Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize, not Dean (sigh), Sam, or that gorgeous car.
Rating: Not sure yet, but I'm going with K+ for now. May be upped to T in later chapters.
Reviews: Pretty please. I would love any comments you have, especially suggestions for where to go with the story. Outside impute makes everything better.
My poor, abused, little car takes yet another beating as I pull off the main road and into the unpaved and not even level parking lot of this podunk little bar. It's been a long drive and I'm tired and hungry, but before I can even think about finding a place to sleep, I have to get some information. And, in my experience, these little bars tend to be the best places to gather info. For one, people tend to collect here in little towns since there aren't many other places to be and two, people tend to be more inclined to talk when they're a little liquored up. Besides, this is the first place I've passed in the past couple miles that hasn't been a home or a farm or some combination of the two. So, I off-road a little to a parking spot, turn the car off and head inside.
The bar is kind of noisy and kind of full. The way bars in not so frequented areas always are. There's conversation and there's people, but it's not overwhelming at all. I'm noticed when I walk in, but mostly they just glance at me and return to their own little worlds. I'm a stranger, sure, but this happens to be a stop along the road. It's not like this is a complete backwater.
I kind of survey the room, trying to get the feel of this place so I can attempt to fit in and not draw any attention. You know, stay out of trouble as much as is possible. My eyes flicker over and almost immediately dismiss everyone in the room until I spot what must be the most attractive guy I've ever seen. He's sitting at a table with another pretty attractive guy, but he's definitely stolen the spotlight in my opinion.
"Holy hot hillbillies, batman." I mutter under my breath.
I find myself kind of frozen where I stand for a second as I stare openly at him. He's finishing off a beer while his companion types away at a laptop. My mind mentally comments on the oddity of someone using a laptop in a bar, but I'm too distracted to follow that thought through. Then, suddenly, I realize that I'm starting to attract attention again by standing here in the doorway, practically drooling over someone across the room. I start out of my daze and quickly head over to the bar where I take a seat. After a moment or two, the bartender sidles over.
"New in town?" he asks.
I try to gage about whether he's just being friendly or if he's being too friendly. Being on the road by myself has made me kind of paranoid like that. But, I remind myself not to jump to conclusions.
"Just passing through." I reply.
"What can I get you?" he cuts to the chase.
"Don't suppose you have something like a hard lemonade?" I venture.
He makes a disgusted face and shakes his head. I can almost see the veil of stereotype come over his vision. I've just gotten myself labeled as a prissy city-girl with no business out here. Oh, well. I don't like beer. I can't help that. I decide to try and redeem myself by ordering something more expensive than beer anyway.
"Why don't you get me something with vodka in it? Surprise me." I attempt.
He seems a little surprised by the complete turn-around in my order, but shrugs to himself and goes to make me my drink. I don't really care, anyway. I'm not here for the drinks.
I decide to risk a glance over my shoulder in the direction of the hot guy. Upon closer inspection, he doesn't seem like part of this crowd either. Neither does laptop boy. They must be traveling along the road, too. I wonder what would bring them out this way briefly before my mind wanders back to his body and the inappropriate things I'd like to do with it. I hardly notice the bartender putting my drink down on the bar, I'm so caught up in my own thoughts. It takes a pretty hard mental slap to get my brain off that track. Plus, the guy with the computer has gotten up and is walking in my direction. Quickly, I turn back towards my drink and pretend to be entirely focused upon it.
"Hey. Can we get another couple beers?" the guy asks as he leans against the bar right next to me.
The bartender complies, grabbing two more bottles and bringing them over.
"By the way, my brother and I are headed up to old Fort Tucker. You wouldn't know the best way to get there, would you?"
That gets my attention. They're headed to the same place that I am. That's a little too strange to be a coincidence considering Fort Tucker is a ghost town. And not one of the touristy ones, either, especially now after a few people have disappeared up there. I glance covertly up at the bartender over my drink to gage his reaction. He suddenly seems suspicious and I'm glad that I've overheard this conversation and haven't had to start it myself. He looks at the guy with narrowed eyes.
"No one goes up to Fort Tucker anymore. What do you boys want with that place?"
I can't stop myself from looking back out of the corner of my eye at this guy to see how he's going to handle this. Obviously, he wants information out of this guy and I can't imagine what his justification for it can be.
"We're just kind of curious. Heard some of the old ghost stories and thought maybe we'd check it out." he says with a shrug and an innocent smile.
He's pretty convincing, but I'm not entirely sure he's telling the truth.
"It's not a tourist spot." the bartender continues to frown, "Some kids disappeared up there."
"We know, but our dad is a developer for this big corporation. They'd like to build a new community out here. You know, if it's safe and all. Could bring a lot of new business to this area." he explains in a manner that seems suspiciously like a door-to-door salesman to me given that he's just completely changed his approach.
The bartender shakes his head, muttering about crazy corporate city-folk thinking that moving to the country will solve all their problems. I wonder briefly how stereotypically driven people can actually be, but then that comment is crowded out of my brain by the worry that he will refuse to answer.
"I'm actually looking for Fort Tucker, too." I butt in.
Both men turn their focus to me, the bartender looking even more suspicious, the young guy looking skeptical.
I decide to play up the poor, little girl angle with the bartender, "I work for this terrible researcher who's doing a report on ghost towns in rural America. He makes me do all the work, going out and taking pictures and all. He doesn't even think about what could happen if I should get lost out here all on my own."
"You wouldn't last a second up there in the woods by yourself." the bartender agrees, some sympathy creeping into his expression.
"Of course I wouldn't." I nod, "Luckily, a nice guy like you probably knows how I can get there safely, take a few notes, snap a few pictures and get back into town."
"Well…" he hesitates so I flash what I hope is a charming smile at him. He shakes his head, but continues talking, "You probably shouldn't go there at all, you know, but if you have to…stick to the highway for the next twenty miles…"
I nod, whipping out a pen from my bag and taking notes on a napkin as he gives directions up to the abandoned town. As soon as he's done, he retreats to the other end of the bar, as if to wipe his hands of us and our crazy plan to go up to a haunted community where kids have mysteriously vanished.
"You're really going to Fort Tucker?" the guy asks as I fold the napkin and stick it in my pocket.
"I wouldn't need directions if I wasn't." I reply.
He kind of laughs to himself and shakes his head, I'm not sure why. Maybe because he's actually met someone as crazy as he is. Anyway, he smiles and sticks his hand out.
"My name's Sam." he introduces himself.
I wonder briefly if I should give him my real name and decide against it, "Dana."
I shake his hand, my mind still buzzing about the implications of running into two other people heading to the same haunted site. One of whom happens to be the perfect candidate for my dream guy… I'm getting distracted again.
"Do you want to join us?" Sam asks, nodding towards said dream guy who, I notice, is watching us closely while trying to seem like he's not.
I know it's a bad idea given how distracting I find his brother, if they really are related like he told the bartender. I need to concentrate on my story. I promised my boss that this one would be a breakthrough, save the magazine and all. But, I can't resist the chance to see this guy closer up. It's just too tempting.
"Sure." I shrug like I don't really care and let Sam lead me over to the table.