Page 47 of Last Breath

Letting the door close behind me, I walk in and pull up a stool. Behind the counter is a middle-aged cook, and in front is a sweet tweenie taking orders. “Be right with you,” she says in a southern drawl.

Above the order up window are rows of pictures, each differing in size, style, and age. A few are black and white, a couple are vignette—seemingly older than a hundred years—and oddly enough, a stretched piece of leather with words scrawled across it.

bono malum superate

“It stumps everyone.” Looking back at the young waitress, a bright grin crosses her face. “Sometimes I let people stare at it for the whole hour before I give them the answer.”

Intriguing me, I ask her, “And will you make me wait that long?”

“Undecided. How about I give you a menu, you leave me a good tip and I’ll consider the answer.” Winking, obviously trying to flirt with me, she taps the plastic-coated menu on it’s edge. “And I’m Cassia. Just holler and I’ll pop back over in a jiffy.”

Walking away to another customer, I’m left to peruse the options. To keep Salem and Joy out of trouble, bringing food to them will be the smarter choice. Finding Sal’s favorite breakfast, scrambled eggs with cheese, and Joy’s, pancakes with frozen blueberries, I feel better about this stop. Take-out will be the best way to contain them for a bit. It’s not that they’re murderous at the drop of a hat…

Okay, maybe they are.

But I’ll need them to relax in public if we’re to raise a child. Around others. Alive. It’ll be frowned upon to kill anyone who looks at us sideways. It’d be bad to just willy-nilly kill off neighbors and babysitters.

I think Joy will be easier to curb. We created the monster she is by pulling her tendencies to the forefront, giving them an outlet.

Salem will be difficult.

His demons have been holding the doors of hell open. Did I help him find a way to cope with his need to reverse the taint he felt from Tress? Yes, but I also gave those demons access to normal life. He thirst is for death now, thriving on the mayhem. Destruction is his devil’s fuel.

“What’ll you have?” Reappearing, Cassia leans along the counter, tapping her order book against it. “We’re busy today. Don’t dally or you could be waiting an hour for toast.”

Looking up from the menu, I quirk a brow, intrigued with her eccentric southern appeal. Clearing my throat, I look down at the menu. “Well on that note, I’ll grab three coffees, a bottle of water, scrambled eggs and cheese, a double order of bacon, pancakes with blueberries, and an order of the tilted rock breakfast.”

“Do you mind that it’s rye? That’s all I have left until our order arrives.”

“Sure.” I would have asked for it anyway. I love dark rye. Salem knows it’s a weakness of mine.

Ringing it into her register, she returns with the bill. “Twenty-one, twenty-five please.”

Setting thirty dollars on the bill, Cassia grabs it up to offer change out of her apron.

“Keep the change,” I tell her.

With a goofy grin, she pockets the cash. “It’ll be up like a June bug on hot asphalt. I have a few orders before you, but Jackson shouldn’t be long. The man’s a wiz in the kitchen.” Bending down, grabbing a mug from behind the bar, she sets it in front of me, filling it partway with dark, rich coffee. “It’s not the best, but it’ll keep a spoon up.”

“Perfect.” She couldn’t have said anything more enticing. It’s exactly what I needed today.

Before she walks away, I call out, “Did I pass the test, Cassia? Can I have the answer to the words written on the leather?”

Thinking on the tip, I see her toying with the idea of taunting me. “My grandfather was a lover of Latin. He thought there were twenty phrases that every man should live their lives by.” She points to it. “It says overcome evil with good. His father was a friend of Wyatt Earp. John Steward was a Marshall in the old Wild West. He’d arrested or dispatched over two hundred men during his days. Anyway, heroes like that are just fiction nowadays. Food will be out soon.”

For the next twenty minutes, I think on the saying. Overcoming evil with good? If only it were that simple. My mind contemplates the way our lives have turned out. Howweare the evil, not the good. There are days I feel we’re avenging angels, that we’re the lawmen not the lawbreakers, but I think we’re kidding ourselves.

Yes, rapists, child abusers, wife beaters and the likes deserve every ounce of pain we’ve caused. The line that separates the law from lawless is in the act. I figure the acts we performed were for the greater good of man—well, most of them.

As of recent, Salem’s need for blood and retribution has taken us from the lawful to the lawless. He used to only tear down and destroy those who deserved it, but now he’s adjusted that fine line, looking for their darkness or weaknesses. Tress? He was the worst of the worst and deserved every single cut, every bullet I could have pumped into his flesh, and the teeth of the various animals that will dissect him.

Shaking off the who’s badder, I watch the punky waitress flitter around. Cassia bounces on her tiptoes as she flows around the room, grabbing orders, taking empty plates, placing meals and chatting up the guests.

The variety of guests are limited. The majority I’d say are young twenty somethings with backpacks. They look ready for a hike. I can’t imagine hiking or staying in the cool of the mountain in February. Even being in the desert last night was cold enough for me.

On the counter a few spots down is a fairly loved map, folded and sitting to the side. Picking it up and looking it over, I find documented ghost towns, the trails and the rules about campsites, the history of the area, and famous figures. If it comes to it, maybe we could hide out in the hills if necessary. Joy’s not a big fan of the cold, and honestly, I’m not much better. Also, she’ll need all the professional help she can get for delivering the child. We have no experience in saving. Our particular skill set is in wreaking havoc on people’s lives.

Flicking through the map, I laugh to myself and thank my parents for those Boy Scout days of mine. The talents I’d learned could come in handy. Looking at the distances, the rest spots, the five or so ghost towns and historical areas, it’s a good option if we need to evade the police.

---