Date: Sun, 25 May 2008 16:20:32 -0500
From: fireflywatcher <fireflywatcher@gmail.com>
Subject: DESOLATION: CHAPTERS FOUR AND FIVE

The usual disclaimers apply, if you are under eighteen or sexual content is
illegal where you live, read no further. All rights to this original fiction
story are retained by the author, myself, and it cannot be published or
reproduced without my written permission.

Thanks goes out to Miguel Sanchez and Clark for their work editing and
improving this story. I'd appreciate any comments or suggestions you have

fireflywatcher@gmail.com

Please donate to nifty.

These chapters have very little sexual content. There will be more coming.
Wait for a future posting if that is what you are reading for.

DESOLATION

CHAPTER FOUR

by fireflywatcher- Phil Ford

It was already 85 degrees. The Gas'n'Go sold minnows and worms. Old Miss
Sally was tending the store that morning. She was a large woman. Walking to
the bait shack she strained and forced each leg to take the next step and
carry her load. "How many minnows do you boys want today?" she asked,
tilting her head up so their eyes met. She had on a big flowered hat. Miss
Sally loved hats. Three dozen was their reply. "And do you want the red tail
or those big horse minnows, son?"

"The red tails, ma'am," was their answer in unison.

Sally got the big minnow net down and bent way over the tank to get the net
down to the bottom. It was a strain on her. Only the weight of her lower
half kept her from falling in behind the net. The little bead on her hat's
drawstring just touched the water as she bent down. With a giggle and a "He,
he, he" she pulled up the net full of minnows. "I think we might have them
all, boys." She counted each one out loud and slipped them into Dan's minnow
bucket doing a careful count. "Well, we're three short, so I'll give it
another dip." This time she just skimmed the tank. Up came the dip net with
five more minnows and she quickly tossed three into the bucket, shaking the
net over the tank to discard the rest. "Now you boys remember that I get two
nice bass if you catch any, don't you?" Her giggle said she didn't really
want any fish, but Sally always told them she did. They'd already paid and
gotten ice, so the lake lay ahead. Real fishermen went fishing at five AM or
by the solunar tables. Going fishing was part fun, part chance, and part
entertainment. Mostly it was just two friends getting together, but only
sharing each others company. Ten miles later they were at their favorite
spot. Even the bent over grass where they parked knew them. The paths each
took to his place were well traveled trails.

Two creeks came into the lake at opposite points from their parking spot.
The inlets formed the deep water on this side of the lake. Cattails, water
grass, and plants reached from each side into the channels, but left the
channel clear over the deep water. The big bass and cats hunted along the
edge of the water plants. They were always there. Nothing but waist high
grass and a few spindly trees surrounded the lake on the land. Water was in
the lake, but when it rained nothing soaked into the soil. It all rushed
down gullies, arroyos, and creeks to meet the lake. Even when farmers pumped
out the water to feed their fields, the deep inlets remained. The bass got
fatter as the fry lost their cover in the water plants. The catfish lay
lazily on the bottom waiting for Dan or Tim to toss in some chicken liver on
a treble hook for them.

Tim's bucket was long lost. Only the strainer remained. Easing Dan's
strainer up from the bucket, Tim reached deep and pulled a handful of the
wriggling minnows over the top. Two dove to the dirt below, but the rest
were thrown into his own strainer. Snatching the two from the dirt, they
joined the others. Fishing chair, pole and tackle box in one hand and
strainer in the other, he ran down the path to his spot. Everything was
flung to the ground except the strainer. He eased it into the water and tied
it off to a stump at the waters edge. The important gear was still back at
the truck. It was his beer cooler. He walked back more leisurely, looking
from side to side. A rattler might lie in the path ahead that hadn't had
time to react when he ran down. This time it would be stirred up and ready
to strike at any movement. No snake, just grass flowing with the breeze like
the water rippling in the lake below drew his glances. As he reached the
truck, Tim could see Dan halfway to his spot on the opposite side, moving at
an even pace, gear, cooler, and minnow bucket all carried in one trip. Dan's
minnows wouldn't be gasping and dying if he moved slowly.

Two lonely willows strained for the water on this side of the lake. One
arched over the bank where Dan sat. The other grew in a crooked mass, but
yielded enough shade to give Tim relief from the sun. Tim scooted the cooler
under the tree and picked up his pole. Retrieving a minnow from the
strainer, he set the hook in the minnow's back so it wouldn't kill the
little fish or jerk loose as a bass swatted it with his tail. Tim tossed it
about six feet out beyond the tangle of water plants, with a bobber giving
the minnow running room drawn down below by the lead weight. With his foot
he stomped the rod holder into the dirt and placed his rod in its cradle. He
unfolded his chair and it found the level spot worn into the bank on many
other trips. He pushed a beer into the cuzzi, popped the top, and nestled it
into the slot on the chair arm. Then he turned toward Dan and yanked his
pants down, mooning him, but from the corner of his eye he saw the bobber
dancing in the water. He lurched for the rod and fell head first, pants
around his ankles, but came up rod in hand jerking first to set the hook and
reeling in the fighting fish. Rolling over, bare butt brushing against
scratchy grass, he pulled the fish in. A little bluegill about four inches
long with most of the minnow hanging out of its mouth had fought
ferociously. On the other bank, Dan was howling with laughter. Tim just sat
there for a minute. Then he eased the minnow from the perch's mouth, and
reset the hook. He tied another swivel from his box above the minnow but far
enough away to be out of reach. A larger hook clasped to the swivel eased
into the back of the little perch. Casting it back, Tim yelled to the perch,
"Bring back your daddy now!" Then Tim gained his composure and pulled up his
pants.

