Dad. Chills crawled up her spine.

Chapter 2

Inside, Billy's house was more than a mess; it looked like a tornado had lifted the local garbage dump, flies and all, and dropped it into the small two-story home. Empty yellow Yoo-hoo cans were scattered on the brown Formica kitchen counter with several spilling onto the linoleum floor. Candy bar and snack cake wrappers were tossed haphazardly onto the worn carpet in the adjoining living room. Sue looked around in disbelief, taking in crushed paper cups and plates, sunflower seed shells spit out by an uncaring mouth, scattered rose-inspired magazines, pillows, blankets, dirt apparently from gardening indoors—a complete natural disaster. Dismayed, she swatted a fly away.

Has Marie been coming in to clean? she asked Billy, who was retrieving a pitcher of tea from the refrigerator. Marie was the wife of a migrant worker that Sue hired to check on Billy three times a week. She was supposed to clean house, refill his prescriptions if needed, and call Sue should any concerns pop up. Filthy concern littered the house, yet Marie had never called.

Billy walked to a small dinette table and proudly sat the pitcher down. Tea, he stated as if he had discovered fire. Sue noticed a black ring of mold on the inside of the pitcher, which rudely quenched her thirst. She wanted to freak out, but knew her brother required patience.

How about we just go out for chocolate shakes later? she asked.

Really? The kind with whipped cream and a cherry on top?

Absolutely, but first, sit. We need to talk.

Okay. I love the cherry, except the stem of course. Did you know you're not supposed to eat the stem? And always save the cherry for last. It's like a dessert after dessert.

While he rambled about the divine attributes of maraschino cherries, Sue pulled a wooden chair out for him and encouraged him to sit. She took the seat opposite, and just stared, wondering how to start. Her biggest concern was the disappearance of Marie. She had seemed a responsible, hard-working woman who was desperate for cash. Sue wondered why Marie hadn't called to at least let her know she was quitting. What had happened?

Billy, when did you last see Marie? she asked, focusing his attention by placing her hand gently on his as it rested on the table.

Umm, let me think. He looked up at the ceiling, pursed his lips and scrunched his eyes.

Billy? Sue said after several moments passed. He looked back down at her.

Yeah? he asked, seeming to have forgotten her question.

Marie?

Oh, yeah! Marie! She's a really nice lady. He smiled. Very pretty, too.

When was the last time you saw her? Be patient, Sue reminded herself.

Well…she cleaned up the house, and then said she had to refill my pills, but I didn't want her to refill them because they turn me into a zombie. That's what they do, make me a zombie. I just found out about zombies on the television, and when I saw them with their crazy dead eyes and moving all slow and creepy-like, I said to myself that's what the pills turn me in to. A zombie! I don't like being a zombie. They're scary.

So you're not taking your medications anymore?

Nope. I'm a human now so no one will be afraid of me. I think Marie was afraid of me. I was a zombie, so of course she was.

Fear rose in Sue's heart. Billy, did you…did you hurt Marie?

"Oh zombies always hurt people. Did you know they're called the living dead?" He looked at her as if expecting her to be shocked by the revelation.

Sue didn't know if he meant that zombies hurt people in general, or if he had hurt Marie when he believed he was a zombie.

Zombies are not real, she said, as calmly as possible. They are just people in makeup on television. Where's Marie, Billy? Please, try and remember.

Okay. He twiddled his thumbs and looked around the room, and then blurted, Aliens!

Aliens? Her frustration grew. First zombies, now aliens; she might have to call for help after all.

She told me her and her family are aliens! And…and…her husband's boss couldn't get them a visa, but I don't know what getting a credit card has to do with them being aliens. I have a hard time understanding her. Sorry.

Relief washed over Sue. Did she say they had to go back to Mexico? she asked.

She said she had to go home for awhile. Is there a planet called Mexico?

No, Billy. She is from the country Mexico. People from other countries are sometimes called aliens.

That's confusing.

Do you know why she didn't call me?

No telefono. I remember she said no telefono over and over. That's what they call telephones on her planet.

