**UPDATED** Characters from The Devil's Bones

Excerpt

The downpour comes to a stop. The wipers stay on for the light rainfall afterward. Only a couple more right turns, and Ethel pulls into the dingy gas station. Its location is at least 35 miles from Winterset.



Ethel sees four different pumps and kills the engine. Over on the seat next to her lies a half-drank bottle of whiskey. It belonged to Ethel's father. She ensured her father was watching when Ethel retrieved it from his stash. Drinking liquor wasn't something that Ethel enjoyed doing, but she wanted to see the look on her father's face after she robbed him of it. She found no sense in letting the once opened liquor go to waste now that it was in her possession.



Opening the visor mirror, Ethel looks at the dark bruise on her left jaw. She dabs her fingertips against the welt and winces. Ethel's father had given her that bruise.



Before exiting the truck, Ethel pulls her cocoa hair from its messy ponytail and tries to flatten the frizz. Ethel's hair is thick and curly, but the rain has reduced her curls to a big fuzzball.



The sweet scent of the air freshener hanging over the rearview mirror still resides in the cool air inside Ethel's truck. Perhaps it may be lingering on Ethel's burgundy jacket and in her hair. She smiles at the thought, knowing how smelly she must be from the altercation with her parents.



After braiding her hair and tying it off at the end, Ethel sighs as she hops out of the truck. Ethel finds that the ground is nothing but gravel when small rocks crunch under her shoes. She can't forget the discarded cigarette butts or metal bottle tabs.



Ethel enters the convenience store with her truck keys in one pocket and her hand in the other. Keeping her head down, Ethel stares at the store's cracked and dirty white tiles heading towards the back. The offending smells of the store force her to stick her nose inside the collar of her jacket, opening one of the freezer doors. There is a lot on Ethel's mind; she's oblivious to the gang of men near the front of the store.



She shivers from the wafting temperature of the freezer and pulls out two generic bottles of purified water. When she turns around, Ethel's sneaker squeaks along the old linoleum, and she grabs a small bag of pistachios and a small package of Oreos before returning to the counter.



Ethel briefly notices the small group of bikers in the snack aisles and drops her items onto the counter with a smile. The owner seems distracted by the men that he doesn't notice Ethel standing before him.



Ethel turns her head, looking over her left shoulder. The owner and Ethel stay quiet, watching and listening to the gang of burly men.



Ethel's eyes immediately catch the attention of one of the two taller men. He's bald, but his goatee is thick and falls to his sternum. Ashy black is the color of his goatee and his thick eyebrows. Ethel notices his face tattoos, wide silver hoop earrings, and the thin chain around the man's throat.



The look in Ethel's brown eyes is nothing but anxiousness. The man rips a small bag of chips off the rack, and his lips curl into a gruesome smile.



The men near him then look over at Ethel, and one of them makes a masturbating gesture toward her.



"Gross...." Ethel whispers to herself and turns back to the cashier. He gives her a friendly smile, but the smile falters as the gang of men slowly encloses Ethel. With the men now uncomfortably close, Ethel's sure that they're the culprits behind many of the funky smells of the store.



"You got a starin' problem, girlie?" Inquiries the tall bald older man, eying Ethel like a piece of meat. They all are.

The bald older man possesses a husky voice with a southern twang.