...There's just some things you gotta do. Don't mean you have to like it.
-Drayton Sawyer
Last Chance Gas Station.
In a lot of ways the name fit perfectly, although Drayton had not picked it out. That honor had gone to Grandpa, who'd built the place up and left it as a sort of legacy, his mark on the world. Many moons ago Drayton had asked Grandpa exactly why he'd chosen the name, only for the old man to laugh sharply and give the younger Sawyer a smirk.
"Well, think on it, Drayton. What exactly else is there out here for anyone? It's the last chance for many a mile. Truth in advertising there, boy." He chuckled, slamming the register shut and sitting back on his stool before telling him to go in the back and check on the sauce.
Drayton supposed Grandpa was right in more ways than he knew. The oldest Sawyer son was not an educated man, hell, none of them were, but he liked to think that what Grandpa had said probably applied more to him than the location of the gas station. It was Grandpa's last chance for sure, after he'd resigned in disgust from the slaughter house after they'd gone the route of automation. Clean,efficient electronic kills, to be sure, but Grandpa had always relished his work, and took pride in his ability to swing his hammer true. There had been no need for him there anymore though, and he had swung his hammer for the last time years ago.
Where could a man his age find work then, when it was so difficult for even a young able bodied man to find any? What he lacked in opportunity he made up for with in pride, so Grandpa had built Last Chance, and when Drayton was old enough he'd been tasked with helping him run it.
That had been years ago, anyway. Grandpa had not set foot in the station for quite some time, anyway. After two decades selling barbecue and overpriced trinkets, maps and junk food he'd left it to Drayton, hung up his smock and now spent his days at home with the youngest Sawyer, Bubba to keep him company in his golden years. A good time to maybe seek his own fortune, find something that he was suited to and enjoyed. Unfortunately, that was not the way things went, and dutifully he had stayed. Now it was Drayton's last chance. He was as much tethered to the station as he was to his family, and everything that came with them. Grandpa, Paul, Nubbins, and Bubba. All family, and all the source of his woes.
The gas station was a small source of income and had also been a source of pride for Grandpa, but it had never been profitable enough to hire on help really. So Paul and Nubbins had stayed in the meat business, that is until Paul's number came up. Sometimes Drayton wondered if it hadn't been a sort of relief to be called up for service, and felt a twinge of jealousy. Not only had Paul left the slaughterhouse behind, he'd also managed to put thousands of miles between himself and the family. Between himself and responsibility. Drayton both hated and admired him for it.
Their youngest brother was.. particular. Slow. Hell, no sense in pussy footing around it, he was retarded. It was something they'd all accepted long ago, but it was also something that weighed on Drayton's mind more and more lately. While the family had briefly discussed the possibility of giving him some easy, repetitive task to manage in the back of the station it just hadn't turned out to be in the cards for the youngest Sawyer. He just had too much stacked against him, bless the poor thing, and the decision was unanimous that he remain at home.
While Paul had put in plenty of hours at the slaughterhouse, he had also always come home without complaint and helped Drayton where he could. He'd been the one to suggest dragging Grandma's sewing notions out to give Bubba something to occupy his time. While Drayton had initially balked at the idea of his brother doing sissy work, he had to admit Paul had been right about a hobby being just the thing to keep Bubba out of trouble for the most part.
But Paul was gone now, and that left Nubbins. Drayton had initially shuddered at the thought of leaving him in charge of Bubba. While he was definitely playing with a fuller deck than their youngest, hidden sibling there was absolutely no doubt that from the very moment the twins drew their first breath that Nubbins had caught the short end of the proverbial stick.
Then the slaughterhouse had closed, leaving Nubbins out of work, and Drayton scrambling for both a way to replace the lost income and a solution to their woes with Bubba. While their financial situation could always be improved certainly, Paul had not completely abandoned them and did regularly send a good chunk of his combat pay home so caring for Bubba took precedence, especially sense he'd managed to set fire to kitchen curtains not even a week after Nubbins had collected his pink slip.
Bubba wasn't mean-spirited, or even particularly ornery. While a stern look from Grandpa was still enough to sway him from most misbehavior, the plain fact was that every day their youngest brother grew taller, stockier, and more curious about his surroundings all while the old man was showing his advanced age.
Just another burden to bear. But family was family, and you didn't let family down. While Nubbins was a piss poor sitter for Bubba, what else could be done really? Someone had to run the store, and as always it fell to Drayton to be the responsible one. Still, the idea of leaving Nubbins in charge back at the farmhouse left him feeling somewhat sick to his stomach. Maybe he should just go ahead and close up early, go back home and check in -
And then the van appeared.
Drayton groaned. He'd have to see to these folk first, and hope that everything at home was okay for now.
"Hi, Mister. Would you fill 'er up, please?" The one wearing glasses called out to him, and now Drayton could see that the van was filled with kids fresh from the city by the looks of them.
"I got no gas." He snapped, a little more harshly than he'd intended to. The last thing he wanted right now was to deal with these city folk.
"What? You're all out of gas?" The boy in the blue shirt asked in disbelief, as if the thought had never occurred to him that such a thing could be possible. Drayton knew the type. Soft, city kids, never having to worry about anything other than cars and girls, floating their way through their lives so easily. Not like his family, not like him.
"My tank's empty!" Transport won't be here until late this afternoon. Maybe not even 'til tomorrow morning." He couldn't help but take a bit of satisfaction in announcing that, hoping they'd take the hint and go on and leave him be.
"Hey, do you know where the old Franklin place is?" The one in the wheelchair piped in, his voice grating in Drayton's ears. Kids. All of them kids, all of them with the world at their feet and what did they want to do with it? Go poking around here, noses in other people's business.
"The old Franklin place?" He repeated, thinking about just where that might be.
"Yeah, it's an old two-story rock house that sitting up on a hill. I thought it might be back on that road someplace, but I'm not really sure." It was then Drayton realized where they were heading, and gave an almost imperceptible shudder. That old house was far too close for comfort to his own house, to his own family. It wouldn't do at all for them to go poking around out there.
"Uh... yeah, maybe I've seen something like that up that way. Well now look, you boys don't want to go messin' around some old house. Those things is dangerous. You're liable to get hurt. " Drayton scowled, hoping to dissuade those city kids. They had no business out here, and it would do them all good to just turn around and go back to their easy lives, lives that he would have given anything to trade them for once upon a time. But that was then, and now it was too late for any of those aspirations.
"You don't want to go fooling around other folks' property. If some folks don't like it... they don't mind showing you. " He finished, but he could see that their minds were already made up.
They would go out to that old house, and there was nothing he could say to change that. And maybe that wasn't entirely a bad thing, now that he thought about it. Let them go out there, and let them find out that things were different out here. Let them throw it all away and find only hell waiting for them. While it wasn't much more than he had himself, at least he had the good sense to know a good thing when he saw it, unlike these dumb kids.
Nubbins and Bubba would be fine, for now. He turned back to the station, and gave the sign a knowing look. Grandpa had really been onto something when he'd chosen the name. They'd soon agree with him.