Why didn't she use yours? Sue asked.

I lost it.

What? How?

I brought it with me to the store in case of emergency and must have left it someplace.

It was a landline, Billy! Her exasperation showed through. He cringed back, forcing her to put her emotions in check. I’m sorry. No wonder I couldn't get through to you. Your phone only works here at home.

Oh…I thought that wire hanging out of it was an antenna. Stupid me. I was so proud I had the longest antenna in the store and then I lost the stupid thing. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

You are not stupid. It's okay. Listen, we have to make some changes.

'Cause of the phone?

No, because of what happened at the store. Sheriff Dalton is worried about you.

Why would Ronny worry about me? he asked.

It's his job.

Oh. I thought maybe he really cared about me. Billy looked down at the table and started tracing paths across the wood with his index finger.

I didn't mean it that way. He does care. Anyway, he said either I can bring you home with me, or he will find you a place you can stay and be safe.

Billy's head snapped up, his eyes meeting hers. I’m not leaving, he stated flatly.

Honey, we don't have a choice anymore.

I'm not leaving! He slammed his hand on the table and glared at her, that disturbing anger once again rolling across his eyes like an incoming storm.

Please, calm down, she said, feeling truly scared.

I was fine until you showed up.

Billy, you threatened to cut Corky because he didn't have your drink. If you don't go with me, Ron will come and take you.

Billy was silent as he looked around the house, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

What about my boys? he asked softly, dropping his gaze back to her.

We can come back every weekend and check on them, and Troy and I have a big yard. We can bring a lot of them to our house.

Troy. I forgot about Troy. He's mean.

He's gotten a lot better, Billy. He doesn't drink like he used to. Come on, it'll be fun. They're never out of Yoo-hoos in Macon, and you can buy whole jars of those cherries you love so much.

He punched me in the arm and it hurt, and he teases me…

He won't. I'll make sure of it. Will you come stay with us for a while? Please?

Okay, but he better not tease me. Zombies don't like to be teased.

Sue wasn't sure whether she should be happy or scared to death. Her husband was still an active alcoholic, a bridge she tried to cross once and was beaten for it. Worse, Troy didn't know that she would be returning home with Billy in tow. The sheriff had given her no choice; it was either bring her brother home or watch him institutionalized. Sue knew Billy would die of depression in an institution; she just hoped no one would die in her home.

Chapter 3

Billy spent the next couple of hours digging up his favorite rose plants and protecting the roots with plastic bags, while Sue worked to clean up the garbage dump inside. She didn't want to return and find a colony of mice feasting on the countertops, and with Billy out of the house, she intended on selling the place. The prospect of money was one of the cards Sue hoped to play that would alleviate her husband's anger.

Armed with fifty-gallon trash bags, she tackled the daunting task. From the refrigerator, she scooped out molded cheese, rank lunchmeat, sour milk, and fruit so shriveled and rotten that she couldn't tell what it was. She moved on to the dirty dishes, also tossing them in a trash bag, not wanting to take the time to wash them. After disposing of the empty drink cans and food wrappers scattered about, Sue organized the magazines in a neat stack for Billy to take with him. The small downstairs bathroom took a greater portion of a roll of paper towels and half-a-bottle of Clorox to clean, after which, she moved upstairs.

Surprisingly, Billy's bedroom was fairly clean. She remembered the blankets and pillows in the living room, and decided that her brother was probably sleeping on the couch, watching zombie movies through the night. Realization dawned on her that letting him live on his own had been a mistake. Troy had made the decision, not her, but that was no excuse. This time, she was determined to take care of Billy, even if it meant leaving her husband—if he would let her leave.

The bed was absent of a sheet and blanket, but a black binder rested on the mattress. Aside from some pajamas on the floor and clothes in the closet, the binder was the only other item in the room. She sat on the bed, reached for the book, and opened it to the first page. A picture of a young Billy, about five-years old, hugging their mother jumped out at her. Below the picture, Billy had scrawled, I love you, Mommy. Apparently, she had stumbled upon Billy's scrapbook. Sue smiled and turned the page. Her smile faded.

