Natalie Damschroder - Heavy Metal

“Night, Ted,” he called. “See you tomorrow.”

The old man waved a hand without looking up from his feet.

Riley straightened, feeling lighter. She didn’t have to say anything now that she knew Sam would be here tomorrow. She could come back with a real plan beyond “see if he’s there.”

And then he was, just a scant couple of feet away. He towered over her, massive but not bulky, evoking a sense of protection rather than threat. A hint of something both warm and exotic drifted through the air. Riley inhaled, but the stronger scents of beer and peanuts made the more personal scent elusive. She suppressed a tiny shudder and tried to smile as he set a tall plastic cup on the table in front of her. Condensation soaked the thin coaster under it in seconds.

“You hungry?” He tossed a paper-wrapped straw beside the cup.

“What? Oh, no, thank you. I’m sure you’re ready to close. I’ll just drink this and get out of your way.”

He shrugged one shoulder. Her attention caught on the play of muscles the movement caused, and her mouth went dry.

“Open till two, so if you want a snack, let me know.”

He didn’t linger, leaving it completely up to her. Riley’s stomach growled, but he was far enough away—hopefully—not to hear it. She poked the straw into the drink and sucked half of it down, both to ease the growlies and to finish fast so she could leave. The man was making it hard to focus on anything but his exquisite form. Maybe she shouldn’t come back tomorrow after all.

She hadn’t anticipated this attraction, which made the whole thing a little nauseating. Oh, please help me, Mr. Big Tall Man. I’m a damsel in distress! And want me, too! It didn’t help that he appeared to be about ten years older than her twenty-three. That put too much emphasis on the naïve, helpless girl image for her liking.

She’d just slurped to the bottom of the cup, rethinking her entire plan—such as it was—when the door opened again. Out of habit Riley shrank into the corner and shifted to put her profile to the door.

Sam, who was polishing glasses and setting them on a high shelf, cast her a thoughtful look before offering an easy smile to the newcomers. “Evening, folks. What can I get ya?”

“Three beers.”

The small group didn’t go to the bar or choose a table on the far side of the room, though they had a ton of privacy-laden options. Instead, they wove their way to a table only two away from hers, spun chairs around to straddle, and sat with deliberate movements. Two of them, one man and one woman, stared at Riley, both sets of eyes narrowed. The other guy went back to the bar to pay for the beers Sam had pulled from a cooler and set on the surface with a clunk . The pair sitting near her didn’t even look away when their friend returned to the table.

Riley’s heart leapt into a sprint, urging her to her feet. She hadn’t recognized the man’s voice, but something wasn’t right. She firmed her jaw, determined not to look like she was running. And even though they’d already seen her face, she couldn’t help dipping her head to let her hair fall forward, hiding it until she’d skirted the table next to theirs and reached the bar. Even then, when she dropped a ragged fiver from her pocket onto the battered wood, she couldn’t raise her gaze above Sam’s ribcage.

She kept her voice low. “Restroom?”

“Back hall.”

“Thanks.”

She felt Sam watching her until she’d rounded the corner. Some of the fear settled once she was out of sight.

She didn’t know how they’d found her again. Hell, she didn’t know how she knew they were the people who’d been harassing her, since she’d never seen them before. But after being hounded for months, no matter where she went, it didn’t matter—she could feel them. Maybe she was wrong and they weren’t connected to the phone calls and her lost job and eviction and everything else. They could just be random douche-bags, looking to mess with the only other woman in the place. But their glares had been more menacing than that, and leaving was the smartest move. First for her own safety, but also because causing problems in his establishment might set things off on the wrong foot with Sam.

She bypassed the ladies’ room door and hurried through the emergency exit several feet past it. She didn’t hesitate, despite the small sign that said an alarm would sound. Places like this didn’t actually alarm their back exits. It was too much hassle for the staff who went out there to smoke or take out the trash, for one thing, and for another, there were always people like her coming through.

Once outside, she held her breath against the stink of the Dumpster beside her, a stink competing with old vomit and urine. At least it was late April and not mid-summer, when heat would render the stench intolerable. Riley looked around to get her bearings in the darkness, longing for the safety of her beat-up old car. The parking lot and street were too open, too far out of the main city. They’d spot her immediately if she went that way on foot.

Back here wasn’t much better. The building was separated from some kind of industrial compound by about twenty yards of weedy, empty lot. Powerful ten-story lights shone down on the area behind a high chain-link fence that disappeared into a tangle of underbrush and stunted trees. To her left, small, close-set homes were visible on the other side of a ravine running through the narrow strip of woods. There was more cover there, darkness under the trees. But no metal. Her fingers closed over her mother’s pendant, barely enough of a source to make her fingers tingle. That wouldn’t be enough to help her if she had to defend herself.

The fence beckoned, shiny and solid, as much as did the shelter of the scant woods and shadowy ravine. Hide or fight?

Hiding had gotten her nowhere. She went right.

She’d barely gained the top of the fence when she heard voices. Panic hit her again, logic fleeing and her will with it. She dropped to the ground and ran, knowing they’d see her movement, maybe hear her footsteps. It had rained earlier and the pavement was wet enough to amplify her footfalls, each one making a little splash.

Riley raced across the blacktop, eyes locked on the giant chutes and pipes looming way too far away. She should have stayed near the fence, but it was too big, would leave her with too little control and trap her more than help. Her breath came evenly, lungs conditioned from months of running, but she was slower than usual. Her heart thundered as she sensed her pursuers closing in on her. They caught up before she’d reached the center of the open area.

Whirling, she dodged the first swing. Her mind raced almost incoherently. They’d never come this close, never tried to hurt her directly. Why now? Why here? She darted between the two men, avoiding their reaching hands. But the woman’s foot was too fast. It caught Riley’s right ankle, sending her sprawling across the ground. Her palms scraped over the rough surface. She flipped onto her back, feet raised to fend them off, hands up to block her face. The urge to scream bubbled in her chest, but she swallowed it. No one would come either way.

“Don’t give us trouble, Kordek.” The taller of the men reached down as if to grab her sleeve and pull her up.

She swatted his hand aside and kicked out at his knee. He grunted and moved back a step, giving her enough time to jerk her legs under her and land in a crouch, balanced on the balls of her feet. She put her hands out and waited, trying to keep her breathing even. How did they know her last name?

The woman laughed as the stockier man stepped toward her.

“Come on with— oof .” He doubled over when Riley shot upward and drove her head into his groin. He tipped sideways and landed on the ground, his hands cupping the insulted area, barely able to wheeze his pain. The woman laughed again, this time at her partner. Riley scrambled all the way to her feet.