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Returning Home Ch. 01

Lord knows, I should of been gone, And I wouldn't have been here, down on the killin' floor, Yeah



Chester Burnett, Howling Wolf's Recording - The Killing Floor

* * * * *



"Hey, Jim. When'd ya get back?"

"Last night. How ya' doin' Hector?"

Looking up from his newspaper, Jim Mason nodded, and gestured to the opposite side of the booth, inviting the man to join him. He folded the paper precisely along the creases and aligned it so that the masthead was exactly parallel to the edge of the table. Jim pushed his plate up so that it sat centered, just to the right of the newspaper.

His guest looked on with bemusement at Jim's fastidious nature.

Jim appreciated his old teammate not staring at his scars. He had gotten used to solitude, but still enjoyed eating at the town's diner. The fluorescent lighting, Formica, and smell of cooking-oil reminded him of better time, and he desperately needed those memories.

Barely able to fit, Hector slid his huge bulk into the booth. With his black leather vest, handlebar mustache and an array of tattoos, he looked like an extra from a seventies biker film. Jim had gotten used to people staring at him, but it was an odd sensation seeing the other customers' furtive glances at Hector. They knew who he was and how he made his money.

Unlike the stares usually aimed at Jim, which were full of pity and macabre curiosity, the stares leveled at Hector were tinged with fear and disgust. Today wasn't the best of mornings for the patrons. Two objects of distaste were interrupting their normally pleasant breakfast. Fuck them and their little plastic lives. Jim made a point of staring at anyone who looked their way.

The biker grinned widely. "Good. It's all good. You staying around for a while or just dropping in to see the old place?"

"Don't know yet." A little ice entered his voice. "Is that a problem, Hector?"

They both looked up as the waitress approached with the check. Hector looked back at Jim as she spoke.

"Hey, Hector. Get you a coffee?" she asked as she took the plate. She was a pleasant woman in her fifties who had been working there since they were in high school. He ignored her and continued looking at Jim.

"This is your home. Of course, it's no problem." He looked up at the waitress as he pulled out his wallet and left a twenty on the table. "Nah, I'm good, honey. And he doesn't pay if I'm around. This man's a fucking hero."

Reaching over, he shook Jim's hand. "Good to see you, man. Come by on Sunday. We'll catch the games." Jim held his hand for a fraction too long and stared at Hector. He nodded his head stiffly.

"Sure, Hec. I'll be seeing you around."

Hector lurched back up and made his way to the exit. Jim listened for the roar of the Harley, stood and limped out to the parking lot.

* * * * *



Standing just inside the hospital's door, Ann pulled her gloves on and wrapped the scarf around her face, leaving her eyes uncovered. It would help cover the stench from the slaughterhouse at McAllister's Provisions that permeated half the town. They were the largest employer in the area, and one way or another, their influence was always present.

After bracing, she pushed the door open and stepped out into the blistering cold. Hunched over, and looking at the ground in front of her, she made her way to the cement stairs and down to the walkway.

She didn't notice Jim until he called out. "Hey, Ann. Give you a lift?"

Jim stood next to his father's old truck, a well worn and scuffed leather jacket his only concession to the weather. She stood there and looked at him for an uncomfortably long time.

"Go home, Jim, wherever that is now. There's nothing here for you." Her voice was muffled by the scarf, but he heard every strained word. She kept walking and made her way to the bus stop at the edge of the hospital's property, standing next to the darkening slush of yesterday's snowfall.

He watched her for a moment before getting back in the truck. It took him a minute or two to decide what to do. He pulled up next to her and got out.

"Get in. Please. Can't I give my cousin a lift? I'm just going to stand out here in the cold until you let me drive you home. Do us both a favor and get in."

Peering down the road and seeing no sign of the bus, she looked at the gray skies for a moment before getting in the pick-up. She noticed the scars on the left side of his face as he limped around to the other side to get in.

Jim saw the fatigue that the scarf had had hidden. Her eyes were slightly sunken and she slumped against the door. Ann spoke softly. "I'd like to say that I'm glad you got home okay, but I guess that's not possible. Are you out for good?"

He stared straight ahead through the windshield, avoiding her gaze. "Yeah, not much call for a gimped and half-blind Green Beret. You still staying at your folks?"

"Mmm hmm. Truck looks good. How did you know where I was?"

"Your dad. He thought it was too cold for you to take the bus and told me where you were. He still living off Granpa's money?" She wasn't dressed for this weather. He knew his uncle's money went to the local bars and liquor stores, but couldn't help but be disappointed.

"He gets a check from the estate every six months. It's not a lot, but it keeps the roof over his head and gives him some spending money. Good to hear he was sober enough to have a coherent thought."

"So, are they, at the hospital... is it helping?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"I get it." The bitterness in her voice stung him. "Listen, you're not still angry at me, right? I would have stayed if I had known. I didn't just disappear on you. Dad served, Granpa served. Since I was a kid, it was always—"

"I'm not angry. I was never angry about that. I'm dealing with my own shit. Not everything is about you."