On the left-hand page was a crayon drawing of a house in flames, and on the right side, a newspaper article. The headline read, Wife and Mother Dies in Fire. Sue felt sick, suddenly accosted with memories she had suppressed for most of her life. She had been thirteen, and Billy was nine the night of the fire. The article held all the gory details, but Sue didn't need to read it to know them.

She and Billy had shared the same bedroom in their old small house, not much more than a cabin really. It was Christmas Eve, and they had gone to bed early, hoping sleep would make Santa come sooner. They couldn't sleep though because their parents started arguing in the bedroom next door. At times, their voices grew frightening loud, and there was a lot of banging, making the walls shake. Billy came to Sue's bed, and together they huddled in fear until at last the battle wore itself out late at night. Finally, they drifted to sleep together, unaware that they would never see their mother again.

In the dark hours of early morning, their father busted into the room and urgently shook Sue. There's a fire, buttercup, we've got to go! he said. Sue, generally a light sleeper, was up instantly, but Billy's odd mind ensured that he could sleep through a train wreck. While their dad grabbed Billy out of Sue's bed, she wondered why she couldn't smell smoke. She didn't have time to wonder for long because they were hustled out of the house at breakneck speed. No sooner had they hit the dirt road out front, the home exploded, sending them sprawling roughly to the ground. With flames now raging, they pulled themselves up, shocked. Mommy, Billy whispered.

Their father claimed to authorities that smoke had engulfed the master bedroom, and that he thought his wife was behind him as he rushed to save the children. She wasn't. Little was left of her for the coroner to examine, so he rubber-stamped the cause of death as smoke inhalation. The subsequent gas explosion prevented any questioning of the findings. Sue never smelled smoke that night; a fact her father disputed before authorities arrived, thus making the young girl doubt her own senses. As she grew older, she suspected someone turned the gas on, turning the house into a makeshift bomb, but she left it alone. Sue turned the page.

On this page was a newspaper clipping about missing teenage twin sisters, dated two years after the house explosion. The siblings were abducted from their home after school while the parents were working, but evidence of a struggle was nonexistent. Authorities assumed the girls knew their abductor. They were never found. The facing page held a similar case that occurred one year to the day after the sisters went missing, but this time it was a high school boy. Sue clearly remembered when the boy went missing because he lived nearby their new house—the house she now stood in—and the police had canvassed the neighborhood asking questions. Led by their father, Sue and Billy walked the nearby forest for several days assisting with the search effort. In the end, the case remained unsolved.

Turning the page, another headline startled her: Teen Killed in Hunting Accident by Retarded Boy. She cringed; intellectually disabled or special needs had not yet become in vogue terms when the article was written—an article about her brother. On that day, Billy and their dad had left early in the morning to go hunting. Dad was trying to make a man out of Billy, he had said, but instead made his son into a murderer. Her father told authorities that Billy thought the teen was a distant deer since he wasn't wearing an orange hunting vest, and shot him. Billy agreed with the story. Case closed. It had been a perfect head shot at fifty yards, an amazing feat for someone of limited mental prowess. Sue didn't want to relive the nightmare. Next page.

Teacher Killed by Irate Parent, this headline read. Their dad had been the irate parent, and killing Billy's math teacher was what had sent him to prison for life, leaving Billy in the care of his older sister. Witnesses claimed that their dad, Rick Moreland, cornered the teacher in the parking lot after school, pushing him and yelling at the cowering man about Billy's grades being unfair. Dad left after the confrontation with no one injured, but things went downhill the next morning when a student coming to class early discovered the teacher dead at his desk. Blunt-force trauma to the head was the listed cause of death. Forensics found a strand of Rick Moreland's hair on the instructor's jacket, which hung neatly in the closet. On the teacher's desk, next to his pale outstretched hand, sat a red rose, which investigators traced back to a single rose bush in Moreland's backyard. This, combined with the confrontation, sent their dad to prison where he died a slow and agonizing death brought on by esophageal cancer. Sue knew that the death of Billy's father hadn't bothered him near as much as the murder of his math teacher; an instructor Billy liked and trusted very much. After the murder, Billy's obsession with roses blossomed, and Sue often worried that his hobby stemmed from a morbid fascination with the flower left on the teacher's body.

