J is for Jugs

Excerpt from my debut novel Out of the Great Black Nothing, for the April A-Z Challenge.

I will post excerpts from various writings daily.

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Darnell swung the baton and clapped Jugs on the shoulder. Jugs ignored the strike and bent down and folded Darnell over that same shoulder into a fireman's carry and marched him back through the ditch to the black Dodge Charger. The car idled with its headlights yellow and gleaming against a deer crossing sign and the woods pitch black and buzzing with insects and frogs on either side of the road.

"You're getting the salt," Jugs said.

Darnell screamed and slapped Jugs' thighs with the baton. He lost his hat and Jugs turned, picked it up, opened the rear door of the Charger and threw it inside. "Daddy will kill you!" Darnell screamed.

"Mr. La Roux don't care about you none, Mr. Darnell," Jugs said. "You a freak, and you getting the salt."

Jugs ripped away the baton and threw it in the backseat next to the hat, and with practiced hands he bound Darnell's wrists behind his back with two zip-ties. Jugs bound another tie on Darnell's elbows and cinched it tight. Darnell's shoulders popped and the man began to sob and continue singing the anthem.

"Our flag's unfurled to every breeze from dawn to setting sun."

"You gonna shut up if I have to cut your throat," Jugs said.

Cut it and leave him in the woods, the voice said inside his head.

"You shut up, too. He's getting the salt and that's that."

Pussy, the voice said.

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Eric W. Trant is a published author of several short stories and the novel Out of the Great Black Nothing. He is currently represented by Debrin Case at Open Heart Publishing. See more of Eric's work here: Publications