The ride was quiet for a while.

"Have you been to the grave, Jim?"

Glancing over at her, he wondered how often she went. "No. I'm not sure where she's at."

"Wanna go now?"

He had spent three hours at the graves of his parents the day before he left for basic training. That was the last time he had been to the cemetery. They drove for twenty minutes without speaking. She spoke only to direct him to the grave once they were on the grounds.

"Stop. It's over there. Fourth row back." She pointed to the grave.

He parked the truck on the grass road and turned to her. "You coming, Ann?"

"No, I'm here about once a week. You go ahead."

He didn't realize that it would hit him as hard as it did. When he read the inscription he felt the tears rolling down his right cheek. He stayed there in the wind and the cold thinking about her, said a brief prayer, touched his fingers to his lips and then to the gravestone. She had been the love of his life, as absurd as that may seem. When he got back in the truck, he sat there for a minute as he prepared to drive the short distance to his parent's graves.

She didn't wait long after to bring up what she needed to know. Her voice regained that bitterness as she spoke in a clipped tone. "So, you wanna tell me how it happened?"

"How what happened?"

"Don't play games with me, Jim. How does a boy start fucking his aunt? How did it start with my mother?"

Jim's stomach clenched and he grabbed the steering wheel to stop his hands from shaking. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Does your dad know?"

"No. I don't think so. He wasn't paying attention to much back then. Certainly not to you and Mom. And I never said anything." Her voice turned more hostile. "You wanna answer the question?"

"I don't know. There's no answer that I can give you that will help you understand. It's not like I can shine a light on it and make everything clear. I don't even know how it all started."

He turned and looked at her, wondering how much he could ask about what happened to her without causing more pain.

"I'll answer you as honestly as I can and I'll answer any other question you want if you answer one for me. Deal?"

Twisting to lean her back against the door, she looked over at him, determined to finally get some answers.

"Deal, but you go first."

"Okay." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "After my folks passed, I was staying at your place a lot. Gramma was listed as my guardian, but she let me do as I pleased. I was sixteen. How much could she do? I'd go home to the house to sleep, but otherwise, I was at your place. I'd had a crush on your mom for as long as I could remember. Seriously, since I was five or six." He stopped, remembering. "She was such a beautiful woman, even to a kid."

He sat there and looked out the driver's side window.

"When puberty hit, my interests changed. She became more than my pretty aunt if you get what I'm saying. She knew. She definitely knew. She was really nice about it. Never teased me, never made me feel bad. When I spent time with you guys she didn't treat me like a kid. She spoke to me as if I mattered. Like an adult."

He paused again.

"I tried to help out as much as possible. I'd fix a fence or re-hang a door or something. It made me feel so grown up, and your dad wasn't much help. After my folks passed, she always made sure I was eating enough and keeping up with schoolwork. I think I would have flunked out if I wasn't so afraid of disappointing her."

He raised his hands to the heat from the vent as he gathered his thoughts.

"When she was first diagnosed I didn't know what to do. I had just turned eighteen and I was about to enlist. I felt, I don't know, helpless. Awkward. Like I was a third wheel she didn't need to be taking care of, but how could I leave? Your dad took the news by drinking even more. You were dealing with things the best that you could and I became determined to fix every fucking problem on your property. I think I repainted some sections of fence four times."

She kept looking him over. Jim knew that he had changed, physically and emotionally. Time and experience had forced him to grow up. He was more mature a little more self aware. Ann put her hands under her arms in a futile attempt to keep them warm as she spoke. "Yeah, that was a rough time. I know that she felt guilty about you not enlisting as soon as you graduated."

He waved that concern away with his hand.

"I think that she started to enjoy my attention more then. I don't know if I've ever felt more guilty. She's fighting cancer and I can't stop thinking about her like... like that. But I think she sort of liked it. Maybe it helped her feel alive and womanly or something, I don't know. She started touching me more. Nothing much. Just a hand on my shoulder or something. She didn't have to compete with a bottle for my attention. I love your father, but he's a fucking idiot." He stopped and looked at her. "Sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"No, you're right. Go on."

"Okay. The first time something happened was when we went by the river to get some honey from down by the trees. I carried the suits and gloves and stuff and we headed down." He paused. "Listen, can we maybe finish this tomorrow? I want to go see my folks and talking about this, well, it's not easy. Especially here."

"As long as you're not trying to duck out, sure. What was your question for me?"

"I know that I'm not supposed to bring this up or ask any questions or anything, or I guess that's what I'm assuming is the right thing to do, but when you were... when it happened, was anyone with him?"

She didn't seem angry, just curious.

"No, why?"

"'Cause I'm going to kill him."

* * * * *



ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER, SPRING

"Jim, you wanna go check for honey?" Knowing that he was always within earshot, she didn't need to look for him. She loved him dearly, but he had been like an overprotective puppy since she was diagnosed.

The family had recently decided that they should use part of their four acres to set up some hive stands. The hobby would keep her occupied and the free honey that they would harvest themselves seemed like a great idea. They were still new to the process, and were understandably skittish.

