TIME: IMMEMORIAL

9.3 Lone Gun (2007)

*** *** Weekend Write-In for 15th September 2017 *** ***

"drink": Tell what happens when someone has a drink

DIRTY LITTLE SECRETS (Part Three)

The Roadhouse Bar, one and a bit miles outside the town limits, Ratbend, Iowa.

The stranger was tall - Darlene always had an eye for a tall, well built man and she liked em older. At first glance the newcomer was pretty old, but that could just have been his long white hair and beard - up close he was trim and his face was surprisingly clear of lines and creases, except maybe a tad about the eyes and forehead. His eyes were a startling green.

He was maybe fifty, but well preserved, she decided as she checked him out; tight blue jeans and muscles ... she could see when he took off his leather jacket that his shoulders were broad, his bronzed arms thick and muscular and he didn't appear to be carrying a single ounce of fat. She approved.

As the stranger settled on a barstool, she moved towards him. 'Evening handsome. What'll it be?'

'Whiskey.'

'Uh huh, thought you might. Any particular kind?'

'Surprise me.'

The redheaded barmaid placed a shot glass in front of him. 'Templeton.' she said, pouring two fingers for him.

She waited for him to drink and was rewarded by an appreciative look. She refilled the glass as he removed a cigar and silver bic lighter from his pocket.

'Could ya light me as well?' she inquired, removing a cigarette from a pocket of her top. Taking his slight nod as ascent, Darlene leaned over the bar with her cigarette between ruby red lips, making sure he had a good look at her cleavage.

'Some things never change!'

They both looked round at the sound of the voice. Behind them a man well past middle age, paunchy, glasses, a red checkered shirt ... rolling himself towards them in a wheelchair.

'Mitch, you look ...'

'Yeah I know. We all get old FT ... well most of us. You haven't aged in over twenty years you sunnavabitch.'

'It's good to see you son.'

Darlene looked over with interest. 'Well ain't you gonna introduce me to your friend Mitch?'

'Darlene. FT. FT, Darlene.'

'Pleased ta meet you FT. What's that stand for?'

Time stood up. 'Another time darlin. Me n Mitch got some catchin up ta do. Another glass and another bottle when you're ready.'

Taking the first whiskey bottle they retreated to one of the booths.

'FT, I just wanted to ... well I heard about Emmy. I know how you felt about her.'

Time cut him off. 'Appreciate it Mitch, but lets stick ta present business.'

'Sure but ...'

'No point dwelling son. I had me a hard few years. Came close to checkin out a time or two, but an old ... friend ... set me straight a year or so back. There's still things for me to do, which is why I'm here. Tell me what I need to know.'

Ackerman nodded and reached into a bag attached to his chair. 'Ok. Well it was around 94 that I first noticed a pattern ... several things I was reading about, well they linked up.'

'Yeah I remember, you n your conspiracy theories.'

'Conspiracy facts FT. Weird, strange happenings ... supernatural you might say. And all originating in this part of the country. Eventually I narrowed the trail to Ratbend and moved here to continue my investigations.'

'Cut to the chase son. What did you find?'

Mitch Ackerman lowered his eyes. 'What I found cost me my legs ... and my daughter vanished when she dug deeper. This town has a secret FT ... prosperity far beyond a natural level since over 120 years ago, but at a cost ... and they're willing to kill to preserve their dirty little secrets.'

'Go on.'

'There's an orphanage here ... kids with no family have been disappearing for as long as Ratbend's prosperity has endured and some of these folks ... evidence suggests they've been around just as long. Some sort of pact with demons ... I know it sounds crazy.'

Time fixed Ackerman's gaze. 'I seen things you wouldn't believe. You don't sound crazy.'

'FT ... find my daughter, please ... if she's still alive. Stop this evil ... I think they've been sacrificing the kids, in exchange for ... demonic bounty, if you will.'

Time poured two more full shots of Templeton. 'Better drink up son, there's work ta do here.'

The two friends clinked glasses.

Continued.