Rewrite -- Chapter 6
(Billy Meets Sheriff Perkins; Paul and Maxey Get Resourceful; Bradford Makes His Move)
Hey, folks. Thanks so much for reading and for your support! Love you all!
Catch up here: Chapter 1 (Part 1): https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/michael-hatchers-unpublished-novel6.
Chapter 1 (Part Two): https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-1b
Chapter Two: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-2
Chapter Three: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-3
Chapter Four: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-4
Chapter Five: https://hatcherfictionwriter.substack.com/p/rewrite-chapter-five
Tommy Wayne pressed the accelerator as he and Billy headed to town. Billy rested his head against the window, bags under his eyes, a frown pulling at his lips. Tommy Wayne glanced at him.
“Hey, kid, I’m sure Perkins can help,” he said, his hand on Billy’s shoulder. “If anyone knows what to do, it’s him. Really keeps his ear to the ground.” Tommy Wayne’s jaw clenched tight. “Known him for so long, he’s like a daddy to me.”
“Okay,” Billy said. “Well, that’s… good.”
As he looked out the window, Billy wondered at the countryside, the wildness of it. The highway was the only example of civilization as far as he could see, a gray incision cutting through the dirt and dust. Billy spotted a crow swoop down and then up again in the very next breath with something red in its mouth, a brutal grace in the whole thing.
Billy gulped. The crow? Or the thing in its mouth? Which will I be?
He closed his eyes, those questions bouncing around his mind. He laid his head on the truck window again, giving in to its soft rhythms. Sleeping fitfully, terrors played out in his mind.
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“Hey. We’re here.”
By the time Billy fully woke, Tommy Wayne had slid into a parking space in front of the Butler County Sheriff’s Department. Tommy Wayne eyed Billy for a second.
“Hey, when we go in, let me talk with him first. We’ll put our heads together and figure out what to do next.”
“Maybe we should both go talk to him.”
“Of course, he’ll want to talk to you. Just let me poke my head in first, check the temperature. Ned’s a peculiar old cuss. You never know what he’s in the middle of.” Tommy Wayne flashed Billy a wink and a smile.
He’s smiling and winking, but those eyes never change.
“Okay,” Billy said.
As he got out of the truck, Billy studied his surroundings. He saw a kid about his age leaning up against the sheriff’s office, perched atop a skateboard, cigarette stuck in his mouth. The boy, greasy hair, greasy smile, was oblivious to the signs next to him spelling out the prohibition against skateboarding and smoking.
He probably doesn’t know they’re against the rules. Don’t seem like the type to push things. Billy smiled a bit.
Suddenly, the kid, grease jumping off his hair at each turn, jetted toward him, stopping just before crashing into him. The boy placidly flipped Billy off.
“Get the hell out the way, huckleberry.”
“Who you calling huckleberry, dumbass?” Tommy Wayne said.
“Oh, hey, TW. This dumbass, that’s who.”
“You’re something to be calling somebody a dumbass, dumbass. By the way, it’s Mr. TW to you, asswipe. Now apologize to my friend here, before I go in that office and tell your granddaddy.”
The boy snorted at Billy, looking him up and down, like a rancher sizing up cattle.
“Whatever. Sorry. I’d ask your name, but I don’t care.”
Tommy Wayne made a move on the kid, and the boy scurried off like his tail feathers were on fire. As the boy rounded the corner, he looked at Billy and grabbed his crotch.