By one in the afternoon, the minnows were all gone. Tim trolled with a lure,
waiting for Dan to loose the last one. Dan pulled in a nice crappie and
stringers in hand, each headed to the truck. Twelve fish to take home, eight
caught by Tim and four by Dan accounted for the first trek down the trails.
Both coolers were lighter now. All the gear followed as each made another
walk back. Dan's four were larger, except for Tim's nice bass the little
perch brought back. It was in the nineties now. Even fish get lazy in the
heat.

Back at Dan's the water cooler began its whir as soon as they walked in. All
the fish got a temporary reprieve as they gasped and resuscitated in a big
tin tub on the porch. When the cool water reached the top, every one was
flapping its tail and swaying in the water. Five minutes later both men were
snoozing on couches in front of the water cooler's breeze.

Except for work, both men were nearly always together. Even during the week,
Tim spent the night at Dan's house frequently. Sometimes he slept on a
couch. Normally he slept next to Dan in his bed. He ate with Dan. Tim liked
to feel that he wasn't expected to be there all the time with Dan and that
accounted for the times he wasn't there. Maybe it lacked the concern needed
because it often left Dan wondering where Tim was and waiting patiently for
Tim to show up. If he didn't come, Dan felt empty but never asked why.



CHAPTER FIVE

Johnny Mac saw Laura for the first time over the backyard fence hanging out
laundry to dry. He already knew the whole story. His mom and her Aunt Patti
weren't just neighbors, but best friends. Sitting on the couch in front of
the TV, Johnny overheard every detail right down to the "You poor dear, I
hope you straighten that girl out" from his mom's lips. The only thing he
thought was here comes an easy fuck. Looking over the fence, she looked like
something he would enjoy or at least something. He was the perfect physical
specimen. At six foot four with chiseled features and chiseled body to
match, the high school football hero was the pursuit of all the girls back
in high school. The girls and dating was for show. Making out was as far as
he ever went but he told stories that claimed more had happened. Academics
weren't for him. No colleges came calling. It was a small school. Johnny
tried the nearby community college for a semester, but flunked out. Three of
his courses were remedial. At twenty, he mostly sat at home. Occasional work
was there for a strong back, but his attitude made the job short lived. The
cocky bad boy always had the look of "Let's do it" no matter what it, was.
Smartass and smart mouthed just short of obnoxious finishes his description.

Johnny Mac dated a lot in school. Most small town girls were reserved when
it came to sex. A few weren't. He rarely dated the same girl more than a few
times. The few times he got naked with a girl, nothing happened. He made
excuses. "You just don't turn me on, baby" or "I had too much beer tonight,
sorry," but he never figured out what was wrong. With a porno magazine he
never had a problem. In his mind, nothing was wrong with him, just something
not quite right with them. The magazines and the few tapes he had seen all
had pictures of both men and women together. Spreads of a single woman or
even two women together didn't get his attention. On the occasions when
Johnny couldn't perform, the thought of oral sex to satisfy his partner
never was an option. The thought disgusted him. He'd gotten close once and
ran to the toilet, barely making it before he threw up. She believed the
beer story. A few times Johnny came from the gym showers with a full
erection. "The water felt good and this thing has a mind of its own" were
his comments. At that time he had never touched or been touched by another
guy. He never even considered it.

The senior class trip was to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. There were two
chaperones for forty teenagers, most with fake IDs. The hotel was within
walking distance of the French Quarter. It was 'divide and conquer' for the
students. Most split up into groups of two or three. Johnny Mac went alone.
The contest was to see who came home with the most beads. Getting beads
meant showing what you had. Girls pulled up their blouses and guys dropped
their pants. Johnny Mac got a lot of beads.

Monday night the parades and the crowds were very rowdy. Johnny Ray drank
like a fish. All the drinks were cheap and he wandered the streets from bar
to bar, usually carrying a glass in hand from his last visit. Johnny's neck
was covered with strings of beads that night. About four in the morning he
took a side street heading back to the hotel. He staggered a lot by then.
The alcohol was winning and it was an even bet whether he would reach his
bed or fall passed out in the street. On the side street a guy offered
Johnny beads. "Sure, why not," he said and dropped his pants. In a flash the
guy was on his knees in front of him and his problem, in spite of excess
alcohol, wasn't apparent. In a brief moment he exploded into the guy's mouth
with a massive load. This was his first orgasm brought on by someone else,
and in that respect it was the end of his virginity. Immediately he jerked
the guy up by his hair and began beating him. Blood flew everywhere,
spattering Johnny Mac until you couldn't be sure who was injured. The poor
guy never fought back. Johnny Mac held him up to strike his blows and threw
him to the ground in a crumpled pile. Jerking all the beads from his neck,
Johnny threw them onto the crumpled body and yelled, "Fucking Faggot" and
walked away.