"Sure. Let me grab the suits."

Walking down to the stands was pleasant, in spite of the extreme heat. Jim carried their suits in a large duffel bag and walked slowly, concerned that she wouldn't be able to keep up. She thought it was cute if a bit annoying. She didn't feel much different and probably wouldn't until they started the chemo. Everyone treated her so damn differently, though. Like she was going to break or that she had one foot in the grave.

They stopped when they were within eyesight of the hive stands and put the suits, gloves, and helmets on. Jim was too young to understand the reference, but she always felt like one of the government agents in ET when she put on the gear. Jim held the smoker, and encumbered by the suits, they made their way to the stands.

Working the bellows, Jim didn't hear her call out at first. When he did hear, he turned his head and then finally his whole body to avoid the helmet's obstruction.

She spoke louder. "Is the smoker lit enough? There seem to be a lot of them out here."

"Yeah, it's lit the same as always." He turned back and kept up his efforts to get the smoker working and distract the bees.

"Jim? Jim!"

He turned again to see her swatting at about two dozen bees that were congregating in her area. He panicked, dropped the bellows and awkwardly ran towards her. He picked her up and kept trudging forward. She started laughing when they were about twenty-five yards from the stands and kept it up until he put her down near the bank of the river.

Laughter slowing and finally stopping, she pulled her helmet off and looked at her nephew. Pushing back her dark red hair, she wiped off some sweat and apologized.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I wasn't laughing at you. It's just you trying to run in that get-up, me slung over your shoulder... I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard. We might not be cut out to be beekeepers."

He pulled his helmet off and the rest of his suit followed.

As always, he was overly concerned. "You're okay? No stings?"

"I'm fine. No damage except to my pride."

Jim smiled, relieved and happy she was amused. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he pulled his shirt over his head. "I'm gonna soak my shirt and cool off."

The river swelled here, and the flow was slow and smooth. For a hundred yards it was more of a pond than a river.

"Sounds good. I'm going to sit here and rest up a bit." She took off the rest of her gear and sat on the grass as she watched him. He was lean and broad, with a well defined back that tapered to a narrow waist. The cuffs of his jeans getting wet as he stood in the shallows of the river, he squatted above the water, splashed some on his torso and then soaked his shirt.

She knew he'd had a crush on her. He had started taking covert peeks down her blouse when he was twelve or thirteen and she often felt his eyes on her when they were together. She had thought it was cute and knew that he would be mortified if she said anything, so she let it be. His attentions intensified after his parents died. He was such a great kid that it broke her heart to see him spending so much time in that house alone.

Her mother-in-law was named his guardian, but it was in name only. He was too strong-willed to be controlled by anyone. His grandmother couldn't, so Liz did what she could to keep him on the straight and narrow and it had worked. He had graduated from High School last month and planned on enlisting, a family tradition.

It would be difficult for her to let him go. She hated to admit it to herself, but she liked the attention, and where her husband had crawled further into the bottle when she first returned from the doctor's office in June, Jim had only grown more attentive and solicitous.

The speed at which she made her decision surprised her. She craved the attention and some teasing was harmless. Liz pulled off her shoes, pants, and shirt and stood up.

"That looks too good to stay sitting on the grass."

Jim turned to see her walking towards the water in just her panties and bra. He stood mesmerized as she looked over at him.

"Close your mouth, Jim. You'll let the bees in. You've seen me in less when I'm in my bikini."

"Yeah, but, you know."

"Do I look that bad? Does it bother you? I can go back and put my clothes on." She couldn't help teasing him further.

"No, you don't, you... Aunt Liz, you're beautiful."

"Thank you, honey. Let's relax a bit and then head back to the house."

He moved deeper into the river and tried to hide his erection until it subsided in the cool water. They chatted and discussed what she would make for dinner before they got out of the water. Jim never removed his jeans and was happy for their ability to camouflage his arousal. They swam and occasionally splashed each other playfully before heading to shore.

He couldn't help but stare at her as she moved from the water; bra, and panties transparent, and water dripping from her. He could make out her auburn triangle and had to fight again against his rising prick.

* * * * *



Picking up Ann the next morning, Jim drove them to the same diner Hector had found him at. She had her laptop with her. As an Associate Editor for a farming report website, as long as she had a decent internet connection, she could get work done. The job paid well and she was good at it. She also did some freelance writing for national magazines that covered cattle and the agricultural industry.

Ann could afford a car, but knew that her father would use it, whether she wanted him to or not. She couldn't live with the fear that he would kill someone using her car. She couldn't keep using the bus indefinitely. Something was going to have to change.

She didn't flinch exactly, but she drew into herself and, without thinking, shrunk down a bit as they passed the dilapidated bar with the Harleys out front. He noticed and grasped the steering wheel tighter. More so than at any time since he had learned what happened, violence was building within him and he struggled to keep it under control.

Ann saw his reaction. She waited until they were in the diner parking lot to bring up her concern. "You were talking figuratively when you said you going to kill him, right?"