Reality aside, in the fantasy-riddled minds of high school students, a legend was born, honed and refined over their years. According to this legend, during the initial confrontation with the instructor, their dad reached into the back of his pickup truck and retrieved a sledgehammer, forcing the teacher to run in panic. Rick Moreland chased the fleeing teacher into the adjacent football field, dropping the sledgehammer in order to make a perfect tackle in the end zone that sent the smaller man sprawling. Teenagers making out on the bleachers saw Moreland retrieve the heavy hammer, and then he screamed Touchdown! as he bashed the stunned man's head in with it.

The legend of The Sledgehammer haunted the halls of the school ever since. Be careful going out, The Sledgehammer is always watching, some would say, or to visiting football teams, The Sledge is gonna help us bash your brains out! The myth grew and fearful people started blaming the disappearance of the sisters and teenage boy on The Sledgehammer. Sightings of a dead Rick Moreland carrying a sledgehammer around a quiet school at night were reported, and through the years, many claimed to have seen him in the crowds of Friday night football games. Rumors even circulated that a local cult had formed, dedicated to the convicted killer and his assumed supernatural abilities. Rick Moreland had become the small town's boogeyman.

Sue shook her head in painful remembrance. The scrapbook wasn't a fond collection of memories, it was a book of death. Her eyes scanned the opposite page. She froze. Pasted neatly there was Sue and Troy's marriage announcement.

What 'cha doing? Billy asked from the doorway. Startled, Sue slammed the scrapbook shut. Hey! That's private! Looking furious, he rushed forward and snatched the book out of her hands.

Why did you make it? Sue asked.

It was made to remember those who left, he said, nearly hyperventilating.

Then why is my marriage announcement in it?

'Cause you left, too. Hugging the book to his chest, he turned and stormed out of the room.

Chapter 4

Sue tracked her brother to the large gardening shed that stood in the far corner of the backyard. He was sitting on a wooden stool at the workbench, his head resting on the table, cushioned by his arms. She didn't see the scrapbook anywhere, probably hastily hidden from human eyes forever.

Billy, she said softly, stepping into the skylight-lit structure. I know I've made some mistakes, but I'm here for you now.

He was quiet, pouting.

Sue moved forward through beams of sunlight, past an assortment of tools resting against the wall. Shovels, rakes, pitchfork, axe, and a sledgehammer. Briefly, she wondered why Billy required a sledgehammer to grow roses. She stepped around a wheelbarrow and bags of dirt and fertilizer, coming next to him.

I'm sorry, she said.

He turned teary eyes up to her. I don't want to go.

We have to. Maybe, if things get better once you're on your pills again, you can come back. Guilt swam through her blood for lying to him; she was selling the house no matter what, but first she had to get him out of it.

The medicine turns me into a zombie.

No, it just helps you control your emotions, but we'll see a doctor to make sure you're on the right stuff. Ready for that chocolate shake with extra cherries?

You're blackmailing me.

No, I believe I'm bribing you, she said, forcing a smile. It worked, his mouth upturned with a small smile of his own.

Okay, he said. But I want two shakes since you invaded my privacy.

Done, but only after a burger.

With cherries on that, too.

Sounds delicious, Billy's world-famous Georgia cherry burger. C'mon, let's go.

Sue Ellen and Billy loaded a dozen pruned rose plants in the back of her twenty-year-old Chevy pickup, one small suitcase, and the stack of magazines went in the cab. With a final slow and sad wave to his home, they drove away.

We have a few stops to make before hitting the highway, Sue said, navigating the potholed streets of the small neighborhood. I called in your prescriptions earlier so we need to pick them up, then I have to let the sheriff know I got you, and then we'll do supper. Sound good?

