Lure (9 page)

Shells and a couple people from the crowd agreed that she looked like shit. Sam just raised her middle finger without looking to see who it was.

"Now you 'cancel, cancel, clear,' young lady."

"Yes, ma'am," Sam said.

"Sniff this," Aunt Julie said. Sam wrinkled her nose and took a shallow inhalation. The pungent smell of oregano was overwhelming. Sam was glad when Aunt Julie finally turned her attention to Shells. "How are your bowel movements?"

Looking dumbstruck, Shells just stood, agape.

"Well?" Sam asked.

"Uh. Like. Uh. You see, I lead a mostly vegetarian lifestyle."

"Oh you must have the most magnificent poo!" Aunt Julie said, and the crowd drifted away from the booth.

"Uh. I suppose so. Yeah."

"I'm curious. You said mostly vegetarian."

She hadn't actually asked a question, but Sam beat Shells to the answer, "Sausage links don't count as strict vegetarian, do they?"

"Not most of them, no," Aunt Julie said, looking thoughtful.

"Shut up," Shells said.

"Here, both of you need to do an herbal flush and detoxify. I can see in your auras that you are very toxic, and a toxic body has toxic relationships. You hear me?"

"Yes, ma'am," Sam and Shells said.

"It's just some nice, gentle herbal teas."

Having past experience with Aunt Julie's 'gentle' teas, Sam knew that each one was like swallowing a hand grenade. The last time she had tried one of Aunt Julie's teas, she couldn't leave the house for days.

"I'm really worried about you, honey," Aunt Julie said, turning back to Sam. "I'm trying to read your aura, but there is just too much energy around, and with all that's happened to you, I can't cut through it. All I can see is darkness. When you get to North Carolina, you go straight to a psychic and get checked out. You hear me. No doctors or any of those quacks; you go see an honest to God psychic. Promise me."

"I promise, Aunt Julie. I promise."

"OK. I feel better then. But here, take this crystal with you, it'll protect you." The woman produced a piece of crystal the size of Sam's index finger. Notches had been carved on both sides of the thickest end, and a leather thong had been tied securely around it.

When Sam accepted the stone from her aunt; she could almost feel it vibrating, and it felt warm to the touch, warmer than she would have expected.

"Wear this around your neck and it will protect you," Aunt Julie said. "And don't forget to go see a psychic."

Sam nodded, always amazed by the things that were important to her aunt. "Yes, Aunt Julie." This landed her another kiss on the cheek.

"Here's the combination to the lock on the shed. It's dry in there. And you can keep your stuff there as long as you would like, though I do hope you come back soon."

"And you behave yourself, you rascal," she said to Shells, who waved from behind Sam.

"Damn, dude. Does she always have to get all up in your business?"

"Pretty much," Sam said.

Walking out of the barn into the sunlight blinded Sam for a moment. The sun was starting to sink low, and folks were setting up for the rodeo. "I wonder if Joey and Mark are over there," Sam said.

"Aw, man. I wonder if they have any french fries made up."

"You know they cook bacon and fish in that same oil," Sam said.

"Shut up," Shells responded almost automatically, and then she laughed, "That might be why they taste so darn good. Damn you carnivores and your tasty bits. If you would all just eat bean sprouts and avocados, I'd have no worries."

The smell from the concession stand was promising, and they walked up the grassy hill to the front windows.

"What's up, shiny happy people," Joey said from within, his reddish hair cut short, and his neatly trimmed beard was of the same color. His ears were pierced and he wore large black rings that made him look to Sam as if he were part LEGO.

"Can you make us some fries?"

"The oil's not hot enough yet," Joey said.

Mark walked over to the fryer. "One fifty."

"Yeah. That's too low."

"C'mon, dude," Shells said. "I'm jonesing for some fries."

"No can do," Joey said. "If I throw frozen fries in there now, I'll never get the oil up to temperature. Sorry."

"Bummer, dude," Shells said.

"I can make you a crab cake sandwich, or a hamburger or something. The grill's plenty hot."

"Nah," Shells said. "I'll pass."

"So I hear you got evicted," Joey said to Sam. "Heard you were having some trouble with the law too. That ain't right; turning on their own like that. You all right?"

"Yeah, you need us to kick somebody's ass?" Mark asked from behind Joey.

"I think I'll be all right, but if I'm ever looking for backup, you know you'll be the first I call."

"Second is cool," Joey said.

"Yeah. Like, I wouldn't be offended by second," Mark added.

"So are you really going to North Carolina to hunt ghosts?"

"Man, news travels fast as hell around here," Shells said.

"Tell me about it," Sam agreed. "Yeah, that's exactly what we're doing."

"Sweet! That kicks ass. Which way are you going? You're driving, right?"

Sam just shrugged. "I don't know. I was going to look at a map."

"I've got GPS, dude. We don't need no stinking maps." Shells said.

"I'm just saying that you ought to cut through Harpers Ferry, West Virginia to I-81, which means you avoid Baltimore and DC, and it's a much nicer ride."

"You sold me," Shells said. "Write that shit down."

Joey scribbled directions on an order ticket and handed it out to Shells. "I've got prep to do, so if you don't want anything, then beat it."

"Thanks," Sam said, and they turned to walk back to the barns.

"Hey Sam," Joey called out, and Sam turned. "I hope you kick some ghost ass!"

Sam just waved and kept walking.

"Man. I really want french fries now, and didn't somebody say something about a keg? I'm getting mighty thirsty."

"We can't drink if we're going to be on the road."

"No.
You
can't drink if we're going to be on the road. I will be in the passenger seat, and a good buzz might just help the time pass by. It's a long ass ride."

"Maybe one or two beers won't hurt."