Turning to look at her, Jim fixed her with his good eye and she saw his anger and frustration.

"Not even a little. I'm going to kill him."

He realized that she was waiting for more of an explanation.

"I figure that I shouldn't bring this up to you. Shouldn't burden you. That's what the experts would say, but I've known enough people that have gone through some horrendous shit and they wouldn't want someone hiding stuff or treating them like they can't handle it."

Ann turned towards the window, uncurled her clenched fists, and spoke slowly, searching for the right words. She leaned away from him and looked out the window as she spoke. "It's not your... I don't know. It's not your fight, Jim. You don't have the right to do something. This is about me. You weren't there. It didn't happen to you. It's up to me to say if something happens, not you. You're not fucking Sir Galahad coming in on your white horse to make everything okay. What's going to happen to me if you spend the rest of your life in prison? How am I supposed to deal with that? You're going to feel better for a day or a month, maybe longer, but how is it going to help me?"

She may as well have been speaking to a stone. He answered her without emotion. "Yeah, I thought about that for a long time. I get it. It's selfish and it's some macho bullshit that probably belongs in a different century, but I can't not do it. I'm not even going to try. Go ahead and hate me. You're already most of the way there. I know I'm being a dick and I know it's not going to help you, but it's something I have to do or I couldn't live with myself."
"We agree that you're a dick, but I don't hate you. Pretty pissed and you're a selfish ass, but I don't hate you."

They talked about old acquaintances while eating. After they ate and talked he ordered a breakfast and lunch to go that she could bring to her father.

She looked around and spoke in a hushed tone. "Is that because he's your uncle or because you feel guilty that you were fucking his wife?"

He took off his black, horned-rim glasses. and wiped his bad eye. Putting them back on he looked at her.

"Maybe both. You ready to go?"

He dropped her off at the hospital where she spent an hour with her counselor. He sat in the heated truck, thinking and remembering while he waited for her. Ann reminded him of Liz as much in her mannerisms as in her appearance. She had the same aquiline nose and the same dark red hair, but Ann was taller and lusher than her mother was.

She was fourteen the summer her mother was diagnosed. She would often spend the days at a friend's house so her mother wouldn't see her crying and trying to keep it together. With her cousin there, she didn't feel as if she were leaving her alone. Every night her father would pass out in his chair and she would crawl into the bed with her mom. They would talk about their day or relatives or her friends. They would tell each other that they loved one another and Liz would tell her how proud she was of her daughter.

Liz didn't know if they were really talking or saying goodbye, but if this was the end, she didn't want anything left unsaid.

Jolted out of his reverie, he heard the creaking of the door as she got back in. Jim shivered in the accompanying cold.

"Fuck, it's cold out there! Damn. How can you take the bus every day?"

"It's not every day and the alternative to not coming is worse."

"Okay." Brought down a bit by her reality, he cranked up the heat and started driving.

"So, you didn't finish your story yesterday."

He sighed. "Alright. We talked a lot when she went into remission and before I had to report to boot camp. I never really thought about how she saw things until then. I was a dumb kid, always just reacting, never thinking. She told me how things were for her, you know, with me and everything."

* * * * *



ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER, SPRING

Liz could see his swelling alongside his leg as they walked back to the house. He tried to use the beekeeping suits to cover it but wasn't always successful. She took a long bath that evening and imagined him masturbating to her walking towards him from the water. Using that to stir her own passions, she tweaked her nipples with one hand while reaching between her legs with the other.

She rubbed her fingers over her folds, teasing herself before she ran her index finger over her clit. The muscles in her thighs and abs tightened as she slowed down and slowly began to insert one finger into her waiting entrance. Her own oily moisture joined the water in the tub as she moved the finger in and out.

Gradually adding a second finger, she continued her thrusting as her other hand moved from her breast to her engorged clit. She rubbed around it and on it as she became more aggressive. Her fingers curled and moved upwards as she reached her g-spot. In her sensory overload, her fingers became Jim's as his lean, muscled torso leaned over her while she lay on the grass. The thought pushed her over the edge as she experienced an orgasm in the tub.

Liz lay there trying to get her breath back. She was less concerned than she thought she should be about fantasizing about her handsome nephew while masturbating.

* * * * *



The truck was parked in her driveway, a dozen feet from the porch. Using one hand to hold the bag of food for her father, Ann held the truck door open with the other.

"Jim, if you do this when I've asked you not to, you're taking away my right to make a choice. That already happened to me once, someone taking away my right to say no. Don't make that happen to me twice. Come by for dinner tomorrow. We'll finish talking."

He watched her close the door and trudge towards the house.

"Fuck!" He slammed his palms onto the steering wheel. Knowing that she wouldn't want him to kill Liam was one thing, having her say it to him, especially in those terms, was another. Jim shook his head as he put the truck into drive and headed back into town.

Pulling into the parking lot of the beer distributor, he scanned the parked cars. Thinking of their old jalopies, he smiled, knowing that his friends would have certainly gotten new cars since he had left and scoping the place out was useless. They were among the few people Jim looked forward to seeing and whose friendship he appreciated.

