Untraceable

Survival Skill #10

I rubberneck out the window, watching him kid around with shop owners as he passes them on the street. It’s funny how people act when Wyn’s around. The men slap him on the back like they’re great friends. And the women smile and giggle. Wyn makes everyone happy. And when he’s around me, my world is brighter even if it is upside down.

Just then, a little dark cloud rolls through, and her name is Skyler. She sneaks up behind Wyn and covers his eyes with her hands like a bad game of guess who. Doesn’t she have a life? When he spins around, she gives him her best fake smile. I swear she even sticks out her boobs.

Maybe I should have punched them harder.

* * *

I sit at my usual booth in the diner and wait for Mom to bring my double order of caffeine and Cinn-O-Bun. Chrome booths with cracked yellow seats fill the large space. A long counter is off to one side of the room, ending at the kitchen, while a buffet borders the far wall, filled with potato salad, mac and cheese, Jell-O and different flavors of pudding. Even though the diner is old, it’s usually packed this time of day. After all, it’s the only place in town with decent food. And that’s not saying much.

Mom finally strolls up with a pencil over one ear and a tray on her hand. Instead of taking my order, she slides a plate full of real food in front of me and annoyingly pinches both my cheeks. “Eat up! You’re getting too skinny.”

I scoff at the ridiculous comment. “You’re not eating with me?”

She stares at the top of my head, unable to lock in eye contact. “Can’t, too busy.”

I duck around, trying to capture her gaze. “You want to hear about my session?”

Mom smiles at someone as they walk in the door. “Be right with you!” Then she addresses me. “Can it wait until later? I’m slammed today. We’re a person short.”

I mumble, “Sure.”

I try not to look too dejected, but before I even answer, she scoots off to take care of her patrons.

Only instead of waiting on tables, she walks back into the kitchen and starts chatting with Kenny, the short order cook. I stare down at my stale turkey sandwich with mayo, a wilted salad, and a milkshake. Somehow, Mom’s forgotten her daughter is vegetable-resistant and lactose-intolerant.

She’s lost it.

Finally, we have something in common.

I slide the drink away and nibble on the bread like a chipmunk. Scanning the room, I observe all the people stuffing themselves. Up at the buffet, people scoop all they can eat onto a plate, determined to get their $6.99 worth. Dad loved the buffet here. Then again, he loved anything on sale.

I soak in my surroundings and listen to the buzz around me. I study each person, noting peculiar things about them most people wouldn’t catch. The way they walk. The way they laugh. One lady slips on a smudge while another man drops food on the floor, then pretends he didn’t. It’s amazing what you see when people assume no one is watching.

At the end of the line, a large man scans the dessert selections and sticks his finger in the pudding to test it. Gross! He spins around in my direction. That’s when I recognize him. The redneck from Tommy’s store. He lumbers toward me, balancing two overfilled plates. I slouch down in my seat, hoping he doesn’t notice me. Luckily, he slides into the booth in front of me. I sigh in relief but continue to spy on his reflection in the window.

He chews his cud and talks at the same time. A drizzle of ketchup cakes both corners of his mouth as he stuffs in a double cheeseburger and a spoon full of mashed potatoes at the same time.

A twiggy dude with a thin mustache, already eating in the booth, leans over and speaks with a lisp. “Think we gonna get close this time?”

The redneck jams a few fries into his pie hole before he’s swallowed the previous bite. He struggles to speak clearly. “Billy, I told yah already. All we gotta do is get us some donuts and corn. Maybe rub some honey on us. They’ll come beggin’.”

Billy scoffs. “Aw, geez, Al. I just want to catch ’em, not date ’em.”

Corn? Honey? Either these guys want to hunt bears, or they’re trying to be the next big hit on YouTube. Some people do whackadoo stuff just to get a kill. One guy even tried baiting a bear by holding marshmallows in his teeth. That didn’t go over so well with the bear or the guy’s face. Dad’s told me some crazy stories. A few sick ones too.

Al whistles the same song from earlier that I still can’t place. He wipes his mouth on his shirt sleeve. “You ready?”

Billy nods. “Bear-ly.”

Al cackles. “Ha! Good one.”

I roll my eyes at how many times I’ve heard that joke up here.

Al stuffs some of the free packets of crackers into his pocket. “Let’s get goin’ then. Catch us some you know what.”

Billy lowers his voice. “Sshhhh.”

Both of these guys are a donut short of a dozen. For one, this is not bear season. Two, unnaturally baiting bears in North Carolina is illegal. Any way you look at it, these guys are breaking the law. Big time.

Whether they know it or not is the question.

Al smacks Billy upside the head. “No need to waste your last brain cell worryin’. We won’t get caught this time.”

My ears perk up like a dog tuning into a high pitch. This time? I hold my breath for fear I’ll miss something important. My hands tremble under the table. There are only two people around here who would bust these guys for illegal hunting.

Les.

Or my dad.

Billy whispers with a slight lisp. “You sure?”

Al hisses like a deflating tire. “Positive.”

I slink down even further, praying they don’t see me. After the two men pay and walk outside, I peek through the mini blinds. They walk down Main Street and disappear into the back alley. As soon as they’re out of sight, I sprint out of the diner and bolt to the corner. Peering around the side, I watch them climb into a shiny green Dodge Ram with temporary tags.

I hesitate for a second. Should I tell Les, or should I follow them and see where they go first? What if they’re totally innocent? That’d be the last thing I need. Carl and Les would never believe me again. On the other hand, if these guys are hunting in these mountains, maybe they know something about my dad?

To act or not to act. To move or not to move. Out in the woods, these are the tiny decisions that contribute to someone losing their way. Those basic questions where the answer can make a huge difference.

Between being lost and found.

Life or death.

I bolt toward Luci.

If these idiots know something about Dad, there’s only one way to find out.