No.

She looked at him. Why?

You said we'd see a doctor for some new pills. Why do we have to get the old ones?

Because part of the sheriff's terms for not arresting you was to get you back on your meds. I'll make an appointment with a doctor for as soon as possible, but until then, you need to take the medicine you have.

He was silent, staring out the window. She turned onto a small bumpy road that meandered through a strip of forest, breaking out the other side into the small town. Low-slung brick buildings lined the main thoroughfare, many built during the Civil War era, refurbished after World War II, but fallen into neglect since. Traffic was light, as it always was, and she quickly found a parking space in front of the pharmacy. From there, it was a short walk to the Sheriff's Office and the local diner.

Billy waited out front while she retrieved his pills from the pharmacist. He claimed feeling uncomfortable around the witch doctors that could turn him into a zombie.

You're famous, Sue said to him when she came out.

What do you mean? he asked.

Mr. Edelman heard about your incident at Corky's. He had your pills ready before I even called.

Mr. Edelman is a bad man. Mr. Badman should be his name. Selling drugs is bad. Bad, bad, bad.

He's just trying to help. Let's get to the sheriff's before he leaves for the night.

As they walked the few short blocks to the Sheriff's Office, quivers of nervousness rose in her belly at the thought of seeing Ron again. They had been high school sweethearts, ripped apart by all the tragedy that seemed to follow her family. Once the hunting accident made Billy front-page news, Ronny's parents forbade him to see her. They resisted covertly for a few months, until his dad caught them, and then that was it. A short time later on the rebound, she gave into Troy's longtime pursuit of her. They moved to Macon to find work, and Ron vanished into the world before returning and running for sheriff, winning by a landslide. Sue tried not to resent Billy for how his actions had changed her life, but it was hard. The hunting accident had forced her to trade handsome sheriff for deranged drunk. She shivered and pushed the thoughts down hard as they arrived to the office. With some trepidation, she pulled the wooden door open and allowed Billy to step in first.

Billy, it's great to see you again! Sheriff Dalton said right away, as if he had been standing by the door waiting for them.

Sue entered, her heart skipping a beat the minute she saw Ron. He had grown even more handsome if that was possible; tall, broad shouldered, his sparkling blue eyes under thick black hair, a confident reassuring smile that made her want to drop into his arms and be rescued. He reminded her of the actors who always played Superman in the movies.

Sue Ellen, the sheriff said, sounding nervous. He used to tell her that she was the most beautiful girl in the school, but she felt inadequate now with her short and bland brown hair and boring brown eyes, dressed like she was about to take a romp through the woods. You look as good as ever. He approached her with arms outstretched, looked at Billy, and decided instead to extend a hand. She took it and immediately tingled inside.

Hi, sheriff, she said, thinking her voice sounded like a squeaking mouse.

Like I said on the phone, call me Ron. His hand still held hers, his beautiful eyes caressing her soul.

Sorry. Ron, thank you for taking care of Billy.

My pleasure. Slowly, tenderly, he released her hand and turned to her brother. She found herself feeling disappointed that his attention had strayed from her. I've got your bicycle safe in the storage room. Want me to get it?

He's going back to Macon with me, Sue interjected. It's a busy town, much too busy for him to ride a bike around in. Ron turned back to her, making her feel special again.

Okay, he said. I gave him a ride after the incident. It's no problem to hold it until you want it. How have you been Sue?

Can we go get my cherry burger, now? Billy said impatiently from the side. With a Yoo-hoo, and then two chocolate shakes. Can we?

Billy, don't be rude. Let us talk for a minute, she said.

If he's determined to give himself diabetes, who are we to stand in the way, Ron said. We can talk just as well at the diner. My treat.

Sheriff, I'm sure you have other things to do, she said, starting to feel worried.

Nope. I was about to lock up for the day and get some supper myself. I'm curious about this cherry burger. Maybe I should try it. Sound good to you Billy?

You're the greatest, Ronny, Billy said, smiling.