He parked and made his way to the large, glass front doors. The lingering odor of dung and blood from the slaughterhouse were stronger this close to McAllister's huge abattoir. The blessed heat rolled out to greet him as the doors slid open at his approach. He stepped in, away from the cold and the stench.

As always, his limp and facial scars brought him attention he neither wanted nor appreciated. Picking up some pork-rinds, jalapeno potato chips and an IPA, he made his way through the aisles. He still had a bunch of Heady Topper in his hoard from his cross-country drive, but he was deliberately parsimonious with his treasure. The IPA would hold him over for a few days. He headed towards the rear of the store where his friends should be hard at work.

"Jim? Is that you, son?"

He turned full on towards the voice. Before his injury, he would have seen the old man pushing his cart. It still annoyed and surprised him. Jim's peripheral vision was shot. "Mr. Childress! Hey, how are you?"

Childress was still a hearty man, unbent to age, with a thick mane of gray hair. "Great! Just great. Just got back from taking the Mrs. on a cruise! Can you believe that? Seventy-one years of never leaving the state and then we up and head to the Caribbean." He lost his smile and he looked Jim in the eyes. He sounded somber, but spoke in a soft voice, laced with concern. "It looks like you had a hell of a go of it over there. I'm sorry, son. How are you doing now?"

Jim appreciated the old man's directness. It certainly beat the quiet stares.

"Could be worse. Could be a lot worse. I'm hanging in there."

"Good for you, Jim. I'm gonna tell the Mrs. that I saw you. Stop by when you can. She'd love to see you."

Feeling suddenly nostalgic, he had a rush of affection towards this man and his wife. They were the High School football team's biggest supporters when he was on the championship teams. No one outside of his family was kinder to him when his parents died than they were. He reached over and shook the older man's hand.

"I'd enjoy that. You're a good man Mr. Childress. I'm glad we ran into each other. Hey, you ever see Liam Bissle around?"

"No, not really. I know he's in that gang with Hector, but that's about it."

"They call them motorcycle clubs now," Jim said with a smile. "Okay, you have a good one. I'll try to stop by sometime this week."

"It was really good to see you, Jim." Mr. Childress patted him on the arm, offered a smile that was tinged with concern, and headed towards the front of the store. Not realizing that he was smiling in return, Jim watched the old man walk away. Standing a bit straighter, he headed towards the rear of the store.

Jim leaned against the service counter in the back of the store and loudly called out. "Can I get some damn service here? How do you people keep any customers?" His smile put the lie to his angry tone.

Jose Cortez came around a corner with a dolly loaded with German beers. "I'm right here— Jim! You son of a bitch!" Jose lowered the dolly to rest and stepped around the counter, smiling broadly. "I was ready to toss someone a beating. How are you, man?"

"Okay, Cort. Not so bad. How about you? Archie in?"

"Yeah, we're unloading a truck. You know, nobody calls me that anymore. Not since high school. Wanna give us a hand? There's a six pack in it for you."

After unloading everything and signing off on the deliveries, they split a couple of heroes in the back and talked about old times. Cort laughed as he saw his friend folding the paper the sandwiches came in before tossing it away. Who folds wrappers? It was comforting to see that in some ways, Jim hadn't changed at all. Always neat, always clean. In high school he had always ironed his tee-shirts and jeans. He wondered how Jim could have maintained that nature while serving.

Archie tossed Jim a bag of salted nuts, the same brand he used to devour when he worked there while they were in school. "So, what've you been doing since you got out?"

"Driving cross country. Southern California to Maine, hitting every craft brewery on the way."

Smiling, Archie tapped a stack of beer cases with his foot. "You couldn't get beer here? Sounds like a trip I'd love to take. You go alone?"

"No. Jeremy, a guy I served with, lives a couple a hours from here. He flew out and met me and we split the driving. Headed back as soon as I heard from you." Jim's voice pitched a little lower as he leaned forward. "So, Liam still in town?"

Cort took a packet of Skoal from his back pocket and stuffed some of the chewing tobacco between his teeth and cheek. He nodded his head slowly, as he looked at his old friend. "He's still here. We didn't know how you wanted to handle things. We sent that email and hadn't heard back and, well, it's just all fucked up. The way people are treating Ann and how Hector's cousin just dropped shit. No investigation, nothing."

"His cousin still with State Police?"

"Vic? Yeah, and still corrupt as shit."

Jim nodded. "Okay. I appreciate you reaching out. I needed to know. You did the right thing. Liam still dating Tilly?"

"That won't change until he can't get her hooked up anymore."

"She still strung out?

"Yeah, it's pretty messed up."

"She working at The Owl?"

Cort stood, grabbed an empty can and spit some treacly black juice. "Yup. You going down there? You want us to come?"

"Nah, it's all good. Let's get together Sunday for the games." Jim smiled. These people loved their football.

