Chapter 14

Word count  735

John Hunt bumped around the kitchen looking for cereal. His bowl was already on the table ready to fill. Rummaging through the cupboard produced nothing. Then he spied a box of Life face down on the counter. Picking up the box, he shook it. It sounded like about one bowl left. One would be plenty. He hated the crap. Why did Trudy buy it anyway?

His first wife used to get up and make eggs in the morning. And all that was before she left for work. His current wife Trudy wouldn't dream of doing such a thing. There were a lot of things she wouldn't do...like ironing, cleaning, taking out the trash. He dumped the cereal in his bowl, knocking the box to make sure he got every bit. Opening the fridge, he pulled out a gallon bottle of milk. It felt empty. He shook it, spied the contents, and swore. Popping the lid, he poured a tiny trickle into the bowl, emptying the bottle. The milk disappeared in a mountain of dry crunchy cereal. He grabbed a handful and ate it dry.

At least the coffee was hot and good. That was because he made it himself. He flipped open the newspaper and studied the front page. There was Buzz Miller's picture again. Solved another crime and made the headlines. The guy must have a huge ego. Trudy was always talking about how great he was. She had him as a customer in the diner. She was like a school girl with a crush.

Six months ago, he might have been jealous of Buzz Miller. But these days apathy ruled. Trudy hadn't given a shit about him since the day they were married. He was convinced she married him for his paycheck. Maybe she did it for the boy. If so, that was about all she did for him. She was never home anymore, and when she was, it produced a shouting match between her and Elliot. And let's not go into the drinking.

He yawned and stretched. "I guess I'm here because my life is so wonderfully weird! And I love it!" He laughed at his own joke. If there was one thing John Hunt had going for him, it was his sardonic sense of humor.

It didn't look like anything was laid out for dinner. It must be one of Trudy's mysterious Saturdays where she didn't come home until late. She'd told him she worked late on Saturday. But a quick trip by the diner showed she wasn't working, not on any Saturday he checked. He didn't dare think what Trudy might be up to. Apathy, remember, apathy!

The kitchen and its ghosts swallowed him up. He had to get out of there. Grabbing his keys he rushed for the door.


Jack Bowman was in a bad mood. Well, not a bad mood so much as a murderous one. He slammed the apartment door. blocking out his mother's blaring voice. He took the steps two at a time, flew past broken bottles and used condoms in the vestibule to bust through the front entrance and down another set of steps to the street below.

With a deep breath followed by a generous exhale, he tried to cleanse himself. It didn't work. His buddy, Steve Learnagel appeared out of nowhere and fell into place beside him. Together, without words and in perfect step with one another, they were a force united.

It was when the other two boys came into view that Jack stiffened and he clenched his fists without even thinking about it. Blond-haired Steve saw and got ready to fight. He wasn't really a bully at heart, but he was an easy follower.

Elliot and Adam spied the other two and stopped in their tracks.

"Oh, shit! Look at that!" Elliot murmured.

"You got that right! What'll we do?" Adam wasn't used to confrontation. His tack was to stay under the radar. This Elliot kid drew thugs to him like shit draws flies. His heart pounded so hard it made his head ring.

A car pulled up slowly beside them. John Hunt appeared behind the wheel. He looked at Jack and Steve and then back to the other two boys.

"You guys need a lift?" he asked.

Elliot didn't need coaxing. He motioned to Adam to follow and hopped in. Okay, so sometimes his stepfather was a pretty good guy.