Well, okay…I guess, Sue said. As the sheriff locked up, she developed a strong fear that one of her husband's old friends would be at the diner. If word got back to Troy that she was having dinner with her old boyfriend, there would be hell to pay.

Chapter 5

And what can I get you, honey? the waitress asked Billy. She was dressed in an orange and white outfit, with the miniskirt too short, and the blouse threatening to explode from her ample bosom. The diner was half-full, but being dinnertime, more hungry people trickled in every minute. Sue watched the door nervously, keeping a menu nearby should she need to hide behind it. Billy looked up from his menu.

I'd like a classic cheeseburger, he said. But with no lettuce, tomatoes, onions, pickles, or mayonnaise.

You just took the classic out of it, the waitress replied, scrawling on a notepad.

Instead, I want cherries on it. The kind you put on sundaes, please.

She stopped writing and looked at him. Seriously?

Yes, please.

Whatever the boss wants the boss gets. She shook her head and wrote down the odd request.

And a Yoo-hoo, Billy finished his order.

Don't carry Yoo-hoo. Chocolate milk okay?

Billy was silent, and as Sue watched, she saw his tanned face turn a shade of red. Oh God, she thought, he's getting ready to throw a tantrum.

Billy, Ron said, sitting next to her. Since you're getting two milkshakes tonight, why don't you just have one with dinner? That way you don't have to wait so long for the good stuff.

Sue held her breath while Billy's brain silently went to work deciding if a shake was an adequate replacement for a Yoo-hoo.

I don't have all night, sugar, the waitress said, tapping her foot.

Fine. I'll have a chocolate shake with two cherries on top with my meal, and another for after, Billy said, his skin tone returning to normal. Sue let out her breath much too loud, causing Ron to look at her. He smiled; she returned it, thanking the Lord that the man was a genius.

It's your dime, sweetheart. What can I get you, sheriff?

I'll take the same as him, Ron said, nodding to Billy.

Really?

Yes, and please make sure they put lots of cherries on our burgers. I'll tip you well for it.

Billy grinned from ear to ear.

"Are you sure you don't want cherries on your chicken sandwich?" the waitress asked Sue sarcastically, referring to the order Sue had placed before Billy's.

No, I'm fine, thank you, Sue said.

Okey-doke. The waitress walked away, no doubt intending on sharing a laugh in the kitchen over the odd customers.

So, Ron said, looking at Sue. It's been what…three years since last we talked?

Yes, when my dad died. That was nice of you to call.

I got the impression that you didn't want to talk to me.

I'm sorry. Troy gets a little jealous sometimes. She fiddled with her napkin, the silverware, the menu still sitting next to her, anything to keep from looking in his eyes. If she did, she was confident he would know the truth. Sue never fell out of love with Ron Dalton.

Oh, he said flatly. I was curious as to how you were doing. Did you ever go to college after high school like you wanted?

No. Money was tight. Troy landed a construction job, and then the housing market went to hell. It's been rough ever since. He expects to find work soon, now that things are picking up.

How about you? Working? She felt herself squirming under the barrage of questions.

Had a waitress job, but guys were hitting on me…

And Troy beat them up! Billy blurted. Ron looked at him with amusement on his face.

Sounds like Troy hasn't changed much since high school, Ron said. Troy Jenkins had been a high school football star, and a bully both on and off the field. He had shared a private, sweeter side with Sue, but she realized shortly after they were married that it had been an act.

The waitress returned with a chocolate shake for Billy, one for Ron, and a glass of water for Sue.

Extra cherries on top for the kids, the waitress said to Sue.

Thank you, she replied, reaching for her purse next to her. As their server walked away, she opened the purse and withdrew Billy's prescription bottles. Just about to take a long draw of his shake, Billy froze and looked at her.

I don't want them, he said.

Please, Billy, she said. They need to be working before we get home. She worried about an emotional Billy clashing with an emotional Troy. At least one of them she could numb, or turn into a zombie to use Billy's words.

"No. I'm not the