* * * * *



They wrapped things up and Jim headed out to his truck. After letting it warm up for a while, he threw it into drive and drove out of town towards The Owl. Finding a spot near the door, he parked and headed towards the entrance, avoiding the parking lot's mud-filled puddles. The W and L from the eponymous neon light were unlit, and the same plywood covered a broken window he had seen when he was in town a decade before. He grabbed a table and sat with his back to a wall.

Tilly held a plastic serving tray with four beers. She put them in front of the two bikers that Jim didn't recognize, spoke to them for a minute and started walking towards him. She almost stumbled when she recognized him and took a quick look back behind her at the two men in the leather vests.

One arm hung stiffly by her side, tray in hand, the other crossed her body to hold it by the elbow. She stared at the table as she spoke. "Hey, Jim. How are ya?" Thin with sallow skin, she would have been pretty if healthy. He wondered if her long sleeve shirt was to provide warmth or cover the evidence of her using.

"Good, Tilly. Can't believe you're still here. Gotta be ten years, right?"

Her reedy voice quavered lightly. "Yeah, what can I get you?"

"Whatever's on tap."

Straightening up the room as she made her way to the bar, she pushed a few chairs under some tables and mumbled something to the two bikers as she passed by. They stared at Jim for several moments before he lifted his beer in response. He looked back at them and winked with his bad eye. They whispered to each other as one of them pulled out his cell phone.

Making her way past the few patrons on bar stools, she got his beer and brought it over.

Jim kept his face and voice neutral as he spoke. "How's Liam doing? I hear you two are still dating."

She tucked her chin and stared at the table. "He's okay. He heard about what happened. We all did. We're real sorry about that, Jim."

"You talking about me or Ann?"

"Uhhhh, Ann, but you too. You okay?"

"Good enough for what needs to be done. Good to hear Liam's okay. Tell him I'll be stopping by real soon to say hi. Tell him I'll definitely be stopping by."

Tilly hesitated before replying. "Sure."

She went back to the other table and talked to the two bikers again. One was short and fat, weighing at least three-hundred pounds, his increasing girth stretching the older tattoos that covered his body. Apparently the 'no shirt, no service' policy didn't apply. His companion was tall and thin, standing at least six-five. The tall one kept reflexively flicking open and lighting his zippo.

As they openly looked over at him he again lifted his beer towards them in response. Finishing it up, he left a ten on the table and headed out to the truck. He started the engine and waited for the heat to kick in before pulling out and driving away in the drizzling rain.

He was on the road less than five minutes when he heard the bikes approaching. They stayed with him all the way back into town. He pulled to the side of the road a hundred yards before the turn that would take him towards the cemetery and his folk's house. As the bikers passed by the truck they looked up at him. He used his fingers to form a gun and pretended to shoot off two rounds. They were gone too quickly to get their reaction, but he knew that wasn't what they expected.

Spending the rest of the day cleaning, spackling some sheetrock, and tightening loose stairs leading to the basement, he felt he had gotten a lot accomplished. The last renters left it in decent shape. He had moved in a bunch of his stuff soon after he arrived.

Stepping into what had been his father's study, he sat at the large desk for a few minutes before reaching into a large drawer. He pulled out a small metal box and flag that had been presented to him at his father's funeral.

He unlocked the box and fingered the various medals, some his, some his fathers. The box contained both their discharge papers, as well as his grandfathers. Jim reached behind his back and pulled out the Colt 1911. It had been his father's. It was the first gun that he was allowed to shoot. He remembered what he thought was his father's near reverence for the weapon. He now knew it wasn't reverence, but a healthy respect for what the gun was capable of.

His father had carried it while serving, and for years after. He had used it the first day he taught Jim how to handle and respect a weapon. He made specific mention of it in his will and Jim carried it with him while serving.

It was a personal weapon and no longer standard issue. Sometimes he caught shit for it, most times he didn't. A lot of things can be overlooked if the person looking was happy not to see. Jim slid the gun in the box, locked it, put it in the draw and placed the flag over it.

It was a weapon that represented the men that carried it. A weapon that connoted respect, duty and honor. It's use was a reflection of who Jim's father was and who Jim was prior to his return. Using it for vengeance felt wrong, dirty and petty.

He grabbed his duffle bag and pulled out a similar box. Keying in the combination, he opened it, pulled out the black HK45 and slipped it into the holster. It was a tool. Nothing more, nothing less.

Jim grabbed a six-pack from the fridge, a quart of ice-cream from the freezer and headed over to his cousin's for dinner. It was a short drive, punctuated by seeing men in bright orange vests struggling with pulling what had to be an eleven point buck out of the bed of a pick-up. Shaking off the goosebumps, he felt that the deer's dead, glassy eyes were still tracking him as he pulled into Ann's driveway.

After stepping in her home, he looked in the living room and kitchen. "Where's your dad?"

"The bar. He'll be there 'till about nine."

The air was redolent with the aroma of pork chops, onions, and grilled potatoes. They ate and washed the dishes before she broached the subject again.

"So, you worked up your courage to tell me how it started yet?"

Sighing, he sat back down.

"You know what happened. I don't know why you need the details, but if you want to know, I'll tell you. I guess it was about a week after that day with the bees."

