Lineage

“Stub, I’m curious about your former career. There’s got to be a ton of stories that pop up in that line of work,” Lance said, sitting forward and smiling at the big man across from him. Stub laughed, setting his half-finished beer onto the tabletop and folding his ham-sized hands over his considerable stomach.

“Oh, there’s a few. I once caught a pig farmer who’d skipped bail on a battery charge down in Indiana. Followed him to a farm that bordered his own. Turned out to be a friend of his who was hiding him and about fifty crates of illegal firearms in an outbuilding. I found him face-up in pile of pig shit with nothing but the whites of his eyes showing!” Stub slapped his knee and a new round of thunderous laughter issued from beneath the man’s tangled beard. “Turns out they heard I was coming and decided that was the best place to hide.” Stub shook his head in wonder, while John chuckled into his beer.

“Ever go after anyone real dangerous?” Andy asked. Stub’s laughter subsided and his eyes squinted as he took another sip of beer. Lance could see him struggle with something internally and, after a moment, make a decision.

“Went after a guy down in Florida once. Real piece a work. He was in and outta jail since he was sixteen. Last charge he pulled was rape, young woman barely twenty. Beat her half to death ’fore he did what he wanted with her. Lawyer got him out on bail somehow, and by the time I went after him, he’d disappeared pretty well.” Stub stopped and sighed.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Lance said, his stomach tightening. Stub shook his head in dismissal.

“Not sayin’ it doesn’t make it untrue. I had a hunch after I’d been after him about four days. Went to the gal’s apartment that he’d raped. Found him sitting there in her easy chair, surrounded by what was left of her. He cut her into so many pieces, if I wouldn’t of known it was a person there on the floor, I woulda never guessed it. Pulled my gun on him and it took all the power in my body not to put a bullet between his eyes. He just sat there, smeared in that young lady’s blood, smiling like he had a secret that no one else knew.”

Lance felt his heart pounding in his ears and glanced over at Andy, who had turned a pale shade of gray. John seemed unsurprised; perhaps he’d heard the story before.

Stub continued, “There’s evil in this world without reason or purpose, my friends. It just is. And God help you if you ever run across it.”



The rest of the evening slid away from them like the sun behind the trees. More drinks were poured and more stories told. When the clock in the kitchen read 10:00 and the shadows had condensed into full darkness, Stub and John said their goodbyes. Lance and Andy watched the taillights like disembodied eyes disappear down the drive until they’d winked out.

“Good people,” Lance said, piling dishes onto the counter as Andy went and sat in the alcove near the computer.

Andy nodded as Lance began to wash the dishes, his head buzzing pleasantly from the wine. “Mind if I read?” Andy said over his shoulder as he opened the Word document that now numbered in the hundreds of pages.

“Looks like you are,” Lance said. The house became quiet besides the clink of dishes and the intermittent swish of water washing suds from clean utensils.

Just as Lance placed the last plate in the dish-holder to dry, he noticed Andy saunter in and sit at the counter. His face held its color again under the kitchen lights as he poured himself another glass of wine.

“So?” Lance asked, leaning against the counter and drying his sodden hands.

Andy took a gulp from his glass and swallowed loudly. “It’s the best thing you’ve ever written, by far.”

Lance felt the familiar glow in his chest. He had worried that he had misjudged the story and his talent, but now he felt validated; Andy always told him what he thought, honestly and truly.

“You think so?”

“Yes. It’s powerful, and I like the way you’re swaying the main character between damnation and redemption. Well done.” Andy raised his glass in a toast. Lance lifted his own in return, and both men drank deeply. “Now I just need to figure out how I’m going to pitch this to those bastards in New York.”

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