The walk back was by a young man sobered by his actions. The stagger was
gone. He reached his room by the back stair and threw all his clothes in a
bag. They reeked of blood. After a shower and a trip to the dumpster, he
went to bed. Mardi Gras evening when everyone went out to see the crowds, he
circled back and sat alone in his room. The next morning was the trip home.
No one knew the events of the previous night. No one ever would.

Johnny Mac was a big man. He always found just enough work to buy beer and
keep gas in his truck. Sometimes Johnny had extra money for liquor, or a
sack of weed. In high school, he never smoked. Time passed too slowly now
and he had to fill up the days with something. A couple of younger friends
kept Johnny company. Their drinking and smoking equaled his own. Just like
Dan and Tim, dates were almost nonexistent. His mom would say "Johnny Mac is
a decent man who's never been in any trouble. He's finding himself." His dad
remained silent. Johnny Mac bought his own beer and rarely asked for
anything. He had a door of his own and came and went as he pleased. His
partying was away from home and no bother to his dad. There was an
occasional suggestion for him to visit his brothers in Odessa or Houston and
look for work. He'd been to both places. They were lonely hells for him, but
so was his home. At home every face was familiar and every road.

Johnny Mac stood by the fence watching Laura as she shook out each piece and
pinned it to the line. He was quiet. She didn't notice him until she was
done and picked up the empty basket. She turned to face him and said, "Hi,
I'm Laura."

"I know, I heard Patti telling mom you were coming. I'm Johnny Mac." He gave
her a big smile.

Laura's mind flashed to the boyfriend she left behind in Dallas. Both were
big guys with dark hair, dark eyes, and wide smiles. The only thought she
had was of getting the shit beat out of her by her ex-boyfriend.

There was a violent streak in Johnny Mac, but so far never directed toward
women. "Come over after you get settled in and we'll get to know each other"
was his open invitation.

"Sure thing," she answered, but there was reservation in her voice. Aunt
Patti would have to tell her more about this guy before she got near him.

Tomorrow she was starting work at the Gas'n'Go. The Gas'n'Go paid one dollar
more than minimum wage just because Miss Sally didn't want anyone stealing
money from the till. Laura had made more in Dallas. She'd bought her car and
paid her rent regularly. Boyfriends had come and gone. Her mom and dad had
helped her buy the car. The boyfriends without exception had hit her. She
hadn't lived with them. They broke up and she put a deadbolt on her door.
Along came Dean, with Johnny Mac's looks. He romanced her. After dating for
two weeks Dean moved in. This was the guy who would never hit her, she was
certain. He made three times what she brought home. What a fucking nightmare
that turned out to be. As she carried in the laundry basket, all she could
see when she looked at Johnny Mac was Dean. She counted her steps back into
the house and locked the door behind her. Finding her way to Aunt Patti's
rocking chair, she sat in the dark room and rocked. The heat tired her.
Laura slipped from the chair and moved across the room to the couch. The
pink pillow by the arm found its way beneath her head. Curled tight on the
couch all thoughts of Dean or Johnny Mac would be held at bay.

With a whoosh, the front door opened, followed by the familiar hum of the
water cooler. Laura let out a loud moan from the couch and Aunt Patti turned
toward her. She shook Laura's shoulder and said, "You'll suffocate in this
heat if you don't learn to turn the cooler on, girl. This house doesn't have
central air with a thermostat to turn it on." Sweat was beaded up on Laura's
head and her hair was wet and flattened to her head. Patti pulled the
curtains back and let light flood into the room. Then Patti eased back into
a chair, kicking her shoes off with a long aaaah. After taking off the
previous afternoon, the work she had left behind remained to be done along
with today's work and the loss of an afternoon's pay. She tilted back the
chair lifting the footrest of the recliner. Her feet danced and stretched
held above the floor.

Laura rose to sitting position. She pushed her wet hair back with both
hands, lowered them to her shoulders and massaged her neck. Couches and
decorative pillows don't make a great place for a nap. "Can I get you
something cool to drink, Aunt Patti?" Laura knew her answer would be yes.
She stood and waited for Patti's answer.

"No tea or coke for me, I drank that all day long, but if I've got a wine
cooler in the door, it will do." Reaching the refrigerator, Laura found
three wine coolers, all different flavors. Guessing from past experience,
she grabbed the margarita-flavored one and twisting off the cap threw it in
the trash can beside the door.

"I got you the margarita one, Aunt Patti," Laura said and turned back and
got herself a berry one. With a plop the second cap found the bottom of the
empty trash can. With a click of the remote, the news announcer's voice
could be heard as Laura walked back into the living room. Instead of heading
to the couch, she took the chair beside Patti's and handed her the drink.
Both sipped their drinks at the same time. There was no more conversation
that evening, not about Dean, not about Johnny Mac, not about anything at
all.

to be continued