Chapter 6

"Dude. Wake up. You're drooling on me." Sam heard Shells say, but the fog in her brain prevented comprehension. Everything seemed to be moving. "Seriously. Aw, man. C'mon."

Just then Sam managed to pull herself up and wiped the drool from the side of her mouth and face. "Sorry," she managed to say. When she looked down and saw duct tape again, she just moaned. When would she ever learn?

Others slept on the floor, and it looked as if the sun was only just rising. Sam walked over the people who either slept soundly or were passed out on the floor. Shells moved more quickly and ducked into the bathroom. She emerged a moment later shaking her head. "There's someone passed out in the bath tub."

"Male or female?"

"No idea. Who can tell these days," Shells said.

Sam did what she could to freshen up in the poorly stocked bathroom, and tried to ignore the snoring figure in the bathtub. She couldn't tell if they were male or female either, and decided it really didn't matter.

Dew lay heavy on the cars in the horseshoe driveway, and Sam grimaced when she saw a car parked behind her, blocking her in. The parking arrangement was less than ideal, and Sam didn't relish the idea of waking up everyone in the house to see whose car it was.

"Is it locked?" Shells asked as they moved closer, and she peered into the windows. "Damn. Locked."

"You two are up early," came a deep voice from behind, and Sam turned to see a guy they called Oak, because he was as big around as a tree and tough as hardwood.

"We need to get on the road," Sam said. "Headed south today."

"I heard that. You hunting ghosts and all that?"

"Yeah," Sam said, never knowing who would laugh at her and who would wish they could join her. Oak turned out to be one of the latter. "That must be cool. I hope you find something. I've seen some shit." He said the last part as a whisper only for Sam's ears, and she could understand. It wasn't the kind of thing you wanted everyone to know about you, or they might start calling you things like ghost girl. "Looks like you're blocked in. You want me to move that car for you?"

"You know whose car it is?" Shells asked.

"No," Oak said. "But I can move it."

"Sweet." Shells said. "I'll help."

Sam watched in silent amazement as the two of them lifted the front of the car and moved it into the grass beside the driveway. Then they did the same for the rear end. Once more on the front and rear and there was enough room for Sam to squeak by.

"Thanks, Oak." Sam said after shutting her car door and rolling down the window.

"No problem. Peace … and good luck."

The Camaro's exhaust echoed off the side of the house and the neighboring house. It sounded healthy and there were no leaks, but she bet it had woken at least of few of those inside. Down back roads, some barely wide enough for two cars to pass side by side, and not another car to be seen, Sam soaked in the familiarity and the feeling of knowing exactly where she was and exactly how to get where ever she wanted to go. All that would be behind her soon.

"I need food," Shells complained. "What are we going to pass on the way?"

"Not much," Sam said. "I'm taking the scenic route, but we'll pass the truck stop before we get to the bridge."

"No way, man. I need something that's not gonna come flying back out of both ends."

Sam couldn't argue.

In the end, they stopped at another WaWa not far from the bridge.

"Condoms and whipped cream?" Shells asked.

"Don't forget the batteries and duct tape."

This stop was otherwise uneventful, though Sam really felt that both of them were stalling, not wanting to take that first step on a new journey. After they finished eating, Sam fired up the Camaro, and with The Steve Miller Band
Fly like an Eagle
entirely too loud, she worked her way to the Delaware Memorial Bridge. Dual olive green spans crossed the Delaware River, and it stood like the gateway to the rest of the world. Whenever Sam crossed over the spans, she felt as if she were leaving the security of home. And, as she always did, she gave a silent nod in memory of Buddy, her friend who had died on that bridge. The thoughts were painful, and the memories evoked were often unpleasant; it grated against Sam's already raw feelings. For years she had wanted to communicate with those she'd lost and had no success, yet perfect strangers were reaching out to her from beyond the grave.

"You all right?" Shells asked after turning down the music.

Shaking herself from the melancholy she'd been feeling, Sam turned a somewhat sad smile to Shells. "Yeah. I'm all right."

"Some things never really stop hurting," Shells said. "I get that."

Uneasy silence hung between them for a moment until they approached the toll. "Three dollars? Unbelievable. Three friggen' dollars to cross a bridge. I mean, what the hell? Let's create a traffic jam and make people pay us to get out of it."

Sam had heard all this before and didn't bother to enter the conversation.

"I mean, it's not like they're not going to stop us in like five miles and ask for five more bucks, and then stop us again and ask for six more bucks. What the hell! That's like twelve bucks to drive twenty miles. I mean, shit, man. Do you know what that is in cheese? That's a friggen' fortune!"

Cracking a smile, Sam handed the toll taker a twenty and waited for her change.

"Have a nice day," he said when he handed it to her.

"Thanks. You too."

"What the hell?" Shells asked while Sam looked left and right to see if anyone was going to race her to the merger. She wanted to be in the left lane, and needed to move over a couple lanes; the way was clear. "Why do you thank the people who cause the traffic jam and ask for your money?"

"It's not that guy's fault," Sam said. "How would you like to stand in a box in the middle of a highway and have people blow exhaust in your face all day; and I doubt he's getting rich doing it."

"I remember when it cost seventy-five cents to cross that bridge and you could just throw some change in the bin and go. That rocked."

Sam remembered it as well; her first time through she had missed the bucket with the last of her change, and she'd had to get out and find the missing quarter. She remembered very clearly the man in the Corvette behind her giving her the finger. Ah, the good 'ol days.

"We're just a couple toll booths away from being in the south baby!" Shells said. "I'm gonna say y'all and howdy, and I'm gonna have me some biscuits and grits and shit. This is gonna rock, yo."