* * * * *



ELEVEN YEARS EARLIER, LATE SPRING

"Jim, this heat is getting to me. If I make us a basket for lunch, can you carry it down to the river for us?"

"Sure!" His pulse started to race remembering their last time at the river.

Working efficiently and methodically, she made some chicken salad sandwiches with yesterdays leftovers. She packed them in the insulated basket along with some water, chips, and apples and they headed out, Jim carrying the basket, Liz carrying a blanket.

Leaning back against the tree that they had spread the blanket under, she enjoyed her sandwich in the shade. Liz watched him as they ate, relishing the furtive glances he sent her way. The breeze offered an occasional respite from the overbearing heat, but it was still intense. Getting on her knees after finishing the lunch, she brushed her hands off and pulled her blouse up, and over her head.

"Well, I'm going in. Eat up. There's a second sandwich in there for you." He sat there as if struck mute as she stood and wriggled her jeans past her gorgeous ass and to the ground. Not able to pull his eyes away, he didn't blink as she made her way into the water, again clad only in panties and a bra.

Having gone in deep enough to duck her head in, she turned and rose from the water. The sandwich dropped from his useless fingers. "Shit." She was like a goddess, hair slicked back, her wet body calling to him.

"Jim, can you come in? I'm feeling a little weak." She didn't feel guilty about seducing her nephew and she didn't feel guilty about using her illness to get him in the water. Instead, she felt strangely powerful as she saw how he looked at her. She hadn't felt this powerful or alive in a long time.

"Yeah, of course." He quickly tossed the half-eaten sandwich into the basket, pulled off his sneakers and headed towards the water, tossing his shirt on the river bank.

"You're not leaving your jeans on, are you? Leave them there. You've got underwear on, right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"It's fine. We won't be skinny dipping or anything."

He hopped on one foot and then the other as he quickly pulled off his jeans.

She admired his dick as it lengthened and swelled, his briefs doing little to hide his condition. Embarrassed, he got waist deep as quickly as possible.

"Thanks. Just stay close by in case I need some help. I just want to enjoy the water and cool off for a while."

They swam around slowly and talked, Liz making sure to touch him every so often.

"This is driving me crazy. Bras aren't made to swim in. Jim, can you unhook me?" She got close and presented her back to him. His impressive cock brushed against her buttocks. Feeling his shaking hands touch her sent a shiver down her spine. He managed to unhook the bra and she pushed off, swimming away. She turned after a minute, her breasts visible but obscured by the water.

"Thank you, Jim. You don't know how much I appreciate everything you do for me."

Feeling the cliché of the blood rushing from his head to his dick, he couldn't think of an elegant response.

"Whatever I can do, Aunt Liz. You know that. You've always been... well for the past few years I've... I don't know. I like to help. I like to be with you."

She knew what he was trying to say. "You're eighteen and you're joining up soon. Maybe you should drop the Aunt and just call me Liz. While we're alone at least."
"Okay. Sure, Liz." It felt foreign on his tongue without the preceding title of Aunt. They swam for a while, Jim keeping his eyes on her and relishing every glimpse when her tits rose above the water level. The next time she swam by, she arranged to bump into him. She stood with her back leaning against him.

"Sorry. I need to watch where I'm going."

Jim put his hands on her hips and she could feel him shaking. She reached to her side, capturing his left hand and pulled it to her breast. Her heartbeat raced. She kept her hand over his as he felt what he had dreamed of for more than half a decade. Her nipples engorged as he tentatively felt her tits, using both hands now. "They won't break, honey. You can be a little rougher."

Feeling him start to grind against her, she gently pushed back. He tugged one rubbery nipple as he used his other hand to lift the other breast up and squeeze it. She turned towards him and pulled his head towards hers. As they kissed, she reached down and grabbed his cock. Quickly growing frustrated by the barrier his briefs offered, she slipped her hand into the underwear and started to stroke him. Continuing the dance with his tongue, she tried to pull his underwear down and managed to have it slip to his knees.

Hands on her ass, he pulled her towards him and his proud, angry cock. She pulled the edge of her panties to the side with one hand while she released the back of his head with the other. She tried to push his cock down and angle her entrance upwards.

"Jim, bend your knees." When he did so, she took advantage of his lowered height and positioned his dick under her. She slowly sunk down, guiding him to her entrance. She saw the look in his eyes as his cock split her lips. It was part amazement and part overpowering need. It amazed her that she could have such an effect on a man almost half her age.

When he thrust upward she wrapped her arms around his neck. He bent his knees and then straightened again, pushing in and then almost out of her. It was an awkward way to have sex, but neither of them was complaining. She bit his shoulder as he thrust up again, releasing a grunt into the air. He quickened his pace and she dug her nails into his back. His grunting became louder and more regular as she started panting.

Liz was lost in the moment and couldn't think, let alone concentrate on making things better for him. She found his mouth again and thrust her tongue in to meet his. He used his hands on her ass to lift her and pull her closer every time he thrust.

