Note: Most Blue Banshee stories are stand alone. This one is a continuation from the last post, where Blue Banshee’s car, and perhaps more importantly, his peach pie, were hijacked. Catch up here if you’d like: Prior Blue Banshee
Edgar’s wrecker never starts on the first try, but tonight he was feeling lucky. He licked his fingers and hit the ignition. It fired.
“Sweet peppers on Suzy.” He smacked the dash. “Knew you’d have it in you.”
Twenty minutes down the highway, he began squinting at the mile markers.
“What’d he say again? Fifty-eight or sixty-eight?” He looked at the ceiling, trying to think, as the truck began to drift. “No, it was fifty-five. Fifty-eight was when I was born… I think.”
The tires crossed the white line and rattled onto the shoulder. “Maybe that was my sister’s birthday, the fifty-fifth.” Suddenly the headlights shone on a massive man in a sheep mask.
Smack.
Edgar slammed on the brakes. “What the hell was that? A burrito salesman?”
He adjusted the rearview mirror. Blue Banshee stood up, rubbing the back of his head. “Whew, it’s just Blue Brand Sheet.”
He hopped out of the truck. “If you’re planning on getting carjacked again in the middle of the night, I’d recommend keeping a flashlight in your back pocket or something.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Blue Banshee put two hands on his lower back and pushed. “You didn’t see an axe go flailing when you attempted to impale me with your wrecker, did you?”
Edgar looked around. “That it there, buried in the trunk of that tree?”
The axe head was stuck in the heart of a pine.
“Hate to say it, but I believe that’s the first kill that axe has had,” Edgar said.
Back in the wrecker, they headed down the road.
“So it was two of ‘em?” Edgar asked.
“Yep.”
“Damn organized crime.”
“I was this close… this close, Edgar to getting my first kill.” Blue Banshee held up two fingers.
“Murderin’s a hard business I reckon. What you don’t count on is even more criminals out there upstaging ya.”
Edgar reached into the door pocket to retrieve something. The wrecker swerved.
“Twinkie?”
“Sure,” Blue Banshee said, unwrapping the spongy treat.
Edgar had one as well and they ate in silence.
Near town, Blue Banshee spotted his car outside a convenience store.
“Hey look, slow down.”
Edgar eased the truck to a crawl. “What, those B33 pumps? Sure, they got better outflow, but you start pumping gas that fast, you’re asking for trouble.”
“Not the pumps. My car.”
“Oh, let’s check.”
“No. No. No. No. No.” Blue Banshee slunk down as best he could with his massive frame, while Edgar pulled in and parked three spots away from the Hyundai.
Blue Banshee peeked out of Edgar’s window. “What should we do?”
The crew came outside. Three of them now, the two Blue Banshee recognized from the hijacking and a third friend they must have picked up.
“Get down,” Blue Banshee said.
“What?”
“Get down!” Blue Banshee shoved Edgar forward. His forehead bounced off the steering wheel.
Honk.
Edgar’s hat fell into his lap. “What happened? Mosquito?”
The three stared at the wrecker for a moment, then drove off. Edgar and Blue Banshee followed.
The crew whipped into the parking lot of a beer store. Three guys piled out and ran inside.
“Wait here.” Blue Banshee jumped from the wrecker. He hurried across the lot and grabbed the driver’s side handle. It was locked. He tried the rear door. Also locked. “Of course.”
Through the window, he spotted a to-go container in the back seat. The peach crumb.
Edgar honked the horn, signaling the guys were at the cashier. Blue Banshee darted back to the truck.
“My pie,” Blue Banshee said, out of breath. “They left my pie in the backseat.”
“Hmm. In my day they’d even eat the air fresheners. Pretty civil thieves if you ask me.”
The party peeled out of the lot, gravel shooting all over.
The wrecker kept up the pursuit until the cars pulled off down a dirt road.
“Any idea where that leads?” Blue Banshee asked.
“That’s the old Santos farm. Ain’t been occupied for years, though. Think most kids head that way to neck.” Edgar rubbed his forehead. “Eww, you think they’re gonna go neck around your pie?”
“Kill the lights,” Blue Banshee said.
Edgar pulled onto the shoulder and switched them off.
“Park beneath that cluster of pines, I’m walking in.”
Edgar grabbed a shotgun from the back bench. “I’m coming.”
“You need that?”
“Could be more mosquitoes.”
They walked into the woods, parallel to the dirt road. Blue Banshee had his axe in one hand, Edgar followed behind, breathing heavily.
“You late for something?” Edgar asked.
“Sorry. Long legs. Big steps,” Blue Banshee said. “And be quiet.”
“Just asking.”
Through the trees, the old Santos barn came into view. A portable lantern glowed above its doors.
The three guys clinked beer cans and slapped each other on the back.
“If they start neckin’ I’m firing,” Edgar said.
“Shhhh.” Blue Banshee smiled beneath the sheep mask. “Stay here.”
He disappeared toward the barn.
Two of the guys climbed into a car and headed back down the road. The remaining guy pulled the Sonata deeper inside, then got out and dragged one of the heavy barn doors across the opening.
“My Hyundai now.”
Something creaked inside the barn.
“What the?”
The man shook his head, trying to ignore his mind playing tricks on him, and continued shutting the barn.
A rusty latch sounded above him.
He stopped.
The hayloft door slowly swung open.
Blue Banshee stepped into the opening, axe in hand.
“Lurch?”
Blue Banshee dropped from the loft, landing heavily on the ground.
The guy stared up at him. “Oh, damn.”
Blue Banshee raised the axe. The guy ran. He only made it a few steps before tripping over a feed bucket.
Blue Banshee stalked toward him, dragging the axe in the dirt.
“Look, man, we were just screwing around. Your car is fine.”
Blue Banshee kept coming.
“Found it!”
Blue Banshee stopped and turned.
Edgar stood in the barn doorway, holding the pie.
Blue Banshee looked at Edgar, then at the teen.
“You better get outta here.”
“Me?” Edgar asked.
“The kid.”
He scrambled to his feet and sprinted past Edgar into the dark.
Edgar watched him go, confused. “Thought you’d wanna murder that fella.”
“I did.”
“So what happened?”
Blue Banshee lowered his axe. “It’d make you an accomplice.”
“I haven’t accompliced anything.”
Blue Banshee looked at him. “You wanna share the pie?”
“I got forks in the glovebox.”
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—Ricky C.
Thank goodness those kids weren't neckin' around the pie or I think there may have been bloodshed.
So exciting. Great short