"Aunt Liz... Liz... I... Ugghhhhh!" She felt him shooting inside of her and she wrapped her arms around him in more of a hug than an embrace. They stumbled for a second in the water until he held them in place. He slowly pulled back, his still erect but spent dick falling from her hot channel.

"I'm sorry. Did you...? I would have lasted longer, but you're so beautiful. I couldn't..."

She placed her finger on his lips.

"It was wonderful, Jim. You did great. Let's go sit under the tree before I collapse."

They returned to the blanket where she relaxed and Jim tried to etch her naked beauty permanently into his memory. She blushed under his intense gaze, but felt empowered. After a few minutes, she started to get dressed.

"Jim, when we're in the house or anywhere other than here, it's Aunt Liz. Do you understand what I'm saying, honey?"

Absorbed in the aftermath of their endorphin rush, neither of them noticed the teenage girl near the house as she turned and made her way towards the street, tears coursing down her face.

* * * * *



Jim sat at his table, nursing his beer. Tilly had just started her shift and kept looking over at him. Satisfied he was making her nervous, he waited for the bikers to approach his table. Ten minutes went by before he signaled her over.

"One more, Tilly. Thanks. You tell Liam I've been looking for him?"

"Uhhh, yeah, I sure did. He ain't looking for no trouble, Jim." Tilly quickly looked down as she spoke and Jim couldn't tell if he saw guilt in her eyes.

"Trouble? Neither am I. We just got some things that need to be settled. I'll keep looking for him. I'm sure I'll catch up with him soon." He put a twenty on the table.

She eyed the cash. "I'll get your beer."

As she had the last time he was there, she stopped at the table with some bikers on her way to the bar. It was a different trio and he didn't recognize anyone in this group either. They started talking amongst themselves, but instead of waiting to follow him when he left, they got up and came to his table. One sat down while the other two flanked their friend.

"Hey, hero. You're scaring all the pretty girls. Maybe you should leave." The mans fetid breath wafted over the table as Jim stared unblinkingly at his pockmarked face. Jim wondered if his raspy voice was the result of a previous injury.

Smiling, Jim looked up from the man and glanced at the other two. "If they can tolerate your stench, they can take my scars. Have you guys ever heard of a shower?"

Puzzled by his attitude, they exchanged quick glances. The one to the left rested his hand behind his back, clearly not concerned about subtlety.

"So, you play a few years of High School ball with Hector and you think you get some sort of immunity?"

"No, here's what I think about Hector. I think that the first thing you should do when you wake up is to call him and thank him for being in charge. Aside from Hector, I haven't met one of you that isn't an idiot."

He saw the man sitting in front of him slide his eyes down to where Jim's hand had disappeared below the table.

Jim's smile didn't reach his eyes. "What's the plan? I'm going to catch a beating? Maybe I'll wind up on the killing floor over at McAllisters?" Jim watched as they looked at each other. "What, you thought people didn't know about that? Was I going to wind up in someone's hamburger? Why don't the three of you put your heads together and try to figure out what Hector already knows."

He fixed their spokesperson with a stare "I figure a third of the men in this county are veterans. So are a bunch of the women. With hunting and target shooting, near a hundred percent have at least a few weapons and they all know how to use them."

He looked up and saw that the biker with his hand behind his waist hadn't moved.

"You aren't feared, you're tolerated. You know what's going on when people see me? What they see when I'm asking about you guys and Liam? Guilt. They stayed home and I signed up. I served when they didn't. Those that did serve? They escaped what I didn't. What the fuck do you think is going to happen if something goes wrong with me?"

The bikers exchanged glances again, this time it was quick with tight eyes and tight lips.

Jim smiled again, continuing in a voice without emotion. "They'll burn you the fuck down. War hero who returns to spend time with his cousin who was raped by a biker? You won't last a week."

He finished his beer and put the glass back down. He stood up, letting them see the gun in his hand.

"Go talk to Hector and see if I'm right."

He put the .45 under his flannel shirt and in the holster as he limped out.

* * * * *



Thank you for reading chapter one. All three chapters are complete and will be posted soon.

As always, I need to thank the editors, writers and beta-readers who were kind enough to offer suggestions and advice. They deserve a lot of the credit for anything that you might appreciate in this story and none of the blame for any shortcomings of the story.

Thanks to NotWise, Anomic, Alex, Steve, Todger65, 8Letters and Jack.

If you have the time and inclination to leave a comment, it would be appreciated. Positive comments are always welcome. Negative comments are a great tool for learning as long as they include an explanation of what your concerns are.

Looking for something else to read? Here are a few stories that I've enjoyed:


* OneHitWanda is possibly the most consistent author here. Her library's not as vast as some others, but every story is a winner. You might want to start with London Girl.
Familiar with My European Summer Vacation by 8Letters? If not, you owe it to yourself to take a look. It's one of the best stories on Literotica.
TwoFourThree has written a number of successful, multi-chapter stories. My favorite is Andi: Challenges to Triumphs. The first chapter is criminally underrated. If you agree, vote